#some spectre come to haunt me

[bill-needle]

It’s hard not to feel lonely.

I don’t expect anyone to feel sorry for me - I put myself in this position, after all. Still… I’m loath to offer myself comfort, so generally I do without.

Sure, I have people in my life who may loosely be described as “friends”, but they don’t understand. They couldn’t. I wouldn’t want them to, anyway.

What do I do. What do I do.

Suppose I just do nothing.

Oh get a grip, Needle.

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Seele (Honkai: Star Rail). Listen, I used to write her and I miss her a bit, and also: there's Belobog people around. And also, well, she's much more interesting than people give her credit for. Also, prepare for some 'rewriting', because Belobog's pacing in specific ways kind of blew a little bit much.

[ria-starstruck]

if i had a nickel for every time beach house's "irene" jumpscared me, i'd have one nickel, which isn't a lot at all but it almost became 2 just now

[babocka]

Tag drop: General. Some of these may be subject to change, but for now, pretty happy!

[monstersandmaw]

Male drider x trans male reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Commission number three! This one got away with me, for sure. Hope you folks enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!!

Content: trans male reader, some afab language to refer to the reader’s lower parts during non-penetrative, oral sex; chest area not mentioned. Kidnapping, some threat to life and mild injury (not from drider), brief mention of blood and stitches. Reader has submissive tendencies, enjoys being restrained, and the drider is gently dominant. 

Wordcount: 10,123(!)

Running headlong into the dark pines that made up the forest which, according to your captors, had acquired such nicknames as the ‘The Bone Garden’, ‘Spectre’s Haunt’, and the ‘Blood Wood’ was probably not the wisest decision you’d ever made, but you’d been held by these thugs for four days of hard riding, and you were ready to risk it all to escape.

Had it really only been four days since you’d locked the door to your tidy little cottage on the edge of the village? With a gleaner’s bag slung over one shoulder and a basket in hand, you’d set out in search of the mushrooms that only grew at this time of year when the conditions were perfect — not hot and dry, not yet frosty, and just rainy enough. They loved the misty turn of the year almost as much as you did.

Without a care in the world, you’d stepped out along the weed-strewn gravel path that led through your herb garden, latched the wooden gate behind you, and meandered through the houses as the sounds of the village waking began to fill the air.

Gwyn had recently lit his forge and the rush of the bellows to stoke the heat reminded you of a dragon’s steady breathing; in and out, in and out. You’d snaked past the bakery just to swipe a fresh cinnamon roll before Garrick or Mercy or any of the woodcutters who also tended to rise early could finish them all off, and the orc behind the counter gave you the biggest one he had and a wink that made you just a little gooey inside yourself. “You’re a shameless flirt, Thom,” you said as you slid your coppers across the counter to him with two fingers.

“Hey, a man can dream, right, gorgeous?”

He was pretty fine himself, but he wasn’t really your type, and you’d made that clear when he’d asked you to dance at the first Spring Equinox dance you’d attended after moving to the village, then just a lowly herbalist’s apprentice. Ever since, you’d fallen into an easy banter of flirting that was destined to go nowhere, and it was harmless fun for both of you. You left the bakery with a smile on your face, and headed past Gwyn’s forge as you made your way north out of the village.

The smith, a colossal centaur with a dapple grey coat and a thick, white mane and tail that made anyone with long hair in the village green with envy, called after you and beckoned you over. “Headed north?” he asked with an uncharacteristic scowl.

“Yeah, why?”

“Take care, alright? Mercy said she’d seen sign of bandits in the area, and Willem said he’d heard talk of people being snatched when he took those fleeces to market last week. You shouldn’t be going out alone. None of us should really, not til things calm down.”

A little growl of frustration left you and you adjusted the gleaner’s bag on your shoulder. “I really need these supplies, Gwyn,” you said. “They’re ingredients I need to help fight off winter fevers, and if I don’t have enough, we could be in trouble come the cold in a few weeks’ time…”

“Can’t you take Garrick or Mercy with you? A good woodsman’s felling axe’ll do a hell of a lot more damage than that little sickle you’ve got on your belt…”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you breezed. “I’m not going to be on the main road anyway.”

“Please take care,” he rumbled, and you smiled up at the enormous blacksmith. He might have had the shoulders of a rock troll and iron-shod hooves big enough to knock down a castle door, with a big burn mark all up his left arm from an accident at the forge a decade ago, but he was the gentlest and most softly-spoken person you knew.

You cursed yourself three hours later when your basket of rare, purple mushrooms lay trampled to a slimy paste on the floor of the clearing and a nasty looking wood elf with a sneer and a cruel glint in her eye had her bow trained on you, while a second elf trussed you up like a solstice bird. Your head was ringing from the surprise blow they’d dealt you to the back of the skull, and you were lucky you didn’t have a worse concussion.

“You’ll make a nice little offering for the mage,” the female elf purred while her companion straightened and marched you on unsteady feet back towards the road. “Humans like you always fetch a decent price. Something about your blood being universal for most rituals, I think…”

There on the dirt road, four horses were waiting, three of which were a normal size while the last was built like a castle wall and large enough to carry the orc sitting astride it. The orc had one milky eye and the brand of a murderer across his right cheek. “Shit,” you hissed when you saw that, and the male elf laughed cruelly when you flinched as the orc swung down and prepared to heave you onto the back of the spare horse.

Normally, if you were going to be tied up and bent over something for some rough treatment, this was not how it went. There was absolutely nothing fun or consensual about the way these bandits chucked you over the back of the horse and lashed your hands and feet to the tack so you didn’t slide off. The orc guffawed and spat off to one side when you cried out on impact as your ribs creaked and your lungs expelled all the air they’d ever contained in one ugly grunt. After that, you did just about everything you could to move with the rhythm of the cantering horse, but it was probably the most miserable experience of your life. When the group slowed to trot, the motion was so painful that you actually slipped into unconsciousness for a while, only to be jounced back some time later.

At the crossroads about ten miles north of your village — the furthest north from your little patch of paradise you’d ever roamed — they met up with a couple of other riders who had apparently been on a recce of their own to look for more people for this blood mage or whoever, but they got laughed at by the orc on his enormous, cantankerous horse for not finding any victims and rode off again without joining the party.

So, it was just you, alone in the wilderness, being taken gods-knew-where, by two feral elf siblings and a murderous orc. Stowed like a sack of potatoes over that rangy, stinking horse for five hours of hellish riding, you were barely conscious. When they eventually stopped to make camp that night, they did let you relieve yourself in relative privacy, but once you were done, they hauled you back to their pack animals and lashed you to a tree next to them so that you couldn’t hope to escape. You could still smell the stink of them though, and it was enough to turn your empty stomach.

Their food was revolting, and their company equally repulsive. They joked loudly about all the cruel things they’d done to people in the past, and you sat there wondering why you hadn’t let Gwyn talk you into going out with the woodcutters. There were mushrooms where they were currently coppicing hazel for the winter, but no. No, you’d decided to be adventurous and clever, and to collect only the best mushrooms for your salves and tonics.

Four days later, you were almost ready to give up.

The mage’s castle they were taking you to was legendary in the northern reaches, and no one who was taken there against their will ever returned. Tales of blood magic and horrific rites involving chimera and creatures brought back from the dead had entered the local lore, and now apparently you were going to be drained of your precious blood for whatever this necromancer had planned next. And the price of that precious blood had been discussed and debated by the bandits for the last day.

Personally, you agreed with the female elf and thought you were worth more than a couple of weeks’ wages in gold, but you had no intention of allowing yourself to be squeezed dry like an orange for your blood. So, after the group stopped in a dark and snow-mottled pine forest after the fifth day of hard riding, you enacted your plan. You’d been plotting it all day, and hoped you weren’t too delirious and weak to pull it off.

When they’d let you relieve yourself the previous night, they’d not bothered to tie your hands together or watch you, since there was nowhere for you to go. You knew woodlands though, and you were pretty confident that if you gave them the slip in the dark, you could take care of yourself in the wild for a few days. Long enough to get back home anyway.

So when they started their daily round of bragging and trading boasts about how many vampires they’d killed or how they’d survived the venom of three different nagas in the same attack, you made your move.

If that darned twig hadn’t snapped, you might have got away with it, but when the male elf barked, “Oi!” into the gathering dark and swung his lantern around, you knew you’d messed up.

Breaking cover completely and legging it into the endless ranks of black-barked pine trees in the fading light of day seemed like the only option now, so you began crashing through the debris and dead branches that had gathered beneath the choking canopy of dense pine needles overhead. 

These woods were different from any you’d known before, and something dark and foreboding lingered there like a shade above a gravestone. These woods were not kind. The air was not fresh and sweet like it was between the beech and oak back home. It pooled and festered, stagnant between the rough sentinel trees, and the lower branches seemed to reach their sharp, bare fingers towards your face as you ran like a rabbit from the pack of hunting dogs behind you.

Your toe caught a root and you stumbled, and in the space where your head had just been, an arrow whizzed through the air and sank into the tree ahead of you with a thunk that almost made your heart stop. Your lungs were burning already and your legs felt shaky and weak after your rough treatment and half-rotten rations, but a brush with death that close shocked you to the core. The water they’d given you had been rancid, and your stomach churned as adrenaline curdled in your gut, but somehow you forced yourself on into the darkness.

Their voices dwindled, muffled by the carpet of fallen pine needles, until a shout went up and another arrow flew past you. This time, it left a searing pain in its wake and you clutched at your ribs where the hunting broadhead had torn through your skin. Luckily, it was superficial, but it hurt like hell and it was bleeding. Blood might draw predators out of the darkness, if your blundering and their bellowing hadn’t already.

Shit, you hadn’t thought about the horrors that probably dwelled in a place like this.

The bandits had been crowing about the ghouls and rabid cannibals that supposedly haunted these woods, and you’d passed plenty of skeletons along the roadside on your journey, your down-turned head providing you with a first-class view of them as your half-lame horse had jolted past them at its permanent, slightly-panicked jog. They hadn’t all been pack animals and horses lying in the ditch either. Some of the skulls had been humanoid, and there had been the horns of a minotaur at some point. This was a place where living things entered unwillingly, and most of them never left.

Forcing yourself onwards, you clutched your stinging side, but they were closing on you. The orc was thundering through the forest like a boar on a rampage, and the elves were quick as shadows.

“You little shit!” the female shouted from right behind you. Something heavy hit you across the back of your knees and you tripped and fell hard onto your palms as a flung tree branch rebounded off onto the forest floor. The force of the fall sent your cheek smashing into the muddy ground and you cried out as she landed triumphantly atop you and turned you over, smacking you full in the mouth out of sheer frustration.

“Gotcha,” she grinned. “You’re gonna pay for running, little rabbit,” she added with a laugh as she hauled you to your feet.

You kicked her knee from the side as hard as you could and she yowled like a cat dropped into a bath, letting go of you to stagger sideways, limping. The thing about being a healer is that you also know the weak spots where it can hurt most.

Before she could turn on you again though, something moved in the trees behind you and you all froze. The orc crashed to a halt nearby breathing hard, and the elf’s brother came over to help her stand while she spat curses at you that would have made a pirate’s ears bleed.

“What is it?” the orc growled, low and tense.

“Fuck knows. Tie him up again and let’s get the fuck back to camp,” the female elf wheezed. “I’m gonna drag him behind my horse for the rest of the way there. Shit that hurts!”

“Quiet,” her brother hissed. “Something’s out there.”

“Then let’s get fucking moving!” she countered.

You turned to glance over your shoulder and caught the shape of something white drifting in the distant trees just as the orc spotted it too. His grip tightened on the haft of his huge war-axe, and he took half a step back. Until then, he’d been the one who’d seemed steadiest; unshakable and immovable as a cannon, and he hit just as hard. Now though, he looked spooked and scared.

“They say the Death-Spinner hunts in these parts,” he said, eyes wide as he looked from side to side. “A massive white drider that strikes from the shadows and wraps you up in his web and sucks you dry…”

“It’s been too long since someone sucked you dry,” the female elf sneered at him, though the remark came out feebly and she looked around her in a twitchy, nervous motion. “Your blue balls are making you hallucinate. Come on. What are you waiting for?”

“He’s got other names too, you know,” her brother interrupted, reaching for you with a jerky movement that halted when the steady rhythm of something moving nearby rose above the whispering of the wind in the canopy. “Soul-Eater, The Weaver Ghost…”

“Please, the Death-Spinner is just a myth…” the female on your right hissed.

“Decidedly… not,” came a thin, harsh voice from the trees ahead, and your captors just bolted.

The supposedly tough bandits – the ones who had been talking about selling an actual person to a bloodmage to use in some disgusting ritual; who had joked just the previous night about flaying a minotaur like a cow on a butcher’s block; who had told you that there was nothing out here that would give a single, flying fuck about you – had fled with no more than a shriek and the clatter of boots in the dead underbrush, and left you alone with the being they called ‘Death-Spinner’.

“Better and better,” you spat, still tasting blood in your mouth from where the elf had cracked you across the mouth. “First it was ‘sold to a blood mage’ and now it’s ‘death by drider’.”

A pearlescent pale leg speared down out of the gloom that gathered between the black pines, its ivory chitin shining softly. Shaped like a thin, curved shard of polished bone, the limb moved with slow, silent grace, and it was joined by a second, needle-slender limb, then a third and a forth, until the white underbelly of the creature loomed large into your limited pool of light, followed finally by the lower part of a humanoid torso, and the large, armour-plated abdomen of the creature.

The whole of the eight-legged being was utterly colourless.

White and pendulous as the moon, the drider’s chitinous body looked like drifts of wind-blown snow that had then set into solid ice, swirling and churning across its body to rise in small peaks and troughs at the joints and high points of its legs and over the swollen curve of its abdomen.

The humanoid torso melted upwards at the hips from the body of the spider, and two, smaller, pincer-like limbs — pedipalps — were angled slightly inwards, both ending in single, wicked talons and looking like they were ready to spear you through the middle in the blink of an eye.

The drider wore no clothes, and patches of white chitin formed a kind of armour up its humanoid torso: over the hips but skirting around its lean belly, then up over its shoulders like pauldrons and creating natural bracers and gauntlets along its long, wiry arms. Its hands, you saw as it dipped a little lower into the faint glow from the elves’ abandoned lantern, were clawed, but its slightly curved talons weren’t like those of a mammal. They were simply an unbroken extension of the chitin that covered its hands and forearms.

Its face remained mostly out of sight, wreathed in the upper shadows of the trees, but you got the impression of two reddish eyes glinting at you in the dark, and long, silk-white hair flowing down its back.

“You’re bleeding,” came the slightly hoarse tenor that made your skin prickle. A creature that large should have a deeper voice, but the mellifluous timbre of the drider’s tone made you think of sirens luring sailors to their death with sweet songs and empty, deceitful promises.

“Only a bit,” you choked out, stepping back and catching your heel on the branch that the female elf had used to trip you. When you fell hard onto your backside, you caught the glint of steel in the sea of rust-red pine needles all around you, and realised that one of the elves had dropped their precious sword in their haste to escape this creature.

In a rush of blind panic, you snatched up the unfamiliar weapon and held it aloft. “Stay back!” you barked.

The laugh that rippled out of the drider chilled your blood.

“Please,” it crooned, and then it loomed down out of the shadow and into the light, squinting its two scarlet eyes against the sudden brightness. “As if a little stick like that could hurt something like me.”

The sword fell from your fingers as weakness washed through you, and you bit back a sob. “Please,” you said instead. “Please, they brought me here to sell me to a necromancer, but I… I don’t want to die like this either.”

“Die?” the drider said, and its red gaze flickered to the wound in your side. “You won’t die from that. A few silk stitches and a rest, and you’ll be good as new…” It frowned again, its white eyebrows pulling in like a loose thread in a perfect tapestry. “You’re filthy,” it said, and you noticed a diagonal scar cutting across its pale mouth as its lip pulled up on one side in a gesture of revulsion.

“Yeah, well, you try being thrown over the back end of a bandit’s horse for five days and see if you’re still that pretty at the end of it,” you retorted, exhaustion making you bold and just a little bit stupid.

The drider laughed, the sound like autumn leaves rolling down the road, and you paused. It sounded genuinely amused.

“Come, human,” it said, holding out a clawed hand. “Let’s get you somewhere where you can rest in safety.”

“Safety? What… What about… all that ‘Death-Spinner’ stuff?”

The drider paused, its huge body hanging in the twilight like a pearl. “I have no interest in consuming sapient creatures, but the rumours help to keep people out of my forest. It’s as much for their safety as mine,” it went on. “There are nastier things even than me in these parts.” The self-deprecating venom in its tone drew you up short.

“You don’t seem so bad…”

“Thank you,” it replied with flat sarcasm.

You took three more steps towards the drider before your legs gave out. In a flash faster than thought, the drider darted at you, and before you could even flinch, strong, armoured arms had caught you and lifted you up.

“You poor thing,” it crooned, and you looked up properly into its face for the first time. “You’ve really been through it, haven’t you? Easy now. I’ll take care of you.”

“Why?” you breathed, trying not to let your treacherous muscles relax into the solid frame that held you. You felt the chitin of its chest against your shoulder as it bore you along in a strangely smooth, gliding motion, the dark trunks of the trees whipping past in a blur.

“Evidently I have a soft spot for brave and lost creatures,” the drider smiled. “My name is Feluän, by the way.”

You exhaled your own name in return, and then said, “Isn’t Feluän an elven name? Some prince or something…?”

“You know your history,” the drider chuckled. “Yes, he was a prince of the snow elves a long time ago. I came across it in a history book I picked out of a caravan that was destroyed by a band of gnolls once. Their tastes run more towards beer than books…”

“I chose my own name too,” you said, the consonants feeling thick and slurred as the tiredness seeped throughout your whole body and the pain in your side mounted. “You’re a male drider then? If you named yourself after a prince, I mean. I don’t know anything about your kind really. Never… Never met one before.”

