#sinister squashing

[esperanta-dragon]

Hallows End themed pins! Also they glow in the dark!

Available here

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

🎃nightmare suit groovies~🎃

***Spoilers below the cut!! Please note: The R cards (Azul, Epel, Vil, Malleus) do not have new illustrations.***

OH MY GOD STOOOOP 😭 NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS CHARACTER CAMEOS IN THE GROOVIES??? ?? ?????? ??!???!? ?? ??? YOU MIGHT AS GFWELL WALK RIGHT UP TO ME AND IRiP MY FRIGIGN HEART OT RIGHT NOW

wWAHASL,ADFJHHDUPGFFI42T69O38QGPEGBIP;DGN;GDN;J J WORD SQUASHED U P IN THE AMYOR'S LITTLE CAR.. . . ....... . . . ... . . .. . ...... . . . OTL With the hair pushed back like that, teeth out, and eyes lidded, Jade almost looks like Floyd here. I THPOGU TI WOULDN'T BE sURIRPISED BY HIS SMIELS ANYMORE BUT I GUESS SI AWAS WRONG... This smile's very different than his unhinged/suspicious/evil ones and his pure ones, it's charming but more on the relaxed side. I also noticed the teeth are wider than usual (again, very Floyd-like), Jade's are narrower/smaller.

I like Trey's Groovy a ton! A lot more than I thought I would, actually. The blueish lighting and him looming over Sally's pot reminds me of his Club Wear card. ahdbasdlai There's also a slight sheen to his eyes, so Trey comes off like he's fascinated by her cooking and wants to learn more about Sally's techniques. He looks slightly shady too though, like some drug dealer inspecting the goods...

FHLBOQYW8QYFAFWI LRIDDLE'S RIDING IN THE CURSED CHILDREN'S BATHTUB... It's a little terrifying how hyperdetailed Lock, Shock, and Barrel's faces are and how they're all staring right at the camera. Riddle seems so calm, glancing at you over his shoulder with a little smirk. I usually don't use this adjective for him, but it makes Riddle feel cool! And since the image is shot from a slight worm's eye view angle, it gives him the illusion of being taller than he actually is--

Go figure, you slap the mad scientist character with the mad scientist of Halloween Town. Perfect pairing, honestly. I get very similar vibes between Idia and Dr. Finkelstein as I did with Trey and Sally; Idia is showing a real interest in the good (?) doctor's work and they appear to be deep in a discussion about it. The way Idia is bending over the table adgvkadsdval it kinda gives his body a more... triangular shape... that I just KNOW bro doesn't actually have. His face here seems more elegant than usual, almost Vil-like.

Thanks for the uncalled for viewing of the underside of your boot, Sebek 💀asjldboaysvyfevfeq I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS, he's trying so hard to come off as intimidating but I cannot see him as "the boss", even if he is posed like one. Give that jack 'o lantern some credit though, it sure is doing a fine job of supporting Sebek's big ol' beefy arm. Jack Skellington in the back is also sending me... Is he supposed to be intimidating??? That positioning just makes me think of someone leaning against a doorframe and trying to flirt by calling you their babygirl. GHBLIABFYIABFIAF ANYWAY I DON'T THINK THIS GROOVY WAS FOR ME

... wHAT THEFUCK. That was NOT what I expected of Jamil's Groovy. First was the weird pumpkin stroking, now bro's dancing with skeletons?????? IS THIS JUST WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU'REEMOTIONALLY REPREssED YOUR ENTIRE LIFE... YOU POP OFF AND DO THE MOST OUT OF PocKET THINGS FOR FUNSIES?????? Jamil looks so smug as he's doing it too, it feels like he's shittalking you like a Mean Girl while he's busting a sick dance move. (Cameo: his toof) Jack in the background also looks the most sinister of all the SSRs. That combination of laughter and showing off his teeth... Unsettling.

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waht the hell. What HTBbr heLL. WHAT THE ACUTLA EHLLMIS THIIISISISISISSJISISISSSZ>/>?????w?f>fwlwkwfkfwjfwjkqljirtfyqnNOEGWOQG.,P57KIRJEI0RW08J:????>f>>fw>f>fw<wf<q>:q?q>v?v?v?v??gogibopobfuiibadh wnethuhw

WHYT THEUFKC FDUCC DOES THIS SLAP SO HARFZD OTL

ADSHJFIAGVTFVUOQEFVUBKQDWLGYQERGYOQF evyEROYNTHING AB OITU T THIS IS JSUT.... AKJBFLIUHADFIADFLF RIGHT UP MY lallEY... The extreme bird's eye view angle????? Jack with his arms crossed and that skeletal smirk??? Zero's little duck beak-shaped mouth?? The eerie green glow emanating from the fountain water below them? NLBVHDSKIUEGFABOGVSAEFYIPodp D nad HE WHOS HALL NOT BE NAMED V,NJ DBIOADFVIYOADFOTVFE8AYPFIEGWOBPFQEBOVGWIPEGBSNMVPOADVBN;DDBK;RWHOUGWBIQEPGNJQEG TH wE WHAYT THE FUCKCING ANGLR FRAMES HIS TITS AND MAKES HIS LEGS LOOKN EXTRA LONG, THE GRIBGKDJULBADFLBAFD CAPE WSWISHinG EVEYRWHERE, THe LIGHTONIGF FON HIS AHDNNEOMS E DAFACE, THE FUIDFSLBDFBKHAEFLBHQEFALBFEAL FA HADN TTHE FEGRIIGGING HAND HE'S OVFFERINGF TO YOU7? ? ???????? ? ?b?@??gb ? ? ? ? ? ?b>b>KNBNRIOBIGEBOYVDOGY8EANOapnjbgywt80pboqegwp,m iS THIS FUCKING BITCH ASKING FOR OUR HAND??? ? ?? ?? ?DOOahaaHAHhhghghghhghhgHHHHHhhhHHHHARRHRHGHGHGHGHHHHGHGHGHGHHHHHH HH H HHHH H H H H H I WANNNA bE SANDED TO BE PUT ouT OF MY MiSERY, I'M TAKING SO JCMUCH PSYCHICHDAMAG E I CAN'T TAKE IT I';N M GOINC CGATRAZXY. .. . . .BVL;,DFIPTOTO OT LTLTKT FLFL BHIVUASFOVUAFSA

gGUSY I THINK TI',M GDON E FOR, IT'S LEoVER FOR ME I SPENT SO LONG DENYRINH IT I DIDN'T WANNA ADMITR IT FOR MY OWN PRIDE BUT I'M DONE fRO I'M A GONRER BYE IT'S JFDAUBIADGOVUAFODUTVEFTI7EFWOIAVD;LIVOYGPGWEFQOIGYEQPgkjd TIUFQETO3R1QEFOTFQEG.5OIMH903GW9UPBAfpjFOVHDN;./'[;,KP[K,[LN,,L>:c<<l:LBHIDABIOUFPAOYGVEQBFPGWBPGHLGWBPQEFPGIAE whnEN YOU YSEE ME DNEXT I'M OGNNA BE LAid OUT IN A PIUMPKING PATCH DECATINGF CUZ THSI GROOVFY KILELD ME

[love-takes-work]

I've seen a fair number of people interpret Rebecca Sugar's (and the Crew's) decision to put Ruby in a dress as subversive, and I want to discuss why that feels like a clear miss to me.

Every time--every single time--I've heard Rebecca Sugar talk about the queer relationships on this show, it comes with this expression of wholesomeness, and often glazed with a sheen of wistfulness, flavored something like "I needed this as a child and young person, and I didn't have it." Much of Rebecca Sugar's work to bring this wedding (and other unapologetic queer relationships) to the screen was framed as an emergency--as in, we HAVE to get this out there for those kids we used to be, because we know they're drowning.

Yes, it's funny sometimes when people make jokes about Sugar deliberately "adding more gay" or "making it gayer" as a big eff-you to the people who spoke against it, but that doesn't sit right from where I'm standing. It took so much strength (and resulted in so much battle damage) to fight that fight, yes. But from everything I can see from the interviews and conversations I've seen and read, this wasn't served up in a "ha-HA, take THAT!" kind of way. These characters having these kinds of relationships should have been a non-issue, and the fact that their very wholesome kids'-show wedding and very sweet kiss and very adorable love for each other was seen as Political when it should have been just two characters in love is so sad to me.

I've seen dozens of people suggest that Ruby is in a dress and Sapphire is in a suit "to fuck with the bigoted censors in other countries" or "to give the finger to gender roles," but again, I think it is simpler and sweeter than that. Rebecca's said that Ruby in a dress is how she feels in a dress. Celebration and exploration of feminine-coded stuff felt wrong to Rebecca for a long time, like it wasn't hers, because she wasn't really a woman and didn't want it forced on her. As a result she was robbed of all the beauty that should have been a non-issue, from what TV shows and toys she was supposed to enjoy as a kid to what kind of person she was supposed to marry and what she should wear as an adult.

Ruby never got a choice about how she looked really. Once she got to choose her presentation for a significant event, this is what she chose. It means so much more to see that than to construct it primarily as a reactionary measure, as if it would somehow foil the sinister censors in more homophobic countries (who, incidentally, are not therefore forced to show Ruby in a dress even though they tried to hide that Ruby was a "she" or that she was in a romantic relationship with another "she"; y'all, they just don't show the episode).

We see plenty of other examples of gender-role-related expectations being casually stepped on and squashed, like when they took the trouble to give traditionally masculine and traditionally feminine "clothes" to some watermelons to make the audience think there was a husband and wife watermelon only to have the wife be the warrior and the husband stay home with the child. With stuff like that, yeah, sure, maybe it's designed to make you think "oh isn't that very feminist of them!" Or maybe it's more "well why do I see this as a 'reversal' when it's just a thing that happened?" This show is full of ladyish beings who fight and have power. And as for Steven. . . .

Nobody has negative reactions onscreen (or even particularly confused reactions) when Steven wears traditionally feminine clothes, and it is (of course) also not presented as a "boy in a dress gag"--it's not supposed to be funny. When they go all in slathering Steven in literal princess tropes throughout the final act of Season 5, we understand that it's because the powerful Diamonds expect him to be Pink Diamond, not because the show is trying to girlify him or embarrass him or even make the audience think positive thoughts about boys in girls' clothes. It's more neutral than that in my interpretation: "these are literally just pieces of cloth, and while some of them have meaning, they don't inherently have a gender." I don't see this as transgressive. It's just in a world where putting on what you want to wear doesn't HAVE to be a political statement. (Though obviously it CAN be, and plenty of people wear a variety of clothes as a fuck-you to whoever they want to give the finger to. I just don't see that as happening here.)

Don't get me wrong; Rebecca Sugar certainly knew about the politics (intimately) and has lived at many of their intersections. She was not ignorant of how queer people are seen in this world. She was silenced as a bisexual person because her identity supposedly didn't matter if she was with a man and planned to be with that same man forever. She was shunted into "omg a woman did this!" categories over and over again, which she wore uneasily as a nonbinary person while accepting that part of who we are is how the world sees us. But what is it like if everything someone like her embraces is seen as a statement synonymous with "fuck you" to someone else?

She is married to a person who happens to be a man and happens to be Black. Her relationship isn't a "statement" about either of those aspects of his existence; her love is simply something that is. She is Jewish working in a society that's largely Christian. Her cultural perspective to NOT center her cartoon around Christian holidays and Christian morals; her choices to make an alternate world in this specific way is simply something that is. Her queer perspective as a nonbinary bisexual person has helped inform the Gems' radical philosophy of "what if we learned to explore and define ourselves instead of doing the 'jobs' we're assigned and being told it's our nature?" Her decision to include queer people in a broadly queer cartoon isn't designed PRIMARILY as a battle against baddies, or to drown out all the relentless straightness, or to deliciously get our queer little paws all over their kids' TV. It's an act of love.

So this is just to say that though I DO understand that sometimes subversion and intentional transgression are very necessary, I do not think that's the HEART of what's going on at this Gem wedding. We got a wholesome marriage scene between two of the most lovely little flawed-but-still-somehow-perfect characters, and I very much want to see their choices as being about them. About how Ruby feels in a dress. About how Sapphire feels about not having to always wear a dress. About them incorporating a symbol of their union into their separate lives so they can have some independence in their togetherness. About them celebrating their love by letting Steven wipe his schmaltz all over them.

There are many choices in the show that ARE carefully constructed to counter existing narratives, you know, giving the Crystal Gems' only boy all the healing, pink, flower imagery; having a single-sex species that's ladyish with all the members going by "she"; featuring many nurturing male characters who cry and cook and raise kids without mothers; pairing multiple fighty ladies with gentler guys; and importantly, intentionally loading up the show with stories, characters, and imagery any gender will find appealing despite being tasked with expectations to pander to the preteen boy demographic.

But it's very important to me that the inclusion of queer characters and the featuring of their choices be seen primarily as a loving act, and way way less of a "lol screw the bigots." I want our stories to be about us. Yes, I know it's a necessary evil that sometimes our stories are also about fighting Them. But every time I see someone say they put Ruby in the dress to "piss off the homophobes" or "stump the censors" I feel a little gross. Like the time I picked out an outfit I loved and my mom said I only dressed in such an obnoxious way to upset her, and I was baffled because my aesthetic choices, my opinions, my choices had nothing to do with her. Yet they were framed like I chose these clothes primarily to cause some kind of petty harm to her, when not only was it not true but I was not even that kind of person who would gloat over intentionally irritating someone.

The queerness of this show isn't a sneaky, underhanded act trying above all to upset a bigot or celebrate someone's homophobic fury. It lives for itself. Its existence is about itself. It's so we can see ourselves in a show, and it's so people who aren't queer or don't have those experiences can see that we exist, we participate, we want very similar things, and definitely are focusing way more about celebrating our love at our own weddings rather than relishing the thought of bigots tearing their hair out and hating us.

It's dangerous to turn every act of our love into a deliberate movement in a battle strategy when their weddings just get to be weddings.

I think there’s this idea that that [queer characters] is something that applies or should be only discussed with adults that is completely wrong. And I think when you realize that talking to kids about heteronormativity is just like air that you breathe all the time, it’s kind of amazing that that is not true in any other capacity. I think if you wait to tell kids, to tell queer youth that it matters how they feel or that they are even a person, then it’s going to be too late! You have to talk about it—you have to let it be what it gets to be for everyone. I mean, like, I think about, a lot of times I think about sort of fairy tales and Disney movies and the way that love is something that is ALWAYS discussed with children. And I think also there’s this idea that’s like, oh, we should represent, you know, queer characters that are adults, because there are adults that are queer, and you should know that’s something that is happening in the adult world, but that’s not how those films or those stories are told to children. You’re told that YOU should dream about love, about this fulfilling love that YOU’RE going to have. […] The Prince and Snow White are not like someone’s PARENTS. They’re something you want to be, that you are sort of dreaming of a future where you will find happiness. Why shouldn’t everyone have that? It’s really absurd to think that everyone shouldn’t get to have that! --Rebecca Sugar

[msfantasy-comics]

The Forbidden Romance

Tim Drake x Reader

Summary: A short story on Y/n being the daughter of Joker and Harlequin (and Step daughter of Poison Ivy) is romantically involved with Red Robin. The two unlikely lovers find causal comfort in each others arms. Will they grow to be together or will they fall apart under expectations and societal pressures ?

As/n: I may make this into a mini series cause as I was proof reading I was like GIRL WHAT HAPPENED NEXT. I’m absolutely just winging this story as I write it.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

You drag your feet along the rooftop, following the sound of your Pa’s signature sinister laughter as you text Mama Ivy about tonight’s turn of events. Not too keen to engage in whatever lunacy your Pa has wrapped himself into.

Earlier that night your Ma had insisted on a ‘family night out’ for your birthday, much to your dismay. Knowing that your night will fizzle just like it always does when the Joker is out and about and without Mama Ivy around, it just didn’t feel like much of a birthday to celebrate.

Just as you had suspected, your Pa just can’t help himself. As soon as he caught sight of ‘Bats’ dashing across the roof tops, he was suddenly off in the wind - chasing the vigilante whilst your Ma chases after him. “Aw Common Puddin’ it’s ya daughters birthday!” Your Ma’s voice whines. Pa lifts his crowbar up ready to take a heavy swing at the exhausted figure laying limply on the dirty roof top floor.

