#i do think part of it is how demanding being in a thrash band is touring wise. like even during the height unless u were metallica

[sendmyresignation]

watching thrash docs lately has really solidified for me how huge my chems return truly was. like i have a fondness for all of these bands and their music but, without exaggeration, just about every one of them have compromised their legacies by releasing shit music or being total asshole pricks. they all straddle this line of legendary and joke bc of the inability for big thrash bands to maintain any quality other than maybe a fun good consistent tour schedule to keep their livelihood up. absolutely crazy. like that's what im used to with bands.

[slashersins]

slasher’s reaction to there s/o getting taken or held hostage

part one | part two |

part two will have : bubba , billy & stu , vincent , bo , lester , and jacob .

@motherthoty  asked: Could you do a slasher reaction to there s/o getting taken or held hostage? I just gotta know man 😖

jason voorhees

held hostage

he’s teeming with anger , cold , lethal fury radiating off of him . it’s directed half towards the man haphazardly holding a hunting knife to your jaw with a shaky grip , and half towards himself for not preventing the situation . his machete is gripped so tightly that he could almost feel the skin pulling and tearing on his knuckles . his eyes flicking between your tear stained face and the screaming man .

freak , monster , kill you if he doesn’t drop his weapon , let me go and he won’t hurt you , fuck face , killer , monster . the words don’t fully reach his ears , but he knows what the intentions are . and he knows that he doesn’t need a machete to end the life of the man who thought it was wise to go after his lover .

with a solid thunk , the blade sinks into the muddy earth at his side , a way to pacify the man . he only needs you to get away , only needs a moment to rip you from his arms before ripping his arms off his body . let him think he’s won . let him think that he won’t attack .

the man’s face turn frantic and ecstatic , tears welling in his eyes as he loosens his grip on the knife , on you . jason’s fingers flex at his side , the man doesn’t notice , and before he can tighten his grip on you again to make another set of threats and demands jason is on him .

he doesn’t have time to scream , before his head is twisted completely around . you don’t have time to see or realize what’s happened before jason has you in his arms , keeping you from looking at your attacker . it was too quick for him . too gentle . too kind . jason had wanted to mutilate the man . cut him and make him scream . torture him and drag his body and blood through the camp as a warning to anyone who tried to touch what was his . but he couldn’t . the need to get you in his arms , get you save overpowered his brutal desires .

he lifts you , tucking you into his chest , his neck , arms shaking now that he has you . now that he almost lost you . he isn’t about to let  you go . he can’t . not even to dispose of the body . he can deal with that later . first he needs you home . needs you safe . and needs to make a thousand promises to you that this will never happen again .

michael myers

taken

cold , unforgiving , eyes stared up at the building . smith grove’s sanitarium . here . the soon to be dead man had taken you here . it was a twisted kind of joke for michael to be returning to the place he’d spent years of his life being poked and prodded and belittled and captive . loomis might just be as fucked up as he was for this . but that wouldn’t matter for long . only one of them would be living past tonight . the doctor had gone too far . he’d touched what was his , taken his property , his possession , his obsession . loomis had stolen you from him .

micahel is known for his brutality . this is unlike anything he’s done before . there is no simple quick kill . every person he comes across has his blood lust singing so loudly that it clouds his vision , makes every face seem like the man he’s after . the trail of gore and viscera he leaves behind him , clinging to his clothes , his hands , boots drenched in blood is proof of how he feels about this assault on him . and he knows , he knows that loomis is watching , hiding , and he turns his head to look at a security camera , eyes a glaring , blazing blue before he turns the corner .

every step draws him closer to loomis . closer to you . each step he can hear the chant of death and slaughter ringing in his ears . every step he feels as if his body is burning from the inside out . and then he’s there . just outside a door when he hears something so familiar . a whimper . your whimper . as if someone was holding their hand over your mouth , trying to force you to shut up . his keen ears pick up on it so quickly , so distinctly . he’s touching you . loomis has his hands on you . it’s another crime against michael added to the ever growing list .

the door is barely slammed open and there’s already a loud band ringing out in the room , a searing heat tears through michael’s shoulder , and has him taking a half step back . he doesn’t need to look to know he’s been shot . but just in the shoulder . and loomis should know that no amount of bullets will stop him from getting back what’s his .

looking back up he sees loomis pointing the gun back at him , he sees you trying to reach for him , trying to struggle as loomis holds a hand over your mouth . the sight . . . the sight of it all has him moving forward . three more shots , two land but he doesn’t stop . he doesn’t feel the pain , a furious adrenaline pumping through his blood as he takes the doctor by the face and with one hand lifts him , shoving him into the wall . bones crack , his screams muffled as his body thrashes .again , and again , and again until the sound of bones shattering and the rough though becomes squishy and wet and there's nothing more for michael to hold onto .

it doesn’t take more than a moment for michael to disregard the corpse in favor of looking down at you . tear stained cheeks , almost manic , shaking , splattered with blood . he’s none to gentle , not helping in your panicked state with his fast , rough movements as he check over you , and it takes you begging , pressing bloody fingers under his mask to grip his cheek for him to stop furiously searching over your body for any marks not left by him .

you whimper out that he’s hurt . he knows .he’ll heal . he always does . that’s not his concern . he lifts you instead , siting you on a table that’s been shoved against the wall in his attempt to reach you earlier . the look in your eyes tell him that you know what he wants , what he’s about to do . and you protest for a moment , not wanting him to hurt himself more than he already is but one look from michael and he knows that you understand that nothing will stop him from this . you were taken from him . now he had to take you back , in every way he could .

brahms heelshire

held hostage

they’d been quiet sneaking in . so quiet in fact that brahms hadn’t picked up on the unwanted guests until he heard the sound of a chairs being tossed about the library . it’s fast , quick and quiet that he moves through the walls like some devil has possessed him , at some point he’d grabbed a fire poker he’d laid against the old wood , the same one he’d tried to use to slaughter the last unwanted guest in his house .

he’s pressed against the wall , only taking a moment to peak into the room through a hole , in the few seconds he’s there he sees enough . two masked people . a woman . a man . threatening you and demanding to be shown a safe . none of it matters . you look panicked , holding brahm’s doll to your chest . it made his mind flash back to cole , to malcom , to when you were almost stolen from him .

there are no dramatics this time . no calling out in a child’s voice , no rummaging through the walls to frighten and confuse . He’s coming out of the hidden door with intentions and a need to deliver punishment . you’re eyes widen when you see his form , tall and lanky and you know what’s going to come . but there’s not fear , just the word please forming on your lips . if brahms had been seeking out permission , he would have found it .

the man is first , the fire poker raised high before coming down into his back . he doesn’t bother pulling it out as the man stumbles forward , instead turning to the woman cursing and shouting as her partner lay dying near brahms’ feet . for this he uses his hands and the edge of an antique table . the corner so sharp that it cuts into the back of neck and pops the vertebrae out of place . she goes wide eyed and falls limp and twitching on the floor .

panting heavily , he looks to you , blood on his hands once again . it all seems so familiar . like a loop that’s repeated it self , only with different faces . only this time you don’t get started , you aren’t pulled away by a scream of run . you aren’t trying to leave him . his doll is discarded on the floor as you run to him . not from him , shaking and hiding your face in his filthy chest .

he doesn’t hesitate , wrapping you into a possessive hug , letting his deadly fingers work through your hair . “don’t cry , pretty y/n . i’ll keep you safe .”

thomas hewit

held hostage

the meat had been difficult to bring in . there’d been a shortage of people passing through , so the rough necked bikers that stopped were they’re only choice . or so said hoyt . and right now , tommy was cursing his older brother . a switch blade in the meatier part of his shoulder , despite not doing too much damage , still hurt like shit and now he was having to chase the damned man out the barn . why hoyt hadn’t shot him , or loaded his damn gun before waving it around was beyond tommy , but he’d be growling at his older brother at a later time . right now he had to make sure the man didn’t make it into the house .

hoyt’s out the door before tommy , loading his gun and yelling for tommy to hurry his ass up and get the meat . he doesn’t wait too long , yanking the knife out of his shoulder and hissing as air stung the wound , before stomping out of the barn with a snarl .

he see’s his older brother go back round the house , just as he turns , he raises the gun . tommy figures the man is sound back , and quickly makes his way around the other side . why hoyt hasn’t shot yet , he doesn’t know , but he hopes the man won’t miss and hit him as he rounds the corner . but as he does it’s apparent as to why the shotgun hasn’t been fired .

the man’s faced away from him . his arm wrapped tightly around a body , your body , and tommy can see the way his fingers wrap around your neck even from behind . fear , rage , white hot and devastating shake him to his core .

the man’s yelling about how he’ll kill you . how he’s going to kill you for fucking with him and his three party crew , for gutting the other two like pigs in the barn . that he’s going to kill you and then kill the bastard sheriff and the big fucker . the words swarm his mind , images of your lifeless body on the ground , of your neck snapped have him moving forward with such animalistic rage that hoyt takes a step back , faltering in his hold on the gun .

the man must be confused because he laughs nervously , thinking he has the upper hand as he spills out his slurs and threats . he isn’t prepared for tommy to jerk his arm , lifting him up off the ground only to snap the bone in his furious grip . the man’s scream is loud , but tommy still manages to hear hoyt call you over , telling you it’s best to go inside and let tommy get out his anger . despite wanting to hold you , to check over you , hoyt’s right . he needs to do this first .

dropping the man to the ground , he easily steps and crushes the bones in his legs , lower , upper , then takes his nonbroken arm and jerks so hard it pops , using it to tug him towards the back entrance of the basement , knowing his body will hit and bleed over every step .

it’s well passed dinner when the screaming stops . when tommy finally comes up . when he stands in your door way still covered in the truth of what he’d just done to the man who’d been so close to hurting you - who did hurt you . instead of turning him away you just give a relieved look , walking over and hugging him , cupping his face and looking over him . he knows you can’t tell what’s his and what isn’t . and he knows you’ll want him in a bath , but first he’s brushing his fingers over your neck , where small bruises are forming and wonders if he made the man suffer enough . but you wrap your hand around his wrist and give him the sweetest look . tommy didn’t realize he was crying , even as you coo and lift up to kiss at him . he doesn’t realize how scared he’d been till he has you safe in his arms .

jesse cromeans

taken

his footsteps sounded in the halls . jesse wasn’t trying to hide . he wasn’t trying to play cat and mouse , even if he was hunting , this wasn’t a game . taking his fiancé , his lover , was not a game . it was a death sentence . one that was going to be levied out by his own hand . no matter the cost .

his fingers flex over the hilt of his knife . gripping it just so before he lets it go , walking with an almost swagger . dangerous , poised , deadly . he’s walks as if he knows were he’s going , and in a way he does . instinct has never failed jesse on a hunt before .

a shout . angry , furious , devastated , watery and betrayed fills the halls , luring jesse down a right corridor and then a left turn . every step has the shouts growing louder , your voice and then another , your captors . jesse can make out the conversation turned screaming match .

how could you do this ? you did this to yourself . why are you doing this to me , to jesse ? i didn’t want to do this to you , but i won’t let you be with him ! i love him ! you don’t even fucking know him , if you did , you’d end up like his first wife ! don’t say that , it’s awful , you don’t - jesse’s a bastard and he needs to die . i won’t ever forgive you if you hurt him . can you forgive him if he hurts me ? i -

there isn’t time for you to finish your thought as jesse strides into the room . he stops , glancing to you . tied up , a bruise on your cheek from being slapped , tears streaming down your cheeks , clothing torn . you look like you were dragged away kicking and screaming . he’s proud , he’s furious . looking at preston he gives a simple tilt of his head before pulling out a knife and stalking forward .

you call out for him , tell him no , please , don't do it , please , just - he ignores you , nothing you can say will save your brother’s life . no , preston made his bed and jesse was hell bent on laying him to rest in it . hate me , he thinks to himself , but you’ll never be taken away from me again . he can’t lose you . he won’t . not matter how much you hate him for this .

to his credit preston wields his own blade , similar to jesse’s . he makes the first move , but his reach is no match for jesse’s . one swipe and he’s cutting deep into the other’s arm , blood trailing as preston curses and backs up . there’s no hesitation . no pause . jesse is stopped by no man , by no remorse . even as you call out for him to stop , pleading to him , jesse moves forward .

three more swipes , three of preston’s fingers fall to the floor , his chest up , and he’s down on one leg . jesse takes in his surroundings for a second , shoving your brother , your kidnapper , his enemy into a wall , taking a hanging chain to wrap around his neck . preston struggles , making the mistake of reaching out to you , as if he has any right to . his arm is lying limp on the floor in moments . a tug on the chain jerks the screaming man up to jesse’s eye level . from behind the mask he snarls silently fingers dancing over his phone . the electronic call of “bye bye” sounds out in dark humor before jesse string him up higher to choke to death . he can live a little longer , suffer while he watches his former boss take back what’s his .

at some point you’d fallen over in the chair your tied to . crying at you squeeze your eyes shut . refusing to look at what jesse just did . and for that he’s minutely grateful . he bends down , untying you and giving you enough space to move , but not enough to run . it’s only then he sees those eyes of yours open , sees how you look up and breathe out a gasp . he prepares himself for what’s to come .

and then he feels your arms around his neck . your face pressed into him as you cry . the words you say are dizzying , you were so scared , he could of been hurt , why didn’t he listen to you , what would you do if you lost him . the words are said with a tremble that betrays the fact your still torn about the slaughter of your brother . but it also tells jesse something that solidifies the fact that no one will ever take you from him again .

& don’t forget that you can buy me a ko-fi if you wanna leave a little more love ! tho , honestly … i prefer tea … hmmm . 

[hardskz]

bow down.

pairing — bang chan x genderneutral! reader

genre — modern royalty au, drama-ish, smut; sexual tension-ish, hand kink, brat tamer! chan, degradation, leg humping, humiliation

synopsis — you have eyes. prince bang chan is a whole snack. but you also have too high of an ego and can’t seem to accept that prince chan isn’t full of himself unlike the other dozen members of any royal family you’ve met before. alternatively, this is the disney channel movie ‘princess protection program’ but make it porn only.

note — this fic with a wc of 7k+ does not include any spoilers to the movie and you don’t even have to know what the movie is about you’ll get the gist as you read. ngl half of this is from one of my drafts from like 3 years ago and i never continued it so here i am turning it into filth hahahah (and i needed a fresh idea for brat tamer chan and hence why i think the sfw part is better written than the nsfw lmao) rip also pls accept this as the follower milestone gift and 1 year anniversary special :’)

“I’m pretty sure I asked for a puppy for my birthday — which was three months ago may I add — not for a new roommate?”

You look back and forth between Youngjae and the stranger sitting on the couch who is staring back at you with a curious expression. He looks around your age and you admit, his face isn’t the kind of face that makes you thank your parents that genetics did a decent job on you. It’s quite the opposite, actually.

His face is the type of face that makes you ask your parents why genetics didn’t do a better job on yours. Okay, you haven’t reached that stage of visual inferiority yet but that’s mainly because he is dressed in clothes that were trendy in the 15th century or something. The garments clinging to his skin look like a bad fusion of a suit (which college student wears a suit in their free time?) and the ridiculous costume the marching band at your former high school had worn whenever a football game was up. And those weird golden pins clipped on the blazer makes it seem as if he used to be in the marines or comes from a royal bloodline or—

Oh. 

“Don’t mind my cousin, your Highness. (y/n)’s humor has always been questionable.”  Youngjae sends you a glare before he puts on his sweetest smile — you know, the act he puts on whenever he tries to negotiate a bonus with his boss or woo his date — and opts to ignore your presence. “Anyway, since we are dealing with a more serious issue at hand than originally expected, we need to give you a makeover to—“

Before he gets to finish his sentence, you violently tug him away from the prince and despite Youngjae thrashing around and complaining, you manage to send the guest a forced smile and leave his vision. The moment you let go of Youngjae in the neighboring room, he readjusts his collar. “What? Couldn’t you have waited once I was done? Also, was it necessary to crinkle my collar this much?” he hisses but you get straight to the point.

“What is he doing here?”

“Uh, sitting on the couch?”

“That’s not what I mean.” you grit your teeth and land a punch on his arm. “What is he doing here?”

Youngjae looks over your shoulder, making sure that what he’s about to say next is only heard by you. “Prince Chan is,” he hesitates, unsure how to approach his topic. You know it’s taking up his last nerves to conclude a logical explanation as the tip of his tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips; a habit he has adapted ever since he stopped chewing on his bottom lip. “The predicament he’s in is worse than we expected. Well, his dad is partially at fault because he forgot to tell us this not-so-small critical detail that—“

“Youngjae, you’re rambling.”

“The point is.” he sighs and gives you a distressed look as if he already knows you’re not going to like the information at all. “We can’t send him to the family in Goyang, the place he was originally going to stay in. He’s one of the more extreme cases and the Board agreed that he had to live with one of the active combatants to ensure his safety.”

Silence engulfs the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for you to count two and two together.

“He’s going to live here,” you deadpan eventually and Youngjae nods in confirmation.

“I know you’re not very happy—“

“Not very happy is underwhelming.” You earn a flick against your forehead and yelp in pain as you over the spot he just hit. “Ow! I was just stating the truth!”

“Will you stop interrupting me? Geez. Yes, I know that you’re not happy at all. I know that you’re not a huge fan of the majority of our family working in this business. But please do me this one favor or so help me God— try to be nice to him for the next year.”

“He’s staying for a year?” you shriek and in the blink of an eye, Youngjae clamps your mouth shut.

“Can you keep it down?!” he whisper-yells, then retreats his hand and reverts to a conversational tone with a frown. “It’s just a year, okay? Y’know, just... say hi to him whenever you see him. Act civilized.”

You grimace as he stresses his last words like you didn’t know what human decency was. The longer you keep the petrified expression on your face, the more it turns into a staring contest between the two of you. Just as if you were each other’s reflection, you mimic his actions and vice versa. When Youngjae squints, you squint. When you shoot him a glare, he returns it. It all boils down to the final blink that Youngjae feints and you’re the first to look away.

“Okay fine! I’ll try to behave,” you mumble in defeat.

A satisfied smile makes its way on Youngjae’s lips. “It’s always nice negotiating with you.”

Being born into a family where the majority works for the royalty protection program (short: RPP or as you like to stylize it: argh-pee-pee), also known as the secret service for people with crowns on their heads, comes with many perks. In your eyes, this privilege comes with many, many downsides that aren’t worth the advantages. Sure, there is the one or other occasion where you can waltz around in fancy evening attire and attend an actual ball, but overall, it’s a pain in the ass.

Even though it’s prohibited to openly declare that you work for the RPP, the news always finds its way out. Usually, it takes approximately a week for pretty much half of the neighborhood to find out. And it certainly isn’t nice hearing whispers about your dad being that guy working for the program whenever you step out of your house, which is ultimately why you moved in with your cousin Youngjae. (Housing in your small town wasn’t really affordable for a dirt poor college student after all!)

Youngjae has always been your favorite cousin out of the... whatever number of cousins you have. But here’s the thing. He also works for the RPP.

However, somehow he managed to — and up to this day it still remains a mystery to you how on earth he did that — keep his job a secret. Especially with his tendency to dish out the worst kinds of secrets when he’s slightly tipsy. Frankly, you once considered printing out the image of a trophy for that remarkable feat.

With your dad and cousin both active in that business (because organization sounds too shady), it’s not the first time you meet a prince, so you already know how the entire thing works. The concept is quite simple; they get sent to a household but before they settle in and take on a fake identity until their circumstances have improved, they undergo a makeover. Most of the time, it ends up in the glow up you secretly crave but in Prince Chan’s case, you suppose he can’t get any more attractive.

Oh boy. You’re in for a ride.

You’re busy slicing bell peppers for the meal you were cooking when both your cousin and the prince enter the kitchen and Youngjae explicitly demands you to pay them attention. You don’t react immediately, but the moment he threatens to swipe the knife away from you, you perk up and set your desire to prepare your fried rice aside.

“(y/n), uh, hi? I’m Bang Chan and I’ll be your new housemate for a year. I hope we can get along.” Chan recites his introduction without any mistakes and earns a way too brotherly pat on the back from Youngjae, considering that they just met this morning. It’s truly amazing how fast Youngjae can get people to warm up to him. 

Chan is stripped out of his weird clothes and instead, looks like he threw on the next best thing lying around in his room. Nonetheless, despite the seemingly little effort that was put into the outfit, it looks oddly good. The stylists didn’t seem to do much to his hair and just parted his bangs a little, so one could catch a slight glimpse of his forehead. It’s just a small detail, but you find yourself liking his current appearance much more appealing than before, though you’re pretty sure his clothes played a major part in your previous distaste. 

“Remember Jihyo?” Youngjae interrupts your train of thought. “She’s Chan’s relative. And because I’m the genuine friend who loves to help her out, I decided to agree to this after she went down on her knees and begged me to let Chan live with us for a while—“

“I’m not interested in your blown up, fictional background stories, thank you very much.” you backtrack. “Wait. Did you say Jihyo? Seriously? Jihyo is his alibi?” Of course, you remember Jihyo. It’s quite difficult to forget her when Youngjae used to swoon about her at every hour of the day, back when they were a thing. Besides, she still stops by every few months.

“C’mon, you have to admit there is a similar vibe between them!” 

You furrow your brows and inspect Chan a second time. Your gaze wanders back to Youngjae and then returns to Chan anew. It’s obvious that the latter is feeling as if he were up for auction and you can’t really blame him for feeling so uncomfortable. You’ve heard from a few friends that if looks could kill, you’d have the highest killing record. 

There’s no similar vibe in your view, but for the sake of entertaining Youngjae’s thoughts: “He does seem similar to Jihyo.”

“Told ya. But back to more important matters,” Youngjae coughs and wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, but it somehow seems as if he’s opting to strangle you. “My duties are calling, so I won’t be back until late. You look like you could need some help with cooking, by the way. I’m sure Chan right here is willing to help you!”

“I’m almost done though—“ you choke when he tightens his embrace. By now, his arm is no longer hugging your shoulder, but rather crushing your throat.

“You look like you could need some help,” he repeats, this time with added urgency. “It’d be a great opportunity for you to bond since you’ll also share pretty much all classes at uni. Did you know, he has the same major as you! Besides, it’d be a very useful life experience for him if he helped you with cooking.”

“Of course, how fun!” you hiss, voice going an octave higher from the lack of oxygen. “I already said that I’m painfully delighted about that, so you can let me go now, Youngjae!”

A sneer and a jab in his arm later, Youngjae finally takes his leave. That nasty liar, leaving an hour earlier than his schedule stated. You know that silently cursing at him isn’t going to make your problems dissolve because that’d be a dream come true.

“Listen, let me get things straight.” you sigh, picking up the knife to resume chopping your vegetables. Youngjae may have ordered you to act civilized, but having eye contact with Chan when you’ve been starving for the past hour isn’t your priority. Food doesn’t make itself. “I don’t have any intention of getting close to you and I expect the same from you. Don’t step a foot into my room, don’t talk to me unless absolutely necessary, and don’t think I’ll run around and do your chores or cook your meals like one of your little servants. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you’ll be treated like one under this roof.”

“We live in the 21st century, not the renaissance. Your idea of royal families is very dated.” Chan chuckles dryly.

“Baron Yoon Jeonghan from the seven islands is a stuck-up prick and out of touch with the world. It took him several visits to the slums, multiple voluntary hours at the kindergarten, and stripping him off his bank card to make him see reason,” you deadpan. Fuck Baron Jeonghan. Just thinking about your first and last encounter with that entitled douchebag almost makes you slice your finger instead of the bell pepper. “Duchess Yoo Shiah threw a hissy fit when she found out her clothes weren’t dry cleaned and bought from Zara instead of fucking Dior. The one who takes the cake when it comes to privilege is Princess Kim Min—”

“Everyone knows they are problematic,” Chan interjects. True, he has a point. There’s nobody out there who doesn’t know about Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah but he’s also missing the entire point.

“And guess who gets stuck under the care of the RPP?” you raise a brow at him. He blanches at the realization as if he got struck with lightning. Perhaps you should give him more credit because he seems to own more brain cells than Baron Jeonghan. “Exactly. Everyone problematic.” 

Chan’s jaw is clenched as he racks his brain to come up with a smart comeback. The sight of him stumbling on his words is nothing but pitiful, so you turn back to the cutting board and grab an onion to slice in half. “I’m not interested in your sob story, your Highness. I don’t care why you’re under the protection of the RPP. The only thing I care about is that you stay out of my business.”

“Chan is fine. No need for the title,” he sighs with a strain. “Perhaps I should’ve been more considerate with my first comment. Youngjae already told me about your… negative attitude towards the entire setup. It wasn’t my intention to anger you. Sorry.”

Well, that’s new. Out of the dozens of aristocrats you’ve met (and sadly also shared a house with back when you were 16 years old and still living with your dad), he’s the first to drop his title within five minutes for the sake of the disguise and apologize. 

“We live under the same roof so we should get along with each other. If there’s something you need help with, just ask me, (y/n).”

“Thanks for the offer,” you reply nonchalantly because act civilized unless you want to suffer from a late-night sneak attack from Youngjae if he finds out. “But no thanks. I don’t need your help.”

You find yourself in need of help a few weeks later, right before the dreaded exam season.

“No. Forget it, Bam. I’m not going out clubbing with you tonight. In fact, I won’t do that anytime soon.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you try to break down to your friend that you prioritize your grades over his need of getting wasted.

“C’mon!” he whines so loudly that you have to put your phone farther away from your ear. “You’re not in that much stress yet! You have to make the most out of it before you drown in your exams.”

“Things are different for engineering students like, uh, me for example!” you hiss. “I fell behind and need to catch up. Ask Yugyeom or Changbin.”

“First of all, Yugyeom is always at the bar doing his job. And Changbin never picks up his phone. There’s nobody who’d dance with me!”

“You abandoned me at the bar for some chick the last time,” you deadpan. “I’m very sure you’ll find someone.”

Bambam finally gets the gist and gives up. “Fine then. Your loss. Have fun dying in numbers and variables instead of living in the moment. You’re going to regret it—”

You end the call and set your phone on mute before throwing it on the bed. Sometimes you wonder whether you were on drugs when you decided to major in engineering. The longer you stare at the jumble of numbers and letters — some of them in Greek too — the more you think your brain cells are decaying.

That’s how you find yourself in the kitchen, complaining at Youngjae’s expense and telling him how much you’d rather drown in bleach than subjecting yourself to Algebra II. 

“You know there’s someone you can ask for help and he’s right here,” Youngjae drawls before chugging down the rest of his beer. If he’s going to be a victim to your temper tantrum about a major that you chose yourself, he might as well get a drink so he won’t go insane from your monologue about numbers and graphs and formulas he’s forgotten since he graduated from high school.

You gawk at him. “You? Are you hearing yourself? You almost failed maths. Twice!”

“Because I didn’t mean myself, dipshit,” he says blankly and his eyes flit over your shoulder, “Speaking of the devil. There comes the man of honor.”

You whip your head back to the door to see Chan enter confusedly. “Uh, did I interrupt something?”

“Yes.”

“No, we were just talking about you!”

You send Youngjae a death glare which he casually shrugs off. “(y/n) here is bitching about her Statistics I class and needs a tutor!”

“It’s actually Algebra II if you bothered to pay attention—”

“(y/n) needs a tutor!” Youngjae exclaims and nearly trips on his feet when he gets up from his chair. “Channie, I heard you’re good with numbers. Didn’t you get accepted into all Ivy Leagues in the States for all engineering programs?”

“You didn’t have to word it like that,” Chan laughs it off and nervously rubs the back of his head. He’s not denying it though.

“Obviously he would. He’s loaded and lives in a castle,” you mutter under your breath, but everyone catches it.