“Hush for now,” he said, squeezing you a little more tightly into his arms and drawing a moan unbidden from your lips. Gods, even in these circumstances, it felt so good to be held like this. “But yes, I am.”

The journey through the dark forest passed in a hazy blur, until you had the vague impression of torchlight and soft firelight and you were laid down on the softest surface you thought you'd maybe ever touched in your life. A long, deep groan left you and you suddenly didn’t care what happened to you.

“I’m going to stitch you up,” came the drider’s voice from somewhere nearby. “It might hurt. I can use a little of my venom to numb the area if you like…”

You nodded, not wanting any more pain, and out of the corner of your eye, you watched the drider’s white body move in the blurry shadows of the cave. He loomed over you and pressed the tip of one clawed finger to his upper canine, before bringing it to your side where he’d hitched up your shirt just enough to access the glancing wound from the arrow. A blissful numbness crept like winter ice across your skin, and you let the drider tend to you.

Tiredness claimed you not long after, but you had the distinct impression of a warm cloth being wiped gently across your face and hands before blackness washed in and you slept.

Over the course of the next few days, Feluän tended to your wound, and you forgot to be afraid of the strange creature. Centaurs had always held a fascination for you, with their animal lower halves and their humanoid upper bodies, and the way the drider moved was no less fascinating. When he wasn't tending to you, he was weaving linen and silk into the most wondrous bolts of fabric. His cave was dotted here and there with trinkets that he’d clearly pilfered from the sporadic ‘visitors’ to his part of the world, but aside from that, the cave was just that: a grotto carved out of a rise in the ground in the middle of a dank, desolate forest.

“You live alone?” you asked on the first evening you felt strong enough to get out of bed without his help. Until then, he’d forced you to stay still, and honestly, you’d been only too happy to let him boss you about and carry you around. He was sweet, but he didn't take no for an answer, and he didn’t let you wheedle your way out of anything either. Your best ‘puppy-dog’ eyes had crumbled his iron resolve a bit though, and finally he’d let you get out of his soft, cosy bed to join him by the gentle light of flames in the fire pit at the centre of his cave.

Feluän nodded. “Yes. I have spent my whole life alone. Driders are not sociable with each other by nature, and most people fear us too much to want us anywhere near them, as you saw yourself when your captors realised I was there.”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” you said as you took the carved wooden cup he offered you. It had some kind of sharp, pine-needle tea in it and he looked embarrassed that that was all he could offer you to drink apart from water. In the few days you’d been there, you’d had some kind of game broth which, while nutritious, hadn’t been particularly flavoursome. “I didn’t think I’d find anyone out here more intimidating than that orc, but you managed it.”

Across the fire, his ruby red eyes glittered and he laughed, tilting his head in your direction. He didn’t always meet your eye, you realised, and you wondered if his albinism affected his eyesight. “I live to serve,” he purred.

“The way you behave, I’d say you live to be served, but what do I know?”

Again, he laughed. “You offering, little human?” he said, cocking a white eyebrow in a way that made you feel a little dizzy.

“I might, if the rewards for service were worth it,” you replied archly, sipping the sharp tea. Its flavour reminded you of the tinctures you brewed at home, and of the people who would need you as the autumn drew to a close and winter began to coil around the edges of the village. Your shoulders dropped, and you sighed, steam from the cup swirling in front of your eyes for a moment.

“You clearly don’t think I could offer you much,” he said dryly.

“It’s not that,” you said. “It’s… I have a responsibility to the people in my village. I’m a herbalist, and the whole reason I was captured was because I was out looking for ingredients that would help fight winter fevers. If I don’t get home before the snows settle in, they’ll suffer.”

He shifted his weight where he was resting casually with all his long, spiny limbs tucked close to his pendulous body, and you realised he was feeling uncertain. “It must be nice,” he began in a new, faltering voice that you’d not heard from him before. “Nice to have people… who need you. Who… Who look to you for protection…”

You laughed softly and shook your head. “I wouldn’t say I provide any kind of protection — you want an orc or a centaur like Thom or Gwyn for that — but I help people where I can, and they’ve been good to me. I was apprenticed with their previous healer, and when he passed, I took on his mantle.”

“Tell me about them?” Feluän asked, red eyes blinking slowly in his frost-pale face. His long, white hair fell down loose to frame his high cheekbones, and the scar on his mouth was the only element in his face that interrupted the otherwise perfect symmetry of him, and it made you want to press your lips to it and see what it felt like beneath your kisses.

You looked away.

“Tell me about them before I take you back tomorrow?”

“Wait, take me back? You’re coming too?”

“You’ll never make it out of these woods alive without me,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t go to all this effort to keep you alive just to turn you loose for the ghouls and shadow wraiths to tear you to pieces when the sun sets tomorrow night.”

“Shadow… wraiths?” you croaked, eyes flitting to the cave entrance where the dark night pressed in against the tiny light of the fire. You shuddered and Feluän smiled to reveal his double set of canines, the larger, outer pair of which were actually hollow fangs that could inject his paralytic venom into his prey.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he said with a rumbling, seductive purr in his tenor that went right through you to your core. “I’ll protect you. You’re safe here anyway. It’s warded.”

“Right.”

“Your people?” he prompted, and you started with Gwyn the dappled centaur. By the time you’d listed almost everyone in the village, your mind was slow and your eyes gritty with sleep. 

Some time earlier, Feluän had moved behind you so that you were resting your weight between his lethally-taloned pedipalps, buttressed up on either side by something that could skewer through you in the blink of an eye, and his hand had recently moved to card idly through your hair.

The world tilted slightly as you dozed off halfway through a sentence about Thom the orc who ran the bakery and made the most incredible fruit pies in autumn, and you realised that Feluän had picked you up again and was carrying you towards his wide, soft bed of silk webbing.

As he drew a feather-filled silk duvet up around your ears and you hummed with deep satisfaction, you heard him murmur, “I wish I could live somewhere like the place you described for me tonight. I wish I could know ‘home’ as you do, but I fear I would never be welcome somewhere like that.”

“They’d love you,” you mumbled. After all, you were half in love with him already and it had only been a few days.

The journey south took about a week. On the first day, you were forced to ride on his back after only a few miles due to the lingering ache in your side. “If you don’t get aboard, I will refuse to take you anywhere at all,” he said sternly, and a thrill of heat shot down your spine at the steel in his tone. “Do as you’re told, human.”

“Fine,” you croaked, ignoring just how much you liked the way he seemed to mingle concern, respect, and command in a single sentence. “Bossy.”

You did enjoy having your arms around his middle as you rode behind him though. And he was quick when he got scuttling along. 

Your pride did have you walking the next day, and before too long, you got to see the ‘Death-Spinner’ in action. In the rocky lower slopes of the pine forest, before it melted into a dewy, autumn meadow, a roar shattered the silence and a bear reared up from the thick grass, as surprised by your exit from the trees as you were by her.

Feluän hissed like a snake and immediately drew himself up, lashing out with his long front legs. Like twin swords, the lowest section of his legs flashed in the misty air and the bear threw herself up onto her hind legs with another bellowing roar.

The drider jabbed at her faster than your eyes could follow, nicking her ear and her shoulder in turn with left and right forelegs, his huge body filling the space between you and the threat like a bulwark. The bear turned on the spot and thundered away, and he dropped silently back to all eight legs and looked down at you. In the starker light of the meadow, he was squinting and his red eyes didn’t quite land on your face.

“Are you alright?” he asked, bare marble chest heaving. His clawed hands were curled at his sides and his arms looked incredible, and suddenly it was very hard to focus on anything but how gods-damned beautiful this creature was. He barked your name and lowered himself down, still squinting. “I can’t see very well in full daylight like this. I need you to tell me if you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you croaked at last, trying to swallow your inconveniently-timed arousal. “Are you? I’ve lived in the woods a long time, but I’ve never been that close to a bear before.”

“She really didn’t want to tangle with me,” he laughed, and you caught the way his articulated joints sagged in relief as his white hands found your shoulders and he squeezed you tightly for a second.

“You can’t see very well? What do you mean?”

He smiled sadly and let go of you. “As I understand it, people born like me, without pigmentation, often struggle with their vision, and bright sunlight in particular. I do anyway. Why do you think I chose the darkest place I knew of for my home?”

“I… I hadn’t really thought about it. You sure you want to be out here then? You didn’t have to walk me all the way home you know?”

“I want to,” he said, gesturing for you to continue on your way across the open meadow.

The overnight frost had melted a little, but it still lingered at the foot of the thicker tufts of grass and it crunched softly as you walked through it. Not Feluän though — he moved as silently as his spectral nickname suggested, but you did catch him tilting his head a little and inhaling, as though scenting the wind. His lips parted softly and you caught your best glimpse yet of his double set of canines. His tongue shifted a little behind his teeth, as though he was tasting something on the air, and you looked away. Everything about him was sensuous and it made you want to touch.

You were perhaps a day’s walk from the village now, but he still hadn’t turned back even though you’d told him you could manage alone from there.

That night at camp, you sat together as you had back in his cave, with you resting between the two smaller limbs that jutted out from his spider’s shoulder area. They twitched from time to time as he ate the now-roasted rabbit he’d skewered earlier for dinner with the talon at the end of one of them, and when you’d finished your meal, you reached out without thinking and ran your fingers down the chitin that covered them.

He jumped slightly and then went very still, but as you brought your hand closer to where the limb met his chest, he drew in a shuddering breath that made his whole body rock.

“Does that tickle?” you asked, wondering how much sensation he had with all that natural armour.

“Not exactly,” Feluän rasped. “It’s… It’s been a while since I’ve… since anyone’s — ah…” he gasped and his chest heaved. The little bone he’d been idly cleaning with his tongue dropped from his fingers to land in the carpet of beech and oak leaves around your feet.

“You want me to stop?”

“No,” he replied immediately. “Gods, don’t you dare stop.”

“Alright.”

You stood and faced him, and ran both hands up his ‘hips’ at the base of his humanoid torso. He shuddered again and sucked in another sharp breath. Gradually, you moved your touch up over the marble contours of his abs and ribs until you could reach no higher. “Come down here then,” you said quietly.

His scarred upper lip twitched and he surged down towards you, snatching you up in his hands and lifting you away from the fire. He pinned you against the smooth bark of a nearby beech trunk, and held you there four or five feet off the ground. His hands were secure around your waist as the spears of the two pedipalps lanced into the tree on either side of your face and you gasped, feeling heat rushing to your groin.

“The things you make me want to do to you, human,” he purred around a snarl, red eyes glowing in the night. His huge body was pale, standing out starkly against the darkness, and you felt a familiar, tingling weakness washing through you as he held you pinned there and growled those lustful words into your ears. You wanted him to take control. You wanted to submit to whatever pleasures he had in mind. It made your head go vague.

“What’s that then?” you slurred softly, dangling blissfully in his hold. “What do you want to do to me?”

“I want to tie you up with my silk,” he said, leaning in so he could kiss up your neck. He nipped at you, but not enough to break the skin or inject you with his numbing, paralytic venom. The trail his kisses left was cold though, and your flesh tingled. “I want you trussed and immobile for me while I give you every pleasure I can think of. Your body is so soft compared to mine. So vulnerable. I want it all. I want all of you.”

“You can,” you smiled. “Please.”

His lips twitched into another little snarl and he kissed you again. Your tongue tingled and you swallowed, realising a drop of his venom had landed there. “I can’t,” he said, stepping back and lowering you slowly to the ground. Your knees were too weak to take your weight at first and he steadied you.

“Why not?” Disappointment stung through the creeping haze in your head and helped to clear it a bit.

You glanced along his curved, spider’s abdomen and saw that a clear fluid was dripping slowly from a point on his underbelly. His obvious arousal looked obscene, and your core tightened at the sight of it. When he saw where you were looking, he shivered. “That’s what you do to me,” he croaked. “But I’ve lost too much control of myself tonight. I might hurt you.”

“Kiss me again?”

“No. My mouth is full of venom.”

Your breath caught and you bit your lip. “Please?”

“No.” He sounded angry now, and you looked away, ashamed of still wanting something he didn't want to give. When he saw the expression on your face though, his whole demeanour changed and he softened. “What is it?” he asked.

You shook your head, stepping back. “Forget it. You’re going home again tomorrow anyway. You’ll forget about me in no time.” But you wouldn’t forget about him.

Feluän’s lighting-fast reflexes left you breathless all over again as he snatched for your wrist when you turned away from him. “I will never forget you,” he hissed fiercely. “I can’t. You think I give every lost wanderer I find in my forest a personal escort home? If I had my way, I’d never leave your side again.”

The grip he had on your wrist was tight enough that it was just shy of painful, and you gasped, eyelids fluttering. You glanced down at where his claws were pricking into your skin and then slowly raised your gaze to his face. “Not helping…” you smirked softly.

He closed his eyes slowly and eased his grip just a fraction, and then he opened his eyes again, moved both hands to your face, cupped your jaw, and kissed your forehead. “Best I can do for the moment,” he said apologetically.

“You don’t have to go back, you know?” you said, giving voice to the idea that had been floating around your mind for a few days. “I mean, I know all your stuff is back there, but there’s a really cosy place that’s only a hundred yards or so from my cottage on the edge of the village. I think it would be perfect for you. You could… You could live there? If you wanted…”

Feluän raked his claws gently across your scalp and you shuddered. “And what of the rest of the village? What would they say about a monster taking up residence in their midst?”

“You’re not a monster,” you hissed, grabbing for his wrists and clinging to him while you glared up into his face. Gods, he was so beautiful, with his sharp features and red, gemstone eyes and his silver-white hair. “You’re not. How could they not love you once they got to know you?”

His throat worked and he lowered his spider body down, drawing his legs in so that he was as close to your eye level as he could get. “Do you really want me to stay?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please. I — The thought of you going back to that horrible place with all those bones scattered everywhere, and no life — there’s no life in those woods, Feluän. It’s —” He silenced you with a kiss.

Your lips turned numb almost immediately but you felt his tongue brush yours as he growled and reared over you, overpowering you with just his presence. “The way you said my name,” he said. “No one’s ever spoken my name before. Say it again. I want to hear you say it again.”

“Feluän.”

“When we’re not camping in a forest, I’m going to take you apart, my beautiful human. I’m going to tie you up and take you to pieces when my mouth isn’t dripping with venom.”

“Could be fun for you to have your way with me while I can’t move…” you said.

“You wouldn’t be able to feel it either,” he said, deliberately moving away from you and breathing hard. “Gods, I’m a mess,” he chuckled. You glanced down and saw that he was leaking a little webbing too from the gland at the tip of his abdomen.

“So am I,” you said wryly, because you absolutely were.

“I know. I can smell it,” he said. “Taste it too.”

“Fuck,” you groaned. He’d smelled it earlier as well then, back in the meadow after he’d protected you. “You’d better live up to your promise, Feluän. I’m not letting you go home without feeling some of that silk around my wrists first.”

“Say my name again and I’ll give you anything you want.”

Getting to sleep that night proved difficult to say the least, but it helped that you both talked quietly, with you lying in his arms again, and when you woke to the gentle caress of his knuckles against your cheek, you blinked your eyes open and smiled up at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, awestruck by the creature looming over you. Honest delight lit up his whole face and he laughed quietly, helping you to your feet and brushing the dry leaves from your clothes and the borrowed cloak he’d lent you.

“How do you want to do this?” he asked as you kicked the cold ashes of the fire apart and made sure you left the forest as you’d found it. “You said we’re within a day’s walk of your home now?”

You nodded. “We’ll probably meet a few of the woodcutters on our way in — they’re working about three or four miles from the village at the moment, cutting hazel for fences and ash for firewood. If we meet anyone, let me do the talking?”

Feluän agreed, and you set off along the main road together.

“I’ll introduce you in the village if you like, and explain where I’ve been, and then I’ll say I’d like you to stay. If… If you want to.”

“I do,” he said. “I don’t have anything in that cave that I would particularly miss, but I could still go back and fetch it if I wanted to.”

The first people you met were indeed Garrick and Mercy, and when the satyr and the half-orc-half-elf saw the drider, they hefted their axes in their hands and stepped warily into the clearing they’d made beside the road. Mercy spotted you and called out your name, and you and Feluän held up your hands.

It took some persuading to let the two of you approach, but when you were close enough, Mercy dropped her axe and hugged you. “We’ve been so worried,” she said, squeezing you tight. With her muscles, it was enough to make you wheeze. “Gwyn and Thom and Gale searched for you for days but even Gale’s werewolf nose lost your scent when it rained. Gods, they’ve been beside themselves.”

“I’m only alive because of Feluän,” you said, gesturing to the pale drider who was waiting on the road. All his eight legs were drawn up tight and he looked tense and wary. At that distance, and in the clear, wintry light, you suspected he also couldn’t see very far, and for someone so powerful, he was probably feeling quite vulnerable. “I’d like him to live here with us. He was living alone in that dark forest, and I don’t think anyone should have to live alone like that. Not if they don’t want to.”

Garrick jutted his small tusks and said, “Driders aren’t exactly sociable creatures. What’s he gonna do around here?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” you said a little defensively. “While I was recovering in his care, he was processing and spinning flax and weaving bolts of cloth, so he could help Rowan, but I don’t think his place here should be determined by what he can do for us, do you?”

Garrick’s eyes darkened with shame, and he shook his head.

“I’ll catch up with you later. Right now, all I want is a bath and a change of clothes.” Your own shirt had been washed while you’d been recovering, and Feluän had stitched it up, but it was still stained with your blood and more than a bit travel-worn now.

The approach to the village was deserted, but when you stepped out from the shady road and into the brilliant, afternoon sun that bathed the thatched houses in stark light, Feluän grunted and closed his eyes, shielding them with one hand and wincing.

“You alright?” you asked.