The sight boiled your blood. “Pa! You’re ruining my birthday! Put the damn crowbar down right now!” Your shrill reprimands cause Jokers twisted smile to drop, just as fast as the heavy metal pipe that clinks along the ground. His hands stuck up in the air as if surrendering to his beloved daughters demands.

“What’s wrong my little Jester? Your dear ole’ Pa was only trying to have a little fun.” But your unamused expression sours any and all delight showing on the Jokers face.

“That’s it Puddin’ you’re upsettin’ me and you’re upsettin’ our little Jester! Let go of the boy and let’s salvage what’s left of our outin’” Joker grumbles at his cross road, but your cranky demeanour squashed any rebellion stirring within.

“Common my sweet Jestie- don’t be mad at your Papa. What can I do to make it up to you, hm?” Your grumpy crossed arms unwinds at your fathers offer.

“I’ll forgive you Pa on one condition.” Jokers sulky demeanour snaps to excitement.

“Anything Jester, you name it.”

“You leave me with Red Robin, and you go and take Ma back home.” Joker wraps his arms around himself as if mentally restraining himself. His incoherent words stumbling over each other.

“Aw but that’s not fair! That’s two conditions…Ugh - fine! But you better not let him escape again! You’re really bad at keeping your pets caged.” Joker relents. Ma, happily loops her arm through your Pa’s arm guiding him on through the dark night, but not before blowing you a kiss with a wink.

Your attention turns back to the large heaped figure laying limply on the floor. The vigilante known as Red Robin continues peering up at your clownish figure. 

Prancing excitedly you leap excitedly onto his form, a loud ‘oft’ escaping Red’s lips. “Hiya Pookie!” You exclaim loudly with a small peck to his cheek. He continues to look up at you with a small smile.

“Hiya Princess, I missed you.” He cooes with his arms still tied behind his back. “Think you can let me out?”

“Hmmm I dunno… you just look so cute when your all helpless and vulnerable… I could do anything to you…” You tease, your finger slowly sliding tantalisingly slow down his chest plate. His cheeks now quickly becoming flush with pink.

“Oh, erm, well, if you say so.” He quickly folds, completely accepting his circumstances. His eagerness to accept your conditions has you cackling.

Your sweet wholesome lover is so eager to please you. It makes your heart warm to think of how gentle and loving he is with you.

“Just kidding!” You exclaim, effortlessly tugging a rope which causes all of the ties to come undone, instantly freeing your Red.

His arms rush around your figure, pulling you down into his form. You giggle erratically as a flurry of kisses is peppered across your face.

“Okay! Okay!” You holler, but make no effort in pulling away from your Reds loving. On his last kiss you take a moment to look deeply into your lovers eyes. Drinking in every last glorious detail of his handsome face with what little time you have left with him.

Leaning down you catch your lips onto his own, a feverish lip lock ensuing with Red rolling you onto your back with his form hovering above your own. Your arms pinned above your head.

With panting breath he pulls away quickly to eagerly pull off his cape. But the fiddly latch just won’t release.

Suddenly a voice no one wants to hear at a time like this echos through Red Robins ear piece.

Sighing he slowly pulls away from you with great reluctance. “Happy Birthday beautiful- I was hoping we can have a moment of peace together but- duty calls.”

Jumping back Red takes off leaving you alone.

[sofasoap]

Teddy Bear - 3

Pairing: John Price x F! Reader

Summary: Just as you thought he ghosted you.. he turned up.

Warning: M Theme. Angst talk. Canon, what canon? what happend at end of Mw3 never existed, nor happend.

A/N: I was so blocked for .. oh gosh, seven months. and Thanks to @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world, it suddenly unblocked. This is for you, Aunty Bear.

John Price Masterlist

Masterlist

You look at the man standing in front of your door. Stunned that he appeared at your door step in the middle of night. 

“Hi.” Oh how you miss his deep rumbling voice. 

Why is he here now?

November. Christmas, New Year. February. 

Not a single call or text message from him since October. 

You sighed after throwing the phone down and curled up in bed. You haven’t heard from John after the night you stayed at his place. 

Has he ghosted you? Or has he decided you are too much for him to handle. 

You know it was too good to be true. 

You tried to move on from this short romance.

But even your niece and nephew can see how dejected you have been since their aunty’s “Furry boyfriend” hasn’t made an appearance for the last few months. 

But here he is. With a single rose in his hand, together with a little teddy bear who’s holding a small bunch of flowers itself.

“I am sorry… for going M.I.A for the last few months.” he apologised as he shifted on his feet. “It has been. Quite an ordeal.” he sighed. 

“You.. alright? Is everyone alright?” you asked, eyes flitting. His frown seems deeper than usual (your niblings often joke how he can squash a fly between his brows),the fresh cuts and healing scars on his face, the fatigue, as if life has drained out of him. 

You immediately notice the way the twitches subtly everytime he moves his left arm. 

Shaking your head as you bring yourself out from the whirling thoughts and observation, you realise you are letting an injured man standing in the cold. “Oh how rude of me. Come inside.” You took the flower and the teddy bear off him and stepped back and let him into the flat. 

John looked around your cosy little granny flat. A small kitchenette, living room area, and the bedroom just off to the side. Bits of trinkets here and there, and hoards of photos on the wall.  Your sister gave you the free reign of making his place yours, with promises that you don’t burn the place down with wild parties. 

“Make yourself comfortable on the sofa…. Would you like tea? coffee, or ..” Or me? That silly little joke flashes across your mind but you mentally slap yourself. Not the time to make such a joke, you idiot. “I don’t think you can drink any alcohol with…” you asked as you wave towards his shoulder. He shook his head. “Tea would be fine, thank you.” he replied. 

You nodded your head before putting the gift on the small dining table and started the kettle.

You could feel John’s eyes on you as you fret around the kitchenette to put the rose into a little vase and make the tea for both of you. Staring at you. Drinking you in. As if to make up for the last four months that he hasn’t seen you. 

You handed him the cup of tea as you sat down beside him. The only sound in the room was the clock on the wall, ticking away as the two of you started sipping on the tea, not knowing how to start the conversation back up again. 

“I.. we.” he paused for a second, gripping tight onto the mug as he stared across the room. “It’s been a close call. As you can see.” He laughed bitterly. “We nearly lost.. One of the boys.” 

Your breath hitched. John talks fondly of his subordinates. From the one time you met them,  they are a lovely (scary, but friendly) bunch The boys are almost like sons to him. 

John never went into exact details about what his job entails. You knew he was in the military but he never went any further than that. 

“My hands are not clean.” 

You cock your eyebrows. “Are you a hitman?” 

He chuckled. “Not that sinister. I am in the military.” 

“Dangerous job.” you hummed as he nodded his head. 

He looked down at his tumbler glass, gently swishing the ice and the whisky around. “But…someone has to do the dirty work.” he mumbled. 

“I.. I am sorry to hear.” 

You were slightly confused by his response, you remembered. But now, come to think of it, all the dots connect, with how tight lipped John is about his job, the injuries. His previous comments, the little stories here and there the boys told you about during the first meeting, you have guessed they are probably in some sort of elite unit in the army.

Never guaranteed to live until the next mission.

He shook his head, not replying.  You reach out to put a hand on his thigh, not quite sure what else to say, or do. Without shifting his gaze, he let go of the grip on the mug and covered your hand with his warm callous hand, seeking for more comfort. 

“Stay?” You broke the silence after a while, begging him. Silently wishing he can hear the pleading in your voice. After months of not having heard or seen him. You need him. And maybe, he needs you too. “Stay for the night. Please.” 

He slowly turned his head, and looked you in the eyes. The sadness in it. you have never seen him like this before. He is a Captain. The commanding presence. The rock of the team. 

Always calm and collected. 

But who is the anchor for him when he is lost? 

John held tight onto you in his sleep that night, like his life depends on it. Nozzle his head into the crook of your neck. You felt his body finally give in as you gently stroked his hair, occasionally dotting him with kisses. When was the last time he had a peaceful sleep?

“Aunty Bear? OH Furry uncle!!!” The high pitch yelling and something jumping onto the bed startled the two of you awake.

“How.. How did you two get in!” You gasped as you struggled out of John’s iron clamp that held you close all night. “Careful don’t touch John’s arm —” you warned as the two children started to clamber around the poor man.

“Mum gave me the key.” Your nephew pointed out before he turned towards John, who finally let you out of his grasp and slowly sat up. “Mum wants us to wake you up because you are late for breakfast.”

Oh lord. You were glad the two of you are still somewhat… presentable. You in your PJs and John.. in his boxer. At least we are not naked. You also totally forgot you were supposed to make pancake breakfast for your niblings. 

“Hello you two little rascals..” Price chuckled, ruffling the two children’s hair. “How have you two been?” he asked in a tired voice. 

“Good! Oh… what happened to your shoulder??” Your niece’s smile dropped as she spotted the bandage around John’s shoulder. “Did some bad people hurt you?”

John looked at you, and turned back to the little girl. “You could say that.” 

“Does it hurt?” she poke it with her little finger while asking.

“Lizzy, it WILL hurt if you do that.” Her brother warned as he pulled his sister back. Lizzy pouted and turned her attention to John’s chest. “Oh, you got a furry chest too. Just like my dad…” 

“Ok, you two, shoo off the bed, and tell your mother I will be over there in ten minutes.” you interrupted and usher your niblings off the bed and out of the room. The two groaned but quickly scrambled off the bed and ran towards the front door. 

“Lock it before you leave too!!” You shouted.

“Is that how they wake you up every weekend?” John smiled, as he leaned back into bed and smiled at you. 

“Um. Sometimes…” You blushed, and you don’t even know why you are blushing. The two of you slept together before. Well, purely sleeping. Not… in the … intimate sense. And you have seen his chest as well. It’s not like you have not been with men before. “We. um, better get out of bed, the kids seem to be hungry for breakfast.” you fidgeted, trying to cover your embarrassment. “Would you like to .. stay for breakfast? I am very good at making pancakes..And I promise you there will be different berries and even creams to go with it too. And honey, or maple syrup, whichever one you fancy…” you rambled on. 

“If it’s not too much of a bother.” 

You quickly shook your head. “Never. Never a bother.” you look into his eyes, with sincerity. Hoping he will understand the other meaning behind your words. He slowly reaches out, cupping your face with his uninjured hand, and caresses your cheek with his thumb, before looking down at your lip and back up to your eyes, silently asking for permission, before leaning in to give you a gentle kiss on the lip.

“Thank you.”  

“Did you two…..”

“ NO sis, NO.”

“Then what took you two so long then. You said ten minutes…” 

“SHUSH.” 

Tag list: ( I am just tagging who ever requested to be tagged at the last chapter and also who responded...let me know if you want to be taken off the next chapt's list thank you :) )

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@homicidal-slvt

@okayyadriana

@cumikering

@siilvan

@devcica

@nrdmssgs

@gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot

@glitterypirateduck

@mmyrrhh

@whydoilikewhump

@crazymela

@makayla-666

@alypink

@merkitty49

@arminarlertssword

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

@roosterr

@okamimarta

@liyanahelena

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Enhypen's Thoughts on Being an Idol Part 2

Disclaimer: No facts, just a girl with cards, just had to say this. I expected them to give me wild answers and my boys didn't disappoint. It gets weird, dark and a bit uncomfortable, so if you are into that, keep reading.

Okay, I have been wanting to start this second section of this series for so long, but had other readings so had to push it back, as I am noisy and want more tea in the industry, so decided to go back with more questions for this. I also set intentions for some cards to pop out for specific reasons, so if they do, I will elaborate more, now I tend to get lots of insight from this group, so let’s see what I get here. Also, this is a lot, so sorry for the long read lol

Heeseung

Thoughts on Company? (Ace of Swords/2 of Swords/Page of Wands) This doesn’t seem too bad. Why do I always get their company is messy with their ideas and I get this here. I can also see he doesn’t always agree with their ideas. It is like they have an idea. It is like what he thinks and what the company thinks don’t align, so what he wants to do doesn’t always come about, or if they have an idea for him, he doesn’t go for it. He sees them as very timid and unwilling to take action on things or not comfortable stepping outside their comfort zone or bubble, lack of risk taking. 

Thoughts on Industry? (3 of Wands/The Devil/The Hanged) Well, one of the cards I set an intention for popped up, which was the Devil. I set an intention if the environment is toxic for this card to pop up, so yeah, he finds the industry toxic and dark. Lots of things lurking in the shadows and that are hidden. Sinister shit, he can’t really do much about it, with that Hanged man card is like giving me see no evil, here no evil, just trying to remove himself from that. But what is it though? That I can’t tap into. Ok man, don’t hate me here, but with that 3 of Wands, he is giving me you might have to do some dark shit to expand globally as an idol. 3 of wands is about expanding and moving overseas. And with the hanged man, he had to do this, his hands were tied. Don’t shoot the messenger please, no facts, just a girl with cards. I am crazy lol

Effects Industry has on him? (Ace of Cups/9 of Pentacles/4 of Pentacles) Ugh, knew this would kind of be hard, so before I pulled the cards and asked the question, I got mental clarity and distortion. He may have found clarity about things, but can also have a distorted view on things now with this ace of cups, it gives me drinking. I sense this boy drinks a lot from the vibes I got in my past readings, but I can be very wrong. There is a lot of emotions and vulnerability and exposure he has felt as well. I was pulled to the birds in both the cards, which signify hope, love, freedom, happiness, joy and community, so he may have felt a sense of that as well, so it isn’t all bad. He has also learned to conserve and save and to protect his assets. 

Thoughts on Fanservice/shipping? (The High Priestess/Knight of Wands/Temperance) Okay, overall see him having no problem with either. So, I did set an intention for the High Priestess to pop up if there is a ritualistic element to things, so I am getting they do fanservice to put a spell on the fans, to get them to be more invested in them. I mean, it doesn’t have to be sinister, it makes sense to make fans believe they are their whole world, so they can keep following them. He definitely pursues fans, flirts with them, we know this. I say he enjoys the love he gets and what he receives. I had to ask about shipping, because I felt this was more fanservice, and got Queen of Pentacles. I can say he may be cautious about it, but sees it as part of the job.

Jay

Thoughts on Company? (The High Priestess/7 of Cups/3 of Swords) Well, as I mentioned about the high priestess, they do some of that in the company. He is the third HYBE person to give me some indication of rituals they do there, what it is, who the fu** knows. They also squash whatever dreams, ideas and fantasies they have. He has definitely felt hurt, betrayed and slighted by the company. 

Thoughts on Industry? (10 of Swords/The Lovers/Knight of Cups) I think he hates the industry to be honest. I get a sense he feels betrayed a lot, or he has been stabbed in the back a lot. The Lovers in this deck always gives me being shipped or contactually forced to do so and with the Knight of Cups moving away from it, he is like I want no part of it. So, if he adores members of his group, it isn’t for show, he sincerely just adores them, but we’ll see when I get to that question. So, I am getting binding spells for the Lovers card, if someone can tell me what that is, I tried looking it up, but that could be a thing too. I might be stepping into something here, because I do not feel good. Ya’ll are not stopping me with this! Your dirt needs to be exposed, although no facts lol I legit feel they put spells around these idols, so readers can’t go in deeper, this is why I get sick, they make you sick, so that you stop. I am starting to get it. But these industry heads aren’t stopping me, but I will need many breaks between this. 

Effects Industry has on him? (King of Pentacles/8 of Wands/The High Priestess) Let’s just take a shot to see how much the high priestess comes up in this reading lol I am having a hard time thinking, man these guys are good, but I will push past this. I feel he is pushed to do a lot of things. He has learned to be as successful as he wants to be, I see him wanting to be this KOP’s, he will have to do all these activities, play along in a sense. This is so weird, he may have a book of secrets and spells, they may give them this, Idk, maybe he has learned to do spell work. This sh** I am getting is even too wild for me, this makes no sense. I mean it does, but didn’t think I would get weird sh** like this to be honest. 