“Hey,” Youngjae warns. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s alright,” Chan says casually. “I just wanted to get myself a snack. But if you have some questions, don’t hesitate to knock on my door. The offer still stands, y’know.” He digs through the cabinet until he finds two packs of the strawberry flavored Pocky knockoff that is 1) apparently his favorite thing to eat and 2) half the price of the Pocky version. He gives Youngjae a thumbs up before he returns to his room.

The moment Chan is out of sight, Youngjae whips his head to you, nostrils flaring. All that’s missing is steam coming out of his ears and his face running red and then he looks like the impetuous brother in every kids cartoon ever. “Really? He’s been staying with us for how long now? Four weeks? Five? Yet you’re still acting as if he murdered you in your dreams or something.”

“I don’t like him,” you state coldly. Youngjae looks like he’s about to rip his hair out.

“Look, I get that you don’t like me being active in this field of work, and I get that you have some hatred against the royal families. But you know you signed up for this when you decided to move in with me.” Youngjae pauses to get a breather and pop a new beer bottle open. “Besides, Chan isn’t like Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah. I have eyes, (y/n), and I’ve seen you two avoiding each other as much as possible. And he doesn’t just laze around — he does the fucking chores and cooks dinner too! Chan is good, (y/n).”

The last words make you snap. “Good? Are you fucking serious? Because that’s why the press in his kingdom is depicting him as a tyrant who cares more about building his sick harem instead of helping the poor. And wasn’t he diagnosed for having anger management issues?!”

All the color leaves Youngjae’s face. This is obviously something you shouldn’t know. While he’s scrambling for words, you take the chance to add, “Dunno why you’re protecting him when he’s making headlines as a prince who can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Chan isn’t just a prince,” Youngjae says quietly. “He’s the crown prince.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “What? Isn’t that even worse with that reputation he has?”

“It’s all propaganda,” he sighs and takes a swig, “The ministers are doing everything they can to finish him off. You see, Chan is the only child of the current king of the seven islands, and if he’s wiped out, it’ll be utter chaos. Chan’s smart and I admit, he used to have anger issues, but he’s worked on them. Though I guess he’s resorted to bottling up his feelings when push comes to pull. The point is, all the higher-ups don’t want him as their future king because they know that Chan is very much capable of pulling through with his own ideas and that doesn’t sit well with them. And a supposedly impulsive future king is the last thing anyone wants, hence why his people are eating up the news.”

“Oh.” you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. However, it’s not the first time you’ve heard such stories. 

“Yeah. Oh,” Youngjae mocks, “If that’s the main reason why you don’t want to talk to him, now you know better. He might have power, but he’s not a monster. And for the record, he got into all Ivy Leagues and elite schools all over the world through his intelligence, not his status.”

Although you can see it in his eyes that Youngjae is done with the heated discussion, he’s still waiting for you to say something. You frown. “So… you think he’s a good tutor?”

“He’s your only shot.” Youngjae says nonchalantly, then adds with a warning tone, “But remember: Act. Civilized. Oh, and don’t tell him I told you about his circumstances. It’s supposed to be confidential information.”

You roll your eyes. How the fuck hasn’t Youngjae been busted yet?

Nonetheless, you’re trudging to Chan’s door a few minutes later, your fat binder of incomprehensible math formulas and (Greek) letter heavy in your arm. Chan opens the door with surprise etched on his face after you knocked, but it settles to warmth when you begrudgingly ask him to help you understand Algebra II. 

“Sorry, it’s a little messy here,” he chuckles airily once he lets you in. It’s not messy per se, just a few clothes piled up in a corner of the room and some books and messily written notes lying on his bed. Still, it’s by far cleaner than the pig stall that is Youngjae’s room (and yours when you’re having a very bad day).

Chan clears his desk and drags his other chair to the table before plopping down on it. “So, what’s the problem?” Instead of answering, you just shove a sheet of paper up his face. “Y’know, you can talk to me. If this is about earlier, it’s really alright. I’m not mad or anything,” he says with the same friendly tone you’ve been hearing ever since he moved in, yet he still takes the sheet from you. You watch his brows scrunch together the more he reads on, and you can already see the question forming in his mind.

“(y/n), you do know this is the basis to understand—”

“I was absent when the professor covered it and everyone I asked couldn’t quite explain it to me,” you respond before he can finish speaking out his thoughts. “All my friends were like—” you gesture with your hands, “—you just do this and that and then hope your hunch is right. Before you say it, yes I know that I don’t get the material of one entire unit and the exam is two weeks away.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Chan says before grabbing his iPad. You stare at him blankly as he writes something on his tablet. The last thing you expected from him was to accept it and try to hammer as much of missing information as he can into your brain, but then again, you’ve never seen him backtrack whenever Youngjae asks him something. Speaking of Youngjae, perhaps he is right. Chan does seem to know what he’s talking about.

“You have to subtract X first, then replace it with Y,” he explains as he circles said letters in different colors. By now, you’ve leaned closer to him to get a better view on what he’s writing (his handwriting isn’t the worst you’ve ever had to decode; refer to Youngjae who you’ve internally awarded with the worst handwriting of the decade). 

Chan is exceptionally good at explaining. You feel like you’ve figured out a secret of the world that not even Pythagoras found out as you slowly understand what on Earth you are supposed to calculate with the formula. Chan is patient, always asking if you got it or if you needed another clarification, and takes the time to draw colorful graphs to visualize the jumble of numbers. His voice is pleasing to the ear too, soft and gentle to the point where you’ve blurred everything out except Chan. Chan’s voice. Chan’s hand.

You didn’t mean to stare, but with him always adding something new every five seconds as he goes on with his monologue, you can’t help but do so. His fingers aren’t long — that’ll always be courtesy of Hyunjin from Subway and yes, his very pretty hands might be the sole reason you only insist on going to that one specific Subway at the intersection next to KFC — but just one glance at Chan’s hand and you know that he’s strong. 

He’s barely applying pressure to the pen, but you can see the veins slightly protruding. Chan’s sleeves are pushed back and if you move your head a bit, you’re more than certain that veins are bulging out from his forearms too. However, you don’t muster up the courage to do that because Chan will definitely notice and the last thing you want on your platter is to tell him that you were too busy checking out his arms instead of listening to him talk about Algebra II.

Eventually, Chan sets the pen down to stretch his hand. He says something, but you don’t pick up what exactly. Not that it’d matter much anyway since you’re too busy admiring his hand—

“(y/n), you there? I called out your name several times but you didn’t react.” Chan’s breath hitches and surprise flashes in his eyes for a split second when his gaze meets yours. You don’t understand his hesitation, but then horror bubbles in you once you realize that his hand is firmly gripping your chin and keeping your head pointed at his direction. The very same hand you’ve been staring at for God knows how long. 

“I’m good. Just a little tired, but I’m good,” you stutter, though it comes out very breathlessly as if you just finished a marathon.

“Tired?” Chan echoes, concern settling into his features. “You should’ve said so, then I would’ve stopped talking. You need something?”

Now that you think about it, you’ve never got a close look at Chan. Sure, he’s handsome, the countless pictures of Google prove that he’s also too photogenic for his own good (goddamnit, why didn’t your parents make you just as photogenic?) but in person, he’s something else. His lips are plush and look very inviting to kiss, and the lower your eyes wander, the more you see a toned chest hidden underneath that damn shit that hugs him in all the right places.

Fine, his hands aren’t the only attractive thing about him. Then again, he’s a prince.

“I said I’m good.” you snap out of your thoughts and finally gather enough control over your nerves to tear his hand away. “And I caught everything you said.” Of course, you know that’s a blatant lie and he knows so too from the way he’s looking at you. That is until he quirks a brow.

“Okay, then what did I say before I called you?”

Your mouth feels dry. It’s almost as if he knew the reason for your distress. “I caught everything relevant to this,” you mutter, suddenly finding his curtains much more interesting. What an interesting design, maybe you should get yourself new curtains too—

“Then you wouldn’t mind solving these questions, right? Just so I can make sure that you got everything down.”

“Sure,” you reply because that’s the only thing you could say without hurting your ego and straining your vocal cords. Chan doesn’t comment any further and looks for some practice questions before sliding the iPad to you. Already the first question makes your head spin in disdain. Numbers? Variables? Never heard of them.

Chan is watching you like a hawk as you fiddle with the pen, unable to write down anything that makes remote sense. Feeling his eyes on you makes you feel helpless and you shift around in your seat. “What are you staring at?” you glare at him once you give up for good, and you just hope that your look is as intimidating as you pictured in your head.

“You’re definitely exhausted. You’re shaking,” Chan points out. Your eyes widen as you stare down and realize that your thighs are shaking, and it’s then and there when you realize that you’re feeling hot. Seems like Chan doesn’t realize that because the worry written on his face is genuine. “You say the exam’s in two weeks right? We can stop for today and work on this tomorrow. That is if you still want my help.”

You nod and add in a tiny voice, “Yes, please.”

You’re too busy ignoring the heat building between your thighs to notice the borderline feral sound that leaves Chan.

“And here I thought you had quality bonding time.” Youngjae gives a disappointed look. “You’re acting even colder towards him than before your exam meltdown. Your prick level can only stoop down so low.”

You ended up getting tutor lessons from Chan every day before the dreaded day of judgment: the exam in Algebra II. You spent more hours in his room than on your own if you were completely honest, and the results were fruitful. While you did manage to pass the exam with a fairly high score, the price you had to pay was hell.

It’s almost as if Chan caught up on your hand fixation. Sometimes he twirled the pen in his fingers, sometimes it was the simple bracelet dangling on his wrist. Just when you thought he had you figured out, he asks you if you’re alright, visibly oblivious to his effect on you. Such duality in a person should be illegal, you conclude. If you die from whiplash, you know who the perpetrator is.

“You were the one who pretty much pressured me into asking him for help,” you drawl.

“I had good intentions only! You can’t keep up the I-hate-royal-families-blah-blah mentality the entire time!” Youngjae wails before stuffing a handful of chips in his mouth.

“Watch me.” You internally cringe at the loud crunching sounds he’s making and add vigorously, “And stop chewing so loudly.”

“You’ll get around or so help me God—” he groans when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t spare a glance at the caller ID because there’s only one person who has set his ringtone to the baby shark song specifically for when he’s calling. “I gotta go, Jinyoung’s being a bitch again. Don’t murder somebody. Thanks.” You only watch him shuffle for his bag and grab a handful of chips before he’s out the door. Groaning, you clean up the mess he’s made on the table. 

Just as you’re done wiping the crumbs off the surface, Chan pads into the room. 

“Hey, can we talk?”

“I established right at the beginning that you should only talk to me when absolutely necessary.” you scowl, trying to walk past him.

“Well, this is important,” he urges and blocks the doorway, effectively stopping you from fleeing. “And I do deserve one conversation with you after I helped you out.”

“You offered on your own. That’s not the same as asking for a favor.” You successfully push your way past him, but in the next moment, he spins you around and pins you against the wall. 

“We’re going to talk, whether you like it or not.” The sudden coldness of his tone has shivers running down your spine. Chan holds your wrist in an iron grip and if he clutched on any tighter, you wouldn’t put it past him to break your bones. Out of options, you comply and give him a curt nod before he lets go and takes a step back. 

“I don’t understand you, (y/n). I genuinely thought you would put your prejudices aside but instead, all I get are mixed signals from you.”

It’s your turn to gawk. “Me? Mixed signals? What are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about how you keep looking at me as if you want me to fuck your brains out.” If the color hasn’t drained from your face yet, it has now. Chan smiles wickedly at your horrified reaction but doesn’t stop there. “I’m talking about how you talk like you don’t want anything to do with me but act as if you’re begging for my attention.” He takes a step closer to you, and you wish you could morph with the wall. “I’m talking about how you keep staring at my hands and think I don’t notice it.” You wince when he rests his hands against the wall on each side of your face, leaning closer so that you can feel his breath on your lips. “So, you have a thing for my hands?” Bullseye.

“You’re so full of yourself. No wonder your ministers want to get rid of you,” you snap because you’d rather suffer from food poisoning than admitting that you want Chan’s fingers in you.

Something shifts within Chan. He gapes at you, clearly not expecting you to even know about the ministers. His demeanor darkens in a blink of an eye, and you feel like your legs are about to give up on you when you meet his eyes, black and feral.

“You’re playing with fire. Don’t anger me,” he warns, voice low and rough.

“So it’s true that you resorted to bottling up your feelings, your Highness?” you cock your head to the side. Chan clenches his jaw at the mention of his title, struggling to keep his anger in check. You laugh through your nose, then grab one of his hands and force it away from the wall. If he already knows that you’re thirsting after him, might as well go for it. “It’s funny how your ministers aren’t able to string you around like a puppet yet here you are, unable to do anything against a commoner. You know you have nice hands and you know my weakness and yet, you’re not using them on me.” He gulps when you fumble with his fingers. 

And then he understands.

“Unless I misread the situation,” he says darkly, though you distinguish the slight tremor his voice carries. “Do you really want this? I’m not going to go easy on you.” Chan is dead serious, judging by the way he’s looking at you expectantly. 

“The safe word is petunia.” You don’t take your eyes off him and add in a louder tone, “Now try me, do your worst.”

“You’re going to regret wanting me at my worst,” Chan growls and before you know it, he crashes his lips against yours. The kiss is anything but sweet, more of a clash of teeth and tongues and saliva dribbling down your chins, yet it leaves you boiling hot and wobbly on your feet. He presses you up against the wall and forces his leg between yours, the sudden contact making you hunch forward. You moan against his mouth when he tugs harshly on your hair, the sting making your nerves go haywire. In the meantime, your hands roam his upper body, blunt nails digging into his shoulders as you try to buck your hips against his leg. While he doesn’t budge, you manage to elicit a groan out of him.

When you pull away, you’re both gasping for air. Chan’s hair is disheveled from the way you’ve been pulling on them, lips pink and glossy. One look in his eyes is enough to make your heart stop beating. They’re dark and animalistic and set ablaze with unfiltered lust. You’re such in a daze from a simple kiss that you nearly stumble when Chan drags you to his room.

He manhandles you on his bed with ease before his lips latch on yours once more. You nearly sob when he rids you off your pants, putting pressure in all the right places to have you losing your mind. As you’re about to gain back some dominance in the kiss, he breaks it off. His fingers that were once ghosting over your underwear are now tracing patterns all over the material, making you spasm. “You’re such a brat, all bark but no bite. All it takes is one kiss and you’ve lost all your fight. Can you get any more pathetic?” he mocks as he focuses his fingertips directly on the wet patch of your underwear. Your eyes roll back as he rubs on the same spot, the broken moans leaving you eerily similar to cries. “Don’t tell me you’re about to come like this. How sensitive are you?”

“Am n-not—” you cut yourself off with a whimper when he lets the waistband snap against your skin.

“Yeah, you sure about that?” he grins and that’s when you break, feeling your high approaching at lightning speed. 

“Don’t wanna come like this—” 

“But I thought you’re not sensitive?” the satisfied grin just widens with every syllable that leaves his lips. “If you don’t want to come like this, all over your underwear, beg.” 

Chan applies even more force to your sensitive spots, and you struggle to have a clear thought. The smirk he delivers is lethal, and you couldn’t be any more convinced that he’s the devil’s incarnate.

“I’ll do anything, please. Don’t let me come like this, that’s all I’m a-aah-asking for,” you weep, your blood nearly boiling at its climax, “I’ll even take a punishment!”

“Say my name,” he orders, fingers still drawing circles.

“Your—”

“My name, not my title.”

Your breath hitches as you finally realize what he’s aiming for. He wants you to remember that it’s him who’s reducing you into this illiterate mess. Him, the one you’ve been despising since before you even met. If you still had any ounce of dignity left, you’d try to fix the power imbalance until you’re left with no choice but to obey, but now you’re so close and the last thing you want to do is come with your pants on.

“Please, Chan,” your voice breaks towards the end and in an instant, he pulls away. As you’re letting you’re basking in the break from his brutal tempo, not too affected by how your upcoming orgasm is fading away, Chan observes you.

And then out of nowhere, he flips you on your stomach and delivers a hard smack to your ass that has you screaming into the pillows.

“You said you’d take any punishment too, right?” You twitch as he rubs the small of your back. You can already imagine the handprints on your ass he continued to slap you with such force that has you moving up the bed. The pain that’s going to haunt you for days. Before you know it, you try to arch your back to lift your ass, but then the bed shifts. “But if you really think I’m going to spank you as a punishment, then you’re really fucking dumb. As if I’ll use my hands on you when we both know you love my hands.”

With that, he drops himself on his chair, spreading his legs that you can see the prominent tent forming in his pants. He orders you over with a flick of his finger, and just as you get up from the bed, a new wave of horror flushes over you.

“Crawl.”

The look you send him is priceless. There’s no fucking way you can do it. It’s just a few meters, nothing you can’t handle, but he’s there sitting on his Ikea swivel chair as if it’s his throne made of gold, watching your every movement like a predator. And then there’s you, only in a shirt and underwear, being forced to go on all fours as if you were his fucking dog—

The difference in power display couldn’t get any more visible. He really is the fucking worst.

“You’d really do anything, huh…” he muses as you drop on your hands and knees and crawl to him, never looking up. It’s only when he beckons you to stand up that you look at him with nothing but rage and shame in your eyes. Chan has always been slightly terrified with your death stare but right now, he can’t take it seriously and it shows. It shows in the way he smiles lopsidedly, in the way his brows quirk in amusement. “Now hump my leg.”

Humiliation runs through your body all over. Your fists are clenched as he waits for you to act, even pats his thigh in case you didn’t get the memo. But oh you do, and his thigh does look inviting.

“Hump my leg like the brainless bitch you are. If you want my hands or my cock, you earn it first. Especially since you treated me like shit ever since I moved in.” The last sentence burns you badly because he has a point. But then there’s the prospect of his hands and dick that’s bulging out of his pants. 

Pushing all thoughts away, you settle on his leg. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you tell yourself it’s all good and then you move. The first thrust knocks all air out of your lungs and you grab onto his shoulders for support. You didn’t even move that much, but Chan’s looking at you as if he’s about to fucking devour you and knowing that he is very much capable of moving you around, you’re starting to become overwhelmed.

Eventually, you lose yourself in the feeling of his rough jeans against your drenched underwear, humping on his thigh as your orgasm builds up. It’s silent, save for your pants, and the countless whimpers flying past your lips as your movements gradually become sloppier. You’re almost there and you know it. But so does Chan, and the moment he’s got it figured out, he lunges from your hips and forces you to pick up the pace. 

“Oh no, you’re going to come,” he growls, ignoring your pleas and sobs. Adrenaline courses in your blood and you know it isn’t long until you fall apart. You try to make him stop, even put your hands on his, but you don’t have the energy to actively push him away.

“Chan, please— I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna come? Then fucking come on my thigh, (y/n),” he snaps, and then adds, “You hear that? You’re about to come from humping my thigh.”

Maybe it’s the realization that he’s right, maybe it’s the way he’s worded it. Either way, it’s the last straw to make you spasm as you come, soaking your underwear and even managing to make a mess out of his pants. Chan makes sure you ride through your orgasm, only stopping to move your hips once you’re all spent and resting your head on his shoulder. Your eyes are glassy, vision foggy, but the only thing you can envision clearly is Chan.

Chan jolts when your hand grazes over his bulge. You’re about to undo his pants, but he’s quick to stop you and restrict your hands behind your back.

“You think you deserve my cock? Dream on. As if I would fuck any commoner, especially those who don’t respect me,” he spits, and you flinch at his choice of words, clearly recalling that you used the exact same terms and he’s now using it against you. “You said you’d take any punishment. Well, guess what? This was just punishment number one.”

[graphicabyss]

Avalanche and the Fallout

So, last time I commented on Tegoshi’s tell-all book and now it’s released and the damage is done. Such an appropriate name seeing as avalanches are sudden and destroy everything in their path. As I read the book and the related news, I struggled with both the need to convey how I felt and stop giving him so much time and attention. Sure enough, I ended up with a long review/analysis/bitching post. It's rough and mean and very long so please read at your own risk.

Facts first. The book released on Aug 5 was originally supposed to run 10,000 copies but they reportedly increased it to 50,000 due to high demand. Tegoshi also held a press-conference to talk about it on release day. It ended up being one of the best-selling books on Amazon and top seller in Entertainment.

It’s hard to talk about the book briefly. It’s 270 pages long and I had absolutely no intention to read it all but still ended up reading a good deal and words just kept pouring out of me. I could not imagine how much this book would fuck me up. I knew it would be bad but honestly I was shocked about the publication because it’s both incredibly cruel to so many people and incredibly stupid as it’s going to severely damage his reputation and future career.

I won’t even try to pretend to be objective because there’s nothing objective about the book itself. It’s a book of unsolicited opinions. If there’s one word I’d to describe it it’s ‘delusional’. Every chapter reeks of vanity and a sense of superiority as he judges every single celebrity he came in contact with and gives plenty of advice. It's a mess of careless words hastily and haphazardly thrown together in an attempt to let the world know the Real Tegoshi.

Of course, that's not how he sees it. He mentions the likes of Steve Jobs and Bill Gates saying their books give people motivation and inspiration and he wanted to do the same. Bitch, you haven't done anything to get you on that level yet.

There’s a video on his channel where he goes to the publisher to talk about the book and while he says about sending an inspirational message, the publisher only wants him to talk about Yukirin and other juicy gossip. And it’s not like poor Tegoshi was tricked into it, he readily agreed to it and he knew full well what he was doing. The book’s cover does not advertise life advice, it advertises celebrity gossip. Also nudes, which by the way, turned out to be mere topless shots. Add false advertising to the list of offenses. He really gave Bunsun a run for their money discussing half his scandals and even adding some extra. He keeps saying he only wants to clear up the rumours but somehow ends up saying things that make absolutely no difference or even make him look worse. It's like if Bunshun said "Tegoshi was partying with 5 younger women, ran around naked and then passed out drunk" and Tegoshi would be like "That's not true! There were 4 women!"

He also said he absolutely could not hide how he truly felt. And that seems to make sense except it’s one thing to just be honest and reveal some of your relevant thoughts in a carefully worded manner. But this is another thing entirely. It’s some kind of emotional exhibitionism, a compulsory desire to share his every thought and opinion on everything and everyone. Dear, there is middle ground between hiding how you really feel and giving your every single opinion. That doesn't make you honest. It makes you an asshole.

The book is divided into small chapters and most are about NEWS, past and present members and related topics, as well as most other JE artists. Some chapters are about the women he had or did not have relations with. Some are about the people he admires and his delusional plans for the future. Only a small number of chapters do not mention any names and talk about his personal experiences and thoughts.

At this point, I do not even have all the scans but I have more than enough to go off the parts I read. First off, I am now allergic to the word ‘positive’ and the phrase ‘as a man’. What the fuck does that even mean? Also, a lot of the stuff he says in the book is not new in any way and was either said before or known through other sources or rumours. There are hardly any shocking revelations anywhere, at least if you were following him as closely as I have. But hearing all these terrible opinions at once is sure a treat.

Actually, he himself described it as whining and that seems accurate because he does that for a good portion of the book, explaining how unfairly he (and other people) was treated by the industry and the press. There are many stories of hardship and resilience. There’s the good old "I suffered so much when I wasn’t the center of attention for the first time in my life”. There’s the classic “The media spreads lies about me” and other familiar narratives. Also a few tragic stories of unfulfilled love.

And not all of it is horrible. In fact, there are a few parts that I could relate to, such as the terrible way Koyama had been treated when he had to resign from ‘every’, the strange limitations for idols and how excessively strict the rules of Japanese showbiz are. But by telling those stories and complaining about JE and Japan’s entertainment industry, he is not going to make a change. All he accomplished is make things harder for himself. Bringing up the names of many artists, especially those he doesn’t even know personally, and discussing their problems is incredibly rude, intrusive and potentially damaging. Yes, the rules of Japanese entertainment suck but see how much you can achieve going against them.

And I don't like JE and not going to defend it but bitching about JE in particular is unwise for two reasons: One - not only does he owe everything to it, NEWS is still in it and what’s bad for JE is bad for NEWS. Two - JE is very powerful and has immense influence in the industry so making them your enemy when your career barely started may lead to it ending prematurely. In the end, Tegoshi Yuya’s biggest obstacle to fame isn’t JE or media. It’s Tegoshi Yuya.

It is not an autobiography book so it doesn't start with childhood. Which is a pity because I was hoping to get a glimpse of how we got to this point. There are a few clues though. 

I can tell.

Perhaps the most important chapters are those connected to his leaving the band, his reasons and motivations and that shit made me livid. He basically says that one day he imagined how awesome his solo career would be and decided he was too good to be in NEWS and the world will fall at his feet at soon as he lets it. He literally says that when he had to stay home because of the Covid-19 pandemic, he realized that God sent him a sign saying “Quickly, leave the agency!”. The pandemic is serendipity. Fuck me.

I honestly expected that the part about NEWS members at least would be nothing but praise but it also left me with very mixed feelings. First, there's a chapter "What I Told the NEWS Members" and it sounds so solemn and inspirational like "Are you sure you didn't copy that from some drama or anime? Because people do not talk like that, especially after being hit with such news." I'd love to hear their side of the story. There's also a chapter calling the members his comrades and expressing his eternal gratitude. But it's pretty clear that's not really for the members, it's to appease the fans.

There are several more chapters about the members specifically. Tegoshi has to be perfectly honest so there’s evaluation of every member, as he positions himself as the best performer by default and tells some stories that he apparently seems to think necessary to share.

For instance, there’s his story of choosing to stay in NEWS in 2011 as he told Koyashige they were miles behind Tegomass and needed to improve their singing and dancing to not drag the band down. Wait, since when can Tegoshi dance? Also the time Massu could not get a certain song right and got unresponsive as Tegoshi kept poking his mistake, so Tegoshi went berserk and thrashed Massu's things.

There is also a whole chapter about Shige and it's so weird as a former biggest Tegoshige shipper. Before I'd be happy for all the praise. Sadly, at this point if Tegoshi praises you too much it's almost a little suspicious. The whole thing is basically Tegoshi deciding that Shige is his top choice as... a man? deciding he makes the best leader and entrusting him the band. "Take care of my NEWS, Kato!" he says at the end. Fuck this shit!

Also, whatever happened to “Shige-chan?” He has made no effort to spend time with Shige out of work. And you know, they used to hang out and go on trips together when they were younger but not in recent years as Tegoshi got 'cooler' friends. I mean, his and Shige's friends probably have a 20+ difference in IQ level but still... He also only read a few of his books and unlike Massu, he does read. Mostly shitty 'how to succeed' types. All of that speaks of remarkable disinterest in Shige's actual life and thoughts.

There are several more chapters regarding NEWS as a band and what he thinks they should do and it makes me furious just talking about it. You lost any right to decide the band's future when you left them high and dry, asshole. He also claims he loves NEWS so so much and even wears the tour T-shirts (impressive!) and sings their songs in karaoke and cries! (poor thing!) On top of that he can't wait to see the STORY tour and go to see it and also broadcast it on his Youtube and do a review.......... I can't with this shit. Let's move on.

He also analyzed former members, basically calling Ryo spineless and saying he and Pi should have left sooner if they had no interest being in the band. And that’s coming from someone who tried to leave what? 4 times at least? Yes. It turns out he wanted to leave the band in 2017, in addition to 2011 and 2013. The way I see it now, 4nin NEWS was a hostage situation where Tegoshi constantly threatened to leave and other members trying to keep him happy and make him stay. He knew he was important and he got away with all kind of shit, both within the band and the agency.

In a similar manner, he takes each JE group and artist and evaluates them - what's good about it and what’s not, who’s popular and capable, what the group needs to do and so on. It’s amazingly condescending. There’s even a whole part about wanting to unite NEWS and KAT-TUN. What the fuck? Who asked you? Go film your ugly wardrobe or something.