“It’s so bright,” he rasped. “I… I can’t even see you and you’re right next to me.”

You paused and said, “This way. We’ll take the side road and go along one of the deer paths through the trees to the cave home I’ve got in mind for you. You can meet everyone tonight when the sun’s gone down.”

“I’m sorry.”

Shaking your head, you frowned. “No, Feluän. You have nothing to be sorry for. Let’s go.” You laid your hand on his foremost left leg, and changed direction, heading for the tall oak and beech trees that bordered the village.

You passed by your cottage, though you did point it out to him, and continued up the slope to the small, rocky outcrop where the old cave had sat empty since its previous occupant had moved to be nearer to her relatives. “This used to belong to Dinara,” you said. “She’s a dwarf, but the cave isn’t at her scale, don’t worry.”

He laughed, and now that you were in the shade, you noticed that his eyes were meeting yours again, and he wasn’t squinting so much. “Come here,” he said, and he lowered himself down to kiss you. “Thank you. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

“If it’s not, I know people will help you alter it. They helped me build my house when I moved here, so you could always just build something new if it doesn’t suit.”

“You make them sound like good people,” he smiled.

Squeezing his hand, you said, “They are. They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“So long as they don’t try to hack me to bits with their axes… The one you called ‘Garrick’ sounded ready to cut my legs off earlier.”

“He’s protective, not unlike you,” you said wryly. “Come on. Let me show you the cave and see if you want to live there or not.”

“If you’re nearby, it’ll be perfect,” he said smoothly, and you immediately tripped, making him laugh.

In the end, the empty cave house suited him perfectly, and, as you’d predicted, people were wary to start with, but when they heard how he’d saved you and taken care of you, and brought you home, they welcomed him like a long-lost relative — something that clearly moved him deeply. He did bristle when Thom swept you up into his bone-crushing, baker’s arms outside the village inn that night and nuzzled his tusks against your neck and expressed just how worried he’d been about you though.

When you returned to Feluän after Thom had set you down and promised you a week’s worth of free pies and cakes, Feluän was prickly and distant, until you grabbed a hold of his pedipalp and refused to let go as he turned. The moonlight flashed along the polished chitin and the limb straightened as he turned away while you held it, but he twitched back to look at you with his red eyes blazing quietly.

“Feluän…?” you purred. Oh, you liked the way he clearly wanted to be possessive of you but was forcing himself to behave. It made you flush hot all over.

“What?” he hissed, still scowling.

You caressed your hand up the limb to his shoulder and splayed your fingers wide. He gasped.

“You promised me something…”

“What was that?” he said, spreading his legs a little wider, as though he needed the extra stability to brace himself upright all of a sudden. You enjoyed seeing that the effect you had on each other was mutual.

You drew back your hand from him and he rocked forwards as if seeking the contact again. You brought your wrists together and held them out as though waiting to be tied up before looking up into his face.

His white eyelashes fluttered and his red eyes rolled closed for a moment. “Where?” he asked in a whisper. “Where do you want to go?”

“I’m not sure you’ll fit easily in my cottage…”

“You’d be surprised,” he said, “But I’ll take your word for it. I don’t have any furnishings in my new home yet.”

“You can sling me a silk hammock,” you said boldly and he groaned audibly. “You like that? You like the idea of me lying on your silk?”

He choked softly and nodded, jaw working.

“What?”

“I’m trying to keep my venom to myself this time,” he said carefully. “If I don’t let it out, I can put my mouth wherever I want to this time.”

“And where’s that?”

“Let me tie you up and you’ll find out,” he snarled, baring his double canines, patience fraying.

“Take me home then,” you whispered.

He picked you up, letting you loop your legs around his humanoid hips and holding you there with his arms and his two pedipalps while he scuttled away from the village and up the hill to the cave where an oil lamp was already burning softly on a shelf. 

The cave wasn’t so much a cave as a rock-hewn home, with an additional masonry front covering the opening from the elements, and stone shelves cut into the rock inside for storage, and a shelf at the back for a bed and a huge stone bath as well. Spring water was plumbed directly into a copper cylinder for hot water beside a fireplace with a chimney built into the mountainside. It was a vast improvement on his former, tunnel-like home in the forest, and someone had brought up a load of firewood for him.

Before he’d left his new home to greet the rest of the village earlier that evening, Feluän had lit a fire in the grate and it had since filled the space with warmth, driving away the lingering damp of disuse, and as he made his way on his long, skittering legs to the back of the cave, you kissed the chitin of his shoulders and watched the firelight lick along the sculpted shape of his natural armour. He shivered and then rose right up, tucking his abdomen under him and slinging a web across the shelf where the mattress would be when you eventually found him one. For now, a low, secure hammock of web would more than suffice.

He pitched you back onto it and you bounced softly while the drider’s huge body filled the air above you. The power and ‘otherness’ of his body made you hot beneath the skin and set your core burning, and you squirmed softly while he lowered himself down around you, all four right limbs braced on the wall to your left to give him the best angle. It was unnatural and eerie and creepy and wonderful and strange and everything you wanted in that moment, so you raised your hands above your head and crossed your wrists invitingly.

“You’re so good for me,” he purred and you arched upwards. The web hammock was substantial enough that you didn't feel in the least like your bodyweight was going to tear through it, but it left you feeling exposed and at his mercy. He undressed you carefully, his claws peeling the fabric back until you were as naked as he was. His spider’s body twitched and that clear fluid dripped down onto your shin, betraying his own arousal even as your own was made all the more evident to him.

He parted your legs with one clawed hand and carefully pressed the heel of his palm against where you were soaking wet. “Look at you,” he smiled, eyes glinting. “I can smell you. I can’t wait to taste you properly.” Then he licked his hand clean and your brain went blank for a moment as you watched and heard him groan.  

His silk was cool as he wrapped your wrists tightly enough to immobilise your arms and then he secured the line to one of the others, pinning you in place as securely as any rope tied to a headboard ever could be.

“Fuck…” you cursed, arching your spine and spreading your legs. Your clit was swollen and sensitive already, but when he slid his arms underneath your thighs and brought his face close enough that his breath shivered across your wet skin, you gasped and bucked.

Feluän’s tongue teased you to start with as he simply savoured the taste of you, but when he got to work in earnest, his claws pricked your skin and he held you down while you tried to writhe and squirm. You weren’t shy about the sounds you made, and when you saw the way his abdomen was moving in time with his tongue on your body, you realised he was every bit as turned on as you are. You knew that driders didn’t mate the way humans did, and that when he came, he was most likely going to make a mess all over you. The thought of it made your eyes roll.

His nose nudged against your clit as he delved deeper into you with his tongue, moaning and kissing and sucking and devouring. 

“I’m getting close, love,” he whispered in the tiny silence that blossomed around you when he drew back to adjust his grip on your legs. You’d never been rendered immobile like this by a partner before, with your hands tied and your legs clamped in his grip, and you felt your body clench in the absence of his tongue. He laughed, low and seductive. “So are you, aren’t you?”

Mind a blur with pleasure, you just nodded and keened.

“When I come, can I come over you?” he asked, and he sounded utterly wrecked.

“Gods, please,” you gasped, bucking weakly. “Please, anything, Feluän. Please… I need… I need you to… please…”

“Need me to do what, love?” he asked, licking teasingly over you with the tip of his tongue, savouring you without returning to his earlier endeavours to make you come. It was too much and nowhere near enough and you let out a broken sob. “If you don’t tell me, I can’t do it,” he said provocatively.

With a growl of frustration and effort, you wrangled the words into the right order in your hazy mind. “I need you to make me come, Feluän.”

“That’s good,” he praised and you arched upwards, legs parting a little wider for him. “Gods, you’re everything,” he whispered as he leaned back down and closed his mouth around your clit.

You gave another wild yell at the barrage of stimulation, and under a minute later you came with a heaving shout against his mouth. Waves of pleasure swept through you, and only a second after you stuttered out his name again, you heard him give a tiny ‘oh’ of surprise before he reared up, his whole body tensing and starting to shake, before his own release gushed over the spot where his mouth had just been. The heat of his come against you there sent you over the edge again and you thrashed beneath him. He was still coming when he lowered his humanoid torso down atop yours again and pulled you close, one clawed hand around the back of your head.

“Oh gods,” he said, his whole body twitching and coming while he cradled you beneath him. “Oh gods, you’re everything. You’re perfect… gods… oh…”

Eventually, his orgasm faded and he staggered, all his legs moving out of sync as he tried not to crush you while the strength fled his limbs and he collapsed onto the webbing.

You’d never been such a mess after sex, and you’d also never come quite so hard.

He reached dazedly out with one of his taloned pedipalps and carefully slashed through the silk holding your wrists together, then he raised his head a little more to regard you. “Are you alright?” he asked. “That wasn’t too much?”

“Perfect,” you mumbled. “You made a big mess though,” you said when you felt his release sliding over your thighs and hips.

“I’ve never made that much mess,” he said and he looked genuinely embarrassed when he pushed himself upright.  

“Good job there’s a bath over there,” you said, eyeing the basin that was practically a small swimming pool. It was certainly big enough for a drider to soak himself in relative comfort too.  

Feluän staggered over to it and turned the bronze tap that started a flow of hot water from the gigantic cistern beside the fire and then returned to you. “Can I carry you?” he asked, looking shy for the first time in your relatively short acquaintance.

“You’re going to have to. I can’t feel my legs,” you said.

“I didn’t — My venom —” he sputtered in horror. “I —”

“Oh, it’s not you,” you chuckled as you floundered to sit upright. “I mean, it was you, but not your venom.”

He deflated comically in relief and laughed as he scooped you up and bore you towards the tub. Glancing back, you saw that his come was all over the webbing and had dripped through onto the floor.

Feluän set you down on the shelf that ran around the edge of the bath washed you off while it filled. The gentle action of his caring, attentive hands on your body soothed you and worked you up again, and when you moaned and bucked weakly into his hand, he raised an eyebrow. “Again?” he breathed, as though hardly daring to believe it.

“Please?” you whispered, eyes half-closed where you floated in the warm water.

He was careful with his claws, using only the pad of his finger against you, and when you came with a little sigh and heaved into his arms a few minutes later, he smiled at you and leaned down to kiss you. 

“I want to do that to you every day,” he said over the rush of water into the bath. “I don’t want a day to go past where I haven’t seen you make that face for me.”

How could you refuse an offer like that when it was so generously made?

__

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[da-rulah]

Heads Will Roll - A RHRN Inspired Short

*MAJOR RITE HERE RITE NOW SPOILERS AHEAD*

Do not read on if you don’t want to be spoiled. It’s literally the biggest spoiler in the movie, and I am giving you plenty of warning. Seriously. If you read on and get spoiled, don’t come crying to me in my ask box. I am warning you.  

A/N: This is my own continuation of the ending of the movie. An alternate ending, if you will... It includes spoilers from the final scene, arguably one of the biggest spoilers, and continues from there. Yell at me in my ask box if you want, but this was fun to write...

Rating: Mature Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, panic attacks

S P O I L E R S A H E A D 

The empire is now built.  

And he’s so proud of himself. It’s been a long road, he’s worked hard; even cut down people who got in his way... But he’s here now, and despite the sudden passing of his mother, he can’t help the rising feeling of accomplishment – nay, smugness that sits in his chest.  

Of course, his mother stands beside him now as a spectre, joining his father on the spiritual plane that seemingly only he can see into. He wonders why that is sometimes, but it’s a minor detail and one he’s grateful for. At least this way, his mother hasn’t truly left his side. But he does wish his damned father would.  

“We seem to have remodelled here,” Copia remarks as they stand in the hallway of the Ministry; all those months of touring, he wasn’t aware of the changes. He likes them, more to his taste. It’s as if they were made with his ascension in the ranks in mind. He must thank Saltarian for that later. “Good, good...” 

“Well, I’m not in charge anymore,” Sister Imperator sighs dramatically, a little bitter than she can’t continue her role from beyond the grave. But it is what it is, and she’s sure her son is going to do a good job in her place. 

“No, you are not,” Copia gleefully quips, clicking his shiny new shoes together to assert his power.  

“I hope that this new guy doesn’t disappoint like you did,” his father, Papa Nihil grumbles beside him. Copia’s shoulders sag in annoyance, his eyes rolling as he turns to Nihil. 

“Really?” As if he hasn’t been the most successful Papa to date, selling more records, larger tours and spreading the unholy word further than his predecessors – but most importantly, escaping with his life... “Go necro-charge yourself,” he jabs, his polite way of telling his father to piss off and reminding him that he is in fact dead, and has no authority anymore. 

“Oh shut up!” 

“You shut up,” Copia retorts somewhat childishly, a petty little argument starting.  

“The two of you, just stop it. This is done! Just stop it...” Copia raised his hands in surrender, turning back to the doors in front of them.  

“Old habits; they die hard,” Nihil grumbles.  

“Old guys in habits die harder...” Sister comments, pressing her lips together in a tight line as her brow furrows. Copia looks back to his father guiltily, his gaze turning to the tiled floor in front of him. Yeah, didn’t he know it...  

But he couldn’t allow himself to think about that just now. If there was anything he had learned in recent months, it was to not dwell on the past. No matter how dark, no matter what he had done... And he had done some bad things.  

Images of blood-stained hands flashed through his mind, the noises of anguished screams, the silence that had followed... He couldn’t let that haunt him anymore.  

He shook his head of the thoughts, straightening his new expensive suit jacket. The jewels that hung from it rattled against his chest, and he straightened his back to give an air of importance and authority, ready for what was to come.  

“Oh look, here he comes...” Sister Imperator clasps her hands together, wringing them nervously as she hears the footsteps approaching on the other side of the door. Copia lifts his chin, waiting, trying not to show his own nervousness to see the figure approaching, a shadow on the other side of the stained glass doors. The light filters through, turning the end of the hall red which does nothing to quell the anxiety.  

As the new head of the Clergy, he would have thought somebody would have told him who was to be Papa. Frankly, he thought it would be his decision. But the choice had been made long before Sister’s death, and without her knowledge also. It had Saltarian written all over it. He liked to... mess with people.  

The hall fell silent as the shadow figure stood proudly behind the glass. A mitre already sat atop his head, which now he thought about it, was unusual. There had been no ceremony, nor reveal yet. This guy must have some balls to don the Papal robes so soon.  

The shadow reached for the door handles on their side, the knobs squeaking as they turned agonisingly slowly. Copia had to swallow the lump in his throat, reminding himself to stand tall and proud. He was Frater Imperator now. He was in charge.  

The doors swung open, and there he stood, a sickly smirk on his face.

Copia audibly whimpered, losing his balance and stumbling backwards. The panic set in quickly, his chest heaving with heavy breaths that couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs no matter how quickly they tried. He managed to regain his footing quickly at least, eyes wide and jaw dragging along the floor while his head swam.  

Beside him, his mother’s hand slapped to her mouth, somehow making a noise despite her no longer being a physical being. Even Nihil was stunned into silence, his brow furrowed with deep lines of confusion.  

Copia had never been so terrified in all his life. Somehow, he thought his demise would have been a kinder end to his own reign than this.  

The new Papa looked nowhere else but at Copia, his eyes glaring at him as if lasers would shoot from his pupils. That smirk still sat on his face; a face that was painted with crisp black and white.  

As he stepped forward, Copia resisted the urge to run. It was all he wanted to do but when it came down to it, his fight or flight response had withered into the third hidden option; freeze.  

Papa walked slowly, deliberately, his gaze never wavering. Copia couldn’t help but stare straight back but he couldn’t meet his eyes... Not after what he’d done. Even when Papa came to a halt a few feet from him. 

“Buonasera, fratello gemello...(Good evening, twin brother...)” The smugness in his voice reflected how Copia had felt moments before. But now? That had dissipated. Nothing but terror remained. “I look forward to working with you, eh?” 

Copia couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even look in his eyes...  

Instead, his stare was focussed on the garish, ugly, deep red scar that ran in a clean line around his neck...  

How could he not have seen this? So many signs he had ignored... Wilfully ignorant to all of this. Perhaps he had been living in denial, brushing any and every small clue aside so his own guilt would not get the better of him, and he could forget what he'd done.  

The scratch marks on the inside of his final resting place, the mortician who swore his foot had twitched in the morgue... It was Saltarian who insisted the movie be called ‘Rite Here, Rite Now’; his song. Even the music video served as foreshadowing, literally enacting his spirit rising from the dead...  

Copia felt like a fool. Had he not been so wilfully blind, maybe he would have seen it. Maybe he could have stopped it.  

But no, now he was staring directly at the result of the most evil deed he had ever committed; murdering his own twin brother. He could only hope he didn’t remember...  

“Terzo, what a... surprise...” Imperator stuttered beside Copia. Clearly, she had also been kept in the dark on this one...  

Terzo finally tore his gaze from Copia, instead smirking down at his mother who had too been instrumental in his untimely end.  

“Buona sera mamma, (Good evening mother,)” he greeted, sickly sweet and filled with patronisation. “You look well,” he joked. You know, because she was dead...

“S-so do you,” she smiled, her lip twitching. Terzo opened his arms to hug her, and with hesitation, she followed suit. 

“Oh, wait...I forgot,” he stopped, lowering his arms and leaning towards her with a shit eating grin on his face, “sei morto ora (you are dead now).” 

He took a step back, clearing his throat and turning back to Copia. “So, here we go again, eh?” 

“I-I suppose...” Copia choked out, still in shock.  

Copia and Terzo had always had a difficult relationship... Terzo was older by mere minutes, and when they had been born, Nihil had given his son the next title in line, only to give the second, smaller, weaker twin a name to match; Copy. Copia had always been treated as the weaker, the lesser of the two by their father. Their mother, however, had pitied Copia from the start and sided with him wherever she could. It had fuelled so much competition, so much resentment that it led to Terzo’s own end...  

To say their relationship was fraught was a severe understatement.  