Thoughts on Fanservice/shipping? (Ace of Wands/The Tower/The Star) This makes no sense lol Let me try to make sense of this, so when he ignites some sort of shipping scenario, it creates chaos for him and he feels vulnerable when this happens. It is like he acts sweet with members out of kindness and when people take it out of context, he doesn’t like that. I need to ask about fanservice, because this was only about shipping to me, he gave me the 9 of Cups, in this deck, I see it as dissociation, so when he does fanservice, he doesn’t really do fanservice, he is just kind to the fans, he is sincere. I just sense a disconnection there, like he doesn’t do that, or believe in that, he’s just going to be himself. Alright, that was tough, moving on. 

Jake

Thoughts on Company? (Queen of Cups/8 of Pentacles/Ace of Wands) Interesting, he sees them a bit favorably. I feel he believes they encourage him and give him a lot of love and support. They help him out when need be. They inspire him to take action on things. They encourage his growth. Just my opinion here, not going off cards, but I feel they may favor him, because he just goes along and doesn’t really fight back, so I can see him seeing them in a better light, but could be wrong here. I will admit being biased, I think the company is a piece of crap, but he favors them, they help him a lot, so I respect his opinions on this. I don’t hide what I get even if I don’t like it or goes against what I feel. 

Thoughts on Industry? (The Lovers rv/6 of Cups/Knight of Cups) Okay, I don’t think Jake knows about any of the dark sh** that goes down to be honest, he seems oblivious, naive, and way too innocent. I don’t even think he looks too deep into things. I don’t see him involved in the ritualistic stuff. I feel nothing here, so I don’t feel any spellwork is on him. With the Lovers rv, it gives me he isn’t really binded or anything. The 6 of cups just gives me very naive energy. Honestly it may be better to not know, sometimes ignorance is bliss. He could be spiritually guided, so he may intuitively know which is the right direction to go in, so he doesn’t fall for traps. I just see him being oblivious to things, kind of in his own world. I always get positive cards for him when it comes to his career, unlike the others and now I may see why a bit.

Effects Industry has on him? (3 of Wands/Page of Pentacles/10 of Swords) Okay, didn’t expect it to be bad from the first two questions. I feel like it may be too slow of a process for him to expand. He may not like the work put into what he does. There could be some backstabbing and betrayal here with this 10 of Swords. I do feel he is kind of blocked or stunted here, this makes no sense though. I am just a messenger. I don’t get clarity on everything here. It is like he has a vision and wants to work towards something, but ends up being betrayed and gets very down when it doesn’t happen.

Thoughts on Fanservice/shipping? (10 of Swords/7 of Cups/Ace of Pentacles) He may like to fill the delusions of people, it brings in the money for him, or an opportunity for him. The 10 of swords may have to do with shipping, he may very well hate it. Not really understanding why that card came out, it seems a bit dramatic for this question. I got a clarifier and got the 7 of pentacles, and got it limits what he can do, this could go for shipping and fanservice. I don’t understand this boy and have no patience to go further.

Sunghoon

Thoughts on Company? (The Empress/Judgment/Temperance) He feels they helped create him. Did his Mother get him in the industry, know the company? Wtf is this I am getting. Also, I was pulled to look at the water in all these cards and got water therapy, so not sure what that means for him. He blends well with the company. They come to good compromises and conclusions. I am getting a weird message, but it is like two people, maybe his Mom, or someone who agreed with the company to get him there. Do we know how he came to be an idol? And should we believe it? lol I am also getting he is a bit caged in and stifled. I feel a lot of people pull the strings for him, going to be real, well as real as I can get with just reading cards, no fact, got to stress that.

Thoughts on Industry? (The Empress/2 of Wands/6 of Pentacles) Who is his Mother? I think she may have some pull in this industry, or knows someone. I don’t know how to put this, because this is not a good look I am getting here from his Mom’s end. I hate that I am getting this. I am just saying it in the best way I can, she may have pimped out her son, no facts. I am not going further, not liking this energy at all and I feel bad for Sunghoon to be honest. 

Effects Industry has on him? (Ace of Swords/Page of Wands/King of Swords) To be cautious in how he approaches things. To be clear with his intentions. Maybe to detach a bit. He may have learned to repress his creative potential or curiosity. To approach things or see things intellectually. He also learned to defend himself and his ideas. I say he mostly tries to intellectualize things, rather than go with his passionate curiosity he may.

Thoughts on Fanservice/shipping? (Queen of Pentacles/4 of Pentacles/4 of Cups) It is all business and money to him. He is pretty detached to the idea of both. He doesn’t really care about either. I can tell he doesn't care, because he isn't saying much here lol

Honestly, this just made me really sad. I know there is more to the story for him, but I will be real, I don't think I want to dig further, I don’t think I want to know what he is hiding, because honestly I don’t see it malicious on his end, it is more on what others did to him. Kind of makes me sick. I hope I am completely wrong with this. There is a reason he may come off detached.

Sunoo

Thoughts on Company? (2 of Pentacles/The Moon/The Magician) There is uncertainty when it comes to them. I am getting they are hiding or repressing his potential. I am getting annoyed with this 2 of pentacles, not sure why I am getting this, I just get from that card that they don’t know what to do with him, like juggling what they should give him, honestly fu** them, I am annoyed. I see the moon card and the magician, and all I see is the moon (hiding) and the magician (potential/skill set), those two together, give me hiding his potential. He has the skillset to do a lot of things, but that is left in the dark. I can just sense his annoyance with the company in the energy.

Thoughts on Industry? (7 of Pentacles/4 of Wands/The Hanged Man) He is concocted how they want him to be like. He feels stunted and limited by the industry. It is a nice community, he enjoys the community, maybe the other idols. I got they commune with one another, so the other idols understand one another. He feels held back, tied up, and can't really do much. He’s learned to accept his situation. 

Effects Industry has on him? (Page of Wands/3 of Cups/Justice) This is a weird message, but to go out and explore, but to be cautious who one is friends with, be rational, make good decisions. Have a good moral compass. It is like he likes to have fun, but he also needs to be cautious and not do any wild stuff. I am also seeing he may not want to engage in drinking or partying too much, because that can distort his thinking. To always have a clear mind. I am seeing that he may be tempted to do some wild stuff, maybe people tempt him, but he does not do it, because that could be used against him.

Thoughts on Fanservice/shipping? (3 of Cups/Page of Wands/7 of Cups) He may think people pay too much attention to it, put too much focus on it. He is cautious about being a part of a ship. He may feel some people are deluded, or he doesn’t want to be part of that narrative or fantasy. He also enjoys being around fans. I don't think he sees fanservice as a job, he sees fans as his friends, he enjoys their company, they inspire him in some ways.

It is hard to extract information from this boy. I have to sit much longer with the cards and his energy, which I do not like, to get any information.  

Jungwon

Thoughts on Company? (3 of Swords/2 of Cups/Justice) It seems like they could have ended a partnership he was in, could be romantic, but maybe a partnership, okay now I am getting broken promises, so they may have promised him something, but they could have broken a partnership he may have wanted. I look at the Justice card and get wielding their power. I asked why the Justice card, because the Emperor would show that more, and was pulled to the little mouse on the bottom at the foot of the man in the deck and I got the message to balance the scales, so I will take this as they wanted to put him in his place, because he may have an upperhand on them, maybe he imposed too much power for them. Weird, but going with it. My brain will explode if I think too much of this. 

Thoughts on Industry? (King of Pentacles/4 of Swords/The Chariot) Ugh, I really hate the messages I get here sometimes, because I lowkey don’t want to say this, but have no way else to move around this, not saying he does this, but what I see, is someone pampering the KOP’s, so this gives me you have to cater to the higher ups, and then I have the 4 of Swords, with a person naked, which can be seen as a bed, so you may have to lay in bed with them, there it is. I can’t take this any other way else. I just can’t unsee it. I was trying to figure out something else to describe this. Also, the person looks passed out in the card, so are they coherent? ugh god. The Chariot would mean further advancement, so to move ahead, you may have to do that. Why did he show me this, why did I get this message? This is what they do in the West, so do they do this sh** here too wtf I don’t see this happening with him in particular. He doesn’t give me that vibe, but could have happened to others he is aware of. I felt he may have gathered this information as he is a very observant person always looking for information. This could be why he was put in his place. He may know too much. Because this boy gave me a lot here, not going to lie. I want to know where he gets this information, how he knows this, and why did you tell me this!? lol I know I asked. Anyway, I got the message corporate ops when I asked how he knows, and my brain hurts, because I don't get what that means. This is how channeling works, you only get a word or two, or a sentence and you have to figure out how to interpret it, but this has me stumped.

Effects Industry has on him? (3 of Wands/King of Pentacles/The Sun) Well, he has learned you got to appease the higher ups to get to where you want to go. The child on the The Sun card speaks volumes to me, I get stolen youth, steal the light of the youth, they feed off youthful energy. I also see it as if you appease them, you find success. I am also getting they want them to depend on them, like they want you to be a child forever, so you can depend on them and not go any further. They give you everything and then act like you are ungrateful if you defend yourself and speak up for yourself, but the reason they do everything is to keep the upper hand, not out of kindness. 

Thoughts on Fanservice/shipping? (6 of Pentacles/Knight of Pentacles/3 of Pentacles) It is all about money and work for him, it is part of the job. I feel he was told this could happen, so he was prepared. I feel he is all fine with fanservice, but shipping between members could make him uncomfortable, but he will push that aside if it benefits him in any way, success wise and financially. Not sure it does, but if it does, he may be all for it lol

I am surprised I didn't feel any discomfort with him with the information he knows. I would think he would have these spells on him too, so that intrigues me. I think he is very smart and knows how to maneuver around that. Very interesting.

Ni-ki

Thoughts on Company? (Page of Cups/The Hermit/4 of Cups) The first thing I heard was they ain't sh** lol They sold him a fantasy, he came in hopeful and optimistic. Maybe took that energy for granted. Now he seems pretty detached and avoidant from them. He is kind of closed off, doesn’t take many offers, if any, from them, or he isn’t emotionally invested in them. Pretty much a lone wolf(this kept popping up in my head), just trying to stay afloat this company. They may try to do things to make him happy, but it never really works or nothing they offer gives him any hope or excitement. He may not even want to be a part of this company anymore with this energy. 

Thoughts on Industry? (3 of Cups/5 of Wands/10 of Cups) Boy does not like the idol life that much. The first word that popped up was cult when I saw the 3 of cups, so take that as you like. Maybe cult-like thinking as well. He doesn’t like the competitive energy, the drama, the fights. I was wondering why I got the 10 of cups, then I was pulled towards a pyramid on the card, never saw that, and got a pyramid scheme, so that exists, no facts though. I don’t really understand how that works, and not going to try to explain what that means, but that was the message I got.

Effects Industry has on him? (King of Wands/10 of Cups/6 of Wands) It fuels a strong passion within him. It can be a creative outlet for him. It allows him to shine. There is a burning passion there with him. It gave him confidence in his creative abilities. There is a goal he is focused on achieving, more on an emotional level as an idol, a sense of fulfillment, so that is why he may deal with the drawbacks of the industry. It brought out a competitive spirit in him. It is like the achievements he has, gave him more confidence in his abilities. He is able to shine and show his true creative potential as an idol.

Thoughts on Fanservice/shipping? (7 of Cups/3 of Wands/The Empress) I am getting he doesn’t care, if people want to fantasize, let them be, why do I get he sometimes plants the seeds or puts ideas in people’s heads to fuel it. I am not getting a clear answer. I just get a sense he doesn’t care. 

Okay, this was a wild ride. It may take some time for me to get to TXT’s one. I do want to do them next, because I want to see if their answers align, being in a similar company environment.

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: *Hiding in a bunker somewhere underground* hey guys haha, so... heres the next chapter, I couldn't leave you all hanging like that.... so uh yeah, iloveyouokaybyeenjoy <3

Chapter 85: Alys Rivers

Aemond did not take his hands off of you, looking at you with a wide smile upon his lips. A smile which you had not seen for so many years. A smile where his teeth were bared and lines appeared beside his eyes. He had buried his hand in your braids at the back of your head and kissed you. 

He poured adoration into you. 

Excitement. 

Love.

And most importantly, chased away any fears you had in that moment.  

It almost felt normal. 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, and you could not even help the smile that lifted to your own cheeks. 

“We must celebrate.” Aemond declared, hand moving forward to touch your lower stomach fondly. 

And celebrate you did. 

Aemond dove his head between your thighs and brought you to your peak before he fucked himself gently into your folds. You had cried beneath him, both giggling like fools as you let the euphoria of the moment sweep you both away to a place that wasn’t there. 

To a place you weren’t trapped inside of.

To a place where you were both happy, both unbridled by the world. Both terribly, deeply, and madly in love. 

A little lie. 

A little game of pretend. 

A reprieve. 

Aemond had gone to the door of the chambers, cool expression back on his face as he told the knight to send word to the King and his family that you should all dine together. That there was good news that needed to be shared. 

And so, the both of you had gone to the Small Dining Hall, hand in hand, and sat at the table first, waiting for the rest of the Hightower’s, and closest members of the council to arrive and join the two of you. 

The three of you.

You were strung with anxiety, a nervousness that you could not squash. 

What would they say?

What would they do?

Would Aegon be mad?

The Greens would no doubt be elated for the news, another bolster to support their treaty. And yet why did you still have fear?

Your leg bounced beneath the table as you waited, Aemond watching you cooly, his well schooled mask carefully placed back over his face. You chewed at your bottom lip, hands wringing in your lap as you continued to glance at the doors behind you. 

“Zaldrītsos.” Aemond whispered, trying to calm your nerves, thumb pulling your lip from between your teeth.

The doors opened behind you and your leg immediately ceased its bounding, posture straightening in your chair as you laid your hands delicately in your lap. You did not turn as Otto Hightower and Alicent Hightower were announced to the two of you as they came around the intimate table to sit where they usually sat. 

“Mother.” Aemond bowed his head.

“Aemond.” She greeted him back. 

Otto was silent, only nodding his head at his grandson before leaning back in his chair, adjusting the Hand pin on his lapel as he kept his eye to the doors. 

One by one, Lord Jasper Wylde, Maester Orwyle, Jason Lannister, and then finally, the King himself entered the chambers, finding their respected seats, waiting for whatever news was to come. 

Aegon looked irritated, as though he had been pulled away from something of interest, or perhaps had an inkling of what was to be announced. After all, how could you not. The Prince and Princess, the treaty pact, have news to share with the council. 

Anyone but a fool could figure that out. 

But still, the announcement was needed, and Aemond was insistent upon it. 

You suspected he wanted to see Aegon’s reaction.

Another pissing contest between the two brothers.

The Lords spoke amongst themselves as they waited for the meal and announcement. Alicent said her prayer to the Seven, specifically focusing on the Mother and Maiden, before finishing with a flourish. 

She knew.

“Your Grace,” You turned to the Dowager Queen, her bright eyes watching you closely, “I remember you telling me that perhaps I could have an embroidery loom. I think I would much like to have it soon.” 

Alicent’s face softened, and she nodded, “I will have one of the maids bring it to your chambers.”

“Thank you.” You gave her a tight lipped smile.

Aegon cleared his throat loudly, flicking his fingers boredly, “So what’s this all about? Are we to wait for your big reveal all evening?”

Aemond reached forward, grasping his goblet, and you mirrored his action. Pushing up on his long legs he stood at the table, looking over all the Lords and his family as he held the goblet towards you.

“My wife and I bring good news to the Council, and to the King,” You noted Aemond did not say my King, or our King, “We have an heir.”

You looked across the table. 

Alicent beamed at her son, motherly pride on her face before she flicked her eyes to you, raising her cup in your direction. Otto Hightower raised his cup to the both of you, a quiet “Congratulations” on his tongue. The rest of the Lords followed suit, all raising their cups to you. 

However, Jason Lannister looked confused. 

Idiot. 

“Your heir in Harrenhal?” Aegon mocked, and you breathed deeply in through your nose. The table’s energy shifted.

Aemond was quiet, but you were quick to the whip. 

“No, our heir. I’m with child.” You smiled up at your husband fondly, hand coming to sit at your stomach in show. “Early days, but we wished to share the good news with you all.”

“Congratulations, Princess,” Alicent smiled at you softly, a true smile, one that she rarely ever gave, “Joyous news indeed.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Aegon hummed, “I wonder how the child will bare resemblance to its father. Time will tell.”

Your hand clenched against your robes tightly, “I hope that he has his fathers eyes.” You blinked up at Aemond.

“He?” Aegon remarked.