I bet Tegoshi is so obsessed with popularity and rankings that he sees numbers over every person's and groups’ heads. Not everything in the world can be ranked and measured in numbers. He also says there are many celebrities who fucked up and acted like divas but are still popular. Way to go! Except it seems you have mistaken the order. You should succeed first, then be a dick. Also bitch, you're not Lady Gaga.

One of the biggest reasons for the anger of fans, at least the Western ones, was the way he talked about the mental issues of the former King & Prince member Iwahashi Genki and SEXY ZONE member Matsushima Sou both of whom had to step back from the industry because of their panic attacks. Even though he intended to encourage them, he expressed a fundamental misunderstanding of how panic attacks work suggesting they just had to cheer up and stay positive.

There's a whole section where he talks about a dozen female celebrities, mostly idols and actresses, dedicating a whole chapter to each. Of course, only to ‘set the record straight’. Because that’s exactly how the rumours work, you know. Particularly old ones. You tell the whole story and they go away. It's disgusting. Female artists' whole careers depend on their pure image and being associated with him can easily end it.

He also speaks of the first three girls he dated, which all sound like huge and tragic love stories as he said he loved them so much he considered marrying them but they all actually happened when he was about 16 to 20 years and after turning 20 he hasn't had a single woman that he loved that much.

And then some parts are only about himself and they are things that one should really, really keep to oneself. Nobody needs to know you drink so hard you can’t get it up. The chapter's called "I have no interest in sex" but it should really be called "I have a drinking problem". I couldn’t help but remember the scandalous article that came out in 2017 where one of his 'girl friends' sold the story of their relationship with all unsightly intimate details. I chose to defend him at the time but now I’m not even sure I can blame her. Perhaps it should be viewed as whistle-blower insider info as she warned others of what they may expect. The chapter "I have easily over a 1000 female friends" says he has this many girl contacts all over Japan and overseas but they aren't what you think they are. He only had 10 girls who he considered girlfriends, those he met 1 on 1 with. I guess the rest he just fucked so that doesn't count. Now that I think about it, I feel like 99% of all the Bunshun articles were mostly accurate.

Speaking of which... There's also a chapter where he explains why he cried during Neverland tour and he explains it by the photo with the two cons from 2011. We all know that was just a small part of it and the far bigger reason was people exposing his private messages and leaking intimate photos and stories. So much for the whole truth. Also, he whines about his reputation being hurt by the photo but has a whole chapter praising the man called Horiemon who was imprisoned for securities fraud.

There's another major revelation that shows his character. He mentions several cases where he had hissy fits in the dressing rooms, actually throwing chairs and things. Of course, for important reasons - being frustrated and angry at terrible injustices. Such as Koyama being fired from ‘every’ or him losing some parts in ChumChum after his scandal. Also the fight with Massu back in 2010 when he threw Massu’s things on the floor... It’s horrible as it is but for Massu, knowing he freaks out if you so much as breathe on his things... What a bitch.

There are also some chapters about his delusions of becoming a worldwide phenomenon but he doesn't seem to have a real plan how to achieve it. There are his ideas that are all over the place. There's the bold "Creating a new mold of entertainment" so that's producing. There's Youtube stuff. There's creating a "Tegoshi village" with ex-TOKIO Yamaguchi. He just had to pick the most problematic of his senpai. And there's an actual chapter called "Expanding to China and US Simultaneously”? Also English lessons? That all sounds very impressive, hon, but all you did so far was piggybacking on other people's fame and work. His book sold largely due to scandals and other people's names. He had a solo concert with just his NEWS solos and cover versions. And he just released a video that is an exact replica of his ItteQ segment.

One question is: how is he so confident he'll succeed fast? Well, apart form the usual delusions of grandeur. One reason for his excessive confidence is having friends in high places. At one point he's casually namedropping Abe Shinzo and the First Lady who was supposedly expected to come to the Story tour. Tegoshi said he would invite both of them to his solo concert. Yeah, I'm sure they'll come, nothing controversial about that.

I can’t imagine how it’s going to go from here but I don’t know how anyone would still want to work with him. He fucked over people he worked with for 18 years, people he claims to love, in a heartbeat so what can a new partner expect?

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

As expected by literally everyone but Tegoshi, the book made an uproar and not in a good way, with fans and agencies enraged over his words about the artists. There were many articles calling this book 'exposé book', especially focusing on him using the real names of female celebrities. Some newspapers followed up with petty articles. My favourite is an article from Tokyo Sports that specifically dug up a story that was not in the book about the way he adamantly pursued a certain female idol trying to conquer her and culminating in doing a dogeza in front of her but she still rejected him saying "Zettai yada! I will be your girlfriend number what?". Her name is not revealed, which is unfortunate, I'd like to know who that queen is.

Not all feedback was bad, of course. According to this article, many men brought it and enjoyed it. I'm sure they did. Plenty of aspirational douchebags out there. Anyway. Many fans wrote to him long angry and very detailed letters. His social media accounts have been losing followers for the past several weeks.

Perhaps the strangest thing is that he seemed genuinely surprised that instead of praise for his courage and honesty he got anger and disapproval. It wouldn't happen if he got his head out of his ass and literally asked a single one of the people he wrote about what they thought of it. 

The feedback must have been very focused as the very next day he wrote a few posts on his Twitter and Instagram indicating his concern over the feedback. On Twitter, he used the word “yacchimatta ka” as in “I messed up, didn’t I?” though stylistically I read it as “whoopsie”. Then there were two Insta stories.

2020/08/06 Ah, I'm a little tired. I'm also human. (sometimes I whine)

2020/08/06 I don't bother with those who criticize me in whatever they do. But I can't stand to see my fans, whom I treasure like my life, leave. I'm sorry. From now on, I won't whine anymore.

"I whine sometimes?" Really? that's what you call a 272 pages tell-all book? Also "I won't whine anymore"?? You think pulling off shit like that and then saying "whoopsie" is enough? It got quiet for a few days and on Aug 10 there was the apology video, which was named "This is my first and last whining". Doubt it. He uses the word ‘弱音’ which has a somewhat vague meaning, using it in an apology video in that context is confusing. Why not call apology as it is? That seems like another politician’s technique.

The apology was impressive in a way. At least it was not a blanket apology, he (or his employees) correctly identified what exactly people were mad about. He said he was really sorry for hurting his fans and causing trouble to people he wrote about. He said he understood that he doesn't have to reveal everything. He also said that he felt the love behind the anger, that fans wrote to him because they cared and were disappointed. Also said he realized that he was protected till now. It was all pretty good right until the very end when he gave a loud 'TEI!' effectively ruining the effect.

Of course, it was good that he did that but I still don't think it even began to make up for all the shit he wrote. The apology would be an adequate step after a shitty Tweet, not a fucking book. Also, I feel like more than anything he just got scared of losing his fans, maybe even sorry for hurting their feelings but not really sorry for what he did. He has no plans to change his behaviour. He wants to be at his 100% assholeness and still be adored.

Of course thousands of merciful women turned to his defence because he looked 'so sad' and even 'thinner'. That's right! He's the real victim here. Must be terrible to hear such hard criticism for the things you actually said and did.

By now I'm barely even angry anymore and a part of me feels sorry for Tegoshi. He's like a dumb spoiled child who wreaks havoc. But I have to remind myself I should not feel sorry. He is in fact an adult man of 32 who is so used he always gets his way that even a minor opposition is viewed by him as a violation of his freedom. And his charm is the very reason he always got away with all the shit he did in life up to this point. I bet he is getting a lot of hate mail and I hope his positivity prepared him for it. I remember him calling Koyama in the middle of the night to come and comfort him while he cried. Also calling Shige to come only to fall asleep in his lap. Now he's on his own. God, right now I just really wish Tegoshi would send himself to the corner and thought about what he's done. Just step aside and shut up for 5 minutes.

But he isn't gonna do it. Of course not. He had a solo concert today and is doing Youtube videos and moving even faster so that people forget about the book.

But fans never will. I can't even say if the book changed my perception or just unveiled what I knew was there all along. For years I've been discarding and questioning all the bad rumours and stories telling myself "He didn't mean it" or "That can't be true" but now it all comes together like pieces of a puzzle, and there's no need to guess anymore because he's shouting "Oh yes I fucking did and I'll do it again!"

All in all, the book paints a picture of a man who is anything but Prince Charming. It chips away any remaining illusions of a 'perfect idol' showing someone who is vain, petty, and chauvinistic. Someone who is obsessed with status and popularity so much that he is willing to sacrifice everything for it and thinks it doesn't matter how bad your reputation is as long as you succeed. Someone who is the very epitome of toxic masculinity, drinks himself to oblivion and treats women like toys. And yet, somehow, I still find myself having to fight the strong urge deep inside of me that makes me want to like him.

[96harmony96]

Chapter 8 part 2

she smacked my butt hard enough to send me forward a step and leave behind a hot sting even through my pants. “That damned Band-Aid you call a shirt doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Don’t take long in the shower. You’re just going to get sweaty again.”

“Wait.” I caught her arm before she passed the women’s locker room on the way toward the men’s. “Would it gross you out if I told you I didn’t want you to shower? If I said I want to find someplace really close by where I could jump you while you’re still dripping sweat?”

Lauren’s jaw tightened and her gaze darkened dangerously. “I’m beginning to fear for your safety, Camila. Grab your stuff. There’s a hotel around the corner.”

Neither of us changed and we were outside in five minutes. Lauren walked briskly and I hurried to keep up. When she stopped abruptly, turned, and dipped me back in a lavish heated kiss on the crowded sidewalk, I was too stunned to do more than hold on. It was a soul-wrenching melding of our mouths, full of passion and sweet spontaneity that made my heart ache. Applause broke out around us.

When she straightened me again, I was breathless and dizzy. “What was that?” I gasped.

“A prelude.” she resumed our dash to the nearest hotel, one I didn’t catch the name of as she pulled me past the doorman and crossed straight to the elevator. It was clear to me that the property was one of Lauren’s even before a manager greeted her by name just before the elevator doors closed.

Gideon dropped her duffel on the car floor and busied herself with figuring out how to extricate me from my sports top. I was slapping her hands away when the doors opened and she scooped up her bag. There was no one waiting on our floor and no one in the hallway. she pulled a master key out of somewhere and a moment later we were in a room.

I pounced, pushing my hands up beneath her shirt to feel her damp skin and the hardness of the muscles beneath it. “Get naked. Like now.”

she laughed as she toed off her sneakers and yanked her tank over her head.

Oh my God…seeing her in the flesh—all of her, as her shorts hit the floor—was synapse frying. There wasn’t an ounce of excess flesh on her anywhere, just hard slabs of honed muscle. she had washboard abs and that super sexy V of muscle on her pelvis that Cary called the Loin of Apollo. Gideon didn’t wax her chest like Cary did, but he groomed with the same care she showed to the rest of his body. she was pure primal male, the embodiment of everything I coveted, fantasized about, and wished for.

“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” I said, staring unabashedly.

“You’re still dressed.” she attacked my clothes, whipping my loosened top off before I took a full breath. My pants were wrestled down and I kicked my shoes off in such a hurry that I lost my balance and fell on the bed. I barely caught my breath before she was on me.

We rolled across the mattress in a tangle. Everywhere she touched me left trails of fire behind. The clean, hardworking scent of her skin was an aphrodisiac and intoxicant at once, spurring my desire for her until I felt like I was about to lose my mind.

“You’re so beautiful, Camila.” she plumped one breast in his hand before taking my nipple into her mouth.

I cried out at the scorching heat and the lash of her tongue, my core tightening with every soft suck. My hands were greedy as they slid over her sweat-damp skin, stroking and kneading, searching for the spots that made her growl and moan. I scissored my legs with her and tried to roll him, but she was too heavy and too strong.

she lifted her head and smiled down at me. “It’s my turn this time.”

What I felt for her in that moment, seeing that smile and the heat in her eyes, was so intense it was painful. Too fast, I thought. I was falling too fast. “Lauren—”

she kissed me deeply, licking into my mouth in that way of his. I thought she could really make me come with just a kiss, if we stayed at it long enough. Everything about her turned me on, from the way she looked and felt beneath my hands to the way she watched me and touched me. Her greed and the silent demands she made on my body, the forcefulness with which she pleasured me and took her pleasure in return, drove me wild.

I ran my hands through the wet silk of her hair. The crisp hairs on her chest teased my tightened nipples and the feel of her rock-hard body against mine was enough to make me wet and needy.

“I love your body,” she whispered, her lips moving across my cheek to my throat. Her hand caressed the length of my torso from breasts to hip. “I can’t get enough of it.”

“You haven’t had very much of it yet,” I teased.

“I don’t think I’ll ever have enough.” Nibbling and licking across my shoulder, she slid down and caught my other nipple between her teeth. she tugged and the tiny dart of pain had my back arching on a soft cry. she soothed the sting with a soft suck; then kissed her way downward. “I’ve never wanted anything this badly.”

“Then do me!”

“Not yet,” she murmured, moving lower, rimming my navel with the tip of her tongue. “You’re not ready yet.”

“What? Ah, God…I can’t get any readier.” I tugged on her hair, trying to pull her up.

Lauren caught my wrists and pinned them to the mattress. “You have a tight little cunt, Camila. I’ll bruise you if I don’t get you soft and relaxed.”

A violent shiver of arousal moved through me. It turned me on when she talked so bluntly about sex. Then he slid lower and I tensed. “No, Lauren. I need to shower for that.”

she buried her face in my cleft and I struggled against her hold, flushed with sudden shame. she nipped at my inner thigh with her teeth. “Stop it.”

“Don’t. Please. You don’t have to do that.”

Her glare stilled my frantic movements. “Do you think I feel differently about your body than you do mine?” she asked harshly. “I want you, Camila.”

I licked my dry lips, so crazily turned on by her animal need that I couldn’t form a single word. she growled softly and dove for the slick flesh between my legs. Her tongue pushed into me, licking and parting the sensitive tissues. My hips churned restlessly, my body silently begging for more. It felt so good I could’ve wept.

“God, Camila. I’ve wanted my mouth on your cunt every day since I met you.”

As the velvet softness of her tongue flickered over my swollen clit, my head pressed hard into the pillow. “Yes. Like that. Make me come.”

she did, with the gentlest of suction and a hard lick. I writhed as the orgasm jolted through me, my core tensing violently, my limbs shaking. Her tongue thrust into my sex as it convulsed, rippling along the shallow penetration, trying to pull her deeper. Her groans vibrated against my swollen flesh, goading the climax to roll on and on. Tears stung my eyes and coursed down my temples, the physical pleasure destroying the wall that kept my emotions at bay.

And Lauren didn’t stop. she circled the trembling entrance to my body with the tip of her tongue and lapped at my throbbing clit until I quickened again. Two fingers pushed inside me, curving and stroking. I was so sensitive I thrashed against the onslaught. When she drew on my clit with steady, rhythmic suction, I came again, crying out hoarsely. Then she had three fingers in me, twisting and opening me.

“No.” My head tossed from side to side, every inch of my skin tingling and burning. “No more.”

“Once more,” she coaxed hoarsely. “Once more, then I’ll fuck you.”

“I can’t…”

“You will.” she blew a slow stream of air over my wet flesh, the coolness over fevered skin reawakening raw nerve endings. “I love watching you come, Camila. Love hearing the sounds you make, the way your body quivers…”

she massaged a tender spot inside me and an orgasm pulsed through me in a slow, heated roll of delight, no less devastating for being gentler than the two before it.

Her weight and heat left me. In a distant corner of my dazed mind, I heard a drawer opening, followed swiftly by the sound of foil tearing. The mattress dipped as she returned, her hands rough now as she yanked me down to the center of the bed. she stretched herself on top of me, pinning me, tucking her forearms on the outside of my biceps and pressing them to my sides, capturing me.

My gaze was riveted to her austerely beautiful face. Her features were harsh with lust, her skin stretched tight over her cheekbones and jaw. Her eyes were so dark and dilated they were black, and I knew I was staring into the face of a man who’d passed the limits of her control. It was important to me that she’d made it that far for my benefit and that she’d done so to pleasure and prepare me for what I knew would be a hard ride.

My hands fisted in the bedspread, anticipation building. she’d made sure I got mine, over and over again. This would be for her.

“Fuck me,” I ordered, daring her with my eyes.

“Camila.” SHe snapped out my name as he rammed into me, sinking balls-deep in one fierce drive.

I gasped. she was big, hard as stone, and so damn deep. The connection was startlingly intense. Emotionally. Mentally. I’d never felt so completely…taken. Possessed.

I wouldn’t have thought I could bear to be restrained during sex, not with my past being what it was, but Lauren’s total domination of my body ratcheted my desire to an outrageous level. I’d never been so hot for it in my life, which seemed insane after what I’d experienced with her so far.

I clenched around her, relishing the feel of her inside me, filling me.

Her hips ground against mine, prodding as if to say, Feel me? I’m in you. I own you.

Her entire body hardened, the muscles of her chest and arms straining as she pulled out to the tip. The rigid tightening of her abs was the only warning I got before she slammed forward. Hard.

I cried out and her chest rumbled with a low, primitive sound. “Christ…You feel so good.”

Tightening her hold, she starting fucking me, nailing my hips to the mattress with wildly fierce drives. Pleasure rippled through me again, pushing through me with every hot shove of her body into mine. Like this, I thought. I want you just like this.

she buried her face in my neck and held me tightly in place, plunging hard and fast, gasping raw, heated sex words that made me crazed with desire. “I’ve never been so hard and thick. I’m so deep in you…I can feel it against my stomach…feel my dick pounding into you.”

I’d thought of this round as his, and yet she was still with me, still focused on me, swiveling her hips to stroke pleasure through my melting core. I made a small, helpless sound of need and her mouth slanted over mine. I was desperate for her, my nails digging into her pumping hips, struggling with the grinding urge to rock into the ferocious thrusts of her big cock.

We were dripping in sweat, our skin hot and slicked together, our chests heaving for air. As an orgasm brewed like a storm inside me, everything tightened and clenched, squeezing. she cursed and shoved one hand beneath my hip, cupping my rear and lifting me into her thrusts so that her cock head stroked over and over the spot that ached for her.

“Come, Camila,” she ordered harshly. “Come now.”

I climaxed in a rush that had me sobbing her name, the sensation enhanced and magnified by the way she’d confined my body. she threw her head back, shuddering.

“Ah, Camila!” she clasped me so tightly I couldn’t breathe, her hips pumping as she came long and hard.

I’ve no idea how long we lay like that, leveled, mouths sliding over shoulders and throats to soothe and calm. My entire body tingled and pulsed.

“Wow,” I managed finally.

“You’ll kill me,” she muttered with her lips at my jaw. “We’re going to end up fucking each other to death.”

“Me? I didn’t do anything.” she’d controlled me completely and how freakin’ sexy was that?

“You’re breathing. That’s enough.”

I laughed, hugging her.

Lifting her head, she nuzzled my nose. “We’re going to eat, and then we’ll do that again.”

My brows lifted. “You can do that again?”

“All night.” she rolled her hips and I could feel that she was still semi-hard.

“You’re a machine,” I told her. “Or a god.”

“It’s you.” With a soft sweet kiss, she left me. she removed the condom, wrapped it in a tissue from the nightstand, and tossed the whole in the wastebasket by the bed. “We’ll shower, then order from the restaurant downstairs. Unless you want to go down?”

“I don’t think I can walk.”

The flash of her grin stopped my heart for a minute. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

“You look fine.”

“I feel phenomenal.” she sat back on the side of the bed and brushed my hair back from my forehead. Her face was soft, her smile warmly affectionate.

I thought I saw something else in her eyes and the possibility closed my throat. It scared me.

“Shower with me,” she said, running her hand down my arm.

“Gimme me a minute to find my brain, then I’ll join you.”

“Okay.” she went into the bathroom, giving me a prime view of her sculpted back and perfect ass. I sighed with pure female appreciation of a prime male specimen.

The water came on in the shower. I managed to sit up and slide my legs over the side of the bed, feeling exquisitely shaky. My gaze caught on the slightly open bedside drawer and I saw condoms through the gap.

My stomach twisted. The hotel was too upscale to be the kind that provided condoms along with the requisite Bible.

With a slightly trembling hand, I pulled the drawer out further and found a sizable quantity of prophylactics, including a bottle of feminine lubrication and spermicidal gel. My heart started pounding all over again. In my mind, I backtracked through our lust-fueled trip to the hotel. Lauren hadn’t asked which rooms were available. Whether she had a master key or not, she’d need to know which rooms were occupied before she took one…unless she’d known beforehand that this particular room would be empty.

Clearly it was her room—a fuck pad outfitted with everything she’d need to have a good time with the women who served that purpose in her life.

As I pushed to my feet and walked over to the closet, I heard the glass shower door open in the bathroom, then close. I caught the two knobs of the louvered walnut closet doors and pushed them apart. There was a small selection of men’s clothes hanging on the metal rod, some business shirts and slacks, as well as khakis and jeans. My temperature dropped and a sick misery spread through my orgasmic high.

The right side dresser drawers held neatly folded T-shirts, boxer briefs, and socks. The top one on the left side held sex toys still in their packages. I didn’t look at the drawers below that one. I’d seen enough.

I pulled on my pants and stole one of Lauren’s shirts. As I dressed, my mind went through the steps I’d learned in therapy: Talk it out. Explain what triggered the negative feelings to your partner. Face the trigger and work through it.

Maybe if I’d been less shaken by the depth of my feelings for Lauren, I could have done all that. Maybe if we hadn’t just had mind-blowing sex, I would have felt less raw and vulnerable. I’d never know. What I felt was slightly dirty, a little bit used, and a whole lot hurt. This particular revelation had hit me with excruciating force, and like a child, I wanted to hurt her back.

I scooped up the condoms, lube, and toys, and tossed them on the bed. Then, just as she called out my name in an amused and teasing voice, I picked up my bag and left her.

[psi-psina]

Tour19 This Way to Self-Destruction Kanazawa & Fukuoka ♡

金沢市文���ホール

Kanazawa was a day of reunions and meetings with many precious people so it’s a day that will always stand out in my memory. Kanazawa Bunka Hall is a lovely venue but felt a little odd for a rock concert. Due to various circumstances I ended up with a front row seat in this hall, dead in front of Shinya and Die. I was extremely excited about it but it also felt quite odd, because the circumstances that led to me getting this ticket were really unfortunate. Anyway. 

The edge of the stage was barely over an arms length away and there was this hilarious little rope on the ground at our feet for the ‘barrier’. I think they only raised it during the encore? I was concerned I’d be going head first into the stage when headbanging, but thankfully it wasn’t a problem and I quickly realised we’d have to be far more careful of the photographers crawling around in front of us trying to get  their pics of the guys 😂 Thankfully they were very accomodating of our enthusiasm and we were no trouble to them 😂 I hope. Although I think during one song a guy may have got whipped by my hair. I’m sorry bro. So yes, DEAD IN FRONT of Shinya and Die…It was Bliss…I think this is probably the deepest engagement I’ve ever been able to have during a live because there were just no mitigating factors…the stage was right there and there was no one in front of me or crushing me or hindering me in any way. Unbelievable. The stage in Bunka Hall was pretty large and not just wide but quite deep. Kyo’s box was placed way further back than usual, like easily a good few steps between it and the stage edge.

I believe that both the SE and the SE footage used on this tour are the same as in TIW spring tour. There maaay be some variation in the footage but overall the impression is exactly the same. I was surprised by that because I had thought that this being such an extensive tour with a new single at the helm that they might develop the visuals a bit more, and mix things up a bit, but this tour is no different to TIW tour aesthetically speaking. It’s also a less varied setlist, which surprised me at first, but now makes complete sense due to the nature of The World of Mercy. 

絶縁体 谿壑の欲 Downfall Devote My Life Celebrate Empty Howls 人間を被る 赫 Merciless Cult Rubbish Heap 軽蔑と始まり Values of Madness Ranunculus The World of Mercy

EN. HYDRA -666- 鬼眼 Followers NEW AGE CULTURE 詩踏み

Seeing Zetsuentai up that close for the first time was incredibly moving, and then the transition right into Keigaku created this most hypnotic atmosphere. It was a really nice opening pair especially for a seated venue, it let the atmosphere really blossom before jumping into the more energetic songs. They started Downfall and I lost it, I think the only song I was looking forward to hearing again MORE from The Insulted World was Ningen. I cannot believe I was meh about Downfall until I experienced it live! On record, at first I thought it just sounded choppy and a bit generic, but live it just explodes with emotional intensity and I am absolutely crazy about the bridge. Major highlight was Die coming right up to the edge of the stage at literal arms-length away and just rocked out there for a moment while I threw down my SPINE. He was wearing these glittering wide-leg trousers that really caught my eye when he was right there…And his hair is magnificent 💞 And then IN DEVOTE Kaoru came over from shimote during the second verse and stood in the same place…right over me and Britti and, made his rock star face…pretty sure I lost control of my entire face and possibly shouted “TO DIE IN” right at him, RIP…I cannot fully remember but he was, enthused. Oh my god…I love him. So I have very little memory of Kyo from Downfall > Ningen due to the fabulous antics of Die and Kaoru, but Kyo’s wonderful dancing in Celebrate obviously always stands out. He does this irresistible jerky dance with his hips and arms and flops his head around during the main riff and like, it’s impossible to NOT move watching him do this. This song is so much FUN live.

Every time I hear those opening chords of Ningen I experience, like, a physical anticipation and pleasure that is pretty much unique to this song. No other song gives me a physical sensation like this one, I just find it really, really intensely emotional. And I know this song is sooommmewhat derivative and hardly like groudbreaking-ly original or anything like that and I DON’T. CARE. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Stanning 人間 till DEATH, bye. Also during the second interlude, after Ningen (I think) we were calling out for Shinya, which I do not do ENOUGH. I mean I was standing RIGHT in front of him, I had no excuse not to stan. Called for Kyo as well bc he was sitting on the drum stand like RIGHT THERE and I was like “oh fuck 🤡”

ALSO one important tidbit I don’t want to forget about, is a friend telling me she could see Die glancing at my hair all the time while I was headbanging 😂 the thought of this makes me feel all glowy

I have only the vaguest memory of Aka…I was thinking about it as I was looking at the setlist and trying to remember each song and I could barely conjure Aka at all. It just didn’t stand out especially tonight which is weird for me, because last spring it was paired with undecided. Played as a ‘pair’, those two songs created an unforgettable and incredibly distinct moment in the set each night…on this tour Aka is somewhat marooned, alone in the middle with all the really energetic songs. I do recall Kyo creating his loop out of the mic chord and dragging it around his neck during the guitar solo, and watching Die’s passion at various moments. And I do so so so love being called on to sing during this song…I love singing Aka so much, the melody is so smooth and melancholy and the words just flow off the tongue so beautifully…I love it

After Aka we smashed into Merciless Cult and I have a lot of trouble remembering anything from Merciless > Values with any cognisance. Kyo moved around a LOT during Rubbish Heap and Values and I think Die and Kaoru also did. Kyo was energetic and interactive during this part of the set and he was demanding MORE from the audience. I wish I had seen more of Toshiya tonight but I honestly barely saw him, he did not visit our side at all or move to the front much and a lot of the time Kyo obscured him from my line of vision. Bby! I was able to see Kaoru most of the time but I only turned to him at select times bc, guys. Die was RIGHT in front of me and I love him. As if I’m going to treat him so poorly?