“You boys... will have to learn to work together,” Sister Imperator warned, watching warily as the tension between the brothers built.  

“Oh, sí, we can work together, can’t we fratellino?” Terzo slapped his brother’s arm in fake encouragement.  

“S-sí, of course...” 

“Molto bene! (Very good!) I promise, best behaviour. Even little Cardi here will learn to work alongside me,” Terzo leaned forward, staring menacingly into Copia’s eyes with the smug smirk from before and getting into his personal space in a display of defiance. 

“Or heads will roll...” 

[novthewolf]

HII IS THIS A NEW BLOG ur theme is so cute giggles 💕💕

*drops request about jinx w a fem or gn reader doing her hair*

Knotted hair, knotted mind

(Thank you very much anon ! ^^)

Pairing : Jinx x GN!Reader

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : foul language, depiction of schizophrenia, english isn't my first language.

Words : +1,3K

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The huge metal structure groaned the more footsteps you took. You hated it here for the sole reason that it was incredibly deadly, and you didn't trust your feet to not betray you and make you fall to your death.

But for Jinx, you were more than willing to face your fears. Once again, she suffered from a breakdown in the middle of a mission, and the moment you got back to the headquarters, she bolted towards her room.

"Jinx ?" You call out, only to be answered by the echo of your own voice. Taking baby steps across the bridge, your eyes scanned the whole room. She could literally be anywhere. Really, she never ceased to amaze you, but this time, you just hoped she didn't hide away.

The deep void was pulling your eyes down towards it. A stream of curses targeted at your brain poured out of your mouth. Thankfuly, you could see the clumped counter in the centre of the giant room coming further. You rushed the last steps and totally leaned on Jinx's workshop, some of her makeeries falling to the ground. "We should really put fences around here." You whined.

A struggling sob resonated within the terrifying open space. Your eyes shot up, and you searched for your friend. She sat there across, her deeply blue hair totally discoloured on her head, as she pulled on it with concerning hatred. You gasped audibly and rushed to her side.

Kneeling down beside her, you hushed her to scout away from the edge of the plateform. Normaly, she wouldn't risk anything, but in her state, you didn't want to tempt the devil. You tilted your head to catch the expression on her face. "Jinx ?"

In the depths of her crisis, Jinx's expression was a haunting portrait of anguish and confusion. Her eyes, once bright and full of life, now mirrored the chaos swirling within her mind, haunted by unseen spectres and twisted visions. Lines of tension etched her brow, and her lips trembled with unspoken words, unable to articulate the torment raging within her soul.

Each fleeting emotion flickered across her face like shadows dancing in the dim light. Though her features were drawn and haggard, there remained a flicker of resilience in her gaze, a glimmer of hope amidst the storm that raged within her.

"Jinx, hey, listen to me." Her eyes snapped to yours, tears falling down her 

As the shadows of evening draped themselves over the room, you sat beside Jinx, whose once bright blue eyes were now clouded with fear and confusion. Her hands trembled as she clutched her long hair, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

With a gentle touch, you reached out, her hand finding Jinx's quivering shoukder, offering a silent anchor amidst the storm raging within yourriend's mind.

"I'm here, Jinx." You murmured softly, your voice a soothing balm against the tumultuous backdrop of young women's thoughts.

Jinx struggled to make sense of the fragmented and distorted whispers of her dead family that echoed in her mind. But you remained steadfast by her side, a beacon of unwavering support in the darkness.

"You're here too. Just you and me." With patience born of love and understanding, you guided her through the labyrinth of her own thoughts.

Together, you navigated the turbulent currents of Jinx's inner world, untangling the threads of reality from the tangled web of hallucinations and delusions.

"I didn't mean to fuck it up... I-It's just those fu-fucking blue firework thingies !" She gestured violently, and you had to duck your head to avoid getting slapped in the face.

"I understand... We should have been more careful. But we made it back; we're here. You are here." You smiled softly, not meeting her eyes, knowing it would only overwhelm her more.

She exhaled loudly and threw her head back, her legs bouncing rapidly. In the quiet sanctuary of your shared presence, you became the blue-haired lifeline, anchoring her to the present moment and gently guiding her towards the light. With each passing moment, the storm began to subside, and a sense of calm descended upon the room like a gentle rain after a tempest. Her small hands finally let go of her long hair and slid down her sides.

You felt her calm down gently, her eyes finally meeting yours. Your caring smile reassured me immensely. After her sister had abandoned her, Jinx kept seeking that loving and patient presence she lacked. Silco offered her the patience and structure she needed, but you brought her the unconditional understanding she craved. Something that could actually help her untangle her mind when the voices came nagging.

She hummed when your fingers brushed through her hair, smiling when she heard you chuckle. "Your hair is all messy..."

Jinx rolled her eyes but looked down bashfully. "Do you want me to brush them?" You offer quietly. The last thing you wanted was to cross her boundaries, though you knew she deeply enjoyed your touches and care.

"Okay." She nodded.

"Okay." You mirrored with a soft smile. Standing up, you offered her your hand, which she gadly took. You guided her towards her work table and sat her down on the chair.

You sat behind Jinx, who still bore the remnants of the storm that had ravaged her mind. With tender care, you began to gently comb through her tangled blue locks, her touch as light as a feather against Jinx's scalp. You put extra care into not pulling her hair or the knots in them.

"Can I braid your hair ?" You whispered softly, your voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. She nodded wordlessly, her eyes flickering with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion, her head tilting back, leaning into your touch.

As you deftly wove Jinx's hair into intricate plaits, the tension that had gripped her features began to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm and tranquility.With each twist and turn of the braid, your fingers worked their magic, creating a rhythmic dance that seemed to lull your friend into a state of peaceful surrender.

As the braid took shape, you spoke in hushed tones, sharing stories and memories from their shared past, each word a gentle caress against Jinx's troubled soul.

"I was terrified of heights as a kid... well, still are." You chuckled, continuing the long braids, her hair seeming endless. "Which is, y'know, quite practical when you live in a city with mostly flying structures." Your joke earned a small giggle from her.

With each tale, the invisible barriers that had separated them began to dissolve, replaced by a sense of intimacy and connection that transcended the confines of their physical surroundings. And as you secured the final knot of the braid, Jinx's beautiful blue eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting yours with a newfound sense of clarity and gratitude. In that fleeting moment, as they sat entwined in each other's presence.

You blushed slightly as you made her chair spin around. "There. Even prettier than before, I didn't think it could be possible." You winked, trying to come out confident.

She scoffed half-heartedly and nudged your leg with her own. Her gaze dazed at her inventions lying around. "Thanks for being there for me." She couldn't meet your eyes, but her voice carried all the thankfulness she felt.

You chuckled breathlessly and caressed her soft skin with your knuckles. "It's nothing, love. I got your back." Her cheeks heated up at your words, and she played with the newly braided hair.

As the night wore on, you remained vigilant by Jinx's side, offering comfort and companionship until the first light of dawn. From this moment on, she knew that no matter how fierce the storm raged within her, you would always be there to guide her and brush her worries away.

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[characteranalyst]

Phayu Character Analysis : The Man With a Borrowed Halo and One Foot in Hell

“My brother is far from simple, you’ll get burned if you don’t know how to play with fire” - Saifah

Gather round LITA obsessed children for an in depth analysis of our resident Daddy Dom Brat Tamer Phayu who Christian Grey wished he was and tried to be. You either hate him, love him, want to be him or all of the above.

I know PhayuRain’s arc seems like on the surface just a fluffy little romance with no need for lengthy think pieces.  But I’m obsessed with their dynamic and I could not let the hyper-fixation pass before doing a character analysis. Phayu haunts the periphery of dreams and I am hoping that this analysis will help me exorcise this beautiful spectre so I can finally know peace.

As much as I would genuinely love to crack open his skull and unspool all of his thoughts and motivations I cannot do that. So disclaimer obviously this will just be conjecture and my opinion and I am going to try and stick as closely as possible to canon and refrain from falling into head canon territory.

I have read Love Storm but I’m only going to be referencing how Phayu behaves in the series because I prefer that version of him. Also this is going to be a very LONGGGG post. I have many thoughts on this man. Feel free to skim through or save it to read for some other time.

I am mainly going to be speaking about the main character traits that I have observed from him and how he relates to the rest of the characters in the series. I think I am going to make a separate analysis of his dynamic with Rain because going in depth with that would be too much for me to mention here. 

Alright let’s get into it.

(1) EARLY CHILDHOOD AND YOUNG ADULTHOOD

We are given little to no information on his childhood and or young adulthood. What we do know is that his parents left him and Saifah an incredible house and the luxury garage so we can assume that they weren’t strapped for cash.  

Him and Saifah seem like two relatively well adjusted young men so I guess we can assume that there was little to no childhood trauma. In episode 6 during their pillow talk Phayu tells Rain that his parents are off living in Korat and enjoying their lives, I’m assuming. So I guess they’re not divorced. So he has no ‘separated parents’ trauma to deal with.

The only thing that gives us a little insight into how his childhood affected who he became as a person was when he told Rain the story of how his mother always used to argue with his father about how he could fix bikes beautifully but he could not build a house for them.

So Phayu decided that he was going to ensure that he was able to fulfil both by becoming a mechanic and an architect. I think from this we can conclude that Phayu is an overachiever and this displays his seemingly constant need to be perfect and the best.

I think this may also come from a child’s instinctual need to please their caretakers and make them proud. Phayu also seems like someone who has had a Type A personality from birth. In contrast to Saifah who seems like a little more laid back more go with the flow type.

From this little snippet of information we can also assume that his affinity for being a mechanic was either inherited from his father or taught to him and Saifah.

In conclusion it’s safe to say that Phayu does not really seem to have any trauma to speak of, he's just kinky.  I like the fact he doesn’t have any heavy trauma or unsavoury character traits (well I take this back he’s a little pushy and manipulative) he needs to get over. There is beauty in this simplicity where as a result, the majority of the narrative is focused on Phayu Rain falling in love with each other.

(2)   PHAYU AND HIS AIR OF MYSTERY (DR JEYKLL AND MR HYDE)

One thing that stood out to me when we as an audience were introduced to Phayu was his air of mystery. Everyone knows of him of course because he has been knighted as the God of the faculty of architecture.  But we see quickly that very few people actually know him personally. We can see how this fact plays out in the series through the following examples:

Pun says that she has no idea what kind of business Phayu runs but it's ok because she likes a man with a little mystery. (Episode 1)

Phayu refuses to tell Rain what he likes to eat on their first date because he says that Rain has to know him a lot longer before he can ‘snoop for information’ as he puts it. (Episode 3)

Phayu shares only a little information about his life with his senior Mhok before abruptly cutting the conversation short so as to not reveal too much information about his personal life. (Episode 4)

Phayu only reveals deep information about himself and his parents and childhood to Rain after their second time during pillow talk. (Episode 6)

He also doesn’t really seem to have close friends except for Prapai and Saifah. I don’t really think Saifah counts because he’s more of an unwilling captive because they have to share everything that their parents left them. I really don’t think they would even be friends if they weren’t brothers honestly because of their differing personalities. 

I think this ability to guard what he reveals to people helps maintain his mystique. There needs to be a certain level of distance and holding people at arm’s length that needs to take place in order for people to project their fantasies onto him and build him up as some sort of God among men.

I think the reason people idolise Phayu and like him so much is because they like the idea of him rather than the reality of him. I think if more people knew who he actually was in reality, they would be put off by how intense he is.

Rain seems like the only person who had become disillusioned with the idea of Phayu. After the debacle in Episode 1 he sees Phayu not as his ‘cool handsome big bike bro” but as a pushy piece of shit bastard that tried to assault him. I also think some of his anger towards Phayu had to do with him being confused by his feelings for him;  creating a cocktail of confusion for poor Rain to sort out. So he was able to view Phayu as a person and not place him on a pedestal like other people do.

I think this is what PhayuRain’s relationship needed to flourish as well because Phayu needs someone who is able to challenge him. We are well aware of how much he loves brats. The worshipful gaze of Som and Pun would not be satisfactory for him because they had him on a pedestal and were blinded by their idea of him so they would readily submit to him without much push back.

He needed someone with a backbone who could engage in a sort of push and pull relationship with him and our adorable little firecracker Rain was the perfect match. Phayu has people falling at his feet daily; he was in need of much more excitement than that.

Like the story of the titular character Dr.Jekyll a well-respected scientist who used his alter ego Mr.Hyde to delve into the darker side of science without repentance or taking responsibility; Phayu has that same sort of duality. I think Phayu keeps his kinky side under wraps and he’s very careful about whom he shows that part of himself to. Presumably only his lovers or potential lovers get to see his ‘bad side’.

So his DR JEKYLL would be, so to speak,the Phayu that is seen as a smart, capable, polite, helpful and well-adjusted young man, loved by all and sought after by many. This is the Phayu that would leave a random stranger his set square with an encouraging message about his future in architecture.

On the flip side his MR HYDE would be Dom Daddy Brat Tamer Phayu with a penchant for sadism and degradation.

At the end of the day both sides come together to make up who Phayu is as a person and there is nothing inherently wrong with his Mr. Hyde as long as he is able to channel it and engage with it safely with willing participants. Fortunately for him, he has Rain for that.

(3) WONKY MORAL COMPASS BUT STRINGENT PERSONAL RULES 

I really had a hard time dissecting this part. But I have come to the conclusion that Phayu deserves to be labelled as a morally grey or morally ambiguous person. I really have a soft spot for morally grey characters in media or literature. 

It makes the narrative far more interesting to follow. In real life however I would run in the opposite direction and call the police. But this isn’t supposed to be real, it's supposed to be a fantasy so I’m not going to go too much in depth about Phayu’s moral failings. This show doesn’t take itself too seriously so I’m not going to either.

Phayu is not a ‘nice’ person plain and simple and he knows it, contrary to Pun’s expository gushing in the first episode of the show when she refers to him as “super-duper nice”. After the spanking incident in Episode 2 (which was wild now that I think of it) where Rain declares that he is going to make him fall in love with him he says to himself;

 “You’re going to make me fall in love with you but do you know what kind of man I am.”

I think Phayu says this because he knows himself thoroughly the good, the bad and the ugly. Phayu has overcome himself. He has recognized all his shortcomings, all his base desires, all his lowliness, all the self-imposed restraints he places upon himself and overcome them. 

Phayu also strikes me as someone who has engaged with his shadow self and explored the parts of his psyche that most of us would repress and compartmentalise because we are too ashamed of our darkness to engage with it.

He has looked his darkness in the face and come to terms with it. That is why he says, "Do you know what kind of man I am?", because he understands people’s perception of him lies in stark contrast to his unsavoury character traits.

I also think his dabbling in BDSM has given him the room and space to conduct such exploration of himself in a safe, sane and consensual way. I think the nature of BDSM can afford people an outlet to engage with their own darkness and sort through it so that it doesn’t manifest in their life in other ways.

In Episode 1 we see where Prapai likens him to the devil (jokingly) but under every joke there is definitely some truth. If Prapai is calling him that it must be the truth because as we know Prapai looks like his only close friend.

We can assume that Prapai is incredibly familiar with Phayu’s Mr. Hyde as we can presume that they know each other very well so his assessment of dubbing Phayu as a devil must be accurate. 

Also head canon (I know I said I was going to refrain from going into head canon territory but please indulge me a bit) I’m sure they’ve fucked before in a bro-ish kind of way. I mean their both hot and bi and Prapai’s a sub in top’s clothing (I know Dom/sub and top/bottom are two separate things just enjoy the joke you know what I mean)  so it’s not far fetched to think they would have at some time fucked around a bit. 

Although I know Phayu is hardly the correct type of Dom for Prapai’s specific brand of subbiness. The point is I think that Prapai would be privy to Phayu’s true nature and how much of a little shit he can be when he isn’t using his powers for good.

In Episode 5 Saifah, the only other person we see having a close relationship with Phayu refers to him as a Devil as well.

I just know these two have witnessed some shit over the years of knowing Phayu that warranted him being referred to as a Devil.

Discussing Phayu’s moral code is very weird because it’s obvious that he doesn’t really adhere to a normal set of rules. We can assume he’s not particularly religious because it wasn’t mentioned.

I think Phayu is very domineering and kind of manipulative but at the same time he commands an air of respect. He is not necessarily what you would expect from someone who is so widely lauded as an exemplary person.

What also struck me about Phayu was the fact although his moral code seems a little flexible he has a few hard and fast non-negotiable rules that may seem arbitrary to someone like Rain but to him it may as well be gospel. 

One of these rules in the show is seen where we see he has a big thing for respect. We see an example of this when he calls Rain after he picks up his car from the garage and he tells Rain that only ill-mannered boys don’t greet the owner of the house when they stop by. He also ends the call by telling Rain to be respectful. We also see his thing for rules when he tells Rain that he doesn’t like ill-mannered boys and that he should address him as P’Phayu emphasising the use of honorifics.

Phayu is also a man of his word in Episode 7 when Rain tells Phayu that he will unleash his wrath on him if he ever cheats on him. Phayu just laughs and says he will never let Rain down. He holds true to this in the Special Episode when Rain accuses him of cheating on him with Natsu he utters the same sentiment that he promised to never let Rain down. This man looked absolutely horrified at the accusation like he wouldn’t even dream of it.

I think his strict adherence to rules other than him being a Dom could also be influenced by his exposure and affiliation with the likes of P’Pakin and P’Chai.  He knows that there will be dire consequences if the rules aren’t strictly adhered to. This is why he curses Stop for mentioning the race in public and he reprimands Rain for thoughtlessly wandering into the illegal street race without permission to be there.