“Of course. A strong Prince. I will have to send word to my mother and father, perhaps the Queen will send an egg from the next clutch to put in his cradle.”

"Strong. Hm." Aegon hummed, smirk on his face.

You fought the urge to sneer at him.

Alicent beamed, “I am sure Queen Rhaenyra will be delighted by such news.”

You had a feeling that she would not. 

You nodded your head at the auburn haired woman, Aemond holding your hand gently. Jason Lannister offered congratulations, yet upon hearing your declaration of a son, his voice rose across the table as the rest of the Lords and King went back to their more relaxed chatter.

“A young Prince?.” He began, “And when should we expect a Princess?”

You gave a small huff of a laugh, still holding Aemond’s hand, “I can assure you that it would be soon after.” You gave a wide smile, and Jason returned it. 

“Excellent news then.” His gaze shifted to the One-Eyed Prince, “Congratulations, My Lord. You are a lucky man. A small piece of advice from a father to one soon to be, do not argue with a wife when pregnant, you will never win.”

Aemond hummed, “I rarely do.”

You smiled snidely at Aemond, “And for good reason. Best to remember that.”

“Hm.”

Aegon continued to stare at you for a time, before a smile wound its way on his face. He lifted his goblet towards you, then drank from it slowly, eyes still watching you over the rim of the cup.

It set you on edge.

The rest of the night, the Lords included you amongst discussion, a rare and almost confusing affair. Though now, you supposed they did not see you as a threat. You were pregnant. A brooding mare, and the breath that had long since been held at the beginning of the treaty had been released. This child would strengthen their position in the eyes of the realm. And most likely weaken yours. 

Good. 

Let them underestimate me. 

When you made your way back to your chambers, Aemond could scarcely keep his hands off of you. Stripping you bare as soon as you entered the chambers, laying you on the chaise as he praised you, kissing his way down your body in front of the fire, lingering hands cradling your stomach as he pressed kisses with care atop it. Your heart was in your throat, fluttering like a butterfly as you watched. 

It was tender. 

It was loving.

It was pure.

He brought you to your peak thrice that evening atop his tongue, whispering words of praise to you. 

“My perfect wife."

“My perfect thing."

“Going to be a perfect mother.”

“Can’t wait to see you swell.”

He even spent much attention to your breasts, lapping at your sensitive peaks, gently suckling them into his mouth as he groaned. It sent sparks shooting up and down your spine, your senses heightened by it all. 

By the time you made your way to bed, Aemond had spilt his seed inside of you, kissing at your neck and cheeks, before placing his lips atop your eyelids with chaste devotion.

The anxiety of the day had slipped away, and a blooming sense of joy had swelled inside your chest.

When you woke the next morning, it was to the unfamiliarity of cold sheets. Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you let your arm slide through the bed in search of your husband, confused as to why you had not woken in his arms as you usually did. When your hands reached nothing, you sat yourself up, head turning to see Aemond watching you, seated atop the chair beside the bed. 

You frowned at him, the chill of the chambers setting goosebumps rippling over your skin.

But something else was wrong.

Something was amiss.

Aemond did not smile at you, nor did he move to come back into bed. He did not even greet you a good morning. Instead, sitting still as he observed you. 

Your heart began to beat a little faster in your chest. You pulled the sheets close to your waist, completely bare in front of him. You let your hand rest against your stomach, hoping that the movement would calm whatever storm was passing through Aemond’s violet eye.

His gaze lowed to your stomach, and a small puff of air moved through his nose. Almost like a sigh.

“Come back to bed,” You pouted, “It’s cold.”

Why was he looking at me like that?

Something was wrong. 

Aemond didn’t move from his seat. Nor did he respond to your request, instead watching you with a hawklike stare. Shifting in the sheets you pulled them up to your shoulders, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

“Aemond, what’s wrong?” Your voice was quiet, and your throat seemed to begin to close in on itself. 

Was he angry?

What had you done?

What was the matter?

Aemond stood from his seat and moved to stand before the edge of the bed, towering over you as he looked down at your form amongst the plush, green sheets. Long fingers came forward to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, tingles running through your scalp at the contact. And yet he still did not answer you. 

“Aem?” You furrowed your brows at him, unsure, your hand reaching out to grasp his wrist. Aemond stilled his movement, eye flicking across your face as he took you in.

From your messed hair that tumbled down your back, to the fatigue that was still pressed into your face, to the small love bite that he had nipped just below your ear.

You watched as Aemond’s chest expanded.

“Aegon is sending me back to Harrenhal.” He spat through his teeth.

It was as though you had been doused in ice, cold water. Your grip tightened around his wrist as he looked at you from above. It wasn’t until that moment did you notice that Aemond wore his riding leathers. 

“What?” It came out as barely a whisper. 

Aemond breathed through his nose heavily as he repeated himself. 

“Aegon has commanded I fly to Harrenhal. With haste.”

You jerked your hand away from him, letting go of the grip you had on his wrist. Disgust and anger winding its way within. And the simmering rage that you had squashed coming alight again.

He was going back to Harrenhal. 

To see his whore, and his bastard.

After everything. 

After everything he still goes back to her. 

His Alys. 

You scoffed, ripping the sheets away from you as you stood from the bed, grabbing the robe beside it as you tugged it onto your body heavily, feeling your face heat with anger.

Aemond was to leave you alone in the Keep with Aegon. 

Alone with Aegon. 

Fear turned in your stomach. 

'Perhaps.'

“Fuck.” You gasped, feeling as though a hand had wrapped itself around your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. 

“Y/n.” Aemond whispered, walking around to your side of the bed.

“Don’t.” You snapped back at him, pulling the tie around your waist tightly as you gripped it for dear life, your knuckles cracking from the force. You could feel your nails digging into your palms. 

And you welcomed it.

Your teeth ground down against each other as you tried to steel yourself from lashing out at him. As you tried to desperately school your temper, but the waves continued to rise inside of you until the water overflowed. 

You spun on your heel, brows drawn, and sneered at the Prince, “You told me you would never leave me alone in this Keep again. You gave me your word.”

Aemond’s hand came to reach out and touch you, his face falling, “If I ha-“

“-Don’t touch me!” You growled, slapping his hand away from you before it could touch your flesh.

Aemond stilled, swallowing thickly as his jaw ticked. 

“You’re going back to your whore.” You scowled, feeling stupid that you could have ever even believed him. 

You had given him a chance, you thought that after Aegon, this could have been different. That he could be different. That he could change, be a good man and keep his word. But you were wrong. 

And you felt more betrayed in that moment than you ever had. More angry than you ever had. You felt like a fool. A pitiful fool.

Hope is a fools ally. 

And you had been just that. 

Aemond’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides as you looked up at him, letting him see your anger, your contempt.

Let him see. 

Let him see that any bridge that had been built was now lost. 

That he had tossed flames atop it. 

He did this.

“Aegon has commanded it.” He grit out, “I have little choice. I need to go as a Prince to attend to my duties.”

You laughed. 

Sincerely laughed.

His duties. 

But as the waves of anger kept coming, a hole opened and sucked the water down into it, and soon you tumbled down after, into fear. 

“You love her, don’t you? Don’t you?” You asked shakily, searching your uncles face for any sign of deception. Any sign or inkling of truth. To see how he would react.

Aemond frowned at you, taking another step forward, “No,” He said in disbelief, “I love you.”

You scoffed as you looked at him, feeling your chest ache, “I don’t believe you.”

The Prince’s face softened as he moved to step forward towards you again, hand coming to graze your shoulder, “Then let me show you.”

You blinked, feeling the weight of his palm on you, the heat of his skin atop the robe, the way his pupil expanded as he looked down at you, how his chest rose and feel sharply.

Disgust sank in your stomach.

“No.” You slapped his hand away from you, storming past him, trying to get space. Trying to collect yourself.

Incensed that you were stupid enough to think that he was capable of change.

“Zaldrītsos.”

You ignored him, flitting about the chambers in anger. Pacing about the length of the room as you felt it begin to shrink, the walls closing in on you. 

He was going back to her. 

And he was leaving you here with him.

“I can’t believe I fell for it.” You breathed, one hand tight against your stomach where the tie of the robe dug harsh into your skin, the other bawled into a tight fist at your side, “I am such a fool.”

Aemond walked towards you, almost stalking you quietly as he watched you continue to pace. 

You laughed humourlessly, “I am a stupid, stupid fool. I knew that hope was a fools ally, and yet I still let myself have hope in you.” You spun to face him, teeth bared as you snapped, whilst Aemond watched you with a cool face, “And here you are, ready to put your cock in the cunt of your whore, whilst your bed has only just been warmed by your wife!”

“Y/n-”

Rage burnt through your veins, and you did not contain it.

"You go to Harrenhal, do you not? You are to go to her and your bastard."

"Aegon is trying to-"

"You go to her," You sucked in a breath, "And I will never forgive you. You go to her, and I will take what is owed, fire and blood, I swear it. I swear to you Aemond, you go to her..." You left the empty threat in the air like smoke.

The Prince's posture stiffened, "You think to threaten me?"

"It is not a threat, it is a promise. I do not break my word as often as you. Unlike you, I stay true to it."

"The King commands me and I must go, you know this. He has mentioned treason in passing if I do not."

"Then perhaps I shall go to him when you leave."

Aemond's eye twitched, and his voice lowered, "Y/n-"

“No, Fuck you! Go to your whore and bastard.”

Aemond’s eye twitched as he watched your chest heave with angry breaths, “You question my honour?”

You laughed loudly, bringing a hand to your mouth before you dropped it back to your side as you looked up at him. His hair was pulled back away from his face, and the light of the early sun cast shadows across his cheeks and eyes.

He looked dangerous.

But you didn’t care.

“Honour? You’ve already fucked her. You fucked a child inside of her.” You jeered, “Do you deny it?”

He does not deny it. 

He does not deny anything.

Aemond took a steadying breath, battling his own anger poorly as he grit out a quiet ‘no’.

You laughed again, shaking your head to turn away from him, walking towards the chamber doors angrily, “No, I don’t question your honour.” You finally turned back towards him, watching as he stayed rooted to the spot, his chest suddenly still.

You were seething.

“I deny its mere existence.” You watched as Aemond’s gaze darkened, and it served to spur you further. 

Taking another step back towards him your snarled, “You and your brother are cut from the same cloth.”

You turned on your heel and ripped the door open, storming out the chambers in only a robe, not caring for who sees you. 

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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Bold is who I cannot tag!

[dailyadventureprompts]

So for a while I've had this problem where a lot of low level enemies are just regular ol animals, which hosts a number of problems for encounter building:

Most animals would not attack a group of adventurers unless pushed to extremes. Animals are shy about attacking people at the best of times, but anything big enough to be a threat to the party would be smart enough to back the fuck off as soon as their prey started to fight back.

Large packs of low level animals tend to lead to very same-y encounters. Unless I inject some anime unrelism into the scenario a pack of wolves is going to ignore all my clever terrain features and make the same general bite attack every time, and it can get a bit boring.

Players don't like hurting animals. Most are okay squashing some giant bugs but draw the line somewhere short of using acid to dissolve a mama bear while her cubs watch. We just can't rely on the party's willingness to commit sudden animal cruelty like designers could in the 80s

The answer to all three was to pair the animals with some kind of malign magical influence, a fey or fiend that's driven them to violence against the party. In this instance, the encounter isn't just about fighting a bunch of random enemies till their HP runs out, it's a RESCUE MISSION, painting the animals as unwitting pawns that we need to free of its sinister control. Better yet, make the controller a ranged fighter or caster and suddenly the battle is more tactically interesting.

[chaifootsteps]

is it weird I think Raph's Red Smoke comic works way better than the parts the show cannibalized as far as a depiction of Val goes?

like from what I remember it starts with Val beating up Angel over some minor mistake he made, shows how Val just cares about the money when he says Angel can wear a mask to hide the bruises and keep performing

then when Angel understandably loses his temper and hits back, it's framed like a 'uh oh, now Val's going to really lose it' moment and not a 'how dare Angel strike back against his abuser' *coughStol1tzcough*

plus the idea of his 'red smoke' being a tangible restraint so the power difference between them is really obvious was outright chilling, plus the comic favors Angel's perspective by having it end right when Vox is going to (it's implied) use his TV powers to brainwash him somehow

it got the point across without needing to show anything super graphic, but I think the biggest difference is that Val isn't a total idiot here - he's sinister without being Stella levels of cartoonish - and it feels like a snapshot of a pattern of abuse. when Val gives his 'I say X you say yes Val' speech in the comic it's in the context of an argument where he's trying to reassert control and is beating Angel up behind closed doors. when it happens in the show he's doing it in a scenario where the Princess of Hell could figure out what's going on in 5 seconds and squash him flat if the show would let her

You're not wrong! Also in Red Smoke, even though it's a fetish comic, there's absolutely no question that it's meant to be horrifying. It ends with Angel pleading for mercy and Vox coldly brainwashing him, hard cut to black.

The scene in episode four? It turns into a sexy dance number, and then later on Husk calls Angel a whiny bitch loser whose problems are petty and small.

[10thmusemoon]

Okay what if idol Ning Yingying and her two insufferable online stans, Liu Mingyan and Sha Hualing.

She was the finalist of a reality show competition where, despite being inexperienced, she excelled under Shen Jiu’s strict mentorship. Other contestants burst into tears at his harsh criticisms but NYY would just clenched her fist and assured him that she wouldn’t let him down.

Binghe, the winner of the boys version of this program, is a guest judge for one of the rounds and has amazing chemistry with Ning Yingying, only adding to her appeal. Her number one competitor is Little Palace Mistress, who hates NYY for her closeness to LBH and thus their rivalry becomes one of the main storylines of the show!

While the show aired, Liu Mingyan was an avid BingYing shipper, churning out RPF and edits that garnered favor for the public vote. Sha Hualing initially hated LPM more than she liked NYY so she would buy mass bots and coordinate voting drives to move thr public vote in her favor. By the end of the show, the two are working together to push NYY to victory while simultaneously sniping at each other online. There is a lot of debate about whether it was a legitimate win when rumors about SJ’s favor start to take a more sinister turn, they are brutally and efficiently squashed when photos of SJ caught making out with a mysterious tall man are released followed by a public statement about having been happily married for years.

(The happy and married part are questionable, YQY and SJ divorce and get back together as foreplay. Insiders also think the win was questionable as YQY was the executive producer for the show. 👀)

Sha Hualing and Liu Mingyan would attend NYY’s first performance after winning the show and miraculously get tickets for the high touch event. It marks the end of LMY’s bingying fics and the start of SHL’s stalker tendencies. The amount of NYY/Your Name fics skyrockets with in the week. As a result the two keep bumping into each other and form a rivalry of their own which they only double down on after SHL reveals she’s the one that’s been commissioning all the explicit NYY/LPM fics.

“They hated each other!”

“That’s what makes it hot!”

[her-satanic-wiles]

Soul Stalker

Dewdrop/Sodo x Transmasc!Reader

In the eerie moonlit forest, you are ensnared in a nightmarish game of hide and seek with the malevolent entity Dewdrop, whose demonic force has targeted you. The chilling objective is to survive until sunrise, seeking refuge in the Ministry’s cabin deep within the sinister woods. With the dawn as your only salvation, you must navigate the haunted forest, outwit the relentless demon, and reach safety before Dewdrop claims you as his prize. The race against time intensifies, making the night unforgiving as you strive to survive until sunrise in this twisted pursuit.

Masterlist ⛧ Realm of Souls Masterlist

Commissioned by @dantesunbreaker

Words: 10.9k.

Reading Time: 40 min.

Warnings: biting, choking, comparing loss of breath to drowning, degradation, dubcon elements, face slapping, fear kink, fellatio, fingering, “forced” cum drinking, “forced” fellatio, fucked dumb, hide and seek, horror, knotting, masturbation, mean dom!Dew, mild praise, mind break, monster fucking, I’m in my element, objectification, pain kink, physical violence/fighting, PIV sex, predator/prey, rough fellatio, self choking, skull-fucking, transmasc!Reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), vaginal sex, violence

This is low key giving Shia LeBeouf Live by Rob Cantor and I’m not mad about it. Also, kind of exaggerated like hentai, sorry not sorry.