Then it was time for Ranunculus & The World of Mercy. I have listened to The World of Mercy incessantly since it’s release, but for me, the effect of it’s ‘pairing’ with Ranunculus in this set, almost as a Part 2 of that song was just…after the experiences and emotions of Ranunculus on the previous two tours… in a way it was deeply heartbreaking.  Kyo was extremely emotional during Ranunculus today, but it felt different…I couldn’t put my finger on it until we talked about it afterwards, but it was rattling. I couldn’t tell if he was weeping, but he screamed, and tore at his clothing and thrashed his body around and then at the end of the song, he fell and bent into the foetal position. Delay was used on the mic as they transitioned out of Ranunculus into the soft open of Mercy. He began making these desperate, abstract sounds that immediately reminded me of his inward screams. Perhaps he was using words but to me it sounded like wordless pleading murmuring and gurgling and breath. I could clearly see his face on the floor while he was doing this and it was unpleasant to watch…it’s hard to describe at all. He sounded like he was crying, but I don’t know if there were tears. He sat up slowly, cradling the mic and then began laughing horribly. Letting out these hopeless forced cackles as he sat there looking crumpled, and that was how he vocalised the first lines of Mercy.

It was difficult to watch. I wanted to cry but also wanted to hide. I did not feel this horrible hopelessness in Mercy at the following 3 lives I attended, which is not to say that it wasn’t there, but perhaps was more poetic and contained, and less raw than it was tonight. The following 3 shows also had a far greater sense of intimacy and rapport between the band and the audience imho. When Mercy came to an end the hall was just engulfed in dead silence. The backdrop went black, and then glowed with DIR EN GREY + the tour title in bright red text. I almost completely burst into tears. The members all left quietly and applause broke out, and then the call for encore went up. I collapsed momentarily to drink some water but then had to stand back up bc lol if I’d stayed seated it would have all been OVER for me.

The encore was LIT, but it was a bit odd having Followers right in the middle of all the rowdy songs. Hydra 666 mates…mates UGGGHHHHH IT’S JUST SO FUCKIN LIT ugghhh the mask experience is insane and seeing Kyo projected on the backdrop like THAT…in THAT song. Epic iconic immortal ugh this influence this legacy. I almost FELL head first into the stage during Kigan, it was a CLOSE CALL. New Age was absolutely manic, Kyo was running everywhere and I’m pretty sure it was on his way back from kamite here that he gestured at us as he danced past hahaha I was too close to the stage to see anything he was doing on his adventures, and I think Kaoru came over again and Die visited shimote 💞At the end of the song Kyo was right at the edge in the centre, and he was grimacing with his effort not to smile. He failed and smiled hugely for a moment with his face turned on side.

They closed out with Utafumi which I can honestly never remember well, like the song is just too hectic and always ends with me bent over bashing my brain against my skull. At the end Shinya was being EXTREMELY PASSIONATE with the drums, it was RATTLING my whole body and Toshiya was like…. .. .. . . . … .. . . …. . .. . (are u done???) lajsndflkas 💞At the end Kyo stood on his crate and briefly took in the hall with an unreadable expression, he clapped and then departed. The other guys threw a few goodies, and then also departed. None of them seemed displeased, and from my vantage they all seemed to have had a good live but I was told the audience was rather stoic so they weren’t excessive with their gifts at the end of the night. I have a very distinct memory of Kaoru doing his thing…standing DEAD in front of me hardcore ignoring us 😂 Die and Toshiya did the same but they are like, not so deliberate about it. They just like, cruise along while Kaoru deliberately stands there with that smirk like. hahahaa….ur not getting one alskjdnflaksjd. It makes me LAUGH 😂 The backdrop was emblazoned with the band’s name and tour title again, and Kaoru was the last to leave. He left with smiles and waves and gestured strongly at the backdrop which got an additional cheer. Then he left! And I immediately became a boneless blob…I think my muscles took a whole week to recover from this show.

Zepp Fukuoka 

This is a VERY Kyo centric report I am sorry for all the things that ESCAPED ME!

So this show made me never, ever want to miss a Dir live in Fukuoka ever again. Tonight was so emotional!! This is the third time I’ve seen Dir in Fukuoka and the second time I’ve seen them at the Zepp, although I believe it  has been completely re-done and is a different venue to the time I saw them there in 2015. To get inside the hall we had to go down two flights of stairs and inside it felt very intimate. I had a good number and had a nice spot just at the back of the pit in front of the first rail which is where I love to be. I was right between Toshiya and Kyo, and it was such a good spot.

絶縁体 人間を被る Downfall Devote My Life Celebrate Empty Howls Merciless Cult 谿壑の欲 赫 Rubbish Heap 軽蔑と始まり Values of Madness Ranunculus The World of Mercy

EN. 理由 Followers 凱歌、沈黙が眠る頃 NEW AGE CULTURE 詩踏み

Kyo’s outfit tonight I absolutely LOVED, he was wearing the HELL out of a calf-length pleated black skirt with his tabi boots and a white dress shirt done up at the neck with a black ribbon, plus a slim black harness over the shirt as well. There were several times where I was just completely transfixed by his silhouette, and the ‘flow’ this long skirt gave his body and movements.

Zetsuentai had a BIGGER impact tonight and honestly there were a couple of moments for me where tears came on…when he broke into ”aa, damashi au koto de dare…” my heart felt like it was being squeezed and tears just came out…the second one, after “kono sekai mienakereba jibun no mama de ireru”, was even worse..and then when he broke into “shinjite mireba…” I was practically gasping for air…not due to heavy crying, because i wasn’t, but I was just overcome with emotion that couldn’t find it’s way out in tears…my whole body felt like a prison and I just wanted to scream. So Zetsuentai was…amazing tonight, it was only topped by the second night in Okinawa. Because that night, it was mid-set… I was VISIBLY not the only person having an emotional breakdown.

The final riff in Zetsuentai ground to a halt and the hall erupted in feral screaming, completely drowning out the final notes of the track and then oh my god…we slid into Ningen and I experienced extreme catharsis lmao oh my god…Kyo spoke as those opening chords sounded and we roared at him and that’s all I can remember except for headbanging and singing my heart out…it was Bliss. At the end of Ningen there was an break and Kyo sat on the drum stand and just looked at the crowd, and Toshiya left the stage. They did this during every break this evening. The screaming was deafening, just absolutely amazing. Growling. It drew to an end we had Downfall, Devote, Celebrate and Merciless. I just can’t…Fukuoka  LOVED Downfall, we were singing the FUCK outta that bridge well before the section that Kyo gives to us and he LOVED it, and then Devote started and Kyo was moving all over the place and did the whole song basically right at the edge of the stage, pointing and gesturing and making faces. Celebrate was a DANCE, we had some BOPS. There was this super passionate guy right next to me who just got down SO HARD for this song as well, we had the SPACE to dance and bop so we just did it and I just lajskdnflaksjd the Toshiya fangirls to my front-left were also just having the BEST fucking time. I kept hearing this girl sing out “Toshiyaaaaaa” in this really quite melodious voice all night laksjdnlf. Kyo’s dancing was also wonderful, his long skirt accentuated his hip movements uhuhu 😭

Merciless Cult is a blur, I could DIE. At the start Kyo snarled “掛かって来い!!!” at us and there was a lot of shrieking and oh my god that mosh…Kaoru and Die were LOVING it and Kyo was shaking his entire body at us as we screamed “GASP” and oh my god oh my god… Kyo just wordlessly howled at us to sing “kurikaeshi tsuranuku…aaaa, doko ka, kowarete yuku” and people SCREAMED with Kyo as he broke out at the end of the line and threw ourselves back into the riff….I am honestly shaking just thinking about it.

And then Keigaku came after the second interlude with a lot more feral screaming and oh. my. god. This Keigaku is INCOMPARABLE and probably my FAVOURITE performance that I have ever witnessed of this song. Kyo sighed creepily into the mic at the start, making these sinuous movements with his body and voice that were just COMPLETELY captivating and then slid into those obscure words…before each heavy riff he just HOWLED, it was like his body was taken over by the song completely. During the thrash sections the crowd went WILD and I don’t mean just movement I mean people were screaming, i was losing my mind. By the time the second verse sidled up we were so hypnotised it felt like everyone there was swaying in sync and we drew into that riff again, Kyo was singing COMPLETELY different lyrics and in that small empty space before Kaoru crashes in he CACKLED into the mic and then just shrieked…oh my god oh mygod. He sang “me o mukeyou to wa shinai, sou made shite itsuwarita…” with such a sensual quality like he was winding in on himself… then as it ended he uttered those omitted (?) words…はやく死ね (“fucking die quickly”; personally i feel like the sentiment is very like “i hope you drop dead” but that’s my impression)… 

and those words led straight into Aka, which left a MUCH bigger impression than in Kanazawa because god following Keigaku… In the second verse he sang different lyrics and then called on us to sing…it felt very subdued and hopeless. Kyo looped the chord around and around again… ugh. And then Rubbish Heap ohhhhh my god. Kyo went straight to kamite at the start of Rubbish Heap and held his fist up and SHOOK it at us, and I saw more people than USUAL make fists lmao. Me and old mate next to me were jump-punching the air with every “FIST” and Kyo gestured in our direction and I know Die saw us 😂 Keibetsu and Values are just…a blur of adrenaline. I know the guys moved around during Values but I was too busy dancing to remember ljhgkhgkj.

Ranunculus was so incredibly soft tonight…At the start Kyo was breathing into the mic and the opening verse was so beautiful and during the second he became teary…he beat himself with the mic and screamed three times before the final chorus … ;_______; As it ended Kyo kept repeating “わたし…一人で…” with delay on the mic again and then just lapsed into silence. He sang those first lines of Mercy almost with a kind of lethargy…like he’d just woken up. His body looked limp as well…he started moving the mic around so his voice was smaller and more distant…and when it reached “majiwaru ima…” he just wailed it and screamed out as Shinya broke in…I was absolutely beside myself and was just standing there crying…he vocalised “mada minu mirai de kusarou” in this desperate elongated wail that is probably the most vivd memory I have from the entire concert. As he repeats “yuugi…yuugi…yuugi…” he turns and slowly draws his arm around in circles…he uses his whole body to make this shape though, using his hips to create this undulating motion that is completely hypnotic.

During the interlude after the first heavy section Kyo gnaws on his wrist. He did this in Kanazawa as well, but tonight it was rather more intense for me I think because I was more directly in front of him and he was making extremely erotic moaning and sighing and sucking sounds into the mic. >.< In Kanazawa this part was slightly alarming bc it looked like he was really BITING his wrist, but after seeing it a few times there is far more tongue than tooth action and it can be appreciated as a more ritualistic/symbolic performance. After gnawing he holds his wrist over his cupped hand as though collecting blood in it, then scoops with his fingers and smears it across his lips and eyes…all you can hear is piano and his breathing. Then he wailed “majiwaru ima…” and I immediately started crying again, as I already felt quite FRAGILE watching this. >.<

The encore was a blast. Wake + Followers was an absolute pleasure and then THEY PLAYED GAIKA and I’m pretty sure I fuckin astral projected because I can’t remember a GOD DAMN THING that might have happened!! New Age is a DIFFERENT STORY during New Age Kyo made fish-hooking gestures in his mouth with his pinky finger, dragging one side of his mouth up into a deranged smile before flinging his hand out, I remember him doing this both at kamite and in the centre, dancing around and pointing and eyeballing people. And it was during the breakdown in this song where Kyo was right in the middle and he bent forward and started doing this STOMP DANCE in time with the riffs and it was SO FUCKING DOPE UGGGHHH his expression and posture were so ON POINT it’s literally one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. Kaoru also came to the middle and I absolutely screamed and shook my fist at him like a lunatic and he just jutted his chin lmfao. I cannot remember a thing from Utafumi either, it is hopeless.

Kyo stayed at the end longer than he did in Kanazawa, it was kinda sweet, with each show I attended he stayed a bit longer. He clapped and fox-kissed us and waved bye-bye and then left. the other guys stayed longer as well and threw MUCH more stuff than they did in Kanazawa. And everyone left GLOWING. Band and fans. Everyone looked so full and pleased, it was wonderful. I feel like the whole band and everyone in the crowd had a wonderful night. ❤️

[whispersafterdusk]

The Master’s Apprentice - ch 21

Three days had passed and nothing had happened.  No Varea, no Kestrel, no visible change in the guards or mages.

The Jarl had returned by then and to Onmund's dismay Ulfric was with him; neither of them was especially pleased, and wasted no time letting him know how deeply angered they were over this whole fiasco. It didn't escape his attention that, during his initial little tirade - when Korir was tearing into him, Brelyna, Nelacar, and Gormir, even - that the guards were not mentioned at all; it left a sour taste in his mouth even as he argued with them, trying to get them to understand that none of this was anyone's fault but Varea's but Korir seemed especially fixated on the mages's supposed role, and he grew more heated by the moment as he spat and yelled to be heard over every word coming out of their mouths. ((Continued beneath cut))

Gormir, thankfully, stood beside Onmund and the others for the entire argument.  That a Winterhold resident was willing to stand up to his own Jarl to make him see reason seemed to mellow Ulfric's fury, and finally Ulfric dismissed Korir entirely, ordering him back to his hall and everyone in the inn outside so Onmund and the others could sit with him in private.  They spent the next several hours (several uncomfortable, tense hours) fully detailing to Ulfric what had happened, starting with Onmund's fall in Saarthal and ending with how they'd repelled the daedra, and the strange hum and blast that had knocked Onmund, along with everyone else that had been outside, off their feet.

"And, nothing more has attacked Winterhold?"

Onmund shook his head.  "No, Jarl.  Nothing.  We've been preparing for the worst but it's not come.  I'm..."  He paused, eying Ulfric carefully.  "I'm not sure what's happened, so I'm not sure if the worst WILL come."  He fell silent, staring down into his lap.  There's no way Kestrel and Varea could have been fighting all this time, and if one or the other had triumphed he was certain they would have returned here by now...

He looked up to find Ulfric staring at him, his chin resting on interlaced fingers and elbows braced against the table.  A sigh rumbled out of him but his expression remained stony and unchanged.  "You know how Korir sees your kind, mage - and how I saw you all prior to hearing the full accounting.  I personally see magic as a tool but any tool can be misused.  Korir wants to have all of you executed due to the danger you pose to his holding."

Onmund's eyes widened.  "What?  No!  How can he say that?"

Ulfric held up a hand and Onmund fell silent, gripping the edge of the table between them with white-knuckled hands.

"I disagree with his broad declaration.  He is blinded by fury and hate - something I too fell prey to on the way here when I heard him describing the chaos going on.  I now understand, as much as I am able, what truly happened here, and I do understand Korir's desire to protect his people.  As I am not yet king, nor is this my hold, what I can actually do in this situation is very limited.  Once he's had time to calm down, as I have, Korir may listen to my counsel but I cannot force him to do much - not without causing an incident between our holds and casting doubts on my ability to rule once I am crowned."

"I - I understand, but Jarl, please - he can't execute them, they're innocent.  I can't let him do that," Onmund growled.

Ulfric's expression hardened.  "LET him do that?  Are you challenging his decision before it's even made?"  He paused then added "I'm sure that will help your case," his tone dripping sarcasm.

"But he's right," Brelyna broke in, leaning over the table some toward Ulfric.  "And how can he want to execute the mages while letting the guards walk free?  It's not fair."

"I agree.  But again, this is not my hold and ultimately not my decision." Ulfric closed his eyes for a few breaths, then opened them to stare them down.  "If I am capable of understanding who is truly at fault surely you can understand how my hands are tied."

Onmund felt something inside him deflate.  "I...yes.  Unfortunately," he muttered.  "What can we do, then?  I DON'T want to argue for more deaths in the name of "fairness" - those guards are just as innocent as the mages. Can you at least get Korir to..."

There was silence for a long moment - he knew what he wanted to say but it was difficult to voice it when he could imagine how Korir would react.  And he knew the others would object too, but...there didn't seem to be another--

"Get him to what, mage?"

"To let us leave," Onmund sighed.  "Will Korir just let us leave?"

Brelyna's eyes widened and she looked to him with an expression that was part surprise, part horror; the College was home to everyone, HAD been home to him too.  There was a lot of history, a lot of hidden power, within those stone walls.  To leave was... It seemed like admitting defeat, like running with their tails between their legs.  But if the alternative was being put to death, wasn't running better?

Ulfric slowly straightened and leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his chin.  Gormir shifted on his stool, the old wood creaking a bit, and the noise drew the Jarl's attention to the man.

"...Jarl Ulfric, if I may..."

"Go on."

Gormir nodded.  "There wouldn't likely be a Winterhold still handing if not for the return of Onmund here, and his master.  I'm no lover or hater of magic but everyone's had days to hear what happened here, both from our Jarl and from those sitting here.  They all saw these mages here defending them, and whether they like mages or not there's not a man, woman, or child here who would easily condemn someone innocent.   Surely Jarl Korir has to see that none will trust his judgement if he falters now."  Ulfric slowly raised an eyebrow at that and Gormir leaned back from him, looking uncertain.  "I-I mean to say, no one will see him as fair.  I...I know I wouldn't.  I can't help but see myself standing in the boots of the mages, or of the men and women I've known and worked beside for years.  That he'd spare one and not the other when they were both in the same situation... Who could possibly trust him in the future not to do that again when it's them in the mages' position?"

Ulfric slowly nodded to him.  "It is Korir's choice, and he will have to live with the consequences of his decision."  He stood abruptly; Onmund jumped a bit at the sudden movement.  "Come - I wish to see the defenses you have, and hear what you have planned.  I could only spare twenty men and I must return to Windhelm as soon as possible, and no doubt Korir will soon tire of being ordered about in his own hold and demand the opportunity to speak to you as I have."

Onmund nodded silently and stood to follow Ulfric back out into the snow; those that had been ordered out of the inn hurried inside as they left, seeking shelter from the storm that was still blowing.  Tugging up his hood Onmund took the lead and, shouting over the gusting wind, led Ulfric around Winterhold pointing out where they'd placed wards and where Gormir had set what men were left to defend the town.  Ulfric didn't say much aside from directing pairs of men from the forces he'd brought to go here or there, shoring up where he saw weak points in Winterhold's defenses.  At the far end of the town they paused as something caused the wind around them to shift -- like the wind had taken a very brief break in blowing to-

The twilight matriarch chose that moment to land ten feet from them, and Onmund quickly reached out to stop Ulfric from drawing his weapon.

"Wait- that thing is on our side."

"Have you gone mad, mage?"

Onmund's brain chose that moment to scream at him over who he'd just manhandled, and he quickly pulled his hands back.  "I'm sorry, ah, sorry -- I mean, yes, it's on our side.  I know it sounds dumb or dangerous but this creature was also forced to act against its will.  It's allied itself with us until Varea is dealt with."  

"You are foolish, thinking a beast like that would-"

The wind halted entirely then, and the air took on a blueish tint.   Ulfric paused, whatever he was about to say cut off; alarmed, Onmund looked around to see that Ulfric, as well as the others, were frozen in place - as though time itself had stopped for everyone but himself.   What could have...

"Kestrel?" he called into the silence.  A thin line of blue light appeared in front of him further down the road, widening into an oval through which a man stepped.  Onmund blinked in surprise at Quaranir.   "You... You came back.  Why?"

The psijic's expression softened briefly even as his hand came up in a sharp gesture that then ended with the flat of his palm thrust out toward the mage.  From his fingers sprang narrow filaments of white that raced across the air between them, striking Onmund and coiling around him in thick bands of conjured rope.

"Hey-!  What are you-"

The ropes tightened, pulling his arms in to his hips and forcing his ankles to snap together; he wobbled on his feet and then toppled, biting deeply into his lower lip as his chin slammed into the snow.  He felt the back of his robes ripple and then he began to rapidly slide across the ground toward Quaranir; as he came closer to Quaranir whatever force was moving him was slowly lifting him upright as well as rotating him so his back was gradually turning toward the man.

Mere feet from Quaranir Onmund winced at an ear-piercing shriek and then again found himself falling face first into the snow as the psijic dropped him with a startled cry.  Behind him Quaranir grappled with...the matriarch.  The twilight had the talons of one foot sunk deeply into the mage's arm and was tearing at him with the other, all while beating at Quaranir's face and shoulders with her wings. The blue tint to the air disappeared and through his daze Onmund could hear Ulfric continuing to speak as though nothing had happened for several words before the man realized that Onmund was not beside him and--

"We are under attack!"

With a groan Onmund awkwardly rolled away from the thrashing tail and Quaranir's staggering gait; his lip was throbbing and his chin freezing as the wind reached the slick of blood and melted snow running down his face.

"Onmund!"

Brelyna, with Gormir on her heels, rushed to him; in the few seconds she had before Gormir reached him she grabbed the ropes and tugged at them - they didn't budge in the slightest - but then the Nord guardsman just grabbed his belt and hood and bodily lifted Onmund off the ground and swung him away and over his shoulder as several of Ulfric's men rushed toward the struggling figure of Quaranir.

Onmund's ears popped from a whoosh of approaching pressure and there behind Gormir he spied a second psijic man stepping free from a portal. "Behind us!"

Ulfric heard him and spun in one movement.  The psijic's feet had barely touched the snow when Ulfric bellowed in the tongue of the dragons; Onmund had never seen a Thu'um performed before and whatever this one was lifted the psijic off his feet and sent him flying backward to crack into the trunk of a pine tree before falling to the ground in a heap.  

Gormir plunked Onmund's feet to the ground and steadied him, and beside them Brelyna was rapidly muttering under her breath, trying spell after spell until finally she hit upon the correct one and the ropes binding him disappeared.

"Thanks," he let out in a rush, spinning to look back toward Quaranir in time to see the psijic manage to throw the twilight and guards aside in a sweeping motion; the man's arm was shredded down to the bone and the snow at his feet was stained a bright reddish pink.  The guards recovered far quicker than the psijic must have been expecting and he flickered out of view to reappear further away, frantically trying to tend to his bad wounded arm.  

"-I don't get it, he helped me before.  Why did he--" Onmund fell forward, or at least, part of him did.  From where he landed in the snow he had a good view of his own body stumbling, crumpling into the panicked grasping hands of Brelyna and Gormir.

 Oh no...not again.  Not now.

If he was here and his body was there, that meant--

He watched as his eyes opened, and he looked around in mild confusion before his gaze fell on the sight of Ulfric advancing on the psijic still collapsed at the tree's base.  Onmund's face twisted into a look of sheer fury, and one of his hands raised to the sky and sent out a blast of golden light that, similar to Quaranir's spell, encased the unconscious psijic man in yellowish bonds.  Ulfric spun around, and Onmund's spirit shifted unexpectedly to hang at the Jarl's shoulder, staring his own body down; at least this time, while he wasn't able to control where his consciousness appeared, he felt a lot more stable and whole than the first time this had happened -- he actually was able to keep his thoughts together and coherent, and could understand what was going on around him a lot better.

Not...that he actually understood what was happening right now, to be honest.

"I warned you and you pursued anyway - this body is younger and much more rested than I was when you took me.  What chance do you think you have NOW?"

 Took?  ...wait.  The psijics captured Kestrel?  What about Varea?

"Hush, apprentice," his body said as it turned to face the guards and Quaranir.  "I will explain when this is dealt with."

Quaranir was being driven back rapidly off the road, fighting to keep the five guards in front of him while the twilight and Nelacar harried him with spells and talons; with a gesture Onmund's body sent out a crackling blast of lightning that wove between the guards without harming them and slammed into the hurried shield Quaranir raised and just as quickly shattered it.  Onmund's spirit shifted again to float alongside his body as it stalked forward and sliced the air with a hand gesture; the guards were roughly shoved to either side to clear a path for Onmund's body to approach Quaranir uncontested.  As they (that is, Onmund's body and his spirit, separately) approached him Quaranir's gaze shifted -- it almost seemed like he could see Onmund's spirit, and Onmund supposed that Kestrel, inside his body, must have realized this as well as his body extended a hand and Onmund was drawn into his own palm.

"Don't even think about it," his body snarled.  The hand holding his spirit pulled in close to his chest, and his own fingers blocked his view of what was going on outside of his body.  "I need no further reasons to cut you down."

If Quaranir responded Onmund couldn't hear him from where he was sheltered against his own chest; at the moment all he could hear was his own heartbeat and hear his body breathing, and also strangely feel the magicka flowing out of him as Kestrel used him to cast several spells.

"What is going on here, mage?"  

Well, he could definitely hear Ulfric, and he sounded angry again.  

"Jarl Ulfric, I can explain-"

And that was Brelyna.  

"Don't you-- aaargh!"  He - Kestrel, in his body - let out a frustrated noise at whatever was going on; Onmund had the sensation of a sharp turn.  "You, girl - Brelyna, was it?  Explain-"

"No, YOU explain, mage," Ulfric interrupted.  "Explain now or be cut down where you stand."

"That's her - that's Onmund's master," Brelyna cut in.  "The spell binding the two of them lets her speak through him, and-"

"-and I'm to believe that, after this?"

"Enough.  We're only going to cause confusion if we talk over one another." Onmund inwardly winced -- Ulfric was going to think HE was the one talking to him in such a manner; now more than ever Onmund wished he could see what was going on beyond the closed fingers of the hand that was holding his spirit.  He gently moved as his chest lifted - Kestrel, taking a deep breath - and the fingers above what he currently perceived to be his head uncurled just enough to let him see his physical chin above him, and through a small gap between his fingers he could barely make out where Ulfric stood, with Gormir behind him.

"Now," his body went on.  "I am Kestrel.  Onmund is my apprentice, and there is a spell at play that is allowing me to speak to you right now.  Onmund is safe, just not in control of his body at the moment."

"I'm to trust you at your word?"

"Yes, lord, you are.  None of you are in a position to disagree."

Onmund winced again. Kestrel, please don't pick a fight with Ulfric and his guards.  He felt himself bobbing up and down and what he could see of Ulfric was growing closer.

"'Lord' is not my title, mage."

"Jarl, lord, whatever you're called is hardly a concern of mine right now.  Were there just the two?"

"The two...?"

"The two Psijics.  Were there only those two that showed up?"

"Yes."

Onmund's view shifted again and he could barely make out the edge of the twlight's wing.  "And you - why are you here?"

"You defeated the woman who destroyed Azura's altar, mortal?"

"I did.  You'll find what's left of her in a crater far to the south of here."

Now he could make out the top of the twilight's head, and as it dipped briefly out and back into view he assumed the twilight had nodded.  "-good.  Azura asks, in exchange for the aid she has provided, that the young mage you possess assist her priestess in restoring her altar."

"Agreed," came Kestrel's response.  "Now return to your mistress as you do not belong here."

 Hey, wait a moment - I don't get a choice?

Above him his chin lowered as his face gazed into the hand that held him.  "Don't complain, Onmund.  You can handle melding a statue back together in an afternoon."  Onmund heard the rustling of wings and again his view shifted though this time all he could see through the gaps in his fingers was snow and trees.  "Now, Jarl - I suggest we retreat somewhere better guarded, where I can explain who I am and why I am here in this form as you see me now. -- and before you get any ideas, I do not intend to hold this possession longer than I must.  Onmund is fine but I find being in a body that is not mine to be incredibly uncomfortable - the only one of us that could be assumed to be suffering is me."

Without further word his body turned and began walking up the road; Onmund could sense himself using restoration magicks to mend his lip, and could hear the crunching of multiple footsteps behind and around him but Kestrel kept him cupped in close to his own chest until he found himself peeking out at the darkened inside of the inn.  Once they were seated his hand deposited himself onto his shoulder which gave him a free view of everything around him, and as he sat perched next to his own ear he listened as Kestrel described the ambush by the psijics -- how they'd swooped in as she lay there, wounded and exhausted, in the aftermath of finally besting Varea by destroying the crown itself while the woman had been wearing it.  

"And so, Jarl, they now hold my body captive and as of this moment there's no feasible means of retrieving me," his body went on.  

"But what about Onmund?" he heard Brelyna ask (she was sitting on his other side, his own head was between him and her and he could not see her from here).  "What do you do now if you don't have a body to return to?"

"I can place my spirit into an object for the time being, until I figure out how to retrieve myself."

"What reason would these psijics have to take you captive?  Or to come for your apprentice?"