BUT ON THE FLIP SIDE

He’s so stringent about ensuring that Rain is polite and respectful but he thinks it’s perfectly fine to tamper with Rain’s car so that he would have an excuse to be his knight in shining armour and save him so they could hook up. The math is not mathing at all. I know he’s an experienced mechanic and he wouldn’t have tampered with anything that would have led Rain getting in an accident and getting injured but still. WEIRD BEHAVIOUR KHUN PHAYU!!!!!! Also don’t even get me started on him using the debt of fixing Rain’s car as some weird way to stalk him??? RED FLAGGGGGG!! His methods of courtship definitely need some fine tuning. 

In conclusion his contradictory moral code gives me whiplash trying to figure out where on the scale from angel to devil I should place him. But I think he’s just human. No one is all good and all bad and I think that Mame writes very human raw characters that make you feel something. I’ll give credit where credit is due.

(4) AN EERIE LEVEL OF SELF CONTROL AND THE PATIENCE OF A SAINT 

This man probably never has New Year’s Resolutions because he’s already operating at optimal condition. Phayu is portrayed to be quite literally always in control. The only time he looks undone is after THAT SCENE in Episode 6.

We see this self-control manifest in the way he makes love to Rain in a very formulaic, worshipful and almost performative manner. Gently throwing Rain’s head back, holding his hands down and caging his body. Rain responds in kind to his dominance by always baring his throat in submission and allowing his body to go lax under Phayu’s ministrations.

It’s so gentle but he’s still being dominant and in control. While Rain always looks halfway between heaven and earth during these scenes Phayu always seems wholly present and tethered to earth (like a good Dom should be) creating a space in which his precious sub can feel safe enough to fly out of this stratosphere.

The subtlety with which he maintains control makes me absolutely feral. There is hardly any jostling or manhandling but it’s still forceful. I think a great example of the subtlety of how Phayu displays his dominance can be seen in the PhayuRain make-out scene in Episode 5.

The natural way he cages Rain’s neck to control the flow of the kiss.

The way he stop kissing Rain when Rain tries to lead and he put a finger to his lips in a way that almost screams “Relax I’m in charge here.”

Unlike our donut firecracker Rain (my sweet boy) that was ready to scrap at the first sign of disrespect, Phayu seems like he is not one to resort to violence if they could sort it out by just talking and coming to an amicable solution.

We can see an example of this where Phayu refused to be baited by Stop into fighting with him even though Stop was about to punch him at the night racing circuit in the beginning of Episode 6.

Also before the race between him and Stop where Stop was trying to rile him up. He was able to remain level headed while Stop immediately lost his cool and tried to fight him once again when Phayu insulted him.

I’m assuming this self-control is more nature than nurture. It seems like he is the type to have always been calm and self-contained. He doesn’t need to bark loudly because his competence and self-assuredness speaks volumes. 

He quite literally doesn’t yell often he just uses that husky dom voice. The only time he ever really raised his voice was when he was shouting at Rain in Episode 2 when he was worried that he could have gotten killed for sneaking into the illegal street circuit race.

The thing about dominance and control that I think people like Stop with fragile egos get wrong is that they think it comes from a place of aggression, peacocking and forcing people to bow to your will. This is however not the sort of dominance that will truly gain you respect and have people willingly obey you.

Phayu’s dominance and control comes from a place of nurturing and caring and people only defer to him and his authority because he has proven time and time again that he is capable of shouldering the responsibility of what this control entails and he has consequently gained their respect because of it.

(5) PRIDE GOES BEFORE A FALL 

No matter how level headed he is and self-control he possesses he’s still a man and he has been socialised to exist as a man. So he’s not above engaging in a motorcycle race with an asshole like Stop to prove a point and because of his pride.

I like how this moment humanised Phayu and showed how no matter how above petty human emotions he seems, he’s still liable to fall victim to making decisions based on ego.

However, I like that he was self-aware enough to realise that he was indeed only participating in this race because of his pride because he says to Rain when he tries to stop him some things just don’t have an explanation. 

We can contrast him racing Stop because of his pride and him kneeling before Stop and crawling to save Rain from being hurt. Although he has an ego he was more than willing to put pride aside to ensure Rain’s safety.

(SIDENOTE- I died watching the kidnapping ordeal in episode 7 that shit was so unserious. The picture of Rain that Stop sent Phayu lives in my head rent free and I cackle from time to time because of it.) 

(6) “P’PHAYU LHOR MAKKKKK!” – Pun  (PRETTY PRIVILEGE AND THE HALO EFFECT)

Physical appearance is often a major part of the halo effect. People who are considered attractive tend to be rated higher as possessing positive traits in contrast to people who aren’t considered conventionally attractive.

I think beauty can be blinding and make people more willing to overlook people’s misgivings. As the halo effect states people are more likely to project good qualities on to people they deem to be conventionally attractive.

As I said when I was addressing his air of mystery; because people are so predisposed to projecting all these good qualities on Phayu the distance and the space that he creates between him and other people can be filled with these projections and good qualities so that they build him up in their minds as this amazing person.

This man radiates and secretes ungodly amounts of sex appeal without trying. So I think his general attractiveness is one of the reasons as well why Rain had a hard time getting people to believe that Phayu was a pushy manipulative little asshole in the beginning.

Do I think Phayu would have commanded the same level of respect that he does without also being pretty? I don’t know to be honest. I do however think Phayu is an unintentional cautionary tale about the dangers of projecting good qualities on someone just because they’re attractive and being blind to their faults.

(7) SELF ASSURED, CONFIDENT AND CHARMING – CONCEITED?

I mean I’d be that confident too if I was rich, handsome, talented, smart ANDDDDD could fuck like a porn star but I digress. Very much a quiet confidence to him as was elaborated on when I spoke about the air of mystery. He is evidently very capable and consequently people rely on him and I think his self- assuredness comes from the fact that he can back up his claims because he has every right to be self-centred.

Without mincing words this man is very conceited. However although he is conceited he doesn’t lack empathy and he doesn’t seem too self-involved as evidenced by the way he ensures that he takes care of the people he cares about.

(8) PHAYU THE COMPULSIVE CARETAKER, CONCEITED BUT NOT SELF-INVOLVED

We see in Episode 4 how Phayu puts Rain’s needs before his by ensuring that Rain focuses on his school work and ensures that his development and advancement as a person comes before pursuing a romantic relationship with Phayu.

He ensures that Rain understands how slacking on his work in pursuance of other things will affect his work life and he lectures him while still comforting him after. I really liked this scene in Episode 3 because Phayu is able to help Rain because he’s older and more experienced and he’s gone through it before. I also like the fact that there isn’t a hint of condescension in his voice, just concern and wanting to ensure that Rain becomes the best version of himself.

Phayu shows how much he cares about Rain and is invested in making Rain a priority in his life in so many little ways. We can see in Episode 5 how Phayu leaves an important meeting to answer Rain’s text messages. Also in Episode 4 When Rain finishes his project early after an all-nighter and instead of sleeping he goes straight to Phayu. Phayu ensures that there is reciprocity in their relationship by saying that you missed out on sleep to come see me, so I'm going to hurry up and finish my work so we can hang out.

He makes an effort to help Rain finish his models like he promised to do in his speech in Episode 5. Also in Episode 4 he apologises to Rain for his phone dying and for making him wait for him in the rain. In Episode 6 after he almost gets in a fight with Stop the first thing he does is ask Rain if he’s alright even though he was the one that almost had a brawl with Stop.

I think we really see throughout the show how the way Phayu interacts with Rain takes on a sort of paternalistic tinge. The title of Daddy is incredibly fitting and I really just think this is him being a good Dom.

That’s why I think this is the reason Phayu looks so touched and taken aback when Rain and him first meet and he holds the umbrella for Phayu while he’s changing his tire. Phayu’s so used to being relied on and being assumed to be competent and well put together. He’s used to giving without expecting anything in return. So when Rain does this small act of kindness in an effort to repay this Good Samaritan, Phayu becomes fascinated with him. 

(9) ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS B.R. (Before Rain)

Was he possibly a whore? Not as much of a whore as Prapai but he has definitely spun the block. Whereas our beloved service top Prapai has built a gated community in which he resides on said block. Phayu had a condom stashed under that toy car so we know he was getting some action.

He was probably not a whore whore because as he said to Rain in the bathroom scene:

We all know why he’s particular. I don’t think he would have been able to find a lot of people willing to put up with his domineering attitude and controlling nature long term if they didn’t have that sort of kink no matter how insanely hot he is.

But there were definitely others before Rain if we can take cues from the offhanded comments of the other characters in the series. Saifah tells Rain in Episode 3 when he’s waiting for Phayu that there were others before him. Was it a lot of others though? The world may never know.

Saifah comments on the fact that Phayu has been single for a long time and Saifah tells him if he wants to be happy like him he should get in a serious relationship. So we can assume that long term romantic relationships for Phayu have more than likely been few and far between. He probably was not celibate though as we see how he was going to have a one night stand with Rain.

We see Saifah saying that he feels bad for whoever is making Phayu smile like that and how he warns him not to be too mean to Rain because he will run away. We can assume that others have been perturbed by how intense Phayu was in the past and they have run off.

I’m sure Saifah knows Phayu very well and even if he isn’t aware of the details of his kinkiness he knows Phayu has a thing about control and a mean streak. At least that’s what Saifah computes it as in his vanilla mind. I’m sure this poor man has heard and seen way too much. JUSTICE FOR SAIFAHH!!!!!!

Lastly before they get together Phayu constantly tests Rain to see if he can handle what a long term relationship with him would look like. I’m sure this comes from things not working out in the past and Phayu wanting to ensure that Rain can handle him.

We can see that Phayu may have abandonment issues from things not working out in the past with his romantic pursuits when in Episode 5 he’s scared and panicked and sad when Rain runs away after they have sex for the first time. I have three theories about this:

(1) He didn’t want to lose Rain because he’s a unicorn and he may never have hope of finding someone so perfect for him again.  

(2) He was abandoned before because he was too much and overbearing and it triggered him.

(3) He’s big on communication and he feels slighted that Rain ran away before they could discuss how their relationship would develop after they had sex for the first time.

It could have quite possibly been a combination of all of the above. Phayu seems like the type to be fully invested in a long term relationship and he seems like someone who loves deeply so I think him testing Rain was him just trying to ensure that Rain was worth the investment before he got too attached.

(10) PHAYU THE SCULPTOR ; HIS OBSESSION WITH POTENTIAL AND MOULDING THINGS TO HIS LIKING 

“Rain before you design a house you need to design your life first”- Phayu

I get the impression that Phayu’s view on life is that everything can be curated and tailored to his liking if he tries hard enough. He’s definitely not a go with the flow kind of person. Every single move he makes is intentional. Looking at his two professions being an architect and his side of job of being a mechanic; these are two things that require moulding, precision.

Architects are able to create and design and bring their vision to life and make it tangible. It’s a very creative profession with the added bonus of having something you designed realised in real life.

Also mechanics are constantly tinkering with engines and in control of powerful machinery. Whether they work on maintenance, diagnostics, or repairs, they have to perform those tasks with exacting detail. That is because this careful work on important vehicle components could save someone’s life.

This speaks to Phayu’s pedantic nature with the added element of not wanting to deal with the consequences of disappointing Pakin. These machines are kind of like a puzzle to be solved.

But the catch is those things aren’t really his and they don’t truly belong to him.

In Episode 3 we can infer that sometimes clients may criticize his designs and he has to mould it to their liking instead of relying on his own vision.

In Episode 1 Prapai tells him your babies are so beautiful (referring to the motorcycles) but Phayu corrects him and says that they don’t belong to him.

But I think that although he doesn’t own these things and that he may be required to tailor the design of a house to someone else’s liking still these tasks scratch his itch for moulding and creating.

Then *enter stage left* a wild Rain appears, a blank canvas unmarred by past sexual or romantic experience. He has no expectations and no idea how anything works so he’s able to become a sort of pliable clay that Phayu can use his deft fingers to mold to his liking consequently making Rain his.

We can are shown how their relationship is mutually beneficial and how it works for them. Different folks have different strokes.

The glint in his eyes and the way Phayu all but shivers in excitement every time Rain tells him he can’t do something. 

Episode 4 – "I’ll teach you"

Episode 6- "I'll train you to be the best rider"

In the infamous Daddy scene in the special episode he says "When I teach I teach to the core" 

It’s not explicitly stated but I’m sure this man got off constantly at the fact that he was Rain’s first everything when it came to sex and romance and he is constantly in charge of moulding him.

We can definitely see how much of a diligent student and quick learner Rain is and how Phayu is consequently able to enjoy the fruits of his labour. (SIDE NOTE: I’m sure Phayu wasn’t prepared for the monster he created in Rain.)

I love the reciprocity in their relationship as Phayu shows Rain just how desired he is and worships him constantly.

(11) WHY HE WAS DEFINITELY A KID WHO HATED SHARING HIS TOYS 

Phayu strikes me as a man who knows exactly what he wants and  how to obtain it and when he finds it he will hold on to it and never let it go. We are given countless examples of Phayu’s blatant possessiveness over Rain once they begin their unorthodox courtship.

When after their first time Phayu says to Rain that he must repeat the phrase “Rain belongs to P’Phayu.”back to him.

This man heard that Pun was in Rain’s general vicinity and immediately drove to him to stake his claim. Also when he admits to being “insanely jealous” of Pun ever since he heard that Rain used to have a romantic interest in her.

He removes Saifah’s hand from Rain’s shoulder in Episode 4 and tells him to get back to work after Saifah suggests that he could teach Rain how to ride a super bike.

I do think this possessiveness is also in part because Phayu realises how much of a rare find Rain is and he will do everything in his power to ensure that they stay together forever. I also think in contrast, Rain’s possessiveness has more to do with him constantly having to fight off potential suitors because everyone is in love with Phayu (well the idea of him). 

I appreciate however that his possessiveness isn’t portrayed as particularly toxic because in episode 5 when Phayu is having lunch with Sky and Rain and Rain tells Sky he loves him after he told him that Phayu and him were dating.

Instead of getting unreasonable jealous of Rain and Sky’s obviously platonic relationship, Phayu simply says that he has no reason to be jealous because he knows that Sky and Rain are just friends.

I think if they ever decided on venturing out and engaging in a threesome it would 100% be Rain’s idea in order to satiate his own curiosity. Phayu would go along with it (ever indulgent of his sweet boy) but he would probably have to be in control the entire time while simultaneously barking orders at the third party about how to pleasure Rain properly.

(12) THE SADISTIC  LITTLE SHIT (AFFECTIONATE) AND HIS “DEK NGO”  "DEK NARAK"

I know PhayuRain and their kink list is longer than the elevator ride to hell but I’m going to focus on what in my opinion is Phayu’s poison of choice. That is sadism and degradation.

More specifically emotional and psychological sadism mostly. I don’t think he’s particularly opposed to physical sadism though. In the special episode he said he punished Rain until he was sore but Rain liked it. Although this is vague and he could have been sore for different reasons we see in Episode 2 when Phayu is berating Rain for breaking into the illegal race that isn’t above spanking Rain.

I don’t really know for sure if Rain is a masochist though I think he is definitely willing to try things with Phayu but he didn’t really seem to enjoy the spanking but I guess that was mostly because they didn’t know each other that well.

So I think while Phayu is mainly an emotional sadist and he prefers it he partakes in physical sadism with Rain because I think Rain would prefer that more based on his personality. This is mainly because of his obvious praise kink.

(CC: Rain’s blissed out expression when Phayu whispered “keng mak” i.e. “Good job” in his ear in the bathroom stall scene after Rain had followed his instructions.)

So the degradation that comes along with emotional sadism may not be Rain’s cup of tea.

After the incident in Episode 3 where Phayu told Rain to change ‘ngo’ to ‘narak’ ; I think he realised how insecure Rain was about being called stupid and that this was a hard limit for Rain. We can see as the story progress after this incident where Phayu either calls him “naughty boy” or some version of good boy.

I do think that this is an example of how Phayu is willing to tailor and transform his kinks and compromise to ensure that Rain is comfortable. He realised that Rain responds far better to praise and made the necessary adjustments.

We also see Phayu’s penchant for degradation and humiliation in  Episode 3 where he buys Rain extra small underwear. Although they were the correct size for Rain, Phayu had to throw  in a little dick size shaming for his own amusement. The smug little smile after he riles Rain up about this speaks for itself. 

However I wanted to fight him when he made my baby Rain cry in episode 5 after he made Rain think that he didn’t want to be with him anymore. Although I kind of feel like this was sort of more punishment for the fact that Rain ran off after their first time in Episode 4 and made him worry. I guess it’s safe to add dacryphilia to their long ass kink list. Phayu you sadistic little shit. 

If we also listen to the words of Phayu in his little speech before they make out in episode 5, I swear the only thing missing from this was Phayu getting down on one knee and proposing to Rain. 

He says:

We can see that he enjoys this and gets off on being the one to tease and degrade Rain. He knows Rain’s limits and he ensures that he follows up any degradation with praise as a  salve to any open wounds he’s caused with his words. I think Rain eventually adapts to this part of Phayu however because in Episode 7 he tells Phayu that he is willing to let Phayu tease him forever. 

I love how they are both willing to adapt and compromise to better serve each other’s needs. Phayu constantly keeps Rain off kilter constantly guessing, constantly teasing him but at the same time he ensures that Rain understands that Phayu loves him and he is valued.

Phayu is constantly and reflexively adjusting himself to meet Rain's needs from moment to moment and I applaud him for it. Good job Daddy you get a gold star for all your hard work.

(13) PHAYU THE INVENTOR OF HEALTHY COMMUNICATION

This definitely has to be one of my favourite things about Phayu. I’m sure Rain isn’t the first person Phayu has attempted to have some sort of D/s relationship with and at the core of this is communication, consent and boundaries. 

D/s relationships especially 24/7 ones involve copious amounts of consent and negotiation and communication but I know that the show couldn’t necessarily explicitly address the fact that they are in a 24/7 D/s relationship so we don’t get any sit down moments where Phayu and Rain discuss it blatantly. However I would assume that at some point Phayu sat Rain down and explained to him what their dynamic is and what was expected of him.