Taglist: @dantesunbreaker @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @namelesshumanperson @gorie-talks-a-lot

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

You wanted to see. You’d asked him to show you because you didn’t think it would be this bad. As literal demons walking around the Ministry, the Ghouls were tame. Good. Calm. You’d never feel afraid of one, especially Dewdrop. But there you were, squashed into a narrow broom cupboard - more akin to a coffin than a cupboard - with your hand over your mouth and trying desperately to calm your breathing. As you’d asked, Dew had let the full demon out - and this twisted game of hide and seek became more high-stakes than you’d anticipated. At any point you could stop, just by screaming one word Dew would resume control again and return to his human-adjacent personality. But there was something about the fear, the predator hunting you down with eyes darker than night, sharp claws and teeth that could rip you to shreds if Dew didn’t have the control he promised you, that kept you from tapping out too soon. The game was on, the stakes were high, and your heart rate was out of control.

Your mind raced with thoughts - Dew was right behind you a moment ago: your screams echoing as you ran through the Ministry like your life depended on it, because it quite possibly did. Where was he now? Why did he let you escape? He should have been there, chasing you to the dead end and claiming his prize… so why was it quiet? Was he waiting you out? Was he outside? You pressed your ear to the thin door and listened for something, anything, to tell you that he was waiting. His breathing, his chuckling, something.

Nothing.

You rested your hand on the door handle and pushed it down gently… slowly… silently. You opened it briefly, your body tense and prepared to run if you needed to. The door cracked open a small bit and you expected to see Dew’s unmasked face in the slither.

Nothing.

You got braver, opening the door just enough to stick your head out. You peeked left. Right.

Nothing.

Dread pooled in your stomach. You looked up.

Nothing.

“___.” He called, your name ringing on his lips like a twisted song. It was quiet. Distant. But too close for your liking. Quickly and quietly, you retreated back into the cupboard, closing the door with a hushed click. You held your breath. Listening. Waiting. “Where is he?” He asked, his voice more sinister than the tune he sang your name in. But still, it was soft, as though he were trying to draw you out in comfort. Lull you into his stomach. “Where’s my lovely… little… boy?”

You could hear his heavy boots clunk against the carpeted floors. Slow, deliberate steps amplified by the late time and all the Siblings tucked away in their beds, warm and safe from Dew’s wrath.

“I can smell you.” He told you. “I can smell your fear, ___.” You heard his claws scrape along the walls. “It smells divine.” He began trying each door along the corridor, tugging at the handles and swinging open the unlocked ones, grunting in frustration when you didn’t appear. That was when you realised, you didn’t lock the door. You put your hand on the lock and turned it, grateful that this room had the ability to lock it from the inside and you waited - listening to Dew getting closer and closer.

As Dew’s claws scraped against the walls, the scent of terror became an irresistible aroma for him, bringing him ever closer. The sound of the door handle being tried made you freeze in fear, the lock your only pitiful defence against the impending nightmare that awaited you in the Ministry’s shadowed halls.

With a gut-wrenching creak, the cupboard door shifted slightly as Dew applied force from the outside. Panic surged within you, and you held your breath, praying that the lock would hold. The eerie silence outside shattered as Dew’s low growl permeated the air. You gasped, but kept your hand over your mouth, praying that he didn’t hear you.

“I know you’re in there, my pet,” he hissed, the sinister undertone of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “There’s no hiding from me.”

The tension in the narrow space escalated as the door handle continued to rattle, Dew’s frustration evident in every metallic clang. Your mind raced, searching for an escape route or a hiding place within the cupboard that might shield you from his malevolent gaze.

Just as you felt the lock strain under the relentless assault, a sudden diversion disrupted Dew’s pursuit. A distant sound, a creak or a moan, drew his attention away momentarily. The cupboard’s door ceased its ominous rattling, and you could almost sense Dew’s predatory focus shifting elsewhere. You willed him away, silently praying and pleading for him to disappear.

In the stifling darkness, you hesitated, caught between the desperate urge to escape and the paralyzing fear of making a noise. Dew’s voice echoed in the corridor, distant but filled with malicious intent.

“I’ll find you, ___,” he murmured, his words sending a shiver down your spine. “No corner in this Ministry can keep you from me.”

Taking advantage of the momentary respite, you carefully cracked the cupboard door open, your eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor. Dew’s footsteps echoed in the distance, drawing him away for now. With cautious steps, you emerged from the confinement of the cupboard, acutely aware of every creaking floorboard beneath your feet.

The ominous atmosphere enveloped you as you navigated the dimly lit corridor, each step a gamble between the safety of the shadows and the exposure to Dew’s relentless pursuit. The scent of fear lingered, a haunting reminder of the stakes in this demonic game of hide and seek.

You had to navigate the Ministry quickly but silently, keeping your toes light and your eyes and ears peeled for movement or sounds. You’d chosen midnight to play the game, knowing that the corridors would be quiet and you’d be able to avoid the traffic of the rest of the Ministry. And as Dew was only focussed on your scent, he’d gun for only you - hunt only you.

Turning a corner, your eyes flared as you caught a glimpse of activity in the distance. A fleeting shadow flickered along the edge of your vision, making your heart skip a beat. Fear rushed through your veins as you pressed against the cold stone wall, disappearing into the darkness like a spectre. The footsteps, rhythmic and deliberate, approached from around the corner. The shape of Dew’s thin figure appeared, his demonic aura producing an unsettling glow that twisted the air around him. His eyes, dark as the abyss, swept the passageway for any sign of your presence.

In the oppressive silence, you held your breath, praying that the darkness concealed you effectively. Every muscle tensed as Dew’s gaze lingered, seemingly aware of your proximity. The fear that had gripped you in the broom cupboard returned with a vengeance, clawing at your insides. Dew approached, mixed with the aroma of malevolence. The corridor seemed to narrow as his predatory senses zeroed in on the location where you had hidden yourself. Panic threatened to overtake you, compelling you to run, but deciding whether to reveal yourself became a tactical decision, a high-risk bet in the fatal pursuit. Despite your brain screaming at you, you held your ground, disappearing into an alcove without a door and remained still.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Suddenly, his form was right in front of you, illuminated by the glow of the candles. His long, silky blonde hair fell around his horns, and you couldn’t help but notice his otherworldly beauty despite the dire situation you were in. He could smell you - you know he could, any moment now he’d turn and he’d look at you.

He stepped closer towards the alcove, his nose sniffing like a dog as it searched, picking up your fear. You’d rested your hand on the stone, leaving your scent there, giving him a place to anchor onto. He sniffed, his nose getting closer and closer to your scentprint, and, with a growl, his long, demonic tongue emerged and licked the stone, tasting the sweat that had contaminated the brick. It was unsettling to watch, the way he allowed his tongue to feel over every nook and cranny, every bump of the brick. But he’d got a taste for you now.

Suddenly, his eyes flicked towards you, scanning the darkness before a smile appeared on his lips. “Hello, Brother.” He said, ominously, his mouth curving up into a wicked smile. He hovered over you, pinning you into the corner. Despite the petiteness of his stature, in that moment he was very oppressive, seeming to tower over you as you shrank back in fear. His sharp claws gripped at your body, and began to gather your black, monastic habit up at your hip, slowly exposing your body to the elements. He delighted in your fear - almost fed off of it. Enjoying every second you gave yourself to him, willingly or fearfully. It didn’t matter. He’d won. “I’ll claim my prize now.” He told you, those same claws running alongside the seam of your underwear and ripping them in half, allowing them to fall on the floor.

You could feel yourself growing wet at being caught by him, the pools of blackness where his eyes should have been mesmerising you into submission. Hypnotising you into letting him do what he wanted now that he had you. Your knees buckled as you felt him swipe over your bundle of nerves, uncaring where his claws landed. He chuckled when he felt your slick, using his other hand to hold up your robes while he sucked your essence off his hand. “Aren’t you a filthy little boy, hm?” He taunted, relishing the taste of you on his demonic tongue. “Getting wet from being caught. Just give yourself to me,” he moved back to your slit and began stroking, this time adding pressure and making you cry out, “lose the game, little one. I can show you pleasures my human form couldn’t possibly.”

“I w-won’t lose.” You stuttered, your hips moving of their own free will. Your mind didn’t want to lose, but now that Dew had you in his grasp, you couldn’t bring body to tear itself away from him. Giving in would mean he won. Cumming on his fingers like you so, desperately wanted to do would mean he won. But the mewls and whimpers that were escaping your lips were telling the truth, and Dew knew it. He had you, and there was nothing for it.

“Maybe, I’ll stick my cock into this tight, wet, heat, hm? Have you begging for it like the whore I know you are.”

The way his finger ran over your folds was enough to drive you crazy. Your hands gripped onto his skin as your eyes shut tight, hips bucking wildly against his hand and moans tumbling from your lips. You wanted to cum so badly, he’d got you so close already because of the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You wanted his fingers to dip inside you and fuck you, tapping against that spot only he had been able to reach.

Dew in demonic form was much scarier up close; obsidian eyes from corner to corner, pointed ears and long, goat-like horns that helped his face look like an inverted pentagram. His teeth were sharp, all of them jagged at the end as though he were some kind of shark. He smelled entirely of sulfur, of the Hells themselves, and such a smell shouldn’t be appealing, and yet, on him, it was glorious.

“Dew!” You whimpered, your voice growing louder with each passing second. You didn’t care if anyone heard anymore, at this point you were too far gone.

“That’s it, my precious boy. Give yourself to me. Give everything you have to me.”

No, you couldn’t let him win. In a moment of bravery (or stupidity), your knee collided with his balls and in his distraction, you pushed him aside and ran for it, your habit falling as you escaped him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you darted away from the alcove, propelled by a surge of adrenaline. The echo of Dew’s pained groan mixed with the sinister laughter that followed you, echoing through the dim corridors of the Ministry. Panic gripped you, urging you to push through the terror and escape the clutches of the demonic entity. As you sprinted through the labyrinthine halls, you could hear Dew’s enraged footsteps behind you. His voice, now a guttural growl, reverberated through the air. “You can’t escape, Brother. I always get what I want.” His words were laced with a perverse satisfaction, and the threat hung heavy in the air.

The staircase loomed before you, a darkly illuminated plummet into the depths of the Ministry. Each stride you took carried the echo of your racing heart. The flickering lighting produced strange shadows on the walls, producing a bewildering dance of light and darkness that reflected the insanity in your head. As you descended, the air became colder, and the harsh atmosphere of the demonic hunt persisted around every turn. The walls appeared to close in, and the darkness got more ominous. Dew’s haunting, predatory laughter rang from above, tempting you to walk faster.

When you reached the lowest level, you found yourself in a dim corridor leading to the kitchen. The scent of stone walls combined with the distant aroma of past dinners, creating a bizarre sensory overload that only added to your worry. The corridor seemed to continue indefinitely, a terrifying road pushing you deeper into the unknown. Your footsteps resonated like sinister drumbeats, echoing along the stone corridors. The flickering candles created uneven shadows on the symbols, making them appear to dance illicitly.

As you approached the kitchen, the dark atmosphere intensified. The massive door stood before you, a portal to potential safety, and you pushed it open with frantic might. The kitchen, which was normally a source of warmth and sustenance, suddenly felt like a haven from the demonic creature that chased you, despite the cold and lifeless energy that exuded from it.

The room was dimly lit, with old wooden tables and abandoned cooking utensils casting eerie silhouettes. The scent of stale air mixed with the remnants of forgotten meals hung in the stillness. You ran towards the door, hoping you could escape through the back. But your stomach dropped at the realisation that the door had been locked, and this time there was no key to use to escape. You scanned the room for a hiding spot, your eyes darting between the dark corners and the silent gloom that clung to the walls.

Dew’s growls resounded along the hallway, as his footsteps became harder to ignore. Your movements were driven by panic as you looked for cover, eventually taking shelter behind a huge table that was flipped over. Your terror was suppressed by the adrenaline pumping through your system, but even still, it lay wide awake as Dew swung the doors open. Breathing heavily, you crouched behind the table, desperately trying to control the erratic rhythm of your heartbeat. The flickering candlelight cast elongated shadows, playing tricks on your eyes and heightening the sense of imminent danger. The kitchen held an oppressive stillness, broken only by the distant echoes of Dew’s footsteps drawing nearer.

As you hid, you noticed a partially opened door leading to a pantry. The darkness within seemed like a tempting refuge, and you made a split-second decision to abandon your current position. Darting across the room, you slipped into the pantry and closed the door silently, enveloping yourself in pitch-black darkness. And this time, you made sure not to touch anything, and crouched behind multiple sacks of potatoes.

The air inside was thick with the musty scent of preserved goods. Boxes and cans lined the shelves, and your fingers fumbled in the dark as you sought a place to hide. Huddled among the supplies, you strained to listen for any signs of Dew’s approach. Time seemed to stretch agonizingly as you waited, the oppressive silence broken only by the faint sounds of Dew searching the kitchen. The demon’s guttural growls and muttered curses added to the suspense, amplifying the horror of the situation.

Suddenly, the pantry door creaked open, and you held your breath. Dew’s silhouette loomed in the doorway, his demonic presence sending shivers down your spine. His predatory gaze scanned the darkness, and you dared not move, praying that the pitch-blackness would conceal your presence. For a moment, it felt as if time had frozen. Dew’s eyes flickered over the pantry, his sharp senses on high alert. The air in the confined space became heavy with tension, and you could almost feel his gaze piercing through the darkness.

Then, with an unsettling chuckle, Dew withdrew, leaving the pantry door ajar. The relief was palpable, but you knew the respite would be short-lived. The demon was relentless in his pursuit, and the game of hide and seek persisted with an intensity that surpassed any nightmare.

You carefully pushed open the pantry door and glanced into the kitchen as Dew’s footsteps receded into the distance. For a while, it looked like the coast was clear, so you took advantage of the chance to continue your escape, making your way through the maze-like passageways of the Ministry while the sound of Dew’s chuckle lingered in your ears. The night was filled with more horrors than you could have ever imagined, and the demonic being was far from defeated. As you left, you picked up some napkins from the open bag and stuffed them in your pocket. If your transferred scent could make it easier for him to find you, then you’d just have to deal with using tools to help.

The journey to the Ministry’s main entrance felt like a descent into lunacy. The dimly lit corridors twisted and swirled, each step evoking the frightening recollection of Dew’s chase. The air was overly silent, punctuated only by the groaning of ancient floors beneath your weight. The flickering candlelight created bizarre eerie shapes on the walls, twisting the familiar surroundings into hideous shapes that appeared to mock your desperate escape. The diabolical patterns engraved into the stone walls seemed to writhe with terrible energy, and their unnerving glow added to the eerie atmosphere. This was the first time you’d ever felt unsafe here, and you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to feel it again.

The path to the front entrance took you through spooky passageways hung with images of long-forgotten characters, their gaze seemingly tracking your every step. The silence was hostile, interrupted only by the distant echoes of Dew’s walking as he continued his unrelenting pursuit somewhere off into the distance, but far too close for comfort. The foreboding atmosphere added to the sense of impending doom, and your breath stuck in your throat with each step.

As you approached the entryway, the blackness appeared to deepen, engulfing the flickering flame and throwing the passage into near darkness. The suffocating air clung to your skin, and a chilly perspiration covered your palms as you grappled for the front door handle. To your disappointment, the door resisted your attempts. It was locked, a barrier between you and the potentially safe outside world. Panic poured through you, and the realisation that you might not be able to escape from this wicked game settled like an anchor in your chest.

A horrible sound echoed across the hallway, a strange combination of Dew’s low growls and the frightening laughter that had grown synonymous with your tormentor. The demon was closing in, and the front entry, which had once been a source of hope, now appeared to be the portal to a hellish doom. Desperation drove your actions as you searched for a key, a method to unlock the door and escape the Ministry’s evil grip. The distant echoes of Dew’s approach became louder, his ravenous presence drawing ever closer. Dark figures appeared to creep over the floor, reaching for you like the tendrils of an unknown nightmare.

With shaky hands, you continued your desperate hunt for an escape route, the darkness of the corridor pushing in on you like a creature unto itself. As no key was available, you took a leaf out of Dew’s book and began trying doors, using the napkin you’d picked up from the kitchen earlier. This lead you farther and farther from the front entrance, but even so, there had to be some way out.