"I have a history with the psijics. They believe themselves valued counselors, keepers of secrets, and custodians of dangerous magic and relics."  Onmund heard himself snort.  "They have failed in those last two more times than I can count over the centuries and several times came crying to me for assistance in cleaning up their damned messes.  At some point they decided that I, too, was dangerous - and to be truthful, I am, when provoked. They have made several attempts to either bring me to heel beneath their banners or take me captive.  I've never meant them any harm and, as I've said, I've often helped them...I don't know what ultimately changed their opinion of me but even now I just want to be left alone.  Lesser mages may seek power and control - all I seek is knowledge and answers to existence's greatest mysteries.  I am no one's enemy...save for Molag Bal's now, I suppose.  The whole reason any of this happened is because I spent ages keeping a relic of his out of the hands of his followers...now that the crown has been destroyed I have nothing tethering me to this region."

"Why did they come for Onmund?"

Onmund heard himself snort.  "Why else?  He's my apprentice.  They likely wanted him there to 'assist' me so they could capture us both at once.  And once they had me, while they did not know the extent of what the spell binding us does they DID correctly assume that I could use it to communicate with him -- though I imagine if they'd known exactly what I'm capable of doing with this spell they would have killed me outright and Onmund as well, rather than give me the chance to sever my spirit from my body and escape them."

"And should you leave here - would that remove reason for these psijics to come here?"

His body nodded.  "They should have no quarrel with this town.  And if they decide otherwise know that I won't let that stand.  Whether I choose to remain in this territory or not won't have much impact on how quickly I can get back here if I need to."

Ulfric nodded slowly at this, gaze dropping to the table as he sat there lost in thought.  Kestrel seemed content to let the silence stretch on though Onmund could see that Gormir and Nelacar looked uncomfortable.

"--what will you do now?  As I have explained to your companions already I cannot shield you from Jarl Korir's decisions.  He is still convinced the mages deserve to be executed for their supposed role in this mess, and as for myself I am not certain if I should attempt to change his mind regarding any decisions made about you, master mage."

Onmund heard himself snort again, loudly. "He is hardly in any position to threaten me."

Ulfric's eyes narrowed.  "I'm not sure I care for the implications of that."

"Care for them or don't, it's not my problem."  Onmund's view of the room shifted slightly as his body stood.  "I think it's time I speak to this Korir."

"It may be best to wait.  He is still furious that I have kept him barred from this meeting as well as the one earlier."

"I have little time for children playing at governing, Jarl Ulfric.   If he can't hold his temper and conduct himself with the dignity of his title then perhaps his people deserve a new leader."

"That is a question for his people to decide."  Ulfric stood as well, staring him - them - down.  "Know this, mage: I will take you at your word now, but I will show no mercy should you be found to go back on your word."

Onmund's lips curled into a smile.  "The feeling is mutual, Jarl.   Send Korir in, I will deal with him - and if this turns violent you can rest assured it will not be me that instigates it."

Ulfric nodded, gesturing for the guards around him to follow as he swept out of the room.  For a time there was just silence, then Korir all but kicked the door in.

"You!  I want you and the-"

Onmund's hand raised and Korir lifted from his feet and accelerated across the room to drop roughly into the chair that Ulfric had just vacated; the spell reminded Onmund of being moved in the exact same manner when he'd first been "adjusting" to his new role as Kestrel's apprentice.  It brought him a tiny amount of amusement to see the same magic rendering Korir pale and sputtering, unable to form a coherent sentence for a breath or two.

A ghost of a smile crossed Onmund's face - Onmund could almost picture Kestrel's own features superimposed over his, fangs and all.   "Greetings, Jarl Korir.  We have much to discuss.  I do hope you'll behave yourself."

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

After several hours of getting nowhere Kestrel had threatened to simply bury Winterhold under the mountainside and be done with it and all its inhabitants - something Onmund knew to be an empty threat but it had finally forced the Jarl to compromise, at least a little bit: the mages were free to go but would be killed without question if they returned to Winterhold, and the same held for anyone who supported or showed anything other than contempt and hostility toward them.

At this Gormir had protested the Jarl daring to make opinion an enforceable law; Korir took it as a declaration of treason to the hold and ordered the man banished with the mages.  As Onmund had suspected Korir did not hold any of the enthralled guards responsible for their actions -- it was only the mages, the magic users that he'd hated for a lifetime, that he blamed for everything.  Kestrel had taken it in stride, brushing aside the obvious bias and assuring him that Winterhold would not have magical worries "of any kind" as she led the others out into the storm and toward the College.

The only people outside now were the guards that were still holding their posts; Kestrel swept by them with hardly a look, marching across the bridge to the courtyard where she destroyed the stone jail cell without even breaking pace and leaving the men and women there to sort themselves out.  Inside the College the mages were lined along the wall, bound and gagged and with eight feet of space between each of them.  

In here were ten guards and two volunteers from the town; when "Onmund" stalked into the room the nearest ones had all reached for weapons before realizing Gormir was at his shoulder.

"Stand down - leave.  All of you.  It's over." Gormir's tone was sharp and abrupt, and seemed to surprise everyone there even as it immediately drew their attention to him.

"Over?" a woman nearby repeated - she wore the garb of a guard.  "Then what's-"

Gormir moved over to her and nearly pressed the front of his helm against hers.  "I said, leave.  Now."

The woman pulled back in surprise but took a few hesitant steps toward the door; Gormir planted his feet and stared down the remaining men and women there.  They all slowly moved from the mages and then filed out in silence.  Once they were gone Gormir reached up and tugged his helm off, then hurled it across the room.

Onmund felt a pang of guilt as he looked the man over - Gormir was gray-haired, his beard thick and braided with what looked like brass beads woven into the hair.  He was scarred, thick jawed, and was even missing a small chunk of his right ear -- this man was rough, worn, and based on his age Onmund guessed that he'd probably lived in Winterhold all his life, fighting for and protecting its inhabitants for years.   And now he was being thrown out, with them...all because he'd spoken out against his Jarl's injustice and unfairness.  

Onmund's hand reached up and moved him from his shoulder to just over his own sternum, giving him a view of the mages ahead of him but hiding Gormir from view.  "Listen well - Korir is banishing us from Winterhold.  We are permitted to take only what will fill the wagon he is providing.  We will regroup at Saarthal and plan our futures there - what is required of you now is swift packing and an understanding that I will answer your questions once we're somewhere safe."

Saarthal... It seemed like Kestrel was going to lead them to her home.  It'd definitely be the safest place for them all right now though there wasn't really room for everyone. But, if they were to plan for the future, and now that there wasn't a reason to remain hiding, they probably wouldn't stay there for long.

The size of Kestrel's library came to mind then, and he inwardly groaned as he thought about having to move all those books...

Gormir helped cut the ropes and remove the gags; once the mages were free they'd clustered around Onmund, or who they thought was Onmund, and Kestrel had stubbornly refused to say or offer anything further than "shut up and go pack" until finally they all scattered, hurrying to try and pack up what they thought couldn't be left behind.

For a moment, as his body turned, Onmund lost sight of Gormir, nor did he hear the man's footsteps following along behind him; as he turned around again he could see Gormir standing near the wall, one arm braced against the windowpane and his head lowered.

"I meant you as well, Gormir."

"And what do I pack, eh?  Can't take the city or the people I know with me."

"I would assume you'd at least like some clothing."

"Clothing is replaceable.  Home isn't."

Kestrel walked them over to Gormir, reaching out to put a hand on his arm.  "I'm sorry you have to suffer this disappointment - not all leaders are wise, and not all wise men end up leaders.  Sometimes you simply get someone too fixated on their own nonsense who still manages to fool enough people to place themselves in power.  This city, and this-" his hand reached out to tug at the leather straps that held the guard's armor on "-may feel as familiar as skin and you may feel deeply attached to what it means, or meant, to you.  Don't.  You don't need a guard's uniform to be a good man, and you don't need a hold to guard to satisfy a desire to protect."

He swatted the hand away.  "And what would you know of that?"

"I've been alive since before the second era," Onmund heard himself say dryly.  "I think I know a thing or two about watching symbols and places and people fade away.  There is a delicate line to walk between holding on to who and what you are, and holding on to a time that has passed.  Your time here is passing but you will remain the same man with the same memories as before."

Gormir stared at her - him - for a long time, then shook his head.   "I can't even see myself being anywhere but here.  Where are we even to go?  What place could a simple man have among a bunch of magic users?"

Onmund's shoulders lifted in a shrug.  "First we'll return to my home, and then find a new home elsewhere that can accommodate all of us.  Give it some time and you'll have an entire new hold to keep an eye on."

"Pah. We can't just build our own hold somewhere; there's not a Jarl who would accept that, especially not if Korir runs his mouth - he might poison all of Skyrim against us."

"Sounds like we'd need a man who was present and isn't a mage, and thus has no stake in protecting us, to make sure the correct story is told." Gormir's response was a heavy sigh, and again Onmund's body moved so he couldn't see the man.  "Go pack, Gormir."

"If that was an attempt to make me feel any better about this-"

"-there are times where the truth doesn't make anyone feel any better, regardless of what side of the truth you may be standing on.   All I can do is point out that despite how you feel now you're the one on the correct side of it."  Onmund watched as Kestrel walked them toward the door, only to pause right before it and shift enough that he knew they were looking back over their shoulder.  "And besides - we do have at least ONE Jarl who knows what happened here, and that Jarl is currently trying to become king.  Depending on how history works itself out the truth may come knocking on Korir's door and he won't like what it has to say to him."

With that they left, heading back out into the courtyard.  Kestrel paused at the stone base where, until recently, the statue of a mage had stood; Onmund recalled how it had been shattered, and shortly afterward how the daedroth had come after him, and felt his spirit shiver a bit at the memory -- he hoped he never had to face one of those things again, ever.

Kestrel rubbed his hands together and Onmund felt magicka shift in both his body and in the air as whatever she silently casted made his hands glow.  She began to trace patterns around the ruined statue's base, fingers cutting through the stone like a blade through fabric; his body made one full circle of the base before stopping to carefully deposit his spirit on top of it, giving him a perfect view as Kestrel continued on with her stonemarking.

 What is she doing?

Onmund's face lifted to look at him, smiling a bit.  "Watch carefully, apprentice -- this isn't how I intended you to learn teleportation circles but I may as well make use of this time to teach. First, we must prepare the foundation - this includes sketching the base of the circle as well as calculating the width and height.  See here..."

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

The storm had blown over and it was late at night by the time the wagon Korir had ordered arrived at the College; he watched, perched back on his own shoulder, as the mages carefully packed in crates and satchels full of supplies, books, scrolls, reagents, tools... It was a pathetic fraction of what filled the College and he knew they'd agonized over every choice they'd made and that they were leaving a great deal behind.  He suspected this wasn't the end of it, knowing that Kestrel had placed that rune circle in the courtyard, but he couldn't help feeling an encompassing sadness at having to leave the College for good this time.  

It was somehow worse than what he'd worked through when he'd been resigned to an eternity underground as Kestrel's apprentice.  Maybe eternity was easier to reckon with since there wasn't anything to compare it to and it wasn't easily understood - it was just a nebulous concept to a man who still thought of himself in terms of being mortal, not something that felt permanent or encompassing; he supposed that even though he'd thought he'd come to terms with never returning to the College there must have been some small part of him that'd hoped that someday he'd return here.  It still felt like home.

'Now I know exactly how Gormir feels,' he found himself thinking.  Even though he'd spent over a year somewhere else...

He was dragged out of his thoughts as Kestrel moved them to the wagon, holding out a hand to Drevis and gesturing for him to bring the bag he was carrying over; when she took hold of it Onmund could hear the soft noise of glass objects clinking together, and watched as his arm rummaged through the bag carefully until it pulled out a jar of frost salts before handing the bag back to Drevis with an appreciative nod.  

With the jar in hand Onmund was next turned toward the bridge leading to the College, stopping just before the planks.  Behind them Onmund could hear shouting and approaching footsteps as his fingers dug into the frigid salts within the jar.

"Stop!  What are you doing!?"

"Stop right there, mage!"

That last voice was Korir's.

Kestrel gestured behind them and Onmund felt the magicka in him shift and release, and his spirit turned around to see a rough and towering barrier of snow and rock forming with a thunderous crackling noise that blocked the Jarl and the guards from stepping foot onto the bridge; there were a few failed attempts to climb over or around it and a lot of pounding and shouting, all of which Kestrel ignored as she took a handful of the salts and threw them into the air where they hung, glittering and bobbing gently in the breeze.  His palm pressed against some invisible, flat surface, and then slid rapidly to the left and then directly up - almost like he was polishing whatever it was in front of his body. The frost salts began to glow and expand outward into geometric shapes, growing larger and larger; now Kestrel hurled the entire jar of frost salts against the shapes and uttered a few words that made Onmund's spirit shake as a cold chill raced through him.

The jar shattered and the salts inside it slid along whatever invisible barrier was forming beneath the shapes; the air crackled and ice formed, rapidly racing around, up, and below, wrapping the entire College in a thickening globe of ice that immediately lowered the temperature near it to the point Onmund's body was shivering violently as they turned to walk back across the bridge.  Right before reaching the stone barricade Kestrel dug fingers into the stone archway and stomped the ground; from Onmund's fingers and where his heel struck a shockwave spread out and shook the bridge apart, sending the planks and remaining stone tumbling to the beach far below (which, considering the damage from the Collapse and then the daedroth it wasn't too difficult a task to force the rest of the stone to break apart and fall).

Only then did she demolish the barrier and followed it by shoving all the guards and Korir back from them, fixing Korir with a stare.

"I hope you didn't intend to both drive us away and also steal what you've forced us to leave behind, Jarl.  Let's not add theft to your ever growing list of questionable decisions."

"You damned mage -- Winterhold could have made use of that fortress for our own defenses!"

"I suppose you'll have to build your own," came the flippant reply.   "You are, after all, banishing a large part of your defenses as it is."

Korir's face went a deep red and he turned to the guards around him.  "Seize them - ALL of them."

Several guards drew their weapons and advanced a few steps; Gormir hurried forward with his hands outstretched.  "NO - stand down.  We've all suffered enough and I won't stand to see my Jarl lower himself into the mud for his own damned pride!"  The few men that had moved to follow Korir's order actually paused at Gormir's outburst; Korir fixed Gormir with a murderous glare but before he could say anything else Gormir jabbed a finger in the air toward him, glaring just as intently back at the man.  "Save what honor you've got left, Jarl, and go back to your hall.  While you've still got one, anyway.  Without the College there's no reason for anyone to come this far north -- you won't need a fortress to defend an empty city, and I won't stand to see you stoop so low as to drive innocent folks out of their home so you can claim their belongings for yourself.  What would you even do with it?  Divines know you can't likely use it.  Sell it? No amount of gold will save Winterhold now.  This city dies with the exile of the mages."

Gormir huffed several deep breaths through his nose (it briefly made Onmund picture a bull ready to charge) then turned to let his gaze roam over the guards and the few townsfolk left that had bothered to come "see" the mages off.  He seemed poised to say more but finally just grunted in distaste and stomped back to the wagon and hoisted himself up to the bench in front.

Onmund could see a small smirk crossing his own face -- he supposed Gormir's speech was a lot better than Kestrel threatening to bury the town again, and Gormir was right: even if they'd left everything for Korir to claim, what could the man do with it?  The only persons who would be interested in it would be...mages, maybe alchemists.  He really couldn't see Korir dealing with mages even if it was in the name of raising funds to keep Winterhold afloat, and it'd probably be more trouble than it was worth to try and transport goods elsewhere to sell. Winterhold really had depended on the patronage of those that came to do business with the College and with them gone...

Korir would have to live with the consequences of his decision, just like Jarl Ulfric had said.

Onmund's hand gestured and the mages gathered around the wagon.  "-are we ready?"

"Of course not.  But do we truly have a choice?" Nirya sounded bitter.

"We have plenty of choices - I am merely choosing the least violent one," Kestrel replied.  She walked his body around to the front of the wagon and gave Gormir a nod.  "I suggest we leave before anyone else gets any ideas."

Gormir flicked the reins and the wagon lurched forward as the sole horse began to move (it was Nelacar's mount; Onmund wondered where the horse he'd ridden had disappeared to - maybe Quaranir had retrieved it though Onmund doubted he would have bothered).  There was no fanfare, no hurled curses their way -- just the silence of a city watching them leave and the faint whisper of pines moving in the wind.

For most of their walk there wasn't much talk; Kestrel carefully explained, in broad terms, how she was actually possessing Onmund and that Onmund himself was perfectly fine -- the others had seemed both surprised at the spellplay at work and a few had admitted that they'd thought Onmund hadn't seemed himself when he'd arrived at the College to set them free.  Kestrel was content to let them think they'd figured it all out ahead of time and went quiet as the others chattered amongst themselves; they were nearing the break in the mountains where they'd need to turn to head down the trail to Saarthal when J'zargo cleared his throat.

"At the risk of sounding ungrateful, this one wonders how we can possibly live within a crumbling ruin."

"My home is under it - we are merely walking through Saarthal to get there.  Ordinarily I would open a portal but the wagon won't fit."

 How are WE all going to fit?

Onmund's lips curled into a smile.  "Well, apprentice - it would seem that after I've deposited myself somewhere secure, you will need to either start digging or teach the others so they can help you.  Now that the crown is gone we won't need to stay there long but we WILL need the space to fully empty the College of all that's in there, and I'm sure we can all survive a night or two sleeping in the floor."

Phinis shuffled up beside them.  "What do you mean "empty"?  What have you prepared?"

"I left a rune circle behind so we can portal in and out.  The spell that wraps the place in ice will last a month, possibly two depending on how the weather holds.  Let Korir have his pyrrhic victory - by the time he can get into the College I intend for him to only inherit cobwebs and the contents of the latrines."

At that Urag began laughing; the laughter was loud and rough and Onmund wasn't sure he'd ever heard the orc laugh before now.  "I like it.  Serves the bastard right."

"Do you really think he won't change his mind and kill the guards involved?" Nirya asked quietly - from the sounds of it she was somewhere behind and to Onmund's right.

Gormir grunted and spat from the front of the wagon.  "If he tries it he'll have one hell of a fight on his hands.  I know those men and women - they won't go down quietly even if their Jarl demands it."

"I don't care for the fact we are letting Korir win, pyrrhic victory or not," Sergius grumbled.  "As much as the College did for Winterhold..."

"And what do you suggest we do, Sergius?  Go back and force them into a confrontation?" Drevis snorted.  "I don't much care for this particular ending to the College's history but at least let records show that we left with dignity and without bloodshed."

"But what are we to do now?" Enthir broke in.  "I don't intend to stay in a hole in the ground or a crumbling ruin, nor do I think we'd be welcomed into any other hold considering what's happened.  Knowing Korir he won't rest until all the Jarls hear his version of our supposed assault on his hold."

Onmund's shoulders lifted in a shrug.  "We shall discuss that when we're indoors and sorted - none of you need to remain with me if you don't want to. For now let's prioritize getting me out of Onmund's body, getting your belongings out of the College, and getting short-term food and lodging sorted.  ...I suppose you could, instead of digging anew, expand off the spider's dwelling, Onmund. It would be less work on you and there would be a guardian available that doesn't require sleep."

"...spider's dwelling?" Nirya repeated, sounding somewhat dismayed.

"It's a-- ugh. I'll explain when we get there.  It'll be easier to show it than try to explain it."  Kestrel - meaning, Onmund's body - sounded weary.  "We are nearly there.  Gormir - may I ask that you take whoever you choose and attempt to hunt something for your meal tonight? Onmund and I do not require anything so hunt and gather enough to feed the rest of yourselves."

Onmund heard Brelyna quickly quipping a "don't ask" after Kestrel had fallen silent.  The rest of their walk to Saarthal was quiet; once they'd arrived Kestrel directed the others to bring the wagon's contents inside the ruins and to store them further back toward the wall with the dragon carving.  Being as Gormir and whoever he took with him would need to get down into the hideaway with the others Kestrel rebuilt the staircase descending down into the home, detouring only to introduce them to the spider (Nirya wasn't pleased at first but seemed placated when she learned it was a construct and not an actual living spider).   She offered them a quick explanation then of what doorways led to what room (and told them that in no uncertain terms her own room was strictly off-limits to everyone but herself and Onmund) and then left them to poke around or go hunt or read or whatever they wanted to do while she walked Onmund into the little armory room and looked around.

"Let's see, which shelf did I...  Aha, there we are."

Onmund's knees cracked as he squatted on his heels, his hands reaching out for a small lock box that looked to be made of plain iron and sky blue glass; whatever was inside it rattled gently as his body straightened and walked into Kestrel's room, locking the door behind them.  The box was carefully sat upon the scrying table and then Kestrel moved them over to the wardrobe (it was only know that Onmund noticed scorch marks on it - likely from when Varea had led the others down here to steal the crown) where, in the pocket of a rather plain tunic hanging amongst other clothing (that Onmund had never seen her wear) she retrieved a key.

The key opened the lock on the box and the lid tipped open on well-greased hinges to reveal a box of strangely colored soul stones -- most of them were as black as obsidian and comfortably reminded him of the same material that had made up the crown.

"This is definitely not how I wanted us to progress into necromancy but considering the circumstances we have little choice."

 Necromancy?  I don't want to be a necromancer of any kind.

"I know the stigma regarding this particular type of magic but it too is ultimately just a tool.  There are actually quite a few practical uses for necromancy and, as you'll eventually learn, the best way to stop others from misusing it is knowing intimately how it functions.   These-"

His hand reached in and pulled out a jagged soul stone the length of his palm and about three fingers wide at its widest point.  "-will be combined with a bit of complicated alteration, and will serve as my home for the time being."

 ...do you really think we can retrieve your body, somehow?

Kestrel was silent for a long moment as she once again went to the wardrobe and removed what looked like a small jewelry box from the long drawer that made up the floor of the wardrobe.  "--in a perfect world, yes, I think we could.  But the world is rarely perfect and the Psijics will be expecting that."

 So what do we do, then?

"I have a few ideas but it will take quite a bit of planning.  This...won't be corrected for quite some time, Onmund."

 Oh.

A small smile crossed his face as his hands gently placed the jewelry box next to the box of soul stones.  "Don't sound so depressed - you're not the one being made into jewelry."

 But I'll be the one fixing you, won't I?

"Of course.  Who else could I possibly trust to do so?"

[inviouswriting]

Waiting

Pure complete smut

 Aymeric x Kiya. Sinday content.

Aymeric has his hands buried into Kiya’s hair, fingers tugging at her hair. Soft sighs escape him at feeling her tongue sweep over the tip of his erection. It isn’t uncommon of Kiya to please him first thing in the morning. He loves it when she does, allows him to think free from other thoughts. Though she was teasing him every second. The press of her tongue against the underside of the head. He buries his fingers in a little tighter as he lets out moans from her gentle and teasing treatment.

Kiya still struggles to take all of him into her mouth, mostly from girth she uses both of her hands on what isn’t in her mouth and pumps him as her head lightly bobs down on him. Aymeric feels her move her head a little to the side trying to take more into her mouth comfortably. She had been at this for a while, and she enjoyed teasing him this way.

Aymeric feels her tongue sweep at the head to collect anything that seeps out of him. He could see that hungered stare in her green eyes as they peer at him. His hands pet her ears in apology for gripping her head too hard. Just when he thinks he is about to burst, Kiya stops. Aymeric stares at her and sees her move next to him, her hands bracing on the headboard and looking at him almost pleading. He understood without a second thought and moves to be behind her. He ached from her stopping but remedies that with shoving himself into her.

Kiya is pushed forward by his force and she grips the headboard hard with her hands. She feels his hands at her waist, and moves hard into her. Kiya moans out feeling the way he stretches her so well. Aymeric leans over her and presses kisses along her neck and down her back while he thrusts as hard as he can into her knowing she is already frenzied from his teasing. He had toyed with her while she was just waking up. What started it all.

Aymeric pushes her closer to the headboard till Kiya is pressed against it and Aymeric has a leg lifted in one of his hands to part her legs better as he is relentless in her. He hears cry after cry made from her, he sees her hands grip the wood under her hands harder. A bite is made on the junction of Kiya’s neck and shoulder. Not easily hidden away by clothing if she wears something revealing.

Kiya pants out and lets go of the headboad and Aymeric lets her lower herself to the bed itself, hugging a pillow to her and burying her face to scream out her pleasure. Aymeric smirks to himself at being able to reduce her to this frenzied mess. He pulls out of her brief to glide his cock through her folds and whisper things into an ear. Things that make her grip the pillow harder, and cry out even louder as he plunges back into her.

She lasts a little longer before she peaks in her pleasure. Aymeric’s name off her tongue muffled from the pillow. She chants it and Aymeric takes the pillow from her to hear her. Kiya’s voice rings out loud from his thrusts as she peaks out. Aymeric goes harder into her as she does amplifying her orgasm when he pushes in full to feel her tighten on him and watch her as she thrashes underneath him. With him buried so deep, Kiya feels him spill into her, and hears how he lets out soft moans as he does.

Regretfully, Aymeric pulls from his beloved and places kisses on her face. She knows he has to get ready for the day. She sits up when she feels him off of her. Aymeric is looking over her, steeling himself from wanting to have her again. Kiya eyes him, from his ice blue eyes, his face soften and lips parted in a slight pant from the exertion he just did. Her eyes travel further down to his torso, he is very well toned from his sword and bow use. Kiya can feel the heat grow in her body, and thrashes her tail. Following the tone of his waist till she spies remnants of white that coat his cock from their recent romp. Without even thinking she crawls over to him and to his surprise takes him back into her mouth to clean him off.

Aymeric has to tug her off gently otherwise he would lose his will in getting ready for the day and just climb back over his wife and love her till she couldn’t walk. Kiya gives him a pout at being denied another romp. But she isn’t without her mischief. She lets him start getting ready. Admiring him from her spot, till an idea strikes her. She goes to one of their bedside tables and rummages through for a particular device. She smiles to herself when she finds it, and approaches Aymeric still undressed as he works on cleaning his body from their lovemaking.

Kiya presses her front to his back, to distract him. Aymeric feels her hands slip around and smiles to himself feeling her.

“I know what you are up to, it’s not going to work I am afraid.” He turns in her arms and presses his hands to her head tilting it up so he can see her vivid green eyes. Kiya lowers her eyelids a little.

“I know. Can’t I just seek some affection?” The words makes him smile, and he winds his arms around her, lifting her to him. They engage in a heated kiss, Aymeric keeps her supported in his arms. She presses closer to him, and can feel a stir in him. She reaches a hand down idle to give him a few teasing tugs on his length. More distraction as she slips a ring on him till it fits snug at the base of him.

Aymeric feels this and breaks their kiss to stare down at her. For mercy, Kiya wears a grin on her face.

“Kiya?” He eyes her weary for what she has planned.

“Indulge me love. Keep that on today? I’ll make it worth your while.”  Kiya explains and carefully walks her fingers across the shaft careful not to rouse him, just yet. She ends her touch with a sweep of her index finger from the top of his tip and circles it. Feeling the twitch just under her hand.

“You will cause a scandal one of these days my love.” Aymeric indulges her, and looks at the silver band that adorns the base of his shaft. He closes his eyes feeling her fingers then snaps them down feeling her tease him. He is met with a devilish grin, then Kiya goes to lie back down on their bed. Feeling worn out for the time. She lazily watches her husband get dressed. She would snag his coat whenever he walked within her reach and tug till she hung off the bed. Aymeric picks her up and places her back onto the bed half dropping her there with a grin.

They exchange a look, and Aymeric crawls over her after getting most of his clothing on and pins her down to give her a full kiss. Kiya wraps her arms around his shoulders and deepens the kiss between them. Aymeric palms one of her breasts in his hand, till Kiya is whimpering for him.

Just as he got her hot and bothered. He gets up off of her, and heads to leave the room. “I’ll see you in a while I take it?” He knows her, that she’ll come visit him in his office. More as a ploy from him to get the ring off him by making her want him.