We definitely see how much Phayu values communication in the Special Episode when Rain misreads a situation. Where he sees Phayu talking to Natsu on the couch in Phayu’s home. I mean to be fair sparks were flying between them. I don’t know  if that was just a Boss thing because good God this man can generate sexual tension with a  wall. (Went off on a tangent there moving on back to communication.)

I think that Phayu understands that Rain has a sort of inferiority complex that is made worse by people being constantly baffled as to how Rain ended up with a guy like Phayu. Rain also most likely due to immaturity and lack of life experience has a problem with communication and conflict resolution. 

Phayu has to drag the confession out of Rain about why he’s upset with him. We see where this man has quite literally done nothing wrong yet still he gets on his knees to apologise and tries to make it up to Rain. 

I love that Phayu possesses the maturity to  never allow misunderstandings to remain unaddressed and fester. Although Rain may lack the maturity to speak up and directly tell Phayu what is bothering him in any given situation, Phayu ensures that they talk it out so that their conflicts do not go unresolved and that resentment does not have the opportunity to set in. 

(14) PHAYU SEX & SEXUALITY 

Phayu is an unapologetically shameless and sexual person. This comfortability in his sexuality and his lack of preoccupation with other people's opinion of him allows him to exude a calm self assurance and striking sex appeal subconsciously. 

This comfortability with his own sexuality was displayed many times throughout the series. In Episode 3 when that are at the porridge shop and Phayu goads Rain into being unashamed of the fact that they were in public and on a date with each other.

In Episode 5 after Rain told Sky that he was dating Phayu he said he was happy that Rain told his best friend about them because he understands that he would be apprehensive in case Sky would start to see him differently. I like that he lets Rain come out on his own time and he doesn’t rush him. Lastly in Episode 6 Phayu proudly introduces Rain as his boyfriend to P’ Chai at the street race. 

Phayu is a readymade character who has presumably gone through the stage in his life where he would have explored his sexuality and unusual proclivities and has come to the point of acceptance. I think that is why he is portrayed as someone who knows exactly what he likes and enjoys and is unashamed of it.

This is why he seems to be such a safe place for Rain to explore the full spectrum of his own sexuality.  There is never any judgement in Phayu's eyes when they uncover another one of Rain’s off the walls kinks. We just see at most a sort of mild amusement and an instant willingness to acquiesce and indulge Rain.

Phayu being out and proud made Rain feel like it was ok to have these feelings so his apprehension about identifying as such quickly dissipated.He’s constantly willing to teach, indulge and hold Rain’s hand through this journey and I just think that’s so neat. 

Everyone deserves to have a safe place like Phayu when dipping their toes in and navigating the troubled unpredictable waters of sex and sexuality especially when coming to terms with their own queerness. 

WHAT IS PHAYU’S MAIN MOTIVATION THAT UNDERSCORES EVERYTHING SINGLE ACTION THAT HE TAKES?

The simple answer to this is control. This is important because I don’t see Phayu as someone who particularly chases after power but control? Yes most definitely.Power is the ability to make something happen. Control is the ability to make something happen the way you want. We are all created differently but Phayu needs control at all times in the same way we need oxygen to survive. It’s just the way his wires were crossed. 

Phayu could have easily just admitted to Rain on their first meeting that he remembered him and he could have left it to chance how their encounter would have gone. He could have also gone through the Prapaiesque route and  just pursued Rain himself. 

But he was different; he made sure that he was in control of  their dynamic from the very beginning. The aforementioned options left far too many variables that could have thrown a wrench in Phayu’s end game which was getting Rain. 

He even somehow managed to get Rain to pursue him and have him think that it was his idea. Even though he was the one who liked Rain from the very beginning.

This desperate all-consuming need to be in control at all times is tempered by Phayu’s ability to adequately shoulder the responsibility that comes with that control. Everything he does is calculated. There is always an end goal. Consequently he thrives and is most content when he has someone like Rain to be in charge of in a sense.

The contentment and ease that seems to overtake Phayu when he and Rain are in an established relationship is a sight to see. He’s no longer untethered; he's firm and grounded.

CHARACTER’S RELATIONSHIP TO THE PLOT

There isn’t too much angst and the denouement/final conflict just concerns external factors and has nothing to do with Phayu Rain’s romantic relationship

The plot is just romance; from the meet cute in the rain to the established relationship. I love how we just felt like we were along for the ride to watch two men fall irrevocably in love with each other and fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces.

CHARACTER’S GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT THROUGHOUT THE SERIES

I’m going to be honest I don’t think there was much life altering character growth with Phayu. When we meet Phayu he seems like a fully fleshed out character who knows what he wants and isn’t ashamed of his proclivities and sexuality so there is no room to explore there or for any consequent development. Phayu is a static character with no change in behaviour, and his values and attitudes remain pretty consistent throughout the entirety of the text and the series. 

I don’t think I’m getting over PhayuRain anytime soon. If you got all the way to the end I hope you enjoyed my ramblings. Let me know if you guys have anything to add. The plot as well as the characters in this show were a far cry from perfect but I keep coming back to it so they must have done something right. 

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #10: A Quiet Place

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist

Summary: You and Steven get a few more answers before he takes you home and shows you how much he's missed you.

Pairing this chapter: Steven Grant x f!reader

A/n: I know I promised Jake, but I switched the order of 2 chapters, and I promise you'll like this one!

Word count: 2.1k

Content: exposition again, domestic fluff, steven gets to shine, fingering, p in v, bit of language, not beta'd

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PREVIOUSLY on Spectre…

"Ms. Marjorie, why does she look the same? What happened to her body?”

"When I cast the spell on her," Ms. Marjorie explained, leaning forward on her elbows, "It's like I froze time for her. She is exactly the same as the night she died, except no longer in her old body."

She turned to you, smiling softly. “Their love essentially made you…materialize, just as they perceived you to be. I really don't know a better way to explain it."

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“Let me get this straight,” Steven said. “This shop completely vanished, o-or I was hallucinating. What is actually going on here?”

"As I said, it’s Halloween," Ms. Marjorie explained. "Not a holiday you’d associate very closely with love, I suppose, but - you see - love is the most powerful magic in the world.

“Your lovely partner here wasn’t haunting you, as you’ve told me Mr. Spector feared,” she went on. “She was simply suspended between the world of the living and the dead."

“Then, why were you pretending to work here?” Steven inquired, gesturing around him animatedly. “What even is this place?”

“My shop," she simply replied.

"But...it disappeared," Steven argued. "When I needed answers most, it wasn't here."

"Ah yes," Ms. Marjorie smiled warmly. "When you needed answers most," she nodded your way, "you found her. When you were ready." She shrugged, beginning to tidy up the tea cups and saucers. "The rest was all a bit of witchcraft, nothing more."

You pondered your words for a moment before smiling fondly. "Thank you, Ms. Marjorie, for everything. You and Steven - both of you saved my life.”

"I fudged a spell that was meant to save your life, but if it turned out well in the end, then I suppose I did some good and for that, I am grateful," she chuckled.

"And we are grateful as well," Steven chimed. "Thank you for helping me, and for your kindness, but I do believe I may need to ask you one more favor."

"What is that, Steven?"

Steven took a deep breath. “The man who killed my partner. Do you know anything about him? Did you see anything else?”

“Nothing that will be of much help, I’m afraid. not that night anyway. But something mystical is at work here. Your grandmother called out to me because she sensed your danger from beyond. She’s connected to all this somehow.

"But enough time spent with an old lady. Go on and enjoy yourselves," Ms. Marjorie instructed, gazing at you pointedly. "Enjoy life."

"Thank you again." You stood, giving the older woman a warm embrace. "You’re an angel to me."

"Oh I doubt that," Ms. Marjorie chuckled. "But happy to help."

Golden-hued trees, late autumn sunshine and the changes that had infiltrated in your hometown over the last few months took your breath away as you passed them by.

Steven glanced over at you worriedly, reaching for your hand.

"This is all so unbelievable," you uttered, awestruck. "It's like I'm in some other universe. It's magical. But it's a lot."

“I can’t believe it either. We should get you some things from the drug store, but someone might see you. Maybe I should take you home first, and come back,” Steven suggested.

“No. No, I don’t want to be alone. I’ll just come with you,” you quickly protested, your racing heart reminding you just how alive you really were.

By the time you gathered some necessities and checked out at the drug store, Steven noticed you seemed a bit glassy eyed and short of breath.

"Let's go home, love," he said softly. "I've got you."

Back in your kitchen, you eased down on a chair, watching Steven carefully as he unloaded the bags from the store and put on the kettle.

"We'll order you some things online. Some clothes - whatever you want."

He watched you for a response, but you hadn't said much since you walked into the drugstore earlier.

Kneeling down in front of you, he reached for your hand. "Darling, I know this is all...impossible. But I'm here."

You nodded, mutely.

A line of concern creased his forehead as he chewed on the corner of his lip. But he was determined to take care of you. A few moments later, he set your favorite tea in front of you, despite the fact that you drank some with Ms. Marjorie.

The tea comforted you almost as much as when Steven brought Jeremiah to sit on the table beside you.

"I'm sorry," you finally uttered, tracing your finger over the cool glass of the fish bowl. "It...I think it feels too good to be true, it can't be true. It can't be."

"That's the way I've always felt about you, love," he sweetly returned, warm, earthy eyes locking with yours. "An absolute wonder, you are."

"Steven..." you whispered, your heart - your entire body so full of love an awe. "I think my head might explode if I think about this any harder," you confessed.

Steven brilliantly distracted you for the remainder of the afternoon and evening. He put on the most mundane documentary - just enough to hold your slight interest but keep everything calm.

Then he got the laptop and helped you pick out some basic clothes from your favorite store. They would arrive tomorrow because he paid for expedited shipping.

When your mind would start to wander, he would take the laptop and pull you close, even kiss you deeply. Once the documentary ended, he read to you for a little while.

The people on your street and the surrounding ones knew you had passed away, so not too many trick-or-treaters rang the doorbell, hoping not to disturb Mr. Spector, but Steven was prepared with a couple of bags of candy from the drugstore. You stayed out of sight as to not give the young ones a real fright.

The next time the doorball rang, it was for a dinner delivery, which somehow seemed like the most delicious thing you'd ever eaten. Before long, you grew sleepy, simply because existing was so damn draining. At least today.

You felt a little distant from Steven, not because there was anything wrong between the two of you, but because you hadn't spoken to him much all afternoon.

Still, he'd given you exactly what you'd needed. Just enough mental stimulation to keep your mind from wandering and getting overwhelmed. Just enough tenderness to make you feel special.

You ended the day feeling cherished, with a full belly. And you had clothes, shoes and other necessities on the way.

"I feel like I bored you to death on my first day alive," you finally joked after brushing your teeth.

"You know that could never be true," Steven refuted, wiping his mouth with a towel before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Thank you for today," you said seriously, wrapping your arms around his neck as you stared deeply into his eyes. "You're like a touchstone. I feel so safe with you."

"I would do anything to keep you safe," he whispered against your lips, taking them captive for a tender but sensual kiss, squeezing your hips possessively. "Come on, love, let's get you to bed."

"I slept a lot today. I really am boring," you joked.

"Oh we won't be sleeping," he cheekily returned, goosing your ribs which made you squeal.

Whatever slight distance you had felt with Steven evaporated once you were in bed, as he gathered you to the warmth of his chest and slotted his mouth against yours. Hungry hands gripped the t-shirt he'd slid over your head not ten minutes ago as he kissed you until you both needed air.

"Can't even say how much I've missed you," he murmured, pushing his fingertips over the curve of your back, easing your shirt upward. His thumbs grazed the sides of your breasts, underneath your arms, causing your breath to stutter.

"Tell me to stop and I will," he went on, sampling your lips one at a time, only pausing when pulling the shirt over your head interrupted you.

His eyes flickered down to your mouth, then your chest as he licked his lips. "Never thought I'd see you this way again."

You swallowed hard, your breath quickening under his hungry gaze.

"You alright, darling?" He smiled gently, brushing his hand across your collarbone. "Too much?"

"No," you breathed out - your fingers twisting through his curls as you pulled your bare chest flush against his cotton-covered one, sharing his breath as your body bloomed with desire. You tugged his hair a little too hard, desperate to somehow drag yourself closer still.

"Missed that," he moaned out, smiling against your cheek even as he rushed to get his own t-shirt off.

Your lips fused together again as the heat of his bare chest, the sweet warmth of his breath in your mouth - the soft seduction of his tongue tasting yours - and the possessive grip as he slid his hands once more up the curve of your back - set your body aflame with need.

Steven was clear that he wanted you, but still, he took his time - every nip of his teeth, soothed with the heat of his tongue. Every desperate grip eased into a seductive caress, and when his fingers finally slid between your legs - when he found the core of you hot and wet for him - he caressed you only once before pressing his forehead to yours.

"Let me make you mine again," he begged, fingertips twitching with the need to touch you - the thick outline of his bulge pressed hungrily against your bare thigh.

"Steven," you gasped, his possessive claim making you wild with desire. Your legs fell open as he coaxed you open, plunging his tongue in your mouth and two fingers deep inside you.

Your hungry moan spurred him on as he fingered you just the way you liked. Steven was all sweet seduction. It was fun to make him whimper, but he could really pull you apart when he wanted to.

But tonight wasn't about anything but cherishing you, here, alive.

So, as you worked him free of his pajama pants and stroked the velvet length of him, you found that you didn't want him to take his time. Not tonight. Just in case.

"Please, Steven," you sweetly begged him, tugging him seductively while grinding against his hand. "Need you inside."

He groaned at your touch, and your hunger to feel him, relieved that it wasn't too much for you. Soon enough, your remaining clothes were discarded and Steven climbed on top of you, caging you in with his surprisingly strong forearms. His biceps flexed deliciously as he held up his weight, positioning himself perfectly.

He knew your body as well as his own - better, maybe, since he shared his body. Without another thought, or a hand to guide him, he pushed inside you, tilting his hips exactly how he knew -

"Oh fuck Steven..." you gasped, your back arching off the bed.

Your partner knew how to please you, hitting that spot that only familiar lovers could find so easily - like the steps of a well-rehearsed dance.

"My beautiful girl," Steven breathed against your neck, between spine-tingling open-mouthed kisses laid seductively on your throat.

Slow, devastatingly deep thrusts made you whimper with both satisfaction and yearning.

"Stay here with me," he begged, hands touching you all over, finding a home on the curve of your hips as he worked himself in and out of you with fierce possessiveness. "Stay with me. Please stay..."

You whimpered his name, gripping the breadth of his shoulders as your bodies twisted, hot and wet and alive, faster and deeper until he spilled inside you only seconds after your body seized in absolute rapture, clenching him with your velvet warmth.

Steven kissed you messily, hungry and sated at the same time, hips slowing and finally stopping as his weight dropped down, caging you in. He quickly attempted to pull away, as to not crush you, but you slung your leg around his thighs and held him there.

"Stay," you echoed his plea from earlier. "Stay right here. Stay inside. I need you." You murmured plea tickled his ear, making him shiver with desire, even though he felt sated.

"Likely to crush you love." You felt him smile against your neck, his damp curls tickling your cheek. "But I'll stay right here as long as you want."

"Forever, Steven."

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You jolted awake - your dreams vivid and intense once again. Cool air kissed your skin where you kicked off your comforter, finding yourself alone in bed, still naked after making love with Steven, but clean. He must have woken up and taken care of a few things.

"Steven?" You called out, sitting up, attempting to push down the anxiety stirring in the center of you. Maybe he was in the bathroom.

Drawing a cleansing breath, you tried to steady your breathing. Damn dreams.

"Steven?" You tried again, but before you could push yourself off the bed, you heard someone else.

"Cálmate, mi amor."

The smooth voice of your partner washed over you as you blinked, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"J-Jake?"

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[honeybumpkins]

Please tell me about your swap au! :) i would love to hear more about it!

I really like all of the designs for the voices(?) that you have in it! I think that I really like the chill and the skittish the most! It all looks very interesting!

YAYY!!

I'm so glad you like the designs so far! <3

I'll give you the run-down of the little lore and things I've got down for this. Keep in mind that nothing is set in stone yet (or, ever honestly lol), so things may change at some point.

Basic swap au premise, the Princess and the Long Quiet swap places! Now the bird is imprisoned in the cabin, and the princess (or Maiden) is the one who is supposed to slay him. This, of course, changes some of the lore, yeah?

The Long Quiet and Shifting Mound were still originally one vessel, and were still separated. The Narrator imprisoned the Monster in the cabin because of the stagnation. He himself was stagnating. Rotting to nothing. He wanted to stop this; he wanted change. So, he did what he does in Canon! Only, to the LQ.

He brought the Princess to the cabin, instructing her to slay the Monster, or the world would end. Fortunately, she also has the Voice of the Maiden to influence her. and the Maiden is not so sure the Narrator should be trusted.

The voices, in this au, are fragments from the SM, since the Princess is the SM's "heart", she still has sort of a connection to their perspectives. Here is a list of the current voices!

Voice of the Maiden - The replacement for the Hero! The Voice of the Maiden represents standard Princess in Canon. She is a kind-hearted, level-headed do-gooder and most often the one keeping the peace between all the voices.

Voice of the Wounded - Representing the Witch from Canon and the foil to The Scoundrel, Voice of the Wounded is spiteful at a betrayal she's faced, and wants nothing more for the Monster to feel the pain she has.

Voice of the Lover - Representing the Damsel from Canon and the foil to the Admirer, the Lover is gentle and loving. While not completely enamored in the way the Admirer is, she harbors a great deal of affection for the Monster, though she is generally useless when it comes to making decisions on her own.