Finally, a door opened and you found your way inside, celebrating silently and shutting the door behind you. It wasn’t until you’d turned to lock it, you’d realised where you were. “Papa.” You said, looking at the photos of the late Papa Emeritus III’s past that sat framed on the drawers and shelves. Layers of dust hung in the air like ethereal strands, catching the meager light that filtered through the closed curtains. The atmosphere in the office was stifling, as if the very walls revealed the Ministry’s secrets. The air was dense with strange silence, interrupted only by the slight creaking of the floorboards beneath your cautious steps. A sense of intrusion washed over you, as if the room contained a memory that should be kept private. The place appeared stuck in time, unaffected by the passage of days or years. Forgotten papers were thrown around the desk, their contents concealed by collecting dust. An exquisite chair stood behind the desk, covered in a faded velvet covering reminiscent of a former period.

Your eyes were drawn to the window, a feeble source of outside illumination in the darkness of the room. The curtains, heavy with neglect, clung to the window frame like cobwebs. As you approached, the outside world came into focus, revealing a distorted view of the moonlit landscape beyond. And, much to your relief, the window was unlocked.

You lifted the sash, and climbed out, body shivering in the cold night and the snow that was falling onto your body. As you turned to close the window, you heard Papa Terzo’s clock strike the hour. You were only two hours into the onslaught, but you were outside, now fearing the horrors that awaited you between the trees.

The landscape beyond the Ministry grounds was eerily still. The moon threw an ethereal tint on the freshly fallen snow, transforming the environment into a strange dreamscape. The trees, their branches heavy with winter frost, stood like quiet guardians in the moonlight. You felt fear as you took your first steps into the unknown. The crunch of snow beneath your boots reverberated through the silence, each step a reminder of the desolation that surrounded you. The woods, once a haven of peace, now harboured the threat of unseen horrors.

Two hours into the night, and the ordeal had only just begun. The moon hung like a spectral lantern in the sky, casting long shadows that played tricks on your senses. The snowfall intensified, creating a hushed symphony that accompanied your every step.

Fear gnawed at the edges of your consciousness as you ventured deeper into the forest, the path ahead obscured by the interplay of moonlight and shadow. Every rustle of the leaves, every distant howl of the wind, sent shivers down your spine. The horrors that awaited between the trees became an unknown; a nightmare that unfolded with each passing moment.

With the Ministry now a distant silhouette against the night sky, you pressed on, driven by the urgency of survival and the haunting awareness that Dew was still looking for you within the walls of the Ministry, and he hadn’t realised you’d escaped.

As you descended deeper into the haunted woods, the covering of snow beneath your boots muffled your footsteps, producing an eerie silence that heightened your sensation of loneliness. The starry path ahead twisted and curved, and the skeletal limbs of the trees appeared to stretch out like spectral fingers, throwing lengthy reflections on the snow-covered ground. The chilly air bit at your skin, and your breath created crystalline clouds in the icy night. The haunting beauty of the surroundings contrasted dramatically with the dread that clung to your every move. You couldn’t shake the impression that unseen eyes were watching, and the forest’s silence served as a canvas for the echoes of your pounding heartbeat.

You trekked through the snow, the smothering stillness broken by the distant howl of the wind, which carried an unsettling melody that appeared to mirror the malevolence hiding in the night. Every crunch of snow beneath your boots felt like a drumbeat, a reminder that you were an invader in a land where invisible evils thrived. The moon, now your only source of light in the ink-black sky, projected a pale glow on the snowflakes, resulting in a bizarre landscape that blurred the line between reality and horror. The woods seemed to shut in on you, their twisted shapes taking on a bizarre look that stoked your growing unease. However, with each step, a weird determination replaced the fear. The fact that Dew was still unaware of your escape provided a ray of optimism. The dense forest, however menacing, provided an opportunity for evasion; a brief respite from the evil entity’s persistent pursuit.

You paused, uncertain which way to go when the route ahead split into two. You felt as though the starry branches above were whispering secrets, telling you to make your decision wisely. You were surrounded by silence, only broken by the gentle patter of falling snow and the distant rustle of unseen creatures. Your desire for survival drove you to make a choice despite the uncertainty surrounding it. However, in the unlikely event that this went wrong, all you knew was that Dew would most likely track you down. The trek continued under the moonlight, each step filled with suspense as the mysteries of the winter night’s embrace revealed the horrors that lay beyond the trees.

You were heading to the cabin on the grounds of the Ministry - a much smaller place where you felt like you could defend yourself easier, despite it being so far out. It didn’t matter, really - you were a human going up against a demon. There wasn’t much you could do until the sunlight when the game had finished.

Suddenly, the crack of a tree branch sent shivers down your spine - this crack was closer than the others, much closer and it came from behind you. You fought the instinctive urge to look round, the need to know for sure what that was becoming almost too great to handle. But you also couldn’t bear the idea that Dew had found you so soon. You froze in your tracks, keeping as still as possible despite the fact that you were so, clearly visible at that moment.

The snow crunched behind you, as if a foot had stepped on it. A solitary step in the quiet of the forest. You held your ground and fought against any movement that would reveal where you were, the frigid air seeping into your lungs. The snow around you appeared to sparkle with a sinister radiance under the moon, creating long shadows that deceived your senses.

Another step, and the tension in the air became palpable.

You could now hear the sound of breathing as the crunches got louder and louder, until, eventually, the breaths began to fall on the back of your neck. In your blind panic, you covered your neck with your hand and spun around, eyes frantically searching the treeline for anything that might have made that noise.

Nothing.

Look up, something told you from inside.

The shadow was of a man crouching on one of the branches, impossibly balanced on such a thin branch. You could see his silhouette perfectly as he maniacally gazed down at you. You couldn’t see his eyes, given that they, too, were black. But you could feel them on you. The realisation only lasted a moment before he jumped down at you from his high branch. You barely had the time to turn before he had you buried in the snow, face down into the cold and his body pinning you down. You were writhing beneath him, your nose barely above the snow and your face damn near frozen solid. You did everything you could to fight against him, but he was too strong - mostly because he was in his demonic form. But, from above you, all you could hear was his cackling and chuckling at your struggling.

“Keep fighting me,” he told you, his voice deeper than usual and darker; much, much darker, “I like it when you fight me.”

“L-let go of me!” You shouted, your teeth chattering from the cold.

“And lose my prey? Where would the fun be in that?”

He got off you momentarily so he could flip your body onto your back. Even if you could breathe now, the shock of the cold made you weaker. Weaker, but not unable to fight back. In that moment, you took the opportunity to kick him again, this time your foot collided with his face hard enough to shock him, but not hard enough to do some damage. You flipped, and tried to stand up, even giving yourself enough lower body strength to run a little. But, you felt Dew’s sharp claws dig into your leg and pull you back across the snow.

“You know, you make me so much harder when you’re scared.”

“‘m not scared!” You lied.

He leaned down on top of you, pinning you into the snow. His long tongue came out and licked your cheek all the way to your ear. In a low voice, he told you, “I can taste it on your skin. The smell of your fear helped me find you.” He moved one of his hands down to your core and squeezed. “You wanted me to find you, didn’t you?”

You did. Fuck, you did. As scared as this whole chase made you, it didn’t matter. Even with fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins you wanted him completely. You wanted to spread your legs for him right there in the snow and let him have his way with you - let him win the game, if only to feel him balls deep inside you, rearranging your guts in a way his human form always held back.

Dew always let the darkness take over when he was in his demonic form, always suppressed any of that stereotypical humanity that made him so sweet and lovable - the reason you fell for him. Unlike the other Ghouls, he rarely shifted, which would hurt his mental state in the long run. For the other Ghouls, regularly shifting allowed them to retain their “humanity” in demonic form - in essence, they could control themselves and wouldn’t become bloodthirsty beasts, sacrificing others for Satan’s pleasure. But Dew was different. He could never control himself in the same way the others could, and the longer he stayed out of his demonic form, the worse it got.

You’d told him that you could handle it, that it was important for him to shift and learn to control himself. You’d told him you could trust him. Was a lot of this spurred on by the fact that you wanted him to fuck you in his demonic form? Absolutely. But once you learned how important it was, you began to worry that you were holding him back, and damaging him in the process. This whole conversation sparked an argument, that was only settled when the game was suggested… by you. And he’d agreed.

And now, here you were, pinned beneath him with his fingers stroking over your soaked core, feeling your own sanity slipping away at the callouses that rubbed you so deliciously.

Do whatever it took to get away from him.

You fought him some more when you’d come to your senses, pulling his arm and removing his hand from you. Another slap, another kick, and you’d gone before he had the chance to recover, running through the snow to get to that cabin.

Your breath came in sharp gasps, the cold air making your terror obvious. The thicket seemed to be attempting to entangle you in its nightmare as you pushed through, its branches seemingly reaching out to grab hold of your habit and snaking around you. The landscape was warped into a confusing maze as the shadows moved in frightening patterns. A chilly wind blew across the woods, bringing the eerie sounds of Dew laughing with it. His presence appeared to warp the entire fabric of reality, like an ominous shadow that was always there. Panic gripped you, urging you to run faster, to escape the clutches of the demonic entity that hungered for you.

You felt as though the forest was closing in on you, the trees acting like dead spectators to your desperate escape. The horrors that hid within were hidden by the abyss-like darkness that spread between the trunks. The fear that pursued you was heightened by each snap of a twig and each rustle of leaves, intensifying the adrenaline-driven pulse in your chest. You cast a quick glance over your shoulder and saw Dew’s shape in the moonlight, his eyes shining with an otherworldly evil. With an uncanny speed, the monster closed the distance, unaffected by the barriers that stood in your way.

A scream, half-strangled by fear, clawed at the back of your throat. The thought that there might not be a way out of Dew’s unrelenting pursuit was like a crushing weight on your chest. With every step you made, the forest felt more like a trap closing in on you, drawing you more into the diabolical nightmare.

Through the dense foliage, the dim glimmer from the cabin’s windows flickered like a far-off light of hope. Your legs began to pump more forcefully as a result of the sight, propelling you through the snow-covered forest and towards the prospect of a makeshift haven. The cold air burned in your lungs, but you were driven forward by terror of Dew’s unrelenting pursuit. The cabin appeared to emerge gradually from the darkness, with each stride defining its outline more clearly. The snow-covered walkway leading to its entrance had a ghostly glimmer from the moon. The unsteady ground could have easily caused you to stumble, but the need to get away drove you along, breathing heavily and irregularly now.

The haunting echoes of Dew’s pursuit grew louder behind you. His evil laughter cut through the chilly night, resonating between the trees in a chorus of evil. The fear that seized every step was heightened by the feeling that you were being chased by a demon who’d been summoned from the pits of Hell - to play guitar of all things. The snow seemed to be working against you as you got closer to the cottage. Through the thick forest came the distant thud of Dew’s footfall, getting closer and closer. Severe panic struck, and you threw a quick check over your shoulder, only to see his shadow moving closer.

The cabin’s door stood before you, a portal to potential safety. You sprinted towards the entry, your power amplified by adrenaline, and fumbled with the lock, flinging the door open. The inside warmth provided a momentary relief from the stinging cold, but the anxiety persisted because Dew was quite literally a few feet away.

You heard him thud against the door as you stumbled inside and slammed it shut behind you, locking it just in time. The wooden wall seemed weak in the face of the otherworldly energy chasing you. The cabin seemed to be a flimsy fortification, protecting you from the dangers that waited in the wintry darkness. A strange wind shook the windows, and the air within seemed to move in time with Dew’s evil chuckles, making the place feel stifling and heavy on your breath.

It dawned on you, as you gasped for air in the dark inside, that you were not alone. With his laughter a terrifying preface to the unrelenting pursuit that had turned into an unavoidable nightmare deep within the snow-covered woodland, Dew’s presence loomed just outside.

From the other side of the cabin door, Dew’s voice slithered through the wood like a serpent, a sinister melody that sent shivers down your spine. “Come out, little one,” he hissed, the words dripping with a malevolent blend of amusement and hunger. “So, you thought this feeble cabin could save you from me?” Dew’s voice dripped with amusement, the words weaving through the air like a dark incantation. “Did you really believe you could outsmart me, little one?”

The mocking tone cut through the silence within the cabin, reminding you that this all seemed useless. The demonic entity reveled in the revelation that you had unwittingly confined yourself within the very trap you thought would offer protection. “You’ve locked yourself in, and now there’s nowhere left to run,” he continued, the malevolence in his voice intensifying. “Just wait until I get my hands on you.

“Do you want me to tell you what I’m going to do to you?” You heard a slam on the roof, and jumped at the noise. “Do you know all the ways I’m going to make you scream?”

You glanced at the clock, its hands ticking away the agonizing moments. Dawn was fast approaching and the realization hit you—three more hours of enduring the demonic onslaught. The cabin, once a potential sanctuary, now felt like a prison where time stretched into an eternity, each passing second carrying the weight of impending horror.

Dew’s voice, laced with a perverse excitement, slithered through the confined space of the cabin, each word a grotesque brushstroke painting a vivid picture of the torment he envisioned.

“I want to hear you scream,” he rasped, the words carrying a disturbing hunger. You saw him run past one of the windows from the corner of your eye. “To feel your fear, your desperation. I want to revel in the music of your screaming.”

A sinister chuckle punctuated his words, echoing the sadistic pleasure he derived from the impending cruelty. “Do you know the exquisite pain of anticipation? The way your heart pounds, the cold sweat that coats your skin? I relish every moment leading up to the finale of your suffering.”

Dew hovered outside the cabin like an evil spirit from hell, his raptor’s eye fixed on the building that was now both your haven and your prison. The demonic figure turned around the cottage, a silent hunter enjoying the macabre game, and the snow-covered landscape witnessed his threatening silhouette.

With his claws, he scraped the walls of the cabin, creating a frightening rhythm that echoed through the silent night. Through the darkness, you could see the predatory delight in his eyes, which told volumes about the sadistic pleasure he took in torturing you. And you realised under that gaze, that your thighs were clenching together so tightly, they were beginning to ache.

“I can almost taste your fear,” he hissed, the words carrying on the frigid breeze. “Do you feel the inevitability of your demise, little one? There’s no escape. Nowhere to hide from the darkness that I bring.”

Dew kept stalking around the cabin, frightening and teasing. With an inhuman power, he pounded on the glass, the reverberation echoing through the wood like a sinister drumming. His ominous laughter seemed to be carried by the howling wind, adding a haunting element to the terrifying scene.

A deep silence fell, in stark contrast to the prior chorus of torment. The eerie quiet seemed to last indefinitely, producing an unpleasant tension that lingered in the air like a physical weight. Dew’s predatory dance around the cabin came to an abrupt end. The night held its breath, as if even the elements were hesitant to disturb the strange silence that had descended upon the snow-covered landscape.

The absence of his taunting and the eerie echoes of his presence created an unsettling stillness. It seemed as if the night’s spirit had been suppressed, replaced with an apprehensive stillness.

The sudden end of Dew’s movements left you in suspense, wondering why he’d stopped. The cabin felt like a refuge enveloped in stifling silence; the only sound left was the distant howl of the wind, whispering whispers through the skeletal trees.

You took tentative steps towards the window, compelled by an instinctive urge to check Dew’s presence or absence in the eerie silence that covered the cabin. The floor creaked under your weight, each sound reverberating in the silence like a muffled drumbeat.

As you looked through the frost-kissed glass, all you could see was the bleak endlessness of the snow-covered forest. However, there was no trace of Dew.

Uncertainty gnawed at you, and the silent unease inside the cabin reflected the peaceful stillness of the frigid night. Was this a respite, a brief pause, or the calm before another storm of horror? The questions continued, and your heart couldn’t calm down.

An unexpected, explosive crash broke the fragile peace within the cabin. The door, ripped from its hinges, flew through the air, leaving Dew standing in the gaping doorway. His intimidating presence radiated malevolence, a dark silhouette framed by the smashed entrance.

The evil entity’s eyes sparkled with an unfathomable intensity as he studied the limited area. The morbid game of hide and seek had reached an unsettling end. Dew’s lips curved into a nasty smile, a grotesque victory imprinted on his face.

“Will you run from me now, Brother? Or will you get on your knees for me like the good whore I know you to be?”