“I will. Do not worry.” She settles back into the blankets, and Aymeric half pouts seeing her curl up. He wanted to join her, but the public demanded his attention. He tosses a robe at her, and Kiya grabs it.

“Join me for breakfast or tea?” He requests of her. Kiya doesn’t deny him quality time. She tugs the robe on and snags a blanket to wrap around herself. Aymeric smiles seeing her follow him out. The rest of the morning was spent going over plans. Kiya sits across from him, her legs still ached a bit from his rough treatment on her. She smiles to herself knowing she’ll be in a worse state by the end of the day.  Aymeric catches her smile, and shifts a little wondering what she is thinking about. More of wanting to know why she put a ring on him again. She hasn’t used it since the party they attended where he teased her relentlessly and she teased back.

“My love, may I ask why you have “that” on me?” Aymeric breaks the silence after finishing what was left of his food and tea. Kiya had already finished hers and moved to sit near the fireplace. Aymeric follows her and tugs her to him.

“You’ll find out why.” She remains cryptic, and Aymeric presses his face against her neck. He starts to kiss it, and even moves to start slipping a hand beneath her robe to tease her into telling him. His hand is swat off before he gets far. Kiya turns her head and kisses him fully before he can protest to her swatting his hands.

“My love, a clue?” He is met with her shaking her head no, and green eyes giving him a stare that said something else. She is playing a game with him, and he widens his eyes. Aymeric takes his beloved by her shoulders and starts to pin her down onto the floor near the fireplace. He claims her lips in another full kiss, his hands going to the back of her head to pet her ears. Kiya returns his kiss and even grips the front of his robes tightly. He was doing his best to wrile her up before he left her wanting and frustrated to handle it alone.

The hour arrived where he had to leave. Regretfully he breaks their kiss, giving a light lick across her bottom lip. Kiya feels her head hazy, and glares at him for making her ache for him then is leaving her in that state.

“I would love to indulge longer. But alas I cannot be late.” He presses his forehead to hers, and gives her one more kiss.

“I know, I will drop by around midday. So if you would, can you make sure to expect me?” Kiya earns a nod, the heat behind the ice blue eyes says everything for him. He loves their office antics, the thrill of being almost caught. Wondering if their voices are too loud, and him reducing her to whimpers and shudders while he takes her from behind on top of his desk.

“Indeed I will see you then? My dear love.” Aymeric pecks a small kiss on her forehead, as he gets up to put the remaining armor on and leave. Kiya sees him out, and then darts to their room. She had an old outfit to find, and she was going to make him squirm in his seat for teasing her the way he was.

It took her a while to find her starting gear in her separates and loincloth with her boots. She leaves the gloves off, and looks herself over in the mirror. She chances things and leaves the smallclothes off, then quickly glams the outfit to a plate. She smirks to herself, and starts out the door to meet her husband. Her tail swaying with eager pride for what she was about to do to him.

Aymeric got through most of the day with little headaches. Anticipating his love’s visit all the more after a few squabbles from the houses over political debates and himself not having the patience for it. He had dismissed them when they were not going to agree to disagree. His attention is drawn to the door of his office, and he sees Kiya poke her head in. Aymeric feels his stress melt away seeing her. As she steps into the room, his eyes widen when she changes her glamors to something that makes him feel like he will have a hard time at the hands of Kiya.

Kiya made sure to lock the doors to the office, she had cautioned the others she would be a little while with keeping Aymeric’s attention. She feels his stare on her.

“Pray tell me, you did not wear that out in the cold right?” Aymeric shows his concern at seeing her dressed so scantily. He watches Kiya’s tail as it lifts, she did not have it through the hole designed for the appendage. The subtle lift of her tail was enough to give him a brief glance of her rear. He feels himself hardening at the sight of her.

“No, I saved it for in here.” Kiya answers him and moves from the door and carefully jumps onto his desk, then sits down with her legs towards him. A knee over the other, Aymeric finds himself swallowing hard at her state of dress. He also understands why she placed a ring on him. She was getting even with him for that one day when he teased her relentlessly before she had to leave for a mission.

“What’s the matter, Ser Aymeric~” Kiya moves her feet to either side of Aymeric’s legs keeping her feet on his thighs as she scoots more to the edge of his desk. Aymeric glances over her. Her leaning forward pushes her breasts together. Her feet placement raises her skirt and he peers between her legs where he sees her slit. Kiya sees this and parts her legs some more for him, she also sees him swallow a little harder.

“Forgive me, my love. I seem to have a growing problem, and someone irresistible in front of me. May I touch you?” His hands move to her legs touching along the stockings that adorn them. He bites his lip as his fingers touch along the start of her skin at her thighs traveling further.

“Hmm, you may touch me.” Aymeric is granted his permission to touch, his fingers digging into her thighs as he feels them. His hands close to her core, even using his fingers to part her enough for him to see her. His fingers spread her wider, he grimaces a little as he knows he is hard and the ring on him does not help either.

Kiya keeps herself from grinning seeing the way he looks at her with a hunger she knows all too well, seeing it earlier when he took her hard. That dull ache she has from him being so relentless replaced by the growing one as his fingers touch her tender in rubs and him pressing them inside her. Aymeric looks up to her as his fingers are coated, he sees her eyes closed and she steadily rocks her hips forward to the gentle pressing of him pumping his fingers into her only going up to where skin meets the gold of his glove.

Aymeric coaxes his love to lie on her back, while he tugs her waist up to himself. Having her drape her legs over his shoulders. Her tail moves to wrap loose at one of his arms while he uses his mouth on her. Subtle kisses along her thigh till he uses his hands to part her folds and then delve his tongue into her. He hears her sigh his name and also feels her ankles hook together between his shoulder blades.

Kiya moves her hands above herself gripping the edge of his desk near the winged ornament that is in front. She rocks her hips with the rhythm he makes with his tongue when it presses along her clit then back into her. His hands now grip at her rear to hold her hips in place from bucking too much. Aymeric pulls back and uses his hands to part her folds again seeing how soaked her thighs are now from his mouth and from being excited. He gives her mound a kiss then looks up at her heated face. She was staring at him for stopping.

“I cannot let you have all the fun, my dear.” He places another kiss on her folds, he lowers her back to the desk, and sits back in his chair admiring his wife’s form. Her labored breathing from his pleasure, flushed face from being stared at so heated, eyes that are begging him to continue. Kiya with his help sits back up on the desk, catching onto what he means.

With her legs on either side of him on the chair she goes from sitting on the desk to his lap, deliberately pressing her hips against his. She can feel him through his leather, and her pressing down earns a loud groan. She loops her arms around his neck, even with him sitting he is still a large broad man. One she knew how to tease thoroughly with her smaller frame.

Kiya sits on the edge of his knees, and pushes the hem of his black robe up, she glances up to see him staring at her. Aymeric moves his hands to the small of her back, he moves his own legs wider apart for her, in so doing parts her legs as she is seated on them. His hands tug up the skirt in front so he can see the way she is exposed to him.

Aymeric feels a hand palm him through the leather of his pants, tracing the bulge with fingers and to his surprise a gentle pinch at the head making him moan out and she can feel him twitch under her palm.

“Does that feel good?” Kiya inquires to how he is feeling, even as she strokes him on the outside of his pants. Aymeric’s fingers dig into the subtle flesh of her thighs wanting to draw her closer to get her onto him, he wanted her to pull him out and feel her hands.

“It does feel good. Would you please… touch me?” He asks her, careful not to bite his lip hard when he feels her hands tug at the leather, pulling at them and he lifts his hips enough for her to tug the front end down enough to free his erect penis. Aymeric hisses at the cool air as it hits him, he feels her fingers touch along the band around the base circling it and avoiding touching his skin.

“Good, you have kept this on. Now the real fun begins.” Kiya purrs to him, Aymeric stares at her to wonder what she means. She beams up at him, while her hand works on him. Stroking him gently enough to have him thrust into her hand. Kiya leans back enough so her back is against the edge of his desk. She keeps stroking him, her hand circles around the head, thumb pressing over the weeping slit as it dribbles out precum.

“Kiya… please?” He asks, he wants the ring off, each pass of her hand over the tip has it twitching under her palm. She pumps him with both of her hands, feeling how hard he is. She also listens to his moans that come out, she chances a stare up at his face. He is blushing furious, and his eyes plead her to be merciful on him.

“Mmm… do you want to cum?” She asks, and curls her hand to just rub at the tip, enjoying the feel of the skin under her palm. Her fingers massage the glands, and she can see his eyes gloss over in bliss. She feels it under her palm as more precum dribbles out and coats her hand.

“Please, my love. I do.” Aymeric feels her hands on him, and twitches wild under her hand as it is caressed with gentle hands tending to him.

“Not yet. I want to tease you a little longer.” Aymeric gives her a half-glare of frustration. He then realizes this is what he does to her. Kiya scoots forward on his lap till she is close enough to do what she wants to do with him. Taking his erection into her hand, she guides his cock through her folds, a hiss out of her feeling how hard he is against her aching core. Aymeric however moves his arms to wind around her waist and buries his dace down into her hair to moan into it muffling enough but loud in her ears. He feels the slick heat against him. He ached for her, he ached badly but his relief is in a permission along with removing that ring around him.

Kiya presses his tip against her opening, barely pushing him into her with a roll of her hips. He bucks his hips against hers wanting to drive himself into her. Kiya just lifts up and avoids having him penetrate her. She instead grinds against him, in a way that has Aymeric pulling her to him wanting to feel her around him even more. She is driving him mad with lust, she can feel his control ebbing slowly away with each grind of her hips letting him feel his relief along his shaft but not around it.

Aymeric bucks his hips more against her, trying to get into her, to feel that heat at least around his head. Kiya stops and poises her hips enough above to avoid having him inside her. Raised enough that she takes his erection in her hand again and rubs him through her folds till the tip rests against her hole. She does not push down onto him, and she gives him a stare that tells him not to thrust up into her yet.

Kiya rolls her hips, enough to sink just his tip into her, and Aymeric’s hands on her waist dig harder into her thighs where they rest. His hands go up and pushes her skirt up while his fingers dig into her rear trying to get her to push down on him.

“Aymeric, you are going to leave marks. I won’t be able to wear the dancer gear for a while.” Kiya informs him, and Aymeric lessens his grip on her flesh. He leans his head forward to kiss her in apology. She returns that, and smiles up at him.

“Forgive me… this feels incredible, but I really want to feel you now. Please?” Kiya nibbles on his bottom lip, even tugging it with her teeth carefully. Kiya rocks her hips enough, just enough to feel the push of the thick head into her. She still does not push all the way down, but rocks her hips to feel the way he begins to stretch her. Aymeric moves his hands from her waist to grip the desk behind her, digging his fingers on the wood enough to scratch it.

“You are feeling me though.” She ached to feel him inside her, but she had one more tease to do to him. She kept in mind the schedule of his meetings, and Aymeric remembers in the middle of it all. He sees her grinning at him.

“Do not dare!” He warns her, she had planned this. He realizes with a horrified expression that she was there to wrile him up before he had to sit through more meetings. Painfully hard, when all he wants to do is be buried deep in his wife and now be so hard on her that she won’t walk right for a few days.

“Don’t I dare what? Ser Aymeric?” She raises her hips tugging him out of her to rub his tip against her folds. Aymeric grabs at her waist and desperately tries to pull her down onto him. He wants her, damn he wants her bad.

“Do not leave me wanting you. Please? Let me inside you.” Aymeric pleads her, her legs hold firm as he tries to push her onto him when she has him centered at his tip again.

“Hmm? But you have a meeting, Lucia told me it was one you cannot miss~” She hears him groan out in his frustration. Kiya beams happy at him, and indulges him with a feel of her. She pushes down till he is fully seated inside her. Aymeric moans out even louder now, and bucks into her. His arms around her waist as he thrusts against her in shallow thrusts. The wet heat he feels soothes his mind, and he buries his face into the crook of her neck as she subtly bounces in his lap.

For a rare time, it is Aymeric who moans out in her ears, each sigh he makes at feeling his beloved on him. Kiya rocks herself with his thrusts and feels his arms as they tighten and pull her to him.

“You are so unfair, to me.” Aymeric says into an ear, and Kiya buries her face into his chest where she rides out her pleasure. Kiya wasn’t done teasing him though. On his thrust in, she squeezes her walls around him, drawing a louder moan out of him. It was intoxicating hearing him lose himself this way. She was close, and she bites her lips as she makes the command.

“Stop!” Aymeric is confused, and pulls back to look at her. Kiya lifts herself off him, and moves to sit back on the edge of his desk. She quickly buries her fingers into herself and starts working herself to completion in front of her husband. Even laying on her back and parting her legs so he can see her in an erotic fashion.

Kiya lets her own moans fall as she works herself to an orgasm, while all Aymeric can do is watch her. He realizes she is going to leave him like this, wanting her, and harder than he has ever been. When he sees her take her relief in her fingers. He curses under his breath at what she is doing to him.

“My love… please? At least let me cum?” He tries to ask her, and Kiya only smiles up at him as she raises up, holding her fingers to him for him to clean.

“I’ll let you cum. At home. Would not do for you to cause a scandal when your next meeting is about to arrive.” She teases and helps arrange him back into his leather. Giving him a squeeze through his pants. Aymeric is blushing furious at being denied relief and having to sit being hard and only having a taste of his wife on his tongue for anticipating what awaits him at home.

Kiya kisses his cheek and uses one of her plates to change her clothing to something more appropriate for walking around Ishgard. The warg tights she possesses, and a longer sleeved shirt. She bends over brief to adjust the bottom sleeve of her tights. Giving her husband a good view of the way they contour to her body nicely.

“I hope you know… my love. I am going to punish you later for this.” Aymeric says hotly enough for her. She looks over her shoulder, a wry grin across her lips.

“I know you are.” She says and slips out of his office. Aymeric obliges her game but he wished he wasn’t so hard from all her teasing. He is thankful the leather and the robes are enough to hide his erection as he greets the knights who come to him about plans for the Firmament.

Aymeric only lasts two meetings before he can’t bear the pressure in his groin and excuses himself for the remainder of the day. The walk home couldn’t have been made swift, and when he arrived into his home. He searches for his wife, and finds her already waiting in their room on their bed. Dressed in a revealing number of lace and laying on her side.

“I had a feeling you were not going to last long.” Kiya sees the hungered stare in his eyes as they roam over her in such a way.

“Godsdamn you for leaving me like that.” Aymeric sheds his robes as quickly as he can dropping armor and everything he can so he can remove his pants off him. Kiya lets him, she teased him well enough in his office. Kiya’s feet are snared and she is dragged from the middle of the bed to the edge. She parts her legs, and Aymeric sees the panty is crotchless, he looks at her before he plunges himself into her.

“Can I take it off my ring now?”  Aymeric takes his erection and rubs the head through her folds, hissing at how her heat feels so good against his aching cock.

“You can take it off. I think you earned your relief?” Once he was given permission to remove it, he carefully slides it off, and groans at how good it feels to have it off. He then proceeds to push into his wife underneath him in a full thrust into her from the start knowing she can take it from earlier when she rode him enough to tease him.

Kiya moans out loud and grips the bedsheets under her hands. Aymeric’s own moans are loud as he is granted his relief, he buries his face into her neck and loses his senses as he thrusts wild into her. Kiya whimpers in absolute bliss, she had been aching all day for him even more when she kept teasing him. The sound of their movements echoed, her sighs and moans resound out, Aymeric’s groans filling the air as well.

“Damn you… damn you… godsdamn you…” He breathes out under his breath, adjusting his hips enough to hit a spot inside his love that makes her arch up under him. He grips her waist and tugs her closer to each thrust he makes.

Kiya is worked into another hard orgasm, and arches up underneath him as he is relentless in his thrusts. Aymeric feels heat clamp around him in a way that makes him bury so deep to fill her. He lets his own moans out loud and swears in the middle of them.

Aymeric stares down at his beloved, waiting for her to calm down from her high. Kiya meets his eyes, and sees he is far from even being done. Ice blue eyes, bore into her, and she feels him still rock hard.

“We have much to make up for, no?” Kiya realizes her mistake in teasing him so bad.

“Indeed we do.”

[tendertenebrosity]

 Previous: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

@quirkykayleetam, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @burtlederp, @paradigmparadoxical, @theycomeinthrees

The moon hovered in the sky, almost full. Everet eyed it nervously, not sure whether he liked that visibility would be good.

It’s fine, he told himself. The mage probably needs light to get the wagon open. However he planned on doing that, Everet didn’t have any idea how it would work.

Everet left his post out on the camp perimeter and wove between the square shapes of the tents, stepping around the ropes and trying to walk confidently. There was no point trying to sneak, he was in chainmail. Besides, he had every right to be here.

He approached the wagon. At first he thought Galen wasn’t there and his heart skipped, but then he saw him – lying curled on his side and looking like nothing more than a bundle of somebody’s gear that they had dropped out of place.

Everet paused for a moment, looking around. Dappled moonlight played over the sharp lines of the tents. None of the tent flaps were open, there was no movement.  

He dropped to one knee beside Galen. With a moment of searing anger, he saw that the mage had been tied with his ankles lashed tightly to his wrists, behind his back this time.

“Hey,” he hissed. “You awake?”

The mage’s shoulders shifted, and he looked up. “Of course,” he breathed back. He flipped a hank of hair back from his forehead with a stiff toss of his head, and gave Everet a shaking but radiant smile. “You came!”

Everet could have untied the bonds, but he was too impatient. He drew his knife to cut them instead. “Obviously,” he muttered as he sawed at the rope, careful not to accidentally cut Galen. “You still all clear on where to meet?”

“Yes,” Galen said, with a long quiet hiss of breath between his teeth as he drew his arms back in front of him. “Meet you – ugh – at the hollow down the slope. With the lyrium. A dozen vials, or whatever I can. Right?”

“That’s the plan,” Everet agreed. He cast an anxious glance behind him at the silent, motionless camp. He stood up.

“Wait,” Galen said, on his hands and knees. “Could you – help me up, please?”

Everet reached out with a twinge of worry. The mage’s hand latched onto his, slender fingers hot and rough, and he pulled himself upright. He let go of Everet’s hand and immediately staggered, falling back against the wagon with a thump.

Everet winced at the noise. “Are you okay?” he asked, worried. What if the mage couldn’t walk? Everet could probably carry him for a while, especially since lyrium was still humming in his veins from this morning.  But it’d be slower.

“I’ll make it,” Galen whispered. He flapped a hand at Everet, still leaning on the wagon with one hand. “Good luck.”

“You too,” Everet said, finally, as he turned to go.

He headed back for the perimeter, still trying to move confidently, his ears alert from any out of place noise. He resisted the urge to look back and see what Galen was doing.

Surely, surely somebody was going to poke their head out of a tent, demand to know what was going on, yell for the rest of the band to wake up, something.

There was nothing. Everet still felt like he had aged ten years by the time he reached the guard post.

When he’d been hatching this plan, Everet had thought that he’d feel bad about this part. It had been a major sticking point – these were other templars. Warriors of the Chant. Everet’s brothers in arms. It was a heinous betrayal that he could even contemplate attacking them, wasn’t it? How could Everet think of doing such a thing?

But then guard rotations had been handed out. And tonight, the south side of the camp was guarded by Everet and Renard.

The other templar was slouched against a tree, his head tipped back. Everet almost might have hoped he was asleep, but he stirred grudgingly at the sound of footsteps.

“Got bored, did you?”

“Nah,” Everet said, hoping the dark hid his facial expressions. “Renard, I heard something over in those trees to the west of camp.”

He saw Renards face turn in the moonlight. “What?”

“I heard something,” Everet said, more insistently. “Sounded like someone creeping around out there. Come back me up while I check it out.”

Renard grumbled, but stood up from his position leaning against the tree. “It’s probably just some kind of animal,” he sighed.

“Yeah, probably,” Everet agreed. “Could be someone from that last village, though.”

Renard snorted. “Like they’d dare. Fine. I’m coming.” Everet felt a rush of relief, but it was short-lived. “Let’s tell the other two where we’re going, though.”

Oh, now we’re going to insist on protocol? Everet thought, disgusted. What if the other two guards got suspicious when they didn’t hear back from Renard and Everet? What if they took it into their heads to come over and check? He took a deep breath, and nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

They circled around the perimeter of the camp. Everet listened to the heavy breathing of the man walking next to him, and clung to the comforting hum of lyrium to keep from panicking. Everet had been counting on their escape not being noticed until the guard changed. It was a couple of hours head start on any pursuit – slim enough as it was. Now we might not get even that.

The third guard on watch, a wiry woman named Mira, was leaning against a tree in much the same pose as Renard had been.

She grunted when Everet told his lie about hearing something. “You know it’s probably a wild dog or an owl or something, right? Sure. Whatever. Don’t put your foot in a fox hole and break your leg, I ain’t going out there to get you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Try not to snore too loud, all right?” Everet said, thinking anxiously of Galen, probably tinkering with the lock on the wagon as they spoke.

They headed out of camp, up the slope towards the slightly thicker clump of trees and scrub that Everet hoped would provide a little cover. The moon shone, almost full, passing in and out of visibility as they walked through the trees.  

Renard cursed as he struggled through a knee-high bush. “It probably was a wild dog, you know,” he said. “Let’s go back.”

“Just a little further,” Everet said. He kept changing his grip on his knife, over and over, his fingers hot around the hilt. “I thought I heard it again.”

He ignored Renard’s protest and forged forward. Just a little further. Come on, come on. To his relief, Renard followed for a few more metres, until the camp and the guard posts weren’t even visible. He knew he had to do this quickly. If Renard shouted, or thrashed about making a lot of noise, it might wake somebody back at camp, or rouse Mira to follow them.

“Look, Everet, there’s nothing out here,” Renard sighed, as they passed into the shadow of a tree. “It – ”

Everet turned and barged his full weight against Renard, knocking him backwards against the tree, distantly registering the sting of the impact against Renard’s chestplate.

Renard managed to get a muffled curse out before Everet’s hand slapped over his mouth and chin and thrust backwards, shoving his head against the bole of the tree. Everet didn’t let up for a single instant, all of his limbs braced against the other templar’s strength, blood rushing in his ears, lyrium singing in the back of his mind.

Everet’s other hand lifted the knife to the throat of the struggling Renard, and sank it deep into the soft flesh that was exposed above his armour. Renard jerked, making muffled, suffocated noises.

Everet leaned his whole weight against him, pinning him against the tree as his movements slowed and stopped. When he stepped back, Renard’s body slumped forward and lay awkwardly over a bush, arms and legs limp and sprawled, armour shining dully in the moonlight.

Everet stood, panting with effort, staring out into the shadows of the forest at night, alive with movement and moonlight. His hand was soaking wet and unpleasantly hot, fingers still clenched around the hilt of the knife.  

He’d done it. No turning back. Ser Everet of the Templar Order was now Everet the murderer.

He felt a little like he ought to have said something. Compliments of the mage you tortured, maybe, or Vicious bastard, you deserved that. Even just fuck you, maybe.

I am not and I will never be like you. 

He didn’t say anything. He stooped to wipe his blade clean on a fold of Renard’s robe, then sheathed it and turned his back, opening and closing his sticky hand. Time to get moving, if Everet didn’t want both himself and Galen to pay a heavy price for all of this.

You did deserve it, though, he thought grimly as he pushed through the brush.

[gotmeringinghellsbells]

Isn’t This What You Wanted?

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Denki Kaminari, Hitoshi Shinso

A/N: I keep starting then restarting my little t-fics and lately nothing seems very well written. So I busted out of my block a bit to make this small fic. Also, why is there so little lee Shinso online? Like he’s a bean, he deserves attention too. 

Description: After being awoken by his friend, Shinso accidently uses his quirk on him. The male’s foggy brain debates whether or not to take advantage before guilt takes over and he has to deal with the consequences. 

__

Shinso paused, afraid to move. Crap, had he just? Oh well. He leaned back into the class Pokemon awkwardly before shyly placing the other’s hands on his abdomen. Maybe he should just let his friend go? It was an accident and frankly hardly anyone remembered when they were under his control. But…. he was also really sleepy and feeling a bit down. He was too shy to just ask such a favor from his friend. 

But he’d also hadn’t been even cuddled like this in years! Damn it, he didn’t want the other to be mad! Hitoshi only had a few friends and he didn’t really want to lose any of them. But his heart craved more physical affection, he’d never felt so touch starved. Why the hell was this guy so loving?! “Hey um…. Could you,” the mind controller paused. He didn’t need to ask when he was using his quirk, just demand. But he didn’t want to be a total ass, even if Denki didn’t remember this…. He would. Shinso’s face heated up before he leaned into the other’s ear. “Could you…. Maybe… lightly scratch my stomach?”

Like hell he was about to say that word. The other’s face didn’t change, no reply was given, but fingers started to lightly scratch at his stomach. The taller arched his back a bit, giggling softly. “EEEhehe! Nmmmhahehehehe!” He leaned back into Kaminari’s chest more, body threatening to twitch and flail. 

It didn’t feel as nice as he hoped it would have. Barely blinking eyes just staring at him, a blank expression, no talking, no true interaction. It kind of sucked. He really couldn’t go through with this. “Aha! Alright, alright! Cut it out!” The fingers did as told, just waiting on the stomach. 

Man, he already felt so guilty! “I’m sorry Denki,” he sighed before releasing his quirk. Life came back to golden eyes as the smaller blinked a few times. Pulling his arms back, he rubbed his eyes. “Man, must have spaced out there for a sec. My eyes are super dry,” he groaned. 

Should he tell him at all? Hitoshi glanced over, his blush increasing before he sat up, back against his pillows. “Oh hey, you alright,” Denki asked casually as he glanced up to see the other trying to cover himself with his blanket. His face was turning a harsh red now.  

“‘M fine. You really shouldn’t just wake people like that you dork.” The other shrugged before flopping down beside his friend. “What’s the worst that could happen? You deck me one? We have Recovery Girl.” What?! “First of all, don’t say things like that! She’s a person, someone who offered to help people at our school, not a machine that can just do whatever for you,” Kaminari cut him off. 

His hands were raised in surrender. “I-I didn’t mean it like that man! I’m sorry.” The puppy dog eyes came out as his face fell. Oh. Shinso felt his heart tug slightly. Damn it. “And…. me decking you…. Is less likely then…. Myquirkactivating.” Huh? The other glanced over. “What did you say?” Denki couldn’t understand him, he spoke way to fast. 

Shinso refused to make eye contact as he looked down with shame. “My…. quirk.” Okay…. That’s part of the sentence. “What about it?” Okay, just get it over with, like ripping off a band aid. 3.... 2…. 1…. Now. “I accidentally used my quirk on you.” When? The smaller sat back a bit, moving away from his friend. “When?” 

Why couldn’t he just get mad and leave?! “When you woke me up. You startled me and without thinking, when I asked what you wanted and you replied…. I used my quirk on you.” Oh. That was a little unsettling, but Kaminari brushed it off. “Well hey, accidents happen!” He glanced to the clock. It hadn’t been over five minutes since he came to wake his buddy, had Shinso let him go right after? 

How long had they been talking? “Did… did you do something to me?” The taller made eye contact as he rushed up with a small amount of panic. “Of course not!” Well…. Not really? “Not…. not anything mean anyway.” So what, he just made him lay down and snuggle or be quiet? Regardless, the idea of someone else having control of him wasn’t a nice one, he could kind of see why Ojiro was weary to be the guy’s friend. 

But if Kaminari could talk Ojiro into giving Shinso a chance, he could remind himself he trusted the other! There was yet to be any reason not to. “So…. what did you do to me?” Denki had the right to know and Hitoshi knew that. Not wanting to cause any anxiety he started to speak. 

“I…. I kind of…. Made you,” think of the bandage, “tickle me.” Ew, gross, okay. The other cringed at his own words slightly before glancing up to see the other’s shocked face turn to one of confusion. Man, he looked so cute! Tired face, messy hair, large pajama shirt… just… cute. So Shinso may have had a little crush on the guy too, alright? 