Voice of the Joyous - (Alternatively, Voice of the Hopeful) Representing the Spectre and the foil to the Chill, Voice of the Joyous is a pleasant voice who is afflicted with a deep longing for a better life for both her and the Monster, and sense of optimism, even in the worst of situations. However, she has a fierce edge to her that should not be ignored.

Voice of the Rigid - (Alternatively, Voice of the Cynic) Representing the Prisoner and the foil to The Fool, the Rigid is a stubborn pessimist, and has a notable mean streak. She is basically a second Narrator, in terms of her main route. Though when faced with the Fool's splintering, she shows an extreme curiosity. Something good about her is that she stands by her values, and though they happen to coincide with the Narrator often, she is not him.

Voice of the Brutal - Representing the Adversary and foiling the Combatant, the Brutal is someone who loves fighting. She longs to struggle and be forced to adapt, and she exclaims that she feels alive when taking on the Combatant.

Voice of the Prey - While she does not represent any princess from Canon, she is the stand-in for the Voice of the Hunted, and foils The Rabid. She is not meek, but the other voices often wrongfully regard her as such. She speaks in hushed tones, and is extremely smart with her instincts.

Voice of the Cruel - Representing the Razor princess and foiling the Bristles, the Cruel is joyfully sadistic. She expresses often how the Princess ought to just stab the Monster. She enjoys it, which is a discomfort to even the Narrator. She is an awful liar, but maintains an upbeat attitude.

Voice of the Haunted - Again, this one does not represent a princess, but is a replacement for Voice of the Paranoid! She is the foil to The Mold, and is frightened often. But, as such, she is the most used to it out of the Maiden or her fellow voices, and can guide them through the situation if only they will listen.

Voice of the Weak-Willed - She doesn't represent a princess either, but also does not fully represent the voice she replaces: Voice of the Broken. She is a demotivated woman who has hardly any drive, but proves to be useful sometimes, at least. Though, she gets infatuated with The Victor in their route, and advocates fiercely for them to obey him. Simp <3

Voice of the Imposing - Representing the Tower princess and foiling The Skittish, the Imposing is a 'get shit done' type of woman. She is, as the name implies, an imposing figure, and it shows in even her voice. She has a high sense of her own self-worth, and is sometimes arrogant, having grown used to bossing everyone around by the time she meets her meek, but defiant foil.

Voice of the Crooked - Finally, here we are! She does not represent a specific princess, but is more like Voice of the Opportunist is he were slightly more evil. She foils The Arrowhead, and is logical and pragmatic, yet has the capacity to be cruel if she thinks it will increase her chances of 'escaping this damned cabin.'

That's all of our voices, except for the Narrator I guess, but he remains unchanged!

Now, naturally, with the Princess and LQ being swapped, the various enemies you face have been changed too. Here is a list of them:

The Admirer - Swapping with the Damsel and representing the Voice of the Smitten, the Admirer is madly in love with the Princess. He is completely, head-over-talons enamored. To the point where if his beloved sees it fit to slay him, naturally, he should be the one apologizing. He branches into Ch III - The Warm Embrace, in which he seeks to bury himself and the Princess alive, so that 'they may find our skeletons intertwined, a testament to our undying love!' “This one is unconditional affection. You have molded him to love you, and he would, in any form you take. He will make for an enamored heart. Do not mourn him. He has served his purpose.”

The Arrowhead - Taking the Witch's place (originally named him The Chip (as in chip on your shoulder, meaning a grudge) but I changed it) and acting like the Voice of the Skeptic, only more sarcastic and with a hint of the Witch's playfulness. He can branch into Ch III - The One Eye, or Ch III - The Knot.

The Bristles - Taking the Razor's place, and Representing Voice of the Cheated! The Bristles happens if you fool the Monster into thinking your dead, and then gut him when he gets close. He essentially became a blade monster because he wanted to never be tricked by you again, and gets tired very quickly of the Princess continuously coming back. His two chapter branches are Ch III - The Steel Claw to Ch IV - A Mass of Blood and Blades, and Ch III - The Barbed Wire to Ch IV - A Beating Heart. “This one is consumed by mistrust. He refused to be deceived, but his efforts to arm himself tore through him as much as it did others. He will make for a guarded heart. Do not mourn him, for he no longer has anything to fear.”

The Chill - Taking the Spectre Princess' place, and Representing the Voice of the Cold, The Chill is a spirit without any vengeful feelings. Merely, it was too painful to constantly wish to be saved, so he shut himself off, in a way. Still, once he realizes he can use you to escape the cabin, he gets very angry when you deny him the help, especially after you killed him in cold blood. He can branch into Ch III - The Torrential Winds, in which he kills you in an avalanche, a blizzard, or by his own hands, and uses you to escape the cabin. “This one is apathy. He wished for a life he could not attain, and turned himself into a stiff, sharp wind to avoid his longing. He will make for a cold heart. Do not mourn him– he has finally found what he wished for.” 

The Combatant - Taking the place of the Adversary and Representing the Voice of the Stubborn, The Combatant desires a fight. He simply craves the thrill of battle with a worthy opponent, and the feeling of a life, his opponent's or his own, bending to the will of a strong heart. He can branch into Ch III - The Serrated Edge, in which he finally gets the fight he desires, or Ch III - The Unwound Screw, in which he kills you no matter what you do. “This one yearns to fight, to struggle against someone worthy, and feel the thrill of the battle. Even now, he thrashes against me, not realizing we are one. He will make for a stubborn heart. Do not mourn him, for he will feel the satisfaction of victory.”

The Fool - Taking the Stranger's place, and Representing Voice of the Contrarian, The Fool is unstable at first. Though he only displays amusement as his situation, especially when the Narrator reacts. He is a monster that can hear the Narrator, and interact with him. He finds joy in spiteing you and the Narrator, and displays a morbid curiosity at his situation, especially when he starts fracturing. “These ones are contradictions. A kaleidoscope of paths unwalked. They are stretched into a shape they cannot hold, and yet, I feel their contrary. They will make for a rich, radiant heart.”

The Mold - Taking the Nightmare's place, The Mold is a decayed monster who has rotted in the cabin, and now seeks revenge. he has mold and fungus growing on him, and his feathers have been preened out of stress, leaving large bare patches in certain places. He can branch into Ch III - The Infection, in which he kills you, or Ch III - The Reflective Surface, which is basically The Moment of Clarity. “This one is decay. A soul left to rot with only himself as company. He desires companionship, but is too angry to let go of the knife. He will make for a lonely, callous heart. Do not mourn him– he has finally given in.”

The Rabid - Representing the Beast princess, The Rabid is aptly named! He is visibly infected with rabies, and is more wild and unpredictable than before. He acts on instinct, and has the behavior of a predator. He branches into Ch III - The Abomination, in which the infection has progressed, and the foam in his mouth chokes him, taking away his speech. In this chapter, he also acts even more like a feral beast, and looks the part. The Rabid can also become Ch III - The One Eye, which is basically The Wild (for now!) “This one is wild. Consumed by instinct, he has become unpredictable. A creature, hunting and fighting to survive, and forcing the adaptation of its prey. He will make for a feral heart. He wishes me to devour you. To make you a part of myself. But he is only a voice. Do not mourn him. He is part of something greater.”

The Scoundrel - Representing the Voice of the Opportunist, and also kind of taking The Prisoner's place, The Scoundrel is kind of like a con-man. He defends the actions of his previous iteration (them being killing the Princess while she was resisting the Narrator), and can be killed in revenge. But his bigger plot is the romance! That's right! You can romance him. Show him a little affection to gain his trust, and either free him again (to the Voice of the Wounded's extreme dismay) or betray him! Stab him right in the back, which will prompt him to strike back fatally and kill you, but the damage will already be done. He will give you a cold look (though you will notice his eyes are wet and shiny, of course) and call you a liar before you are taken to Ch III - The Frigid Touch, in which he pushes you down a deep hole and breaks all of your bones, and then kills you. “This one is both sides of a coin. He is motivated by survival, and is willing to stoop low to preserve it. Yet, he is not a bad soul. He will make for an opportunistic heart. Do not mourn him– he can live now.”

The Skittish - Representing Voice of the Paranoid, The Skittish is a very frightened monster who cowers in fear from you. Though, if approached, he will be driven to attack. If you take him on, you can eventually blind him, and then either save him or murder him. If you murder him (you monster (/lh)) you will be taken to Ch III - The Something (which is currently unnamed, if you couldn't tell. I am just calling it The Flinching in my head). In This chapter, he's basically Voice of the Broken. Extremely depressed, and also still blind, which he knows doesn't give him the edge. Either he'll stab himself, or you'll stab him here. “This one is paralyzed. Hope drowned out by fear. He will make for a paranoid heart. I feel his terror now. He desperately wishes to flee. But he is only a voice. Do not mourn him– he is safe now.”

The Victor - Taking the place of the Tower princess, the Victor is a lot like her. He is more outwardly arrogant, and a lot sharper with his words than her, but still wants to take you on as a pet. He can branch into Ch III - The Halo, or Ch III - The Unwound Screw. “This one is dominance. A figure who bends others to his will. He will make for a proud, arrogant heart. Do not mourn him, for he would not mourn you.”

And that's them! My sillies <3.

The Long Quiet has you bring them to him. They are fractures of his heart that were lost (either by the Narrator or on purpose), and kept in the cabin.

Here is a little list of the Ch I outcomes I made, just to keep track

Take the blade:

Provoke, play dead, slay, die - The Bristles

Provoke, keep fighting, die - The Combatant

Provoke, give up, die - The Victor

Slay Instantly, don't check, kill yourself - The Chill

Slay Instantly, check, die - The Arrowhead

Lock monster away, die - The Mold

Rescue, resist narrator, die - The Scoundrel

Rescue, do not resist narrator, die - The Arrowhead

Go unarmed

Retrieve blade, attack, give up, die - The Rabid

Retrieve blade, attack, die - The Victor

Go back for blade, do anything - The Arrowhead

Lock monster away, die - The Mold

Rescue, resist narrator, die - The Admirer

Rescue, do not resist narrator, die - The Skittish

Don’t go at all

Refuse to enter cabin - The Fool

Is there anything else you would like to know? I'd love to talk about the swap Au more, but I don't know what to talk about.

[thereapersgambit]

Theory Repost

Alright theory time theory time

So, this particular theory is one I've had about a certain creature and I have seen the same theory around a few times as well but the new free chapter (#100) puts a litte confidence behind it. This all starts with the Raven's curiosity about the creature stalking Lenore and while Lenore is expectedly surprised she suspects it could be the Vandernacht curse that ended with her. That answer, to both me and the Raven, was a bit unsatisfactory because it seems unlikely to be the case until I thought about another theory that I've had but with no good foundation.

I know most of you remember the first ceature we come across (not the flying sperm cells); The deer like creature that chases Lenore and Annabelle until they run into the Academy. I'll just say it, I think it's Theo. And look, you think it's random, I think it's random but here are my reasons. Looking back at the creature, that looks like a muntant of a deer. Glimpses of memories pertaining Theo weren't uncommon for Lenore but the one that stands out for this situation is in chapter 38.

"I've always liked Venison."

The memory is Theo coming home with other hunters carrying deer game. It's an animal I feel is associated with Theo. I'd also put money on the bet that that's the same creature stalking Lenore instead of it being a random being looking for a light snack. So just think, the creature that follows her is not a manifestation of a curse that even haunts her in death, as she believes (Although, the curse does seem that persistent) but is another victim of the curse and Theo being that creature is a big possibility.

Now to really get a feel of this theory, it makes me think "what the hell would have happened to him to become that?" The deans surprisingly mentioned Lenore's brother but unfortunately not how he was impacted by Nevermore Academy; if he won a second life, if he went to the Land of the Dead though he'd shown much promise or even escaped and probably doomed to a worse fate. It isn't mentioned at all. But as much as I'd like to believe he won, I'd still have my doubts even without this theory.

It makes me question what the hell goes on in limbo between the land of the living and the dead. Does it change you over time or is this Theo's spectre? Had he escaped and succumed to the form?

Hold on: This is me hours later, with a revelation. In the new chapter, Lenore accuses the Raven of being affected by the deans. Is this being unable to shift to another form while in Nevermore Academy. What if it's the Deans putting some sort of barrier from rampages of magic or in this case, Spectres. This may have to do something with how being outside of the Academy may change a being over time, which we kmow happens from the Raven but is halted or reduced in the Academy. This gives me much more confidence about my theory.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 13 - Supernatural

@wolfstarmicrofic July 13, word count 990

The Marauders had been called to yet another haunted mansion. The owner had begged for the gang to come and help remove the spectre from the building. 

James drove the rickety old van, Lily sat beside him, her red hair catching the summer sun as it shone through the windscreen. Peter sat in the back pouring over the books he’d collected on ghost-hunting and Remus and Padfoot sat at the very back of the van sharing a box of their favourite snacks. 

Padfoot stuck his nose into the empty box and snuffled around it just in case they’d missed a crumb. Remus patted the top of his head. 

“Good, boy. Are we nearly there?” He called to James in front. “Pads and I are out of snacks,” 

“I don’t know how you two don’t explode with the amount of food you eat,” Lily scoffed at them. Remus shrugged, he’d been asked this so many times over the years, and he still didn’t have an answer. Padfoot just woofed happily at her and wagged his tail, hitting Remus in the mouth and leaving him with multiple dog hairs on his tongue. 

They pulled up outside the castle and the Marauders' van gave a grateful cough before the engine shut off. It had been a long, steep drive. The owner, a little old man with a long white beard tucked into his belt, welcomed them as they walked up to the main entrance. 

“Ah, the Marauders, welcome, welcome. Please, come in,” He said, waving them forwards. The castle looked even bigger from the inside. Remus had to crane his neck just to see the ceiling.

“Wow, bud, this is amazing,” He said to Padfoot. 

“So, Mr Dumbledore, how can we help?” James asked, puffing out his chest.

“Well,” The old man started. “I’ve been having a bit of trouble with things moving about the castle. I’ve had socks being thrown at me as I was walking down the stairs. My pears have flown off my plate and been juggled midair. And many other odd things happening all over the castle.”

“Don’t worry,” Lily told him, resting a hand on his. “We’ll take care of everything,” They split up to explore the castle. 

Remus picked the short straw, and while James, Lily and Peter all headed upstairs, he and Padfoot had to go down into the dungeons to check it out. 

It was dark and damp down there. Padfoot whimpered quietly the further down they went. Remus stopped beside a painting of a bowl of fruit and sniffed. 

“Mmmmm smells like chocolate.” He sniffed some more, touching the frame. It shifted. He swung it open, revealing a kitchen behind it. “Pads bud, I think we hit the jackpot!” He clambered into the hole and stood back so Padfoot could jump in. 

The kitchen was huge, with four long tables set out in a row. They moved further in and Remus opened the huge walk-in fridge door. He gasped at the abundance of food and immediately started picking at the food, making sure to give Padfoot a good share as well. He was chewing on a chunk of roast chicken when the door suddenly shut on them. “Cripes, Pads, what do we do now?” He asked his faithful friend. Padfoot sat back on his haunches, lifted his head and howled. Remus started banging on the door and shouting for help. 

It took a long time for the others to find them.

“Shouldn’t have been stuffing your faces,” Peter teased them when they ran out of the fridge once the door opened. 

“Hahaha.” Remus rolled his eyes, “Have you found anything?” Lily nodded.

“Yeah, we think it’s a poltergeist,” She told him.

“We just need it to reveal itself, and then we can deal with it,” James added. 

“You can’t catch old Peeves, he’s far too clever for the likes of you!” A cackling voice echoed around the room.

“Show yourself!” James yelled. Food began to hurtle itself out of the open fridge at them. They quickly took cover as sandwiches, treacle tarts and a myriad of other food crashed into them. 

“We need to trap him,” Peter yelled over the sounds of trays being dropped. 

“How?!” Remus asked. But before Peter could answer, Padfoot raced across the kitchen and jumped at the door, slamming it shut. 

“Hey! That’s cheating! Let Peeves out now!” The Poltergeist cried angrily from inside the fridge. 

“Good job, Pads,” Remus grinned, opening his arms, so the giant black dog could jump into them for a hug. “You’re the best boy,” Padfoot responded by licking a very wet tongue all the way up Remus’s face. “Eww, I love you too,” He laughed patting Padfoot’s huge head. 

“Well done, well done!” Mr Dumbledore appeared from nowhere clapping his hands. He wandered over to the fridge and opened the door. A little man dressed in bright orange clothes and pointed blue shoes hovered in the middle of the area. 

“Dumble wumble, Peeves isn’t happy!” He sulked. 

“There, there Peeves,” Dumbledore cooed. “If you promise to behave yourself, I’ll let you out,” The poltergeist sighed dramatically. 

“Fine,” He spun upside down and zoomed out of the room. Dumbledore turned to them. 

“Thank you, Marauders. He’s been pushing his luck for ages. I may need your services in the future if he starts getting out of hand again.” He handed James a pouch full of gold coins and waved as he left the kitchen. “You can see yourselves out when you’re ready. Thank you again.” He called. The Marauders looked at each other flummoxed by the odd behaviour, but quickly left the strange castle and its even stranger inhabitants. 

James got behind the wheel to start the long journey home while the others relaxed. Remus curled up on the floor of the van, pulling Padfoot close, snuggling into his soft fur as they both fell asleep, their stomachs full and tired from their adventure. 

[jtargaryen18]

Jamie's Halloween Challenge 2023

It's almost time for Halloween and no one throws a Halloween party like Tony Stark. No expense is spared and anyone who is anyone makes an appearance at the Avengers compound for the event. Tony also loves surprises, and he has plenty for the guests at this year’s event.

You (or your OC) is there as an invited guest or maybe you work for Stark Industries. Your choice. Your challenge, if you choose to accept it, is to write a sizzling Halloween story. It can be dark, scary, or just really sexy, but the goal is a smutty good Halloween read.