You tried to make a break for the door, knowing that you wouldn’t make it, but even so, the intention was there. Dew, of course, gripped hold of your body and wrestled you to the ground. He admired your helpless body lounging there on the hard, wood floor, reveling in the fear he could smell and how wide-eyed you were. He stood above you, mighty and powerful.

His hand reached his trousers and undid the zipper and button, pulling them halfway down his thighs. His underwear too, allowing his erection to spring free.

Demonic Dew was huge. So big you weren’t entirely sure you could take him. His cock looked vaguely similar to a human’s except for the size and the blunt ribbage down both sides of the shaft. The colour too, a dark grey at his pubic mound, tapering off into a light grey that spread in a gradient of a blush pink at the tip. A thick, grey knot sat at the base just above the pubic mound that had a pit forming in your stomach. He was going to make you take that - you just knew it.

“Knees.” He commanded. Both your fear and arousal worked in tandem to propel you to your knees, sitting patiently for him like a dog waiting for his master. “Suck it all down that throat of yours.”

You placed your hands on your thighs and leaned forward. Your tongue appeared from behind your cracked lips and made contact with the head of his cock, purely to help guide it into your mouth. Once it had lined up, you moved your head forward and sucked the head in. Dew hissed at the feeling of your warm mouth encapsulating him, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough.

His hand tangled in your hair and he pushed you down as far as you could go, making your lips touch the base of his cock. He was forceful enough that you couldn’t fight back easily, but slow enough not to hurt you. Dew could feel everything you gave him, the wetness of your mouth, the way you swallowed around his head.

His grip in your hair got tighter and he started maneuvering your head for you, watching you as you bobbed up and down his length. His hips couldn’t keep still and so eventually he just held your head in place and used your throat like his own personal toy. All the while, your eyes were watering and your face was getting redder and redder with exertion. He let you pull off for a second, and watched as you gasped desperately for air. Tears were running down your cheeks now, and your lips were beginning to swell so tantalisingly, he could feel himself losing what little control he had over himself. He couldn’t take it anymore; he wanted to see you struggle again and so he forced his cock back into your mouth.

He fucked your throat as roughly as he wanted because he knew you could take it - but he honestly didn’t care if you couldn’t. You were his prize, his to treat however he wanted to. And you’d accept everything with grace, and poise, and thank him for obliterating your throat afterwards.

He allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of your throat, watching you take it all and struggle with it. The way your lips stretched around his tip was obscene enough, but with each rib that was fed to you and removed with a pop, he could barely contain himself. His toes curled in his boots, and a smile formed on his face. He chuckled as he fucked your throat, loving how you gave yourself so willingly to him in the end.

He looked down at the mess of you, at the sweat forming on your brow and your robes shaking from how hard he was ramming into you. It was then he saw your hand moving, dipping beneath the hem of your monastic habit and stroking yourself through it. Slow circles at first but once you saw he caught you, your fingers began to move over your wetness faster.

“Shit, look at yourself.” He began, his voice hoarse from his pleasure. “Working yourself while I fuck your tight little fucking throat.” He was speaking through gritted teeth at that point. “Do you like this? Do you like being treated like a common fucking whore? Hm?” He slapped your cheek and let go of you, pulling you off of him with a pop. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” Your voice was husky and weak from the amount of times he’d hit the back of your throat.

Dew began to grumble and growl, frustration evident in his noises. “Not tight enough.” He looked down at your other hand and realised it wasn’t doing anything. He wanted it elsewhere. “Take that fucking hand and choke yourself. Squeeze that fucking throat.” He instructed you as he fed his cock back into your mouth.

And you did. Using your thumb and three of your fingers, you placed your hand on your throat and squeezed from the sides adding more pressure and a tighter hole for him. He groaned and laughed in response, loving the extra tightness and shoving himself so far down your throat, you could feel his pubic mound bashing against your nose with each thrust. You knew Dew’s human form well enough to know when he was about to cum, and apparently his demonic form was just as similar. His thrusts were becoming more erratic and more violent, a clear sign that this side of him was about to cum down your throat without giving you a second thought. So, you began to touch yourself harder, rubbing at your bud faster and faster until you burst.

Your body stiffened as your orgasm washed over you, the world stilling around you with the exception of your fingers and Dew’s hips. You continued to touch yourself through the orgasm, trying your hardest not to bite down with Dew being so far down your throat, and the restraint of that action alone was enough to make your jaw ache even more. When you’d finished, you concentrated back on Dew’s cock, but it wasn’t long before he came too, pushing your head further into his body and giving a few, final, short, sharp thrusts before his cum was spilling down your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow it.

“Yeah, that’s it. Swallow it… down for me… Such a slutty boy, t-taking every fucking drop. Shit!”

He pulled out of you with a groan and you gasped desperately for the air he’d restricted from you, swallowing the leftovers and wiping your chin clean of any droplets of cum that had spilled out.

Once you’d regained control of your lungs, and you didn’t feel like you were drowning anymore, you chanced a look up at Dew. He still stood, towering above you with you on your knees, black eyes focused on your exhausted body and white fangs appearing over his dark red lips in a menacing smile. Your eyes roamed down his body to his cock, which was still as hard as ever - as if you’d never gone through all that. He was ready to take you again.

With little fight left in you, you let his hand push you back onto the floor, making you lie flat against the wood. He got on his knees and lifted your habit, exposing your dripping heat to him. He got on his knees in between your legs, and continued to smirk at you - he’d won and you both knew it.

He started to position himself above you, aligning with your sopping heat and using his cock to stroke your folds. Your fingers bit into the floor as oversensitivity set in, and your heart raced with expectation. He drew your hips closer to him, partially resting on his thighs, and laughed a little at the sound your body made as it was dragged against the floor. You didn’t feel particularly ready for his length inside you after feeling it down your throat, but you also didn’t want to stop him, anticipating the delicious pain that would come from his monstrous cock penetrating your walls and fucking you so deeply you could pass out. Dew could feel your core clenching around nothing, practically screaming for him to fill it. “You believed, little one, that you could outrun me?” He taunted as he rutted against you. “As naive and stupid as ever, it’s your own fault for running. If you had only submitted to me, I would have been nice to you. This will just hurt for a little while, so don’t worry.”

He loved the way your eyes lit up with a host of feelings before allowing your face to contort with the pleasure of him sliding his massive cock within you, inch by monstrous inch. You shook every time one of the ribs drove into you, pushing you even further and anchoring you completely to him. There was lust in your eyes, of course, savouring how each pop had you gasping for breath and tried to commit it to memory. But the pain was just as delicious as you expected, causing you to cry out so loudly, if anyone outside heard you, they’d think something awful was happening to you. Instead, you were being stuffed so full of an impossibly large demon cock, your body was almost shutting itself down to cope. You could already feel your mind clearing out of anything other than the current sensations.

Dew continued to make fun of you with each inch your horny centre swallowed. “Did that hurt? Good. I told you it would. Keep screaming for me like that, and I’ll pop my knot into you.”

Dew’s pace was just as rough as it was the first time, with him practically riding your body for his own pleasure. Every time he pulled out, you could feel the ribs of his cock popping out of you then forcing their way back in with each thrust, making you tighten around him so much, your body was trying to keep him where he was. Your back arched off the floor, so only your shoulders and arms were holding you upright, aside from Dew’s hands on your hips as he pounded into you, over and over again; but this allowed for your habit to ride up slightly and let him catch sight of your stomach, and how his cock was visible even underneath all the muscle, fat and flesh. How he was so big, he left an indent where he fucked you. No wonder you couldn’t focus on anything except for him. You allowed loud moans to fall from your lips, as the angle Dew fucked you at had his cock and it’s ridges hitting that spot each time, carving out a space for himself within your hole.

“I knew you fucking wanted this,” he told you, no longer using his hips to fuck you but moving your body quickly with his strong arms. “Wasted so much time. C-could’ve fucked you back there.”

Drool was pooling in the corner of your mouth, spilling outwards and down your cheek with each impeccable thrust. The further down his cock he worked you, the more you could feel his knot catching at your entrance. Silently, you wondered how that was going to fit inside you too. But your body was begging for it, pleading for that knot to force its way inside you.

Besides your screaming, your core was the loudest thing in the room. So wet, his cock splashed when it fucked into you as roughly as it did. You could feel it running down your ass cheeks and landing on the thighs of his jeans. And you didn’t need to look to know that you’d left a ring of white around the top of his knot, your pussy creaming as it took his cock over and over and over, loving each second.

You bit your lip and clutched onto his strong arms, those arms and hands holding onto your hips for support as he brutally ploughed into you, getting deeper and deeper till his tip reached your cervix and his shaft rubbed against that sweet place.

“You want it? You want this fucking knot inside you?” When you didn’t answer, he slapped your face again. “Fucking answer me!”

“Yes!”

“Beg for it, slut.”

You whimpered, you whined and you screamed for him, but a coherent sentence wasn’t something that you could put together verbally. In your mind, you had begged for it already, begged for his cum to fill you up. But your mouth wasn’t responding. Your body wasn’t responding. Nothing you did worked, except for your fingers running over yourself in sheer desperation for a second orgasm.

Dew just laughed at you, mocking you for your neediness, but he said nothing as he continued to bounce you on his cock, fingertips digging into your body as he maneuvered you exactly how he wanted, and eventually, his knot slipped inside.

You didn’t warn him when you came - you couldn’t. Your brain was too clouded to register anything and announce any more than a squeak before your body convulsed and spasmed around his cock, your eyes blacking out and your mouth open in a silent scream. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all you could do was feel everything, everywhere, all at the same time.

This, being his final straw, tipped him over the edge a second time, his fangs digging into your stomach as he bent over, expelling the remainder of his energy through the chomp. It didn’t hurt - but it wasn’t as if you could feel it anyway.

*

You slowly opened your eyes to the soft glow of dawn seeping through the windows of the cabin. The air inside was cool, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of pine. As you lay on your back, you felt the worn wooden floor beneath you, and your body ached. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the curtains, you felt the warmth of the sun’s first rays gently caressing your tired limbs. The golden hues painted the room, casting a tranquil glow that danced across the wooden walls.

Turning your head, you caught a glimpse of Dew, curled up beside you in his human form, still lost in the world of dreams. But his senses were on high alert still and even the smallest movement of your body caused him to jolt awake. You winced as you tried to sit up, the soreness in your muscles protesting the movement. Dew stirred beside you, his eyes fluttering open as he sensed your shift.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep and the recent body change. His eyes, now back to the normal, beautiful green colour they usually were, locked onto yours with concern. “How are you feeling?”

A faint smile played on your lips as you reached out to gently stroke his tousled hair. “I’ve had worse days,” you replied, though the pain in your body betrayed your attempt at nonchalance.

Dew sighed, his expression reflecting the guilt he felt. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess,” he whispered, his eyes casting down. “I never meant for you to get hurt.”

You reassured him with a soft smile, “Dew, it’s not your fault. I told you I could handle it.”

“I shouldn’t have agreed.”

“Dew…”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. I pushed you when you were uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. Not that I minded…” you cleared your throat awkwardly, “earlier.”

Dewdrop raised his eyebrows. “Well,” he exhaled, “I hope you remember it well because it won’t happen again.”

You sighed, disappointed, but nodded in understanding. His eyes met yours again, and you could see the conflict within him. “I just… I can’t stand seeing you in pain because of me.”

You shifted closer to him, embracing him gently. “We’re in this together, Dew. I chose to be by your side, no matter what comes our way. Pain is just a small part of the journey.”

He nodded, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow in his gaze. “I appreciate that, but I still wish I could protect you better.”

You chuckled softly, “You’re doing your best, and that’s all I can ask for. We’ll face whatever comes next, together. D-do you remember what happened?”

He sat up and slapped you playfully. “I remember you didn’t do as I fucking asked! What happened to, ‘get away from me at all costs and don’t let me fuck you?’”

“I saw your dick and couldn’t help myself.”

He hit you again.

“Alright, okay! I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I will miss it, though. Are you sure you can’t just do some exercises and shift like the other Ghouls?”

Dew couldn’t help but chuckle at your attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s not that simple,” he explained. “They’ve not spent as long in Hell as I have. It’s not just about exercises; it’s a mental and physical process that takes time to master. A lot of therapy will be needed that I’d have to return to Hell to get.”

You nodded, understanding the complexities involved. “I guess we’ll have to figure out a new plan then. Maybe find some other way to deal with those situations.”

Dew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I can’t always control it, and I don’t want to risk it.”

You gave him a reassuring smile. “We’ll find a way, Dew. Together. We always do.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m lucky to have you by my side. Even if I can’t protect you the way I want to, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

As you both sat there in the warm glow of the morning sun, you knew that challenges lay ahead, but the bond between you and Dew was strong. Together, you were determined to face whatever came your way, finding solutions and supporting each other through the ups and downs of your journey.

Next Part ⛧ Realm of Souls Masterlist

Commissions are open! ⛧ Memberships ⛧ Tip Jar

[apollodarling-writes]

Since I’m 50% a sadistic freak. I was thinking. After us rejecting Levi and such and him just wanting us. One day we walk into his office and up to him. He kinda confused because we always avoid him now. But we grab him and kiss him. Big ole smooch on his mouf. We grab his face and caress his neck. Then after a second we pull away and are like. “ Sorry just wanted to confirm my feelings for you. They remain the same. There are none. Well toodles Levi thanks for the help 😘” blowing him a kiss and walking back to the door.

oooo i like this idea. this is also gonna be in Levi's POV

cw: Levi is plotting murder in his head, slight sexual themes, Levi being whipped for you, Levi gets a lil carried away, Levi's thoughts abt you... its v disturbing,

The short man sat in his office twirling a pen in his fingertips, eyes hardened and narrowed, eyebrows furrowed, and his lips set into a pout. You were still avoiding him. Did you still think that he wouldn't act on his promises? It was a ridiculous thought, but who knows what goes on in your head.

After the unfortunate passing of Erwin and a few bold Cadets that he couldn't remember the names of, he was sure you'd know by now. Surely you did. You were just being stubborn, seeing how far you could push him- how far his patience would go...

He'd have to put an end to this rebellious streak of yours. He'd have to go for someone close to you this time. Someone that means the world to you... Armin Arlert. The two of you are rather close. A bit too close if you'd ask him. It would be two birds with one stone, really. He'd be sending a message to you and squashing another pest.

Levi was doing all of this for you, really. The world is dangerous and filled to the brim with filth, he was just cleaning it up for you- protecting you... That's what he told himself. Levi knew (deep, deep down) he was just as dangerous, if not more so, than everyone else. He'd had sinister intentions since he was just a boy and was well-versed in combat and any weapon- no thanks to Kenny and growing up in the Underground. He was well aware.

But Levi was a selfish, selfish man. He knew you'd be better off with someone who had a healthy mindset. He knew you deserved better than him, but he couldn't let you. He couldn't let anyone else have you- love you. It would kill him. Just thinking about it made him feel like he couldn't breathe, so Levi would settle for eliminating any nuisance and competition. He would break you into submission and ruin you, and then build you back up.

Ending those thoughts there, he returns to plotting yet another murder. Half-heartedly signing papers, he wonders what he should do this time. Maybe he could leave Armin's body on your bed after stitching up his chest, and place the boy's heart all nice and tidy in a pretty box for you. Force someone to write you a note, warning you who would be next should you continue to disregard his warnings and his love for you. Yes, that would do nicely.

Approaching footsteps alert Levi of a presence as he sets his paperwork to the side, finally finished. The footsteps come to a halt just outside his office door, knocking once, twice, three times before swinging the door open. In the doorway stands you, disheveled and breathing heavily. Levi glances at his watch, the hands reading 2:37am. The man blinks a few times as you approach him (in your nightclothes) with a purpose, stopping a few inches from his seated form.

"[Name]? What's wrong? Did someon-"

You cut the man off, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, settling yourself in his lap, and pressing your lips against his heatedly. Levi immediately wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his firm chest, lips and tongue tangled with your own. His hands shift to your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

His eyes flutter beneath his lids, warmth filling his chest and heart soaring. You'd finally accepted him. You'd finally accepted him. You'd finally realized that his love knew no bounds and had chosen him. He wouldn't have to worry about the filth roaming these halls and the streets of the town.

Levi feels his pants begin to grow tighter and tighter, rocking your hips back and forth against his bulge ever so slowly. He'd take you here- Levi would take you in his office, screaming and crying his name so loud that everyone would know you belong to him and he to you. You were finally his.