He openly was flirtatious with him, gave him physical affection, and texted him everyday. Sure, he wasn’t the most ideal friend for the introvert, but he was making him become more social and opening him up in a way; Brining him out of his shell. 

He’s the only person to ever… truly do that. Monoma tried but the guy’s obsessive side was kind of a deal breaker as it was rather annoying. Kendo was night but they were more acquaintances and Tetsutetsu was too much like that rock guy that fawned over Mr. Egotistical Maniac. That probably didn’t help the swelling ego size, but hey, that was none of Shinso’s business. 

But what was, was the fact he may have just ruined a beautiful friendship and he just want to reenter his shell and never come out. “You…. made me what?” Hisotshi growled under his breath. “Don’t make me repeat it.” So Kaminari did here the other correctly. “Um…. why?” Why? Why couldn’t he just leave and never talk to Shinso again?! 

The taller’s face was bright red at this point. “Your just…. So clingy, physically affectionate, guess I got grHEE!” He covered his mouth before glancing up at the other. Of course, Denki just wore that fucking, loving smile of his that complimanted his caring eyes. “If you just wanted me to tickle you, you could have just said so man. I don’t mind. It’s not like it’s something kinky, right?” Right?

Kaminari wasn’t a kink shamer but…. He’d rather think of tickling as a fun bonding activity, not as… something a bit more mature.  

Shinso gave a shy shake of the head. He wasn’t prepared for this! He was prepared for heart break and to be miserable. To be bullied and everything along those lines. “Whahahit! S-Sthahahop!” The smaller sat on the taller’s lap, both hands kneading into his sides. “Why? I thought you wanted to be tickled,” Kaminari giggled. 

“Honestly I’ve been meaning to find out if you were ticklish or not anyway. It’s a nice weakness to know of your friends. You just never struck me as the ticklish type. I figured you’d just turn the tables on me, heh.” He wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying, but it didn’t seem to matter as Shinso couldn’t even bring himself to uncover his mouth and use this new found information. 

Rather, he kept jolting and bouncing around, giggling helplessly behind hands. “Denki,” he whined. The other rolled his eyes before trying out some new areas. “How about your tummy, huh?” Oh man. “Dhahaon’t chahahall it thahaht!” They weren’t children anymore! But his demand fell on deaf ears as  the smaller moved into his ear more. 

“But I thought you wanted this. DIdn’t you?” That little shit was teasing him! Shinso shrieked more before shoving a Denki and trying to curl away. He didn’t get far as fingers started prodding at the crevices of his underarms. His limbs started to come to life as the flaided about, his laughs becoming breathless as he shook his head. 

“Aw! Dude this is awesome!” A hand came up to gently slap at the offending hands before it was lifted over head, fingers scribbling into the hollow without hesitation. “Tickle, tickle, tickle!” Shinso didn’t think his face could get any redder. He screamed into his pillow as he thrashed about, laughing like a mad man. 

Finally, a hand came out and tweaked the smaller’s waist, earning a yelp an a needed break from the “torment”. “Evil,” Shinso grumbled before crashing back into his pillows. Another hour of sleep sounded good right about now. Kaminari, however, wasn’t having it. He pouted before snuggling closer. “Upppp!” Fingers prodded at the taller randomly. “Come one man, Ojiro’s going to think we blew him off or something. Get up.” Nope. It wasn’t happening. 

Kaminari huffed before getting back on his knees. “You know…. I never tested out your feet… or legs, or that much of your upper body.” While waiting for the taller to reply, Denki let out his own squeal of surprise before falling on top of his friend, giggling softly. “D-Don’t!” 

Shinso smirked a bit, a “heh” escaping his lips. “Yhahahour shahahuch a jeheherk!” Kami was still giggling and trying to pry the one hand that occasionally would squeeze his hip off. “Oh, I’m the jerk, huh?” Hitoshi pulled the other back up to lay beside him, spooning him from behind as his hands wandered the hypersensitive tummy. 

The poor boy was losing his mind at the moment, shrieking and flailing about. He didn’t even notice the small kiss placed on his cheek before his attack stopped. Relaxing into the hug he had from behind, he glanced up at the other before smirking. “You know…. I think any girl would be lucky to have you as their boyfriend.”

The taller just chuckled. “Why can’t it be a boy?” What? Oh. Kaminari’s face flared up before he hid into the other’s arms, earning a hearty laugh.

[mrs-han]

Let Me

~~~

A little piece for myself!

~~~

It was your third panic attack that week.

How ridiculous.

When you shot up the bed sheets stuck to you, drenched with your sweat, your tears. Thin as the fabric was, they entangled you, forced you into thinking someone was deliberately smothering you or trying to snuff the life out of your trembling body.

What did you do to deserve this? What was wrong, what was wrong?

“Darling... hey... hey.”

His arms slowly pulled you in, steadily anchoring you to the world.

Jumin... Jumin.

“I-I’m sorry,” you sputtered, eyes wandering the room anxiously. “I’m sorry, Jumin, I’m sorry —”

“Shhh, shh shh.” Your husband’s long, delicate fingers ran through your hair, carefully untangling the knots created while you thrashed. “Don’t apologize. Don’t say anything. Look at me... focus on me.”

“I-I-I can’t, I ca-can’t, I can’t —”

“MC.”

Warm, smooth skin... the palms of his hands cupped your cheeks and he turned your head to face him. His eyes trained on you, he looked determined and focused, confident his steady gaze alone could banish your deepest fears. 

“Eyes on me.”

Commanding, authoritative... even the demons inside of you couldn’t ignore his demand.

Your eyes connected with his for a split second and you were already rehearsing more apologies. You were wasting his time, time he saw as valuable. He needed this time to sleep, to rehearse what he would say during his early morning meetings. He needed this time to review quarterly performances in each department. He needed this time to unwind, read a book or play with Elizabeth the Third.

And here you were, in the middle of another panic attack.

“I-I-I’ll be okay,” you mumbled, pulling yourself away from your husband’s embrace. “I’ll be fine... I’ll be fine.”

The tips of his fingers firmly pressed into your jaw. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare turn your back on me, MC. Don’t go through this alone. Let me help you.”

“No, no, no -”

“Darling, look at me.”

His thumbs began rubbing small circles on your cheek. You couldn’t look away... you didn’t want to. Every time he looked at you, a spell was cast, both enchanting and frightening.

Your breath caught in your throat as you heaved.

“That’s my girl... now... breathe with me. Four counts.”

His voice was tender, a lullaby that you would never tire of. Pink dusted your cheeks as you kept your eyes trained on him, fully conscious of how you may have looked.

Pitiful. Vulnerable. Afraid.

“I’m here. I’m here. Let me help you, my love. Mm? Breathe. Breathe.” Jumin tilted his head up and moved his fingers to your chin, gingerly lifting your gaze to continue matching his.

“Jumin...”

“In... two... three... four... and out... two... three... four...” He breathed slowly, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through the small o-shape he made with his mouth. His chest rose and fell, his broad shoulders relaxing with each breath.

You closed your eyes as he exhaled, his warm breath fanning the perspiration on your forehead. He made you feel lighter, more in control. In your somewhat grounded state, you inhaled and felt your chest expand, welcoming every ounce of positive energy Jumin had to offer.

“Good girl... you’re doing well, darling. Extremely well. Exhale with me now. Ready? Go slow. Don’t push yourself.”

You nodded and exhaled slowly, shakily. A wave of relief coursed through your body; your fingers and bare toes tingled at the sensation of letting go of the first wave of unexplainable anxiety.

“Don’t stop,” Jumin encouraged. “Again. Again.”

It was your third attack that week... and somehow, his patience was still overflowing and abundant. He didn’t try to scold you or rush you through these breathing exercises, nor did he give you a disapproving look or sigh. No, he took you into his arms, brushed away the strands of hair that matted your forehead, and he held you, shooing your fears deftly as temporary parts of yourself. It was so simple, yet so effective.

So much like Jumin Han.

“Thank you...” You sounded weak, exhausted over the ordeal as you exhaled. “Where would I be without you, huh...? Hahaha...”

“... Come here, my love.”

You crawled into his arms. “I’m trying to prevent them from happening, I promise... I’m more open and communicative than I was, you’ve noticed that haven’t you?”

“MC...”

“And I’ve been trying to find things that relax me. I’m trying Jumin, I’m really trying -”

“That’s enough,” Jumin cooed, the warm flesh of his palm on your flushed cheek. “Be still... stay still and let me hold you.”

“But Jumin -”

“Let me help you,” Jumin whispered.

You tensed. You weren’t used to being helped. Oh, how natural it was for you to guard yourself, even when your close friends encouraged you to express yourself freely. 

What if I’m rejected? What if I’m too much?

Irrational, yet rational.

“Don’t you see how well you’re doing?” Jumin’s lips hovered over your ear, his deep baritone silencing your inner thoughts. “Why are you ignoring the progress you’ve already made?”

“Because I still have so much to do,” You blurted. “This is my third attack this week -”

His fingers stopped your lips. “This is your third attack after months of meditation, of therapy, and baby steps in communication progressing into larger, bolder strides. My love, don’t these things qualify as progress?”

You blinked. He wasn’t trying to butter you up to make you feel better... right? The hesitation in your eyes was unmistakable; he knew you better than you knew yourself, and it pained him to see the endless battle within yourself.

“You’re too hard on yourself, my princess.” His soft, supple lips kissed your forehead. “Instead of celebrating every little victory, you search for more work for yourself... why? Hm? Why?”

Tears started to blur your vision and you turned your head away. “I don’t... I don’t, I... I don’t know...”

“Look at me. Look at me.”

He didn’t try to have you face him. His tender fingers didn’t touch your chin, nor did his palms cup your cheeks. No, he gave you the freedom to look at him yourself. Tears of sorrow, guilt, and shame slid down your cheeks and dripped off your chin as you lifted your head.

“Oh, my love...”

“I’m so tired Jumin,” you hiccuped. “I’m so... tired.”

“Rest, my love,” Jumin whispered. “Put your head on my shoulder and let me be the one you turn to when you feel this way. Let me be your comfort and solace at the end of each day. Most importantly... allow yourself to celebrate every little victory you achieve within yourself. And let me celebrate every milestone with you.”

“What if... what if I have another attack?”

“I will wake up as I did tonight...” Jumin hummed as he drew close to you, his arms wrapping around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder. “... I will take you into my arms... and I will bring you back to me.”

“You have the patience of a saint,” you giggled, swiping at your nose.

“Because I married an angel.”

“... I love you so much, Jumin...”

“I love you, my dear one. Now... what do you think of a small party?”

Your fingers fiddled with his wedding band. “For what?”

Jumin’s palm turned upward. “To celebrate your progress. Have I... not made myself clear?”

“... You mean to throw an actual party?”

“Do you have any objections, dearest?”

“Jumin!!” You lightly nudged him. “We don’t have to throw an actual... can you get strawberry cake?” 

He laughed... and your fears, fallacious in their totality, scattered.

“Yes, my love.”

[ghostofviperwrites]

Time to Play

Pairing:  Fenix/FC/Pentagon

Category:   Smut

Word Count:1656

Warnings: Threesome, language

Continuation of Watching

“I don’t know about this Fenix…maybe I should go.”  Carly said unable to drag her eyes away from the hard man leaning on the bed, looking larger than life.  He scared and intimidated her.  Had all day if she was honest, yet there was something magnetic about him that wouldn’t let her look away.   As much as she wanted Fenix, there was a part deep inside her that was intrigued and aroused by the moody brother. 

“You don’t want to go, princesa” Fenix murmured against her lips, maneuvering her body around to his bed.  Carly allowed Fenix to lay her on her back, lifting her hips as he stripped off her skirt and panties leaving her bare to both of their views.  “Don’t you want my tongue buried in that pretty pussy of yours?”  Fenix kneeled between her legs, darting his tongue out to lick along her inner thigh making Carly’s breath hitch. 

“but what if I don’t want him to join?” she asked trying to make her voice audible to only Fenix, chancing a glance at Pentagon a stab of disappointment hitting her stomach as he seemed utterly focused on the TV, not paying her the slightest bit of attention.

“Then don’t beg.” Fenix said with a shrug and lazy smile, nibbling at her inner thigh as he made his way to the apex of her thighs.  His tongue licked along his lips as he approached her soaking folds.  “Probably in your best interest not to.  Penta doesn’t react well to begging.” 

Any chance of responding was lost when Fenix swiped his tongue along her folds and sucked her clit between his teeth nibbling playfully at her little nub before pressing a kiss to it.   Carly’s eyes closed and her head fell back as Fenix slowly teased her pussy with his fingers and tongue burying his face between her thighs until his chin glistened with her juices and Carly was thrashing in his grip.  Tightening his hold on her buttocks Fenix kept up the pressure on her cunt jabbing his tongue at her clit as Carly moaned loudly through the room. Sliding fingers inside her Fenix thrust and curled them inside her as he sucked on her swollen clit pressing his tongue hard on the nub making Carly climax.  Freeing his fingers Fenix stared at her as he licked her juices from each finger then lowered his tongue to her pussy and darted it inside her pulsing hole cleaning out her cream and licking his lips. 

“I think I want you on all fours chica, get on your knees.”  Fenix demanded as he pushed onto his knees giving Carly a light tap on the thigh to get her moving. 

Again Carly found herself looking over towards Pentagon feeling irrationally pleased when she found him staring at her, his dark intense eyes trailing over her body before he spat something at his brother in their native language making Fenix laugh loudly and stick the middle finger up at his brother. 

“What did he say?”  Carly couldn’t help but ask looking from one brother to the other. 

“He thinks I’m being too nice to you.  That you should be choking on cock instead of getting your pussy eaten.”  Fenix said. 

Carly stared wide eyed at Pentagon while he simply smirked and turned his attention back to the television.  She followed Fenix’s directions as he positioned her on all fours so she was staring at Pentagon while he kneeled behind her.  She gasped as the head of Fenix’s cock drug along her slit before pushing inside her, Fenix’s hand resting on the curve of her waist as he guided his dick inside her.  

“Eyes on Penta chica,” Fenix said.  “Make him want to watch you.”  Carly raised her head finding herself staring again into Penta’s intense eyes her breath catching in her throat as Fenix thrust into her.  Being watched was more exciting that she had imagined, feeling her pussy soaking Fenix as he fucked her while she stared at his brother, her eyes left his trailing down his thick body and focusing on the bulge between his thighs.  Her tongue out, licking her lips as she imagined that thick cock filling her mouth. 

She yelped when Fenix grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her back to his chest, leaving her completely exposed to Penta’s wandering gaze, her nipples tightening as he stared at her tits and grabbed his crotch roughly gripping himself through his pants. 

“You want his cock don’t you Carly?”  Fenix breathed into her ear, his breath hot as he fucked hard up into her cunt. 

“Yes.” She sputtered her eyes glued to the hand on his cock.  

“Ask him,” Fenix whispered encouragement in her ear, free hand reaching around to grab her breast, squeezing it as he told her all the dirty things the two would do to her if she only begged. 

“Please?”  She implored Pentagon. “Can I touch you?”  Carly mewled in disappointment when Pentagon sharply shook his head with a sneer.  Her breath caught as Penta slid his hand beneath his waist band, watching as he began stroking his cock.  Long sure strokes that only proved to her just how big he was, the grunts passing his lips driving her delirious. 

“Penta please?” She begged again. “Please let me taste you.  Let me suck your cock.  I promise it’ll be so much better than your hand.  Carly cried out as Fenix pushed her back down on all fours and bottomed out inside her, his hand slapping sharply on her firm ass making her rock back against him. 

“You want to suck my cock while you fuck my brother?”  Penta growled rising from the bed.  “Is that what you want puta? Need to men to satisfy you?” 

Carly reached for him, begging him to come closer so she could touch his cock, feeling him in her mouth.  

Again a rapid exchange of Spanish took place as Pentagon pushed his pants to the ground and fisted his cock in front of her. 

“You don’t touch me.”  Penta snapped as he brushed the head of his cock over her lips.  “Keep your hands to yourself.”  Carly nodded against his dick, promising to keep her hands on the bed as she opened her mouth wide. 

She was completely unprepared for Penta to simply breech her mouth with one thrust burying his cock in her throat and immediately making her gag and choking around him.  Her eyes bulged and fingers curled into the bedspread as she tried to breathe through her nose as Fenix began snapping his hips faster against her driving her forward onto Penta’s dick with each thrust.  Penta’s hands went to her hair, grabbing two handfuls and controlling her head movements with sharp tugs, burying the head of his cock in her throat and holding her against this pelvis until drool was leaking from her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks.  Only then would he pull out enough for her to suck in air and beg him to enter her mouth again.  

With a muffled string of curses Fenix pulled out of her.

“Inercambiar” Fenix muttered and the two brothers seamlessly switched places, Fenix ramming into her throat and immediately spurting his hot seed on her tongue.  “Don’t swallow” he growled as he finished, sliding his cock out of her mouth.  “You don’t swallow until mi hermano is through with you.”  He gripped her chin and tipped her head back as Pentagon slammed his cock into her.  “Comprende?” 

Carly nodded frantically struggling not to swallow Fenix’s cum as Pentagon rammed repeatedly into her cunt stretching it almost painfully yet making a coil form in her belly that had her moaning in her throat.   Penta’s fingers dug into her hips, leaving deep red indents as he pounded away, sure to leave bruises on her pale skin.  Carly pushed back to meet his thrusts her head falling forward onto the comforter as he used her without mercy.   A garbled scream tore through her throat when Penta brought his heavy hand down on her ass, smacking it as if it was the chest of his opponents making even Fenix wince in sympathy for the poor girl.  Having been a recipient of that slap many times Fenix knew exactly how much force went into it and his brother definitely had not held back.  

Grunts and groans filled the room, sounds of flesh slapping carrying on the air as Pentagon fucked Carly hard into the mattress making her back arch painfully every time he slammed into her. 

“Mouth.”  He grunted reaching to grab her hair and dragging her face back to his cock as he pulled out, making her stumble clumsily as he manhandled her.  As soon as she opened her mouth for him Pentagon stroked his cock and shot his semen into it filling her mouth as it mingled with Fenix’s remnants.

Pushing away from her Pentagon climbed off the bed and grabbed his pants before resuming his spot in his own bed, turning the TV volume up as he settled in for the night.

“Now you may swallow,” Fenix said stroking Carly’s hair as she stared up at him looking utterly ravaged.  “You can go now chica,” he said helping her from the bed.  “Maybe we’ll see you the next time we’re in town.”  He glared at Pentagon who snorted at his words with a shake of his head. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s just a grumpy asshole after he gets off.”  Fenix reassured Carly with smile as she dressed.  “I’m sure he would fuck you again given the opportunity.  I know I wouldn’t mind burying my tongue inside you again.” 

Opening the door Fenix ushered her into the hallway and gave her a wave before slamming the door in her face and heading straight for the shower, flipping his brother off on the way. 

[aspiratinganxiety]

Yay, requests are open! I had a hard time picking b/c those were some good ass prompts, but... "Person A lifting Person B up to reach the second floor railing from the first floor after someone tossed their stuff up there" with Jason, if you would, my dear. Doesn't necessarily have to be high school related, I'm not picky lol. Thanks in advance!

Yay, requests are open! I had a hard time picking b/c those were some good ass prompts, but… “Person A lifting Person B up to reach the second floor railing from the first floor after someone tossed their stuff up there” with Jason, if you would, my dear. Doesn’t necessarily have to be high school related, I’m not picky lol. Thanks in advance!

I am all too happy to fill this prompt for you! Thank you so much for the opportunity. You are a wonderful friend and such an encouraging presence in my life. I love you dearly, and I just want you to know that I appreciate you. 

Tag List: @nxttime, @possiblyelven, @thepuckishrogue, @jinkies-its-a-writer (If you want to be tagged, let me know! For more fics, check out my masterlist.)

Also gonna say here that my requests are open again for a limited time! I’ve hit 500 followers (fucking wow!), and I’m including NSFW works for this round of requests. Go to my blog and request some more things from me!

When Jason says there aren’t any good footholds up to your backpack, you assume that’s the end of it. Your friend’s big brother had followed you into the stairwell, tried to help, couldn’t, and now it’s time to report your own idiot brother to the office. School’s been out for less than an hour. Surely one staff member is still around to unlock a door up to the second story.

Jason, however, comes to a different conclusion. 

You are a step and a half lower when the mountain of human at your back snags you by the armpits and unceremoniously hefts you up onto one of his shoulders. Like any normal person lifted more than five feet with no warning, you shriek. Limbs flailing in all directions as you’re benched on the juncture of his arm, you ache where his hands clutched your squirming torso.     

“Jesus, kid,” a wry Jason says as you struggle. It’s only when your knee knocks into his cheek that all amusement leaves his tone. “Oi! Watch it.” 

You yelp, ignoring the young man you’d mistaken for a friend while frantically scrabbling for the railing. “Don’t drop me! Don’t drop me! What is wrong with you?”

“Are you kidding me?” he growls, exasperated when your leg tags his face for a second time. 

Jason slaps a firm grip on your knee, using his own knuckles as a poor shield for the cheek suffering your unintentional battering. One arm barred over the band where your thighs become your hips like a vice, Jason knows that you’re locked against his shoulder just fine. If you’d stop thrashing, you’d realize it too.

“Grab your shit and let’s get out of here,” he says, unable to see how close you are to the prize as your torso blocks his view. “Tim’s probably been waiting for us at the car.” 

You wail petulantly, eyes clamped shut. Heights terrify you. Just lingering five steps up made you feel like you were navigating a complicated mass of even little cliffs. You stared at your feet when you took the stairs every Tuesday and Thursday, and you’d shown up two hours early at the beginning of the year so that you could make your schedule with as many classes on the first floor as possible.

Out of nowhere, Tim’s voice asks, “Tim’s where?” 

He’s up above you, leaning over the second floor railing and flashing Jason a smug grin that quickly wilts as he takes in the scene below him.

Jason huffs. His tone is flat as a platter. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Some rational part of you notes that Tim is on the second floor. This is a good thing. He can rescue your book-bag, and his giant brother can put you back on the ground. Instead of asking for any of these actions to take place, you squeeze your eyes closed again and cry, “Help!”

“She’s afraid of heights, Jason,” Tim explains. You’re not entirely sure what transpires, but the words come from beside Jason in the stairwell. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you peep the nearest eye open to see that Tim has hopped down next to his brother with your backpack in hand. “Please put my friend down.”

“Please!” you echo, paradoxically clinging onto the railing up above all the more fiercely. Your stomach feels like it’s puckered into a sour, shriveled prune and is trying to creep up your throat. 

Jason mumbles something unintelligible, washed in a quick flash of guilt. It’s like he’s gone and put a kitten up a tree, and now there’s no way to slide her down without grossly adjusting her uniform in an inappropriate way. He assesses the situation for another solution. He doesn’t find one.

The older brother goes contrite where he had been irritated. “I uh- I maybe didn’t think this one through, Timbo.” 

A panicked sound escapes past your wandering stomach as it dawns on you that you’re in less than capable hands.

Tim walks away, having foreseen the embarrassing turn this scenario was likely to take. “You’re not kidding, Jason,” he calls back over his shoulder with a bark of incredulous laughter. 

“Welp, sorry, sweetheart.” Jason accepts the inevitable and moves his hands to either of your hips. When your weight is balanced in his palms instead of on his shoulder, he instructs you. “You’ve got to let go when I tell you to, okay?”

Whimpering an assent, you loosen your grip and do your best to disassociate from the entire debacle. No amount of effort, however, keeps you from noticing the trill that shoots up your spine to feel the way he’s holding you.

The closest you’ve ever been to a dude is sitting next to Tim, and that doesn’t count anymore than being on a couch with your brother. Your sweet lil’ mind simply cannot process that there’s an undeniably handsome twenty-something in a leather jacket with his hands literally up your skirt. 

Considering it too closely kinda’ makes you want to die a little bit. Or maybe burst into song?

Today too, of all days, you hadn’t hiked on a pair of tights to go under your uniform.  

When Jason’s got one foot planted on the higher stair behind him, he gives the signal. “Now!” he says, working quickly to direct your fall. 

You drop, forcing yourself to focus on the sensation of strong hands running down your thighs and locking in the crooks behind your knees. Your back slams against his broad chest, and it’s hard to breathe with your belly folded so tightly. Your knees are parallel with your shoulders, and you don’t even want to think about the humiliating way that your legs are splayed. 

“Down!” you demand. “Put me down, now.”

“Right.” Jason lowers himself closer to the ground and drops your legs one at a time to be sure of your footing. “Again, that was my bad.”

[vannahfanfics]

Beautiful

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Ichigo Kurosaki and Tatsuki Arisawa

Requested By: JJ (Ao3)

Tatsuki awoke with a start as the side door to her hotel room was suddenly thrown open, and she snapped her eyes open just in time to see Orihime, still in her fluffy pink pajamas decorated with white teddy bears, springing from the carpeted floor. She landed on top of Tatsuki, driving all the breath from her body, and she sputtered as the girl's orange-brown hair landed in her mouth. Orihime beamed down at her, giggling brightly.

“Tatsuki! You're getting married today!” she squealed with delight. It took Tatsuki a few minutes to drag herself out of the grogginess of sleep, but when she finally did and processed the girl's excited declaration, a sleepy smile found its way onto her lips.

“I’m getting married!” she cried back and jerked up to wrap her arms around Orihime in a giddy hug, and they both gushed about the glorious situation before Tatsuki scurried out of bed. There was a lot to do, like wake her bridal party. They had rented a hotel near the venue, and all had adjoining rooms, so the girls were strolling through the open side door asking to borrow a hairdryer or wondering what kinds of make-up they should bring so the make-up artist would have more options. Their dresses had been delivered to the dressing room of the venue the previous day, and all they could do was hope that any wrinkles had fallen out throughout the night. As she was buttoning up a shirt, one that she could easily shed to pull on her dress, she raised her head as there was loud knocking at the hotel room door. Chizuru, the only one currently fully dressed, sidled up and opened the door, then began screeching angrily.

“What the hell are you doing? You can't come in here!” she cried as she pushed all her weight against the door, crushing whoever’s arm against the threshold. She heard him angrily shouting, and as he pushed the door open a little she saw a familiar shock of orange hair.

“The hell you mean? Why not?” Ichigo demanded hotly as he attempted to wrestle his way through the entrance, while Tatsuki just blushed and pulled the undone buttons of her blouse together.

“First of all, there are girls dressing in here!”

“This is Tatsuki's room!” he argued back, to which Chizuru just stuck her tongue out at him.

“Obviously we’re all in here, you dope! Besides, it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. Now scram!” the feisty redhead asserted before body-slamming against the door, and Tatsuki heard her poor fiancé cursing profusely as his arm was trapped between the heavy door and the threshold. It thrashed about for a bit before he managed to wriggle it out, and she smiled slightly as she heard him stomping off angrily. Chizuru turned to her with a huff, tossing her hair haughtily.

“Why are you marrying him again?” Ryo snorted as she came out of the bathroom running a brush through her pin-straight black hair. Tatsuki just smiled warmly and finished buttoning up her shirt, thinking of her excitable fiancé and the wonderful day she had ahead of her.

Once the girls had finished preparing, they headed down to the parking lot- with the bridesmaids taking excessive measures to ensure that they did not stumble across the groom and his groomsmen by accident- and piled into a car to head to the venue about five minutes away. Tatsuki and Ichigo had decided on a popular site, a beautiful park in the middle of the city that featured a gorgeous pond, a pavilion area for hosting receptions and parties, and numerous species of native trees clustered in small groves all throughout the property. It was elegant, but also adventurous, which suited the couple nicely. They wound their way down a curvy paved road; at the end was a simple administrative-looking building that actually served as the place where bridal parties could prepare for the ceremony and a full-service kitchen where caterers could prepare food. The pavilion was not far off, and Tatsuki could see the decorators already hard at work, stringing fairy lights, setting up tables and chairs, and adorning the premises with flowers. She could feel the excitement fluttering inside her like a caged bird, and by the time she and her bridesmaids were walking up to the door to meet her wedding planner, she felt like she was walking on air.

“Miss Arisawa! Well, not for much longer, eh?” the woman chuckled as she greeted Tatsuki with a hug. “Everything is going according to plan! Your make-up artist and hairdresser are already upstairs!”

“Thank you,” Tatsuki smiled before the woman scurried off to the pavilion, barking orders at one of her handymen who was apparently stringing some lights incorrectly. Tatsuki and her friends proceeded into the building and up the stairs to the spacious dressing room on the second floor, where the women who were getting them ready greeted them happily and then ushered Tatsuki to a chair set in front of a mirror so they could immediately get to work. Tatsuki closed her eyes as the make-up artist began to powder her face, and in the darkness danced the image of her husband-to-be. A smile rose to her lips.

“Honey! I need you to keep your face still!” the make-up artist tutted.

“Oh, but she's excited! It's her wedding day, after all!” laughed the hairdresser, who was currently attempting to tackle pulling Orihime's luscious waves of orangey-brown hair into an elaborate up-do. Tatsuki blushed slightly, slightly embarrassed that her excitement was so obvious. I’m getting married… she thought, trying to keep her face relaxed as the woman went about her work. It was so hard, though. Tatsuki was just so unbelievably happy that her lips just seemed to naturally curl upwards. I’m going to marry the man I love…

Ichigo had proposed to her nearly a year before, after they had been dating since their final year of high school, about three years. Tatsuki had been Tatsuki, of course- she had gotten flustered, embarrassed, and wound up punching him. She had immediately regretted that, though, and knelt down next to him as he was rubbing his jaw on the ground, and then they had panicked because the ring had fallen out of the box. After scrambling around for a few minutes to find it, they managed to locate the diamond band, and they squabbled a bit before he had finally worked the answer out of her. “Of course, dumbass!” Really, sometimes she wondered why he wanted to marry her, considering how uncouth she was. They butted heads, always have, and maybe that's why they were such a good match for each other.

“Ta-da! What do you think, sweetie?” the make-up artist announced suddenly, making her jump lightly. She opened her eyes, and as her reflection greeted her, she gasped in wonder. She almost couldn't believe that the gorgeous woman sitting across from her was actually herself, and she turned her face slightly this way and that, watching the light play across the highlighter glowing across her cheekbones. A faint blush had been applied to her cheeks, and the area above her eyes fluttered with silvery eyeshadow. Her lips were plump and shiny with gloss.

“Is that me?” she whispered. The girl in the glass mirrored her movements, so surely it must be.

“It's amazing what a little glow-up can do, hmmm?” she giggled, leaning down beside Tatsuki with her hands on her shoulders, before she straightened up to look at her partner. “Are you ready to switch?” The woman grunted in response, several Bobby pins clenched in her teeth as she placed the finishing touches on Orihime's beautiful up-do. Part of her hair was braided and then twisted up into an elaborate bun, and a flower ornament matching the décor outside was pinned in place on the side of her head. The hairdresser doused her in a final shower of hairspray before bouncing over to Tatsuki, spinning her around in the chair with a grin.

“All right, honey, let's make you dazzle!”

The hairdresser set upon her with glee, attacking the black strands with a curling iron and transforming the straight strands into full ringlets that rolled down her back. She left two large sections uncurled, and then proceeded to braid these and pull them across, forming an elaborate weave that separated the curls from the crown of her head. She straightened out Tatsuki's scruffy bangs and pinned them flat to her head, and as Tatsuki watched the gradual transformation, she was spellbound. A woman was taking shape in the mirror, one of elegance, of beauty- hell, you could even call her a princess- and Tatsuki was absolutely flabbergasted that that princess was her. Tatsuki had always taken little effort in her appearance; it was one thing that Ichigo liked about her, that she was “natural,” as he called it- and so the gorgeous image before her was one she had never seen. She hadn't even taken this much effort into their first date, all those years ago. Even as the hairdresser finished, gushing about her handiwork, her chattering was far away to the stunned bride.

I wonder what Ichigo will think?

Tatsuki sat patiently as the duo worked on her bridesmaids, and as they waited they all engaged in nostalgic conversation, laughing over things they had all done over the years, especially stupid things her fiancé had done, gushing over how excited they had been when Tatsuki had first started dating him, and things of that nature. Occasionally the artists would flutter about in a panic when one of the girls had begun to cry, with Orihime being the prime culprit; strangely, no tears came to Tatsuki’s eyes. She was never really that emotional, after all, but it did mildly shock her. This was the most exciting day of her life, and yet she didn't even feel her eyes mist up. She was happy, sure, but it wasn’t the bursting bubble of elation she had anticipated.

Instead, she was beginning to grow nervous.

The hour of the wedding was approaching, and once their hair and make-up were done it was time to get into the dresses. Tatsuki had chosen sky blue as her color for the wedding, and so her bridesmaids drew all wearing identical dresses of that shade, sleeveless satin gowns with flowing skirts with simple bows around the waist. Tatsuki's wedding dress was far more elaborate, naturally; it was sleeveless as well, but the skirt was a one-and-a-half, with a short skirt framed by a shell of ruffled silk that fell around the sides and backs of her legs. The back of the skirt featured a stream of sky blue that wrapped into a sash around her waist, and the top was corset-like, with blue silk ribbons making up the back the front was smooth white fabric. Tatsuki’s veil featured a band with fabric flowers, the same as the one pinned in Orihime's hair, with sheer pattern-less fabric. She stood with her back to the mirror as Michiru expertly laced the back, while the other girls stood in front of her in a quiet hush, as if they were in awe; Tatsuki felt her place the veil into her hair, and Orihime began to cry again, but it was different than the emotional blubbering; she was staring at Tatsuki like she had never seen anything more sublime in her life, like she was staring at an angel.

“Tatsuki,” she whispered, “you are so beautiful.” Tatsuki turned to the mirror, desperate to see for herself, and none of her other reflections compared to the one she saw there. It was like she was staring at a stranger, a beautiful goddess who bore resemblance to her. That's… me? She just couldn't believe it. She lifted a hand, gently brushing her fingers across her cheek, and the reflection did the same. It was her, indeed. Tatsuki had only worn dresses a few times in her life, and none of them were anywhere close to the elegance of the wedding dress. She stared, stared into that glass pane where that strange, beautiful woman stood.

What will Ichigo think?

That thought was on the forefront of her mind now. It was all just so different, and that unsettled her. Doubts began to creep into her mind. What if he doesn't like it? She couldn't dwell on the fact for very long, though, because an attendant came in to announce that it was nearly time. Tatsuki internally panicked. Surely, that much time couldn't have passed, right? It was all so much, so fast. Numb, while her bridesmaids were squealing with happiness as they walked down to the first floor to meet the groomsmen, she just walked robotically down the steps and took her place at the rear. Orihime handed her a bouquet before standing beside her, holding the train of her dress, as was her duty as her Maid of Honor. She felt her hands wrapping tightly around the flower stems. Suddenly it felt as if the corset was too tight, and should could not breathe. Tatsuki had no father to give her away, so she stood there, alone, watching as the pairs of the bridal party exited the door one by one. Then it was her turn. She could hear the music drifting in from the open door, where a white carpet covered in blue flower petals lay waiting for her. Yet she could not walk forward.

“Tatsuki? What's the matter?” Orihime whispered to her. “You're not getting second thoughts, are you?” she gasped.

“No… Not like that,” she admitted quietly. It was just she and Orihime, her best friend in all the world, the one who understood her in ways Ichigo never could. “It's just… What if he thinks I look foolish?” Saying it aloud, she knew it was dumb of her, but she couldn't help it. It was just so different that it felt wrong. She expected Orihime to laugh at her and tell her she worried too much, but when Tatsuki looked back at her, she was smiling softly.

“Ichigo would never think something like that, Tatsuki. He loves you, after all.” Tatsuki's eyes widened slightly as she gazed at her with the utmost confidence swimming in her soft brown eyes. Yes. He loves me. At once, it felt like all the muscles in her body relaxed, and she could breathe again. She nodded to her before turning back, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply before striding confidently out the door. As she felt the warm spring breeze kiss her face, she opened her eyes once more and was momentarily overwhelmed by the transformation the pavilion had undergone.

It was filled with tables and chairs, with white tablecloths and vases of baby blue flowers with appropriate accompaniments. On a large table to the left was the buffet line for their reception; on the right, a three-tier wedding cake, with little figurines of a bride and an orange-haired groom at the top. Next to that was the groom's cake, which Tatsuki had styled in a dojo, a memorial to how they had met. Next to the pavilion, the altar had been assembled, and this is where the white carpet led. On either side were fold-out chairs strung with sheer fabric and fairy lights and flowers, filled with their wedding guests. Tatsuki’s mother was in the front row, a handkerchief held to her nose; on the other side, Ichigo's father sat beaming at her. Beyond that stood her love, her rock, her soulmate.

She had never seen a bigger smile on Ichigo's face.

Their gazes were locked together as she walked up the thin carpet, and she kept staring at him even as she stopped beneath the altar, a white metal arch twisted with more flowers, fairy lights, and silk sheets. On either side of them stood their best friends. Orihime was already crying again as she settled out Tatsuki's train behind her and scurried to join the other girls. Even as the chaplain began talking, all she could do was gaze up at him, her face mildly flushed as a question burned in her throat.

What do you think, Ichigo?

It was like he read her mind.

“You're beautiful,” he whispered as he looked down at her, and the way he looked at her made her heart stop beating. The expression on his face was nothing short of pure love. I’m beautiful, she echoed in her own mind. I’m beautiful.

It was then that Tatsuki felt the tears appear in her eyes, and one of them rolled down her cheek. She didn't even care if her make-up smeared; she was just so happy, damn it. All the doubt that had built up inside of her washed away with that tear, and she smiled happily. At that moment, for the first time that day, she felt like the gorgeous woman she had seen in the mirror.

I love this man, she thought, too choked up to speak. He seemed to get what she was trying to say, though, and tuned into the chaplain, who was well into the marriage rights. Tatsuki turned her attention to the eloquent droning of the holy man as well, but out of the corners of her eyes, she continued to gaze at the man who she loved most in the world, and who made her feel like the most sublime creature on earth with how deeply he loved her.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[dirtycreekwater]

Could you do something with, “You’re supposed to be my brother, not my dad.” ?

Rookie Mistakes

description: Dean’s an ass what else is new. set in season 1 some time after John’s death

word count: 1,335

genre: angst but also fluff/comedy ig

warnings: none that i can think of but lemme know if you need anything tagged

a/n: this was supposed to just be the brothers being dorky assholes but my fingers started typing angst first oops lmao also pls forgive me for my poor characterization of Bobby. i tried my best fam

——

“Sammy, Bobby called.” Dean announced as soon as he walked into the motel. “He wants us up at his place now. Said it’s important. Let’s go.”

Dean left no time for Sam to even respond. He just grabbed his stuff, and rushed right back out expecting his brother to follow. Sam scoffed, and shoved his belongings into his bag before running out after his brother. He was already in the Impala jamming out to some classic rock band Sam couldn’t quite remember the name of, completely oblivious to the world around him. Sam shook his head at his idiot brother as he slid into the passenger side.

“Did Bobby even tell you why exactly he needs us over there?” Sam asked, shutting off the radio.

“Nope.” Dean replied nonchalantly as he started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot.

“Well, if it’s so important don’t you think he would have?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Look, dude I’m not gonna question the man. If he says it’s important that’s all we need to know.” Dean replied, glancing over at his little brother. Sam raised his eyebrows at him, silently asking him what the hell was wrong with him. “What?”

“Dean, for all we know this is some kind of trap. It might not even be Bobby you spoke to.” Sam started. “I’m just saying, I thought we were gonna be done with this whole blindly taking orders crap.”

Dean laughed bitterly, and drummed against the steering wheel, “Oh, here we go.” he mumbled. “Come on, Sam. We’re not gonna start disrespecting Bobby just because you have some unresolved issues with dad.”

“You really think that’s what this is about? Dean, I’m just-“

“Enough, Sammy.” Dean barked. “We’re going to Bobby’s, and you’re going to keep your damn mouth shut until we figure out what’s going on. That’s an order.”

Sam scoffed, and laughed just as bitterly as Dean had. They sounded identical which only made him laugh more. As if he really needed to be reminded just how alike they were right now. He feels like the universe has been taunting him ever since dad passed. At this point Sam believed that could be possible.

“I can’t believe this. Ya know,” Sam hesitated. “You’re supposed to be my brother, not my dad.”

Dean gripped the wheel tighter, and rolled his shoulders, ignoring Sam completely. This was going to be a long ride.

——

A few hours later the boys pulled up to Bobby’s place, and found it to be eerily quiet. They shared a quick glance before hopping out of the car, and tentatively knocking on the front door.

“Bobby?” Dean called out. “It’s Sam, and Dean.”

When there was no response Sam gave Dean an, “I told you so” look. Dean rolled his eyes, and cocked his gun before trying the doorknob. It was locked so he tried the windows on either side. Both locked, but one sill was covered in a familiar substance.

“Sulfur.” Sam said, eyeing the powder Dean rubbed between his fingers.

Dean cursed under his breath as he got out his lockpick, and unlocked the door as fast as he could. Once they were in they walked around cautiously, guns at the ready. Bobby, or the demon really, could be anywhere.

“Boo.”

Speak of the devil.

Dean and Sam whipped around to find Bobby staring at them, his usual charming grin much more menacing now.

“Hey, boys,” ‘Bobby’ said. “I knew you’d come right away. You’re real loyal to the ones you call family, aren’tcha?”

“Get the hell out of Bobby or so help me.” Sam demanded through gritted teeth.

“What, Sammy? You gonna kill me?” The demon laughed hysterically. “Go ahead. You know what’ll happen.”

“It’s Sam.” Sam spat as he knocked Bobby’s body down with the butt of his gun, and poured holy water all over him. “Dean, get him.”

“Yep,” Dean said, and sat down onto Bobby’s chest, pinning his arms to the floor. The body shrieked, and thrashed all around desperately trying to buck Dean off of it. “You might wanna hurry this along, Sammy.”

Sam nodded, and started reading out the Latin incantation that would pull the demon out of Bobby, and send it right back to Hell. The demon got louder, and louder, and louder, until finally…. Black smoke shot its way out of Bobby’s mouth, and flew right out the still open door. The real Bobby was now heaving, and shoving Dean off of him as he tried to regain his breath.

“Goddamnit,” Bobby muttered. “That son of a bitch had the nerve to come round here.”

“Bobby,” Dean scrambled to help Sam lift Bobby off the floor, and back onto his feet. “Thank god you're okay.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bobby sighed. “I’m alright.”

Before Dean could start asking questions Bobby smacked him right upside the head, and gave him the meanest glare he’d ever seen on him. Dean winced, and rubbed his head as he yelled, “Ow! The hell was that for!”

“For being a dumbass!” Bobby exclaimed. Sam couldn’t help but laugh though he stopped as soon as Bobby’s glare was directed to him. “God, boy. You came here thinking it was me you were talking to. You weren’t prepared to exorcise a damn demon out of me! That’s rookie shit, Dean! You gotta do better.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. It’s not gonna happen again.” Dean replied, as serious as ever.

Sam frowned at him then quickly averted his gaze to the open door, and moved to close it. Dean watched his every movement, he wasn’t going to let anything else happen. Not to his Sammy.

“Maybe listen to Sam next time.”

Dean snapped his head up to meet Bobby’s eyes, and opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He looked between Bobby, and his brother waiting for someone to give him some kind of answer.

“How the hell,”

“I just know, boy.” Bobby interrupted.

Dean blinked before shaking his head, and took a deep breath, “Okay, okay. Yeah. I’ll uh listen to him next time. I guess.” Dean and Sam both shared a look of confusion, and yet somehow understood exactly how the other felt. They would have to work that out later though. “But can we talk about how easy that was? Like, it was almost too easy right? I’m not the only one feeling that way?”

“Course not, boy.” Bobby said. “That was that yellowed eye motherfucker. Should not have been that easy to get rid of him. This is probably all part of his damn plans. You boys oughta stay here for a while. Til’ we can figure out his next move.”

Both boys nodded in agreement before plopping down onto the couch beside each other. Bobby gave them a soft, sad smile before heading towards the stairs.

“You two got some stuff to work out. I’m gonna leave you to it, and start figuring out our next plan of action.” Bobby said as he disappeared up the stairs.

Dean sighed, and turned to face his brother just as he did the same.

“I’m sorry,” they said simultaneously.

Sam started laughing which of course made Dean start laughing as well. The two laughed until they cried, and could hardly breathe.

“Man, we’re stupid.” Sam said once they calmed down.

“Yeah, we are.” Dean agreed. “So, we cool?”

“Yeah, we’re cool.” Sam replied with a nod.

“Ahh, that’s my boy. Knew you couldn’t stay mad at me for long.” Dean said as he wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders, and ruffled his scraggly locks.

Sam chuckled, and pushed Dean off but stayed close enough to lean his head on his shoulder. Dean smiled, and snuck his hand back up this time to gently run his fingers through his hair.

“I really am sorry, Sammy.” Dean mumbled.

“I know,” Sam replied. “You’re still a jerk though.”

“Yeah, well you’re still a bitch.” Dean snarked back.

Sam rolled his eyes, but he really wouldn't want it any other way.

——

send me a Supernatural fic request

[theplaguezine]

SATYRICON

Interview with Frost by Daniel Hinds

(conducted October 1999)

Satyricon is one of the oldest and most accomplished bands in the Norwegian black metal scene, yet they often get overlooked in favor of some of the more notorious acts.  With a brand new album getting rave reviews all over the world, that is bound to change very soon.  Though the band has seen a number of guest musicians come and go over the years, the basis of Satyr (vocals, guitar) and Frost (drums) has been the rock-solid foundation of Satyricon since way back in '92.

I spoke with Frost recently and I must say he is one of the most articulate and thoughtful interview subjects I've had in a while.  He clearly takes a lot of pride in his work with Satyricon, yet he never seemed arrogant about it.

How would you say Rebel Extravaganza differs from previous albums?   All of our albums differ quite a lot and, in the case of the new one, we have taken the elements from our previous efforts a step further.  We have also added new elements to the music, all of this to add further to the splendor of Satyricon.  I think we have succeeded at this very well and we have grown as musicians and as music composers.  We have worked extremely hard with this new material and I feel that the blackness and the harshness and the grimness is more present than ever.

Did you do anything differently in terms of the way the album was written or recorded? Of course, we have spent more time in the creative process and the recording process this time.  When it comes to the process of recording the album, we could spend more time in the studio because we had more money to spend.  That's actually very important because getting a good sound is essential and, when the music is growing and getting so complex as it has, then you need to use a lot of time to differentiate each instrument.  You also have to get the right guitar sound, etc, etc., and this is all very hard, but we had lots of time and the sound is a lot better than on previous albums, which is easy for everyone to hear.

You have taken on a pretty different image for the new album.  How important is the band's look?   I've always pointed out that the visual aspect of Satyricon is extremely important, as it is with black metal in general.  Already at the start of this musical genre, it was viewed as very important, back with Venom and Hellhammer and Celtic Frost.  We feel that we to present 100% professional product and that means the visual aspect must be as good as possible, because it goes along with the music, even if the music is the most important part.  You know, when looking at the cover, that is very much what you have in mind when listening to the record, so it's very important to create the right atmosphere.  So that is the main reason that we work so hard with the layout and with the image.

Who comes up with the ideas for your image? It was Satyr who came up with those ideas on the first hand.  Actually, we were a bit unsure if it was going to work or not, so we just decided to try them out and we immediately saw that this was going to be very good and exactly what we wanted.  So we just continued from there on and did the shots with this make-up that we wanted to have and tried out different ideas that we had and also ideas that the photographer had.

How do you guys work together, in terms of writing songs, ideas for album artwork, etc.? Well, it differs from song to song, but usually it starts with Satyr coming up with guitar themes.  Quite often, he can hear the whole picture of arrangement in his head and from the start knows how the guitar should be, how the bass should be, how the drums will be.  Or else, he will just play the guitar riff and he will present it to me and either I will try out a beat that I think will fit in or we just cooperate until we find a beat that fits right.  Sometimes we just start with a lyric and we try to create the right music part for that lyric.

How did you hook up with Nuclear Blast? We felt that Nuclear Blast could help Satyricon grow as a band, that it would be posible for us to spread out worldwide if we were working with a major company and Nuclear Blast gave us the best offers.  We have not signed to Nuclear Blast, so they are just licensing us outside of Scandinavia.  In Scandinavia, Moonfog is still handling us.

What are your feelings about how the black metal scene has evolved over the years? There's been a great change.  First, there was a very mystic and dark aura surrounding the scene.  The people that made the core of the black metal scene in Norway, they were very extreme personalities with quite sick morals, in other folks' viewpoint I guess.  You had the first black metal album in the 90s, which was A Blaze in the Northern Sky and you had the first Burzum album and there was something very strange and eerie and very dark and exotic about these albums back then.  I can remember I could almost feel the darkness in the room when I first listened to A Blaze in the Northern Sky.  It turned out that a lot of other people got the same feeling because the music scene and the music itself gained a lot of popularity.  Later on, you had the media attention, which brought more people into the scene and got more people wanting to play black metal.  It just evolved from there and is quite a popular musical genre now.  I know for sure that a lot of other bands playing black metal really have no deep feeling for the music - they could just as well play heavy metal or death metal or thrash metal or whatever.  But, they will get more attention playing black metal.  This means that, the scene and music genre is watered down by a lot of non-dedicated people being into that kind of extreme music, extreme imagery and extreme ideology.  The whole aura of darkness and mysticism is gone, but still a lot of other bands are creating good music.  We are trying to give a very great contribution to the black metal scene, bringing back the intense aggressiveness and eeriness and blackness that I feel is disappearing these days.  So, it's good and bad, you know.  You had a lot more herd mentality in the early days because the Inner Circle demanded very much from people.  That meant that a lot of people did things to please the leadership.  Now there is no leadership, with the death of Euronymous, and now people just do what they want.  It seems that what many people is just being dull and boring. (laughs)   There are pluses and minuses but basically, we don't care.  We have to do what we want to do and show the world how we think black metal should be.

Do you think it was inevitable that black metal should become more popular? From the start?  No, I had no such idea back then.  Before the media attention, it was almost unimaginable. (laughs)  We still saw a glimpse of a trend in the early days, but nothing like this.

What happened with customs that caused you guys to miss the Milwaukee Metalfest appearance? The immigration authorities in the States are quite difficult to work with and it takes a long time to get a working license and visas, because (laughs) half the band have been convicted of stuff.  So it just took too long and we couldn't get it done before the Metalfest.  That was a shame, but there was nothing we could do about that.  So we will probably return to the States later and do a tour there.

When you hear other bands that sound like Satyricon, does it bother you or is it a compliment? I think when we have a record like the one we have released now, Satyricon is a natural inspiration for a band.  But it's stupid not creating your own music.  If there are just influences and they manage to create their own music, I think that is just splendid, but what I see with many bands is they try to copy their influences and then it sounds very ridiculous.  That's also the case with all those bands trying to copy Dimmu Borgir and whatever shit, they should just stick to their own stuff.  If they gain inspiration from a band, they should gain inspiration for the atmospheric part, but not for trying to make their own music similar to the bands they like.  It could never be as good as the original anyway.

I might just ask you, how is the metal scene in the States right now, with this tour and stuff that we are planning?

It's actually quite a bit better than it was a few years ago… Yeah, I know it hasn't been as good in the 90s.

I think right now is probably the best time in the last decade or so.  It's definitely gotten better, though I still don't think it's as good as-- Yeah the Emperor guys told us they were doing pretty good over there.

There have been a lot more real tours lately, for one thing.  For a long time, no one could really tour because they couldn't get the people out to the shows. So we can expect the gates of black metal to be opened?  (laughs)

Yes!  Were you happy with the results of the "Mother North" video?  Have you done other videos?   We haven't done any other videos, but we will do one for a track on Rebel Extravaganza.  We haven't chosen the track yet, but we will decide on that later.  As for "Mother North,' we are both very satisfied with it, but if we are going to do something now, we will do it a lot better because we will use a better film crew and put more money into it.  Also, I feel the standard today is expected to be quite a lot higher.

Can you tell me a bit about the track "Blessed From Below?" Do I detect some industrial influences?   I don't know if it's right to call it 'industrial,' but it is of course influenced by non-metal stuff, electronic music.  I feel it is just very eerie and chilling and actually it is my favorite track on the mini-CD.  Usually, I am very narrow-minded and stick to metal, but this track..(laughs) well, it just gives me the creeps, you know, and I love it because of that.  It's hard describing the genre because there are almost black metal parts, the very noisy and distorted guitar stuff, there are also black parts that are clearly not metal.  And there are other parts that are other parts that are influence by not industrial music maybe, but something related to it.  Hard to classify, but then that is not necessary, I feel.

How did you hook up with Apoptygma Berzerk for the remix on the Megiddo MCD? You know, Grothesk from Berzerk listened to our album shortly after we recorded it and he thought he could do something very bizarre out of it.  He just started to work with the song that he liked the most, which was "Dawn of a New Age," and he presented the idea to Satyr and he thought it was quite fascinating.  When the result was presented, new vocals were made, and it just sounded very great, very harsh and destroying.  It's very important that Satyricon - we have not made this remix, it is Apoptygma Berzerk's work with Satyr's new vocals on it - but I still think that track has a lot of interest, but we will not do something similar again, I guess.

I like the fact that you guys don't have a problem with experimenting like that. It's the natural result of a creative mind.  You will want to explore new territories and new musical fields.

From what I've seen, the reviews of Rebel Extravaganza so far have been very positive.   They are overwhelming and ten minutes ago I got to hear that the second biggest newspaper in Norway, which is also very conservative, gave us 6 out of 6 points and the largest selling newspaper in Norway gave us 6 out of 6 points.  We also got 7 out 7 in Metal Hammer, 9.5 out of 10 in Rock Hard.  I guess they originally gave us 10 but they were then told to be a bit firmer when giving a 10, so they gave us 9.5, which I still think is incredible.  Things are bright for the moment. (laughs)

How important for you is it for people to like your music?  Do you need to have that connection or would you be just as happy if no one liked it but yourselves? Of course, it does matter.  It is not the most important part and it's not a driving force either, because when making the music, we are not thinking about the critics or what people in general may think of this, because if we thought that, we couldn't make the best music possible.  It would be shit and ruin the band.  When the music is made, you do of course like to harvest fruits of our work and it's very good to see that people enjoy music that we ourselves do enjoy very, very much.  And also we feel as if this is very sincere and good for black metal.  In our eyes, it's good for the scene that people like this record because we feel we can judge if music is good or bad, we have some experience and we are musicians ourselves, and we are satisfied when people like this.

When did you first get into playing music? I was battering around as a kid, hammering on everything and on myself, boxes and stuff.  I got my drum kit when I was 15 years old, but I didn't start to play seriously before the end of '92 when I was asked to join Satyricon.  I was a terrible drummer back then, I could hardly play the double-bass at all, so I just rehearsed day and night.  It was a pain in the ass, but it was the only way to go.

Are you currently working on any projects outside of the band? No, I'm not.  This is taking all the time that I've got.

Have you got a tour planned yet? Yes, we will start touring on the 28th of October and tour until the 21st of November.  Later on, there will be a festival tour in December and also some single concerts, and also we'd like to tour after that, maybe in the States.  We want to tour quite a lot throughout this year, because I've taken the year off from school to concentrate fully upon Satyricon.

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