Levi's head begins to feel light, hips bucking against your own, pressing himself as close to you as he could, wondering if you'd let him carve his name into your collarbone, marking you as his forever. Levi groans into your lips at the thought. Your fingers find refuge in his locks, tugging ever so slightly, kisses slowing to a stop as you begin to pull away.

The two of you gaze into each other's eyes, one filled with lust and love, and the other's unreadable. Levi releases a soft whine, shifting forward to kiss you again, drunk on the taste of your lips. Your hand presses against his chest, stopping him, then trailing up to his face, brushing over his skin. The pads of your fingers trace each feature, then shifts to Levi's neck, rubbing gentle circles as you observe him.

You sigh pitifully, murmuring, "Sorry, Captain. I wanted to see where my feelings for you stand. Seems as if nothing has changed."

Levi's jaw drops, expression crestfallen as you remove yourself from his lap, too heartbroken and stunned to reach for you as you make your way to the door again. You glance back at him once more, a smirk tugging at your lips, as you close the door to his office.

"[N-Name]..."

[gioiaalbanoart]

MIXED FRIED mode ON

(aka WRITING share)

OK, let's do this before it gets overcooked !

Various tag/open tag/tag list calls and so on. THANK YOU to :

@wyked-ao3 HERE and HERE , @cowboybrunch HERE, @the-golden-comet HERE and HERE and @tragedycoded HERE

******

Wip TSA / The scarred angel - CW violence

(and a BIG THANK YOU! to those kind hearts that helped me with this damn fight scene 😅)

****

Amy gasps. No way this is gonna end well.

Ashley might be brave but this guy is twice her size.

It all happens at once.

Frenzied voices haphazardly reach Amy's ears, a vague reminder they're not alone in the bar.

"I said - back off! -" Ashley growls, Amy's so close that she feels her body tensing before the action.

But the fucker decides to steps closer instead, perhaps not drunken enough to cope with his offended maleness and giving up what he must consider as a legitimate advance.

A hand hoists, grabs hard Ashley's jaw.

Amy gapes, everything else fades away and that fucking hand threatening becomes Amy's sole reason to bounce back.

As Ashley's body is pulled forward she snaps out from stillness.

A strangled sound caught in her throat, Amy harshly steps aside from behind Ashley and jumps at the man's arm pulling downwards with her full weight.

Oblivious of what will happen.

Probably he will squash her just next.

It's distracting enough.

The grip slacks, Ashley doesn't lose a beat.

The guy at close range, freed of Amy's presence behind her she iron grips violently his collar in a handful of fabric and flesh underneath and pulls him towards, a lifting knee striking full power at his crotch.

Ashley lets go of her grip, the man's reddish face twists in pain as he grunts and bent forwards, both hands on his privates now.

A muttered predictable : "Bitch..." almost get past his lips.

A quick step back and a second knee strike meets the nose cutting all obscenities but strangled groans of pain as a sinister crack almost echoes.

One hand leaves his lap and covers the damaged nose, a trickle of blood peering between fingers.

In the commotion Amy stumbles back, eyes wide, sweat coating her brow.

Ashley shifts to the right, kicks hard against the man's side enough to send him out of balance.

Another strike knocks him down on the floor.

Voices yelling overlap the buzz in Amy's ears as she assists in shock at the merciless blows hammering the mass on the floor, hitting everywhere but the head.

Preventing the man from reacting, never mind standing, as Ashley's clearly not ready to give up kicking his sorry ass.

******

Aaaaaaaaaand cut!

My beloved TSA tag list, you're up for the next round (np) :

@wyked-ao3 @saturnine-saturneight @tragedycoded @kaeru483

+ @aintgonnatakethis @glacialfield @authorcoledipalo @lychhiker-writes @jev-urisk

+ @mapplesand @sableglass @alinacapellabooks @willtheweaver

@illarian-rambling

+ @avaseofpeonies + open tag and take a drink 🍻☕🍷☕ 🍹🍻 , I need one too!

[starwarsmum]

Day 17, Hawkmoth in Arkham!

@maribat-calendar-events

The cell Gabriel was placed in was almost freezing, thin blankets and padded walls doing very little to reduce the chill. He glared at the ceiling of his cell, wondering how it had gone so horrifically wrong. It had started well enough, his company had been granted an audience with Wayne Enterprises so that he could attempt to expand into the states.

When he had agreed to come to Gotham, he had also sponsored his son's class to come and take a tour of the company. Ostensibly, this was so that he could spend extra time with his son and not be separated for the week-long trip for negotiations, but really it was so that he could try to squash Ladybug while her temporary heroes were abroad. 

It had been during the Miracle Queen fiasco where he had discovered the identities of her ‘team’ and he wanted to capitalise on the knowledge before she could find new allies. She would struggle to defeat him if she could not ask for help, and he would finally be reunited with his love.

He was interrupted from his brooding when a guard slammed open the visor on his door, giving him a view of a surly man. This cretin gave a short order to get out of his room and ready for breakfast, barely looking at Gabriel long enough to see if he was alive. It was humiliating to be ordered around by people so far beneath him, but after a week he was becoming accustomed to the dreary routine.

As always, he glanced at the one cell that didn't open, with an extra slit for food deliveries. Gabriel had seen them depositing the food once, a man with skin as blue as the Bubbler and a demeanour to rival his own. It was silent and the chill that was persistent through the block of cells seemed to emanate from it. 

So far, he had kept his head down and avoided making any enemies, but he knew it was only a matter of time until someone started a fight. He was a sane man, trapped with the criminally insane villains of Gotham, he was an outlier and he knew it. The fact that those brats had managed to convince the police to send him here was outrageous, and he fully expected to be extradited back to France any day.

He survived that day, still flying under the radar of the most sinister villains in the place. But his sleep that night was fitful, and he dreamed of the final battle with Ladybug, Chat Noir and the American vigilante, Robin. He woke with a start, calling out for Emilie longingly.

He lay panting for several minutes, embarrassed and frustrated that he had lost the one thing that could make it possible to save his wife. When he had calmed down, he heard a distorted voice, echoing from a nearby cell. It took a few moments to work out what it said, and then he sat up.

“Is Emilie your lover?” He paused, wondering if he should answer when the mystery inmate continued. “I only ask because I still dream of my Nora, who has been out of my reach for many years. I'm sorry if you are suffering without your love.”

“She was- is, she is my wife,” Gabriel said hoarsely, tears springing unexpectedly to his eyes. He couldn't speak about her in the past tense, or he would have truly lost her. “She got sick after our son was- born. She declined suddenly three years ago and I had to- to put her into stasis to keep her with me until I could fix it.”

“I understand how you feel. Nora had cancer at the age of twenty-three, she would have died if I had not frozen her. If I had access to unlimited resources and time, I could save her, but there are no legitimate ways to get that much money given my…condition.”

The cell block was silent for several moments, neither man going into any further detail. Part of Gabriel was relieved that he was not alone, that someone else within these walls had been through something like him and only turned to ‘crime’ when given no other alternatives.

“My name is Victor,” the other man said at last, sounding every bit as lonely as Gabriel. It had been so long since Gabriel had allowed himself to get to know someone else, to share his burden. 

“Gabriel. Gabriel Agreste.”

_ _ _

Marinette was having a good day. In the past two weeks she had gotten in touch with the Batman, taken down Hawkmoth, retrieved the missing miraculous, and done it all while keeping her identity a secret. And because Hawkmoth was committing a crime on foreign soil, she had no problem convincing the local police to keep him securely in Arkham until France could extradite him.

It meant she had twenty-eight days from the formal request of extradition to ensure there was a suitable holding cell in France for a national terrorist. Given just how hated Hawkmoth was, and with the support of Batman and his band of vigilantes, she had no concerns that he would be buying his way out any time soon.

“Marinette,” a quiet voice called out to her and she paused, flushing slightly at the low tone and intimacy her name was said with. From a corner of her balcony, Robin stepped out of the shadows. She rushed into his arms, sighing as he kissed the top of her head. “I am glad you were safe getting home. Was the flight acceptable?”

“Yes, Ro, the flight was adequate,” she teased, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He responded eagerly and she giggled against his mouth. They broke apart and she motioned for him to stay quiet as she led him through the trapdoor. He landed gracefully on her mattress, removing his mask so that she could see his features. “I can't believe it's finally over.”

“Tt, you were always going to stop him, it was merely a matter of when,” Damian said with complete confidence, kicking his shoes off and placing them under the bed. She helped him remove his kevlar suit top and curled up in his lap to enjoy his warmth and comfort. 

“I know, but it's still amazing to be able to say it,” she grinned. “And I don't know many people who can say that their boyfriend and his family helped them to defeat a nemesis and international terrorist.”

Because that had been the unexpected cherry on top - after meeting Batman and Robin, she had been attracted to the young vigilante, but had equally been sure that it was another dead end to her love life. Instead, he had approached her as civilians and begun courting her, bringing coffee to her daily, eating meals with her and utterly eviscerating anyone who said a bad word about her.

It had been a relief to realise that the stoic vigilante and the unexpectedly sweet grouchy boy were one and the same. He had caught her transforming before the final battle and confessed his own identity so that he could go with her. The shock at this revelation didn't hit her until it was all over and Hawkmoth was safely escorted to Arkham Asylum. 

Yes, she decided. A good couple of weeks which was looking to indicate an amazing future.

[ettawritesnstudies]

Sora Outfits Along her Character Arc

I'm hyperfixating on my dnd character tonight so here's some Sora costume outfit breakdown rambles: for context, this character comes from an Avatar The Last Airbender themed campaign that takes after the end of the 100 year war. However the war doesn't end cleanly after the fire lord's defeat. The Gaang spends five years putting out fires, recalling troops from all over the world, and squashing loyalists that keep fighting after Ozai and Azula's capture. Eventually, a 17 year old Aang establishes Republic City to welcome benders from all the nations, to teach them bending, and to establish a new method of diplomacy.

Our game began with four young students arriving to the city for the opening festival, who then uncover a deeper conspiracy that threatens to undermine the balance of the world. Sora, Suliyos, Seraphine, Han, and eventually Cab have to work together with the Gaang to discover the true enemy before their world is plunged into another bloody conflict.

Beginning of campaign: Republic City Air Nomad Uniform

When Sora first arrives in RC, she's been hiding her airbending for her whole life, growing up in Omashu with an overprotective earthbending mother and sister, never knowing her father. She's hopeful for a fresh start, and eager to meet other air nomads, but she comes to the city just claiming air nomad heritage, hiding her powers, and pretending to be a non-bender for her own safety.

Traveling Clothes: Earth Kingdom Civilian

During the opening festival at RC, the city was attacked by terrorists from a shadowy group called the "eye" which included members from all the nations. They sabotaged the city with fireworks and bombs, tried to blame the attacks on the fire nation, and restart the war. Sora and her friends helped discover and thwart these attacks, and she started establishing a connection to a spirit, though she didn't understand what was happening, and her paranoia grew. Their relationship with the Gaang strained under the stress, especially once they found out that the Eye was kidnapping Airbenders. Aang couldn't leave republic city in such dire circumstances, and our group had crossed one too many lines (including Suliyos learning to bloodbend) so we left RC to get some space and follow the lead. This brought us through the Earth Kingdom, and to a boat called the Juggernaut which would take us across the North Sea to reach Ba Sing Se.

NWT Arc: Water Tribe Furs gifted by Suliyos

En Route to Ba Sing Se we discovered one of the members of the Eye on our ship. He was a powerful bloodbender and had a sinister connection to the spirit world, but he was also a member the NWT royalty. By killing him in self defense, we also had to take a detour to the NWT to return his body, deal with the politics, discover the evil spirits corrupting the leaders of the NWT, banish the spirits, and restore the true leaders to the throne. That leader being Suliyos, one of our party members, who discovered he was the nephew of the chief, and next in line after Yue's sacrifice. Sora established her own connection with her spirit Shishi, and with a supportive crew and team, explored her airbending. These clothes were a gift as thanks for her aid. Her hair and eyes also started turning blue due to her spirit connection.

Onward to Ba Sing Se: back to the traveling clothes

One of the members of the ship's crew was Boma, an airbender, and a distant relative of Sora's. When he discovered she was family, he gave her armor and skydancer's anklets which gave her proficiency in airbending skills like acrobatics. It's been several months of travel now, so her hair's gotten longer. We also passed the ice trials, so she's wearing the mark of the wise (I think?) here. It's not a permanent tattoo though.

Ba Sing Se: Undercover Mode

So many things happened once we reached Ba Sing Se. We discovered the evil spirit - Father Glowworm - had kidnapped Hei-Bei, caused a famine, the Dai Li was creating living terra cotta warriors to impersonate members of the white lotus, they managed to kill a dragon, we managed to bring it back, Sora's spirit got kind-of-killed, it's been a wild ride. In any case, we're wanted all over the earth kingdom and the iconic outfit from before wasn't doing her any favors so she got a change of clothes.

Freeing the Airbenders!!!! Family Drama!!! AAA

The Dai Li had captured the airbenders to use as their own specialized army against the fire nation, and subdued/hypnotized them with the evil spirits. When we broke open everything in BSS, we also 1) rescued Sora's family from an assasination attempt in Omashu, and 2) freed the airbenders! Her dad wasn't with them, but she discovered, he had been sending home airbender regalia all this time, and her mother had hidden it away from her, to keep her from pursuing airbending to keep her safe. Now she's wearing it proudly to lead the newly freed nation, and to go rescue her father from the fire nation.

But her mother still hates her life decisions, Aang is worried the airbenders are losing their culture, and the airbenders resent Aang for the differences that led to them getting captured in the first place. Sora needs to forge her own path, and show the world what it means to be an airbender, both in practice, and in spirit, fearlessly, and so that others might do the same.

We still have a lot of loose ends to tie up, and there will be at least one more costume iteration for her, when we go to the fire nation to handle Ozai and Azula escaping and the other spiritual problems with the dragons there. But I'm so excited about Sora and her arc so far, seeing the transition from the first airbender outfit to the final one is so satisfying and I'm so attached to her story, even if only 4 people will ever understand how much it means to me...

[guywrestlingaddiction]

That Wrestling Moment: The Literal Bodywrecker (Brooklyn Bodywrecker v Chuck Collins - bgeast.com)

It's nice to know that some things are exactly as advertised.  Now seeing the Brooklyn Bodywrecker is always a treat, but to see the man in all his glory wrecking Chuck Collins is truly a masterpiece to behold.  

Brooklyn Bodywrecker v Chuck Collins (bgeast.com)

SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.

The Backstory

The Brooklyn Bodywrecker (BBW) makes his entrance with the usual flair; Calling out everyone and their mother and giving zero F's.  

BBW: 5 years bruserweight champ.... 

BBW: Okay BG, another squash job... that's what you guys like.  

And the 'wrecking' begins almost immediately...

Side note, can we talk about the Brooklyn Bodywrecker minus his trademark mustache? I'm so accustomed to seeing that mustache that it almost feels like I'm seeing him exposed in a weird way. 

Chuck is no pushover.  The guy does rally for a whole 5 seconds before ultimately the Brooklyn Bodywrecker takes him down.  The man is a legend for a reason and there is just no way a mere mortal can challenge him. 

Now you've done it.  It was nice knowing you Chuck! 

The Moment 

I've always thought that seeing an artist hone their craft is a thing of beauty.  So it is that watching the Brooklyn Bodywrecker go into beast mode is a sight to behold.  Very few things are as advertised nowadays; foods don't taste as good as you remember, movies disappoint, so when a man calls himself the 'bodywrecker' you may be skeptical - and in this case, you would be brutally mistaken.  

Chuck is slammed on the roof even.

Before slammed against a knee. 

This ab claw was particularly devastating. 

Seeing a master punish his opponent with the over-the-knee backbreaker is a vision.  Can we also talk about how the close up of the claw adds to this match.  Great camera work!

Chuck was clearly finished ... but even so, the Brooklyn Bodywrecker maintained a sinister smile as he paraded that wrecked body around the mat.

The Aftermath

I mentioned in an earlier post that the Brooklyn Bodywrecker puts the PRO in gay pro wrestling and matches like this are a good reminder of that for us all.  As advertised, if you get in the ring with the man, be prepared to be body wrecked.  

-

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