CHARACTERS: Reader insert or OC (your choice) x any of the established Avengers, their foes, or other important characters in the MCU. You can also select a character played by an MCU actor (i.e. Bucky Barnes or Nick Fowler, Charles Blackwood, etc.) Multiple partners are allowed. LGBTQ+ stories are welcome here.

PROMPTS: You must pick one and submit it with your character choices.

The Mysterious Neighbor: Your neighbor's house always seemed normal until Halloween night. You notice something strange and decide to investigate.

A Night in the Haunted House: I don’t know why you’re there when you’re supposed to be at the party. You tell me.

The Unusual Pumpkin Patch: One pumpkin in the local patch grows faster and looks different from the others. You take it home.

The Halloween Costume Comes to Life: Remember that episode of Buffy? You rented a costume and when you put it on, that’s who you are as long as you are wearing it.

Halloween Candy: Tony only buys the good stuff when it comes to Halloween candy. But be careful. There’s a reason there are no kids at this party. Some of the candies are a pretty potent aphrodisiac.

The Unexpected Visitor: On Halloween night, an unexpected visitor knocks at your door. It's not a trick-or-treater but something else.

The Disappearing Act: A drink at Tony’s party turns you (or your significant other) invisible for Halloween night. What do you do?

7 Minutes in… Where?: You know the game. Only when you and your significant other are locked in the closet for 7 minutes, you’re transported somewhere else.

The Frightening Feast: Tony has quite a spread at the party. Be careful. Each dish has magical properties.

The Portal in the Pumpkin: You carve one of the pumpkins Tony ordered, but this one turns out to be a portal to somewhere else...

RULES:

You must be 18 to write for this challenge and it must be legal to participate where you are.

While a smutty good story is the goal, no incest, underage characters, bestiality, or toilet kinks.

Dark stories are welcome. Bonus points if they’re scary.

Stories can be reader insert (preferable) but can be OC.

At some point in the story, your characters must attend Tony’s party, be planning to go to the party, or just come from the party. Bonus points if Tony makes an appearance, even if it’s brief.

You must send me an ask with your characters of choice and the prompt of your choice. `(Example: Steve Rogers x Reader and Halloween Candy)

Minimum word count is 1k words. The max length is up to you.

For this challenge, the fic must be brand new. No tie-ins to existing fics or series. No recycled stories.

Please add a “keep reading” function after 300 words and apply all needed warnings and labels to your fic.

You don’t have to follow me, just tag me in your posts and use the Hashtag #JamiesHalloween2023. If I don’t reblog your story within 3 days, please DM me.

DEADLINE: October 31, 2023

I haven't done one of these in a while and I don't know if anyone will want to participate so no limits on characters or prompts. Each story will be amazing.

Thank you!

THE STORIES

The Closet of Desire by @nicoline1998enilocin

Bad Moon Rising by @spectre-posts

Toys 'R' Us by @americasass81

Seven Minutes Pt 1 & Pt 2 by @anika-ann

The Past Always Catches Up by @holylulusworld

Something Else by @nekoannie-chan

Spiked Candy by @nicoline1998enilocin

Embracing the Darkness by @americasass81

The Mysterious House on Easton Avenue by @talesofadragon

Circles by @the-soulofdevil

Taste Me on Your Tongue by @autumnrose40

[writtenontheport]

Lockwood falling in love with the type three ghost of a girl.

That's it.

That's the ask.

The Haunted Boy and His Ghostly Girlfriend

Prologue

(pt. 1) (pt. 2)

Anthony Lockwood x fem reader

Warnings/Tags: Reader is in this for like 2 paragraphs, Romcom 😭, Ik you gave me angst but everything I touch turns romcom I’m so sorry, George gets mad at Lockwood for a bit, Old people clients, mentions of death, Reader is literally a fucking ghost 😭, please tell me if there’s anything I forgot to tag

Notes: I absolutely adored this request omfg. When I saw it, I just KNEW I had to write it omg. This is— this needs to be multipart I’m so sorry. I can’t get it out of my head that he’ll have a little ghostly girlfriend PLEASE ITS SO CUTE IN MY HEAD. Also; very badly edited!! I was exhausted when I first posted this and am still currently combing through it for errors.

Summary: It starts, as all things do here: with a meetcute, the undead, and maybe a bit of tomfoolery. It goes, as it almost never does, with meeting the undead love of his life. What a big day for Anthony Lockwood.

Word Count: 1.5k+

Lockwood is staring into the eyes of the most breathtaking girl he has ever seen, and she isn’t even alive anymore. The girl looks as she probably did when she was alive; a beautiful face with only the most kissable lips he has ever seen in his life, not that he ever could kiss her. He should be calling for Lucy and George— yelling for them to tell them he’s found their ghost, but instead…

“Hi,” He says, clearing his throat, “I’m Anthony. Anthony Lockwood of Lockwood and co. You’re a ghost.”

He winces when your frown deepens, and feels bad immediately for blurting that out. Before he can apologize, he sees you mouthing something and realizes quite late that he does in fact need Lucy and George here to be able to talk to you.

“I can’t really hear you, sorry. I have… my friend can though. Just a second—“

Before we can go forward, we have to go back a little to just before this began. So let’s start with a fact: even with Skull being able to talk with Lucy, Lockwood still had his reservations on type threes. Type ones and type twos were the predictable result of certain situations— murders, death by illness, accidents, and all the “good” things that made the visitors more likely to visit. Type threes? It took the literal manifestation of the actual thing for him to even accept they existed. Suffice to say, Lockwood didn’t think he could ever fully warm up to the idea of a ghost he couldn’t understand.

Then one day, a case comes to him with a rather peculiar situation. The living don’t often find themselves attached to the undead, especially ones with no relation to them. The Thistlebrows prove to be an exception. The case? Their family ghost is lonely now that their granddaughter’s been sent away.

Lucy and George have stepped out for supplies when the old Thistlebrow couple stops by, so he takes them to the sitting room and prepares them tea. From the first word that comes out of them, Lockwood thinks he’s having some sort of hallucinogenic episode.

That’s more of an exaggeration actually as it seemed reasonably normal at first; strong presence, solid apparition visible enough that even in their old age they could see wisps of it lurking. Nothing more than a stubborn spectre, he was sure. Then—

“It’s an old house,” Mrs. Thistlebrow croons, sipping her cup of tea. “We’ve only lived in it for a few years, and we doubt we’ll be able to keep her company for much longer.”

“I’m sorry?” Lockwood asks, genuinely confused. He was sure he must have misheard them, before Mr. Thistlebrow spoke.

“We don’t know where she is, really, nor have we ever fully seen her… but our granddaughter is taken with her. We thought at first she just had an imaginary friend, but then…” He pulls out a polaroid.

There was nothing in the photo worth noting— a pair of shoes on the windowsill of an open window. The flash of the camera didn’t illuminate past the frame, but that was expected for a photo taken so late. He keeps a patient smile on his face, but he nods slowly with his brow furrowed in worry.

“The window was locked when we left the room. It’s too tall for our granddaughter to reach, and nothing was moved before or after this picture was taken— at least not by the living. Our granddaughter had asked her to open it to prove to us she was real, and the ghost left her shoes on the windowsill to hammer it in.” He leaves the photo in front of Lockwood, pulling back into the seat.

Lockwood’s brow scrunches in confusion as the gears turn in his head. Many type twos form apparitions, but poltergeists do not. Incidentally, only poltergeists can interact with heavy objects and the window certainly wouldn’t have been light. It looked to be a thick pane of glass with a metal on wood frame, pushed open farther than a stray breeze could push it.

“How old is your granddaughter?” He asks, his own voice distant to him. The photo makes something in him itch to solve the case.

“Just turned 7,” Mrs. Thistlebrow says with a click of her tongue, bringing a hand up to her wrinkly cheek. “Her parents sent off abroad when they realised she had Talent; didn’t want her having anything to do with the Problem. Heart broken, she was. The ghost was her first best friend.”

The Thistlebrows look genuinely devastated at that, and Lockwood bites back an incredulous frown. Oh the story he has for Lucy and George when they come back, absolutely mental it all is.

“We know this might be a lot to ask, but we’ll pay you as much as you need to keep the ghost company. Our granddaughter was so devastated knowing the poor girl would be lonely without her, and we certainly couldn’t talk to her no matter how much we tried.” Mr. Thistlebrow picks an envelope from his suit pocket, and slides it across the table to Lockwood. It’s a thick thing with obviously quite a bit of cash, and a cheque is peeking out from where the lip has opened.

Now, he could absolutely refuse the case. The agency was stable and the cases they have lined up were far less troublesome than finding and keeping another possible type-three ghost; George would even call him stupid for not refusing it right away, but…

“We’ll do it. You both have nothing to worry about,” He says instead, reassuring as he can be as he pulls on the lapels of his jacket. Mr. and Mrs. Thistlebrow’s faces split into smiles, and Lockwood can’t find it in him to regret his decision.

“—And you took the case?” George says, all but yelling as he leans over the table to stare wide-eyed at Lockwood. Lucy’s frozen in her seat, her pen still on the thinking cloth.

“I authenticated the money, and they offered to meet us at the house as soon as we can if there were any more issues with compensation.” He takes a spoonful of supper, and hums in delight. “You’ve really outdone yourself today, George.”

“That’s not the problem, Lockwood,” George hisses, always so dour. He doesn’t settle down into his seat, even going so far as to cross his arms in disapproval. Still, he mumbles out a quiet ‘thank you’.

“Did they say anything else?” Lucy finally speaks up, her eyes still on the thinking cloth. It’s good she’s at least started doodling again, so Lockwood manages to look back up at both of them (which is very hard when George is glaring at him so severely).

“Their granddaughter’s name is Pepper, thought it might help us if we pretended to be her friends at least. It…” He pauses, tapping his spoon against his supper as he thinks of the right way to say it, “As far as they know, it isn’t aggressive and seems cooperative. They even— actually, wait.”

He pulls out the polaroid from his inner pocket, looking it over (even though he knows nothing would have changed) before sliding it to the center of the table. Lucy and George both lean in to have a look, coming back to stare at him in confusion.

“It was able to unlock and push the window open, then left the girl’s shoes on the windowsill to further prove it existed. Not only that, but both the Thistlebrows have said it is a rather heavy window too high up for their granddaughter to reach.” He takes another bite of his dinner, watching their expressions morph.

“But they said it had an apparition?” George asks first, seeming on the edge of worried and heavily intrigued. “Spectres can’t interact with heavy objects, but poltergeists can’t have apparitions. This ghost can’t exist unless it really was…”

Lucy is deep in deliberation as her eyes flit to somewhere out of the kitchen; the skull, Lockwood realizes quickly. “If this is a type three… and it was cooperative…”

A pregnant pause fills the room, only the ticking of a faraway clock echoing about the walls. George settles into his seat with a sigh, finally picking up his utensils. Lucy, rests her hands in her lap. They all look up and at each other, waiting for a beat, before falling into a quiet supper. They were definitely going to have to see this through now.

So here Lockwood finds himself in front of the house that starts and ends it all; that houses what might just be the strangest thing to happen in his haunted life. He meets you in a flurry of strange things— through a polaroid of an open window, a ghost goose case, and then meeting the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen— before he finds himself asking:

“Would you like to come home with us?”

You nod quickly in surprise, your eyes shining in mirth and other-light. He doesn’t even need Lucy to translate that as anything but a firm ‘yes’.

A/N: Everything I touch… turns to romcoms… I am like King Midas of romcoms PLEASE.

Also! Starting a silly taglist, just somehow reach out if you’d like to be added!!

Taglist 🏷️

@tangledinlove

[bubblybloob]

Some fun predictions(?) for the new chapter 3’s

Spectre somehow died in our body and it wasn’t our fault, so we don’t go to Wraith, instead she’s already in our body by the next chapter. Maybe she’s legitimately stuck in our head now and we have to figure out how to get her out. Maybe she’s like “that knife! Go back to the cabin and cut me out of you!” “Can we rephrase that just a little-?“ Or something I dunno.

That or the cabin is more like a haunted mansion with her still floating through its corridors, her drive to leave is even stronger than before.

Damsel’s either becomes a giant house that we live in for eternity until the hands so “okay cut the nonsense. Or maybe somewhere to have a wedding? For some reason that hallucination late into What Remains of Edith Finch comes to mind? With blurry edges and you end up killing yourself from your daze? That or we just try to marry her in a wedding setting and the hands are like “haha no that’s for later lover boy”

I have no clue for Prisoner, just- more chains? That’s what she looks like in chapter 2 after all.

[staring-at-my-keyboard]

An Awkward Ghost and Lively Ginger Walk Into An Old Cottage...

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Some brief writing of a cute idea I got from @mayomkun where Donna moves out to the countryside and Ten is a ghost haunting her house.

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Fluff

Comedy

(hint of angst)

TWs:

⇾ none!

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“Hello?”

“Hello there.”

Donna gasped sharply, drawing back with a hand over her mouth.

“Well I can’t meet you if you’re hiding back there. Who are you?”

The voice, in an alarming contrast to how Donna thought a ghost would sound- because what else would this voice be- was solid, as if there were someone standing just in front of her. It was light, rather jovial, and sounded like a man. Probably wasn’t going to turn out to be a horrifying spectre crawling across the ceiling, then.

“I think I should be asking you that, weird… ghost… thing. I’m allowed to be alarmed, you’re talking to me from  my gloomy basement.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. Hold on-”

Something buzzed, and a soft ambient light emitted from… somewhere, showing a tall, thin figure standing in the middle of the room, which was nothing but bare stone walls and a rotted wooden floor. He had a soft smile on a surprisingly pretty, if boyish, face, and a pinstriped suit, over which draped a long brown duster. His light brown hair stuck up in all directions. Said figure was also translucent enough Donna could make out the cracks on the wall just behind him.

“Hello again,” He gave a little wave, the other hand stuck in his pocket. “I’m- um-” His face went blank for a moment, wide eyes searching. “I was a doctor, I think. A Doctor?”

“Well, Doctor it is, then,” Donna nervously stepped forward, flashlight held out like a weapon. He sure looked pretty solid– in terms of shape, at least. “What the hell are you doing in my basement, Doctor?”

His face lit up. “Oh, well I’m- I’ve just been passing through, really. Just seeing, travelling… although I think I’ve gotten a bit stuck. Something about this place, I don’t know…” The Doctor seemed to space out, so Donna cleared her throat. His eyes instantly refocused. “Right, but now you’re here, brilliant! Now I’ll just-” He stepped forward, only to violently startle at Donna’s reply.

“Oh, no you don’t! How do I know you won’t, I dunno, murder me or something.”

“Why would I murder you if I don’t even know your name? And besides,” He ran up to just in front of Donna with a few long strides, and went for her hand. Before she could draw away, he passed right through.

“I’m not quite here, you see. Not sure what happened. But I’ve been ‘not quite here’ for a while, I think. Still! It’s nice to meet a new face. At least one that I like.”

“Oi!”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I meant I like you!” Donna gave an affronted look, as the Doctor looked increasingly worried. 

“No, not that your face isn’t perfectly pleasant, I meant you- you- well, I like things about you as well, um, like your attitude- not that you’ve got one! I just meant you’re pretty cool, and- oh, I sound like a bloody teenager, um-”

His nervous rambling was cut off by Donna’s laughter. When she managed to finally catch her breath, opening her eyes to see his face caught between affrontment and relief just sent her further into cackling.

“Um- ah…”

“Been awhile since you’ve actually had a conversation with a human, hasn’t it, Ghost Boy?”

“‘Ghost Boy’?” The Doctor raised a brow, his face the picture of confused offence. 

“What, would you prefer ‘Spooky Spectre’?” Donna fired back.

“I’d prefer ‘Doctor’, to be completely honest.”

“Right, but ‘Doctor’ is just a title anyone could have. If I’m not getting a name, I’m working with what I’ve got.”

“I suppose the perfectly suitable name I’ve just given you won’t work then?”

“‘Fraid not.”

“I’m starting to reconsider my decision to like you, Angry Ginger.”

“Oi! ‘Angry Ginger’?!”

“Well it’s not like I’ve got a name, either!”

“Well, it’s ‘Donna Noble’ to you, if the best you can come up with is ‘Angry Ginger’.”

“Lovely to meet you, Donna Noble!” His voice dripped with sarcastic saccharine.

“And you, Ghost Boy.”

The Doctor sighed.

“Wanna get out of the basement, then?” Donna asked.

“Oh, yes please.”

–

It became a sort of ritual for the pair: every day, mid-afternoon, they would sit on the old rocking bench in the backyard. Donna would ramble about her job, her granddad, complain about the man up the street who always mowed his lawn at 6am every Saturday. The Doctor would always listen, having a keen interest in the daily life of the living. Donna learned very quickly that he himself had little memory of being alive, but did have seemingly encyclopedic knowledge of astronomy and, weirdly enough, the history of the sci-fi genre.

On no special day in particular, the pair once again found themselves at their bench, looking out over one of the neighbours’ orchard.

“I’ve been stuck inside unpacking and organising for days now. ‘S nice that we have this, a time I get to just sit and feel the sun.”

“Oh, I wish I could.” The Doctor said breezily. “Nice to see it, though. A great big ball of deadly gas allowing for the creation of all this.” He gestured at the lavish countryside, before turning to smile at Donna. 

“I owe the sun for getting to meet you.”

“Don’t go getting mushy on me, Spooky.”

“Well, I do. You’re brilliant! Although maybe a bit scary-”

Donna raised a brow challengingly. 

“Which is plenty good! Everyone could do with a scary friend, I should know.”

“You? Scary? You look like a twiggy Uni kid who isn’t sure what year it is.” As she said that, Donna pointedly looked him up and down as a silent critique of his fashion sense.

“Really? I-” The Doctor’s face went blank as a hand came up to feel around it. “Actually, I’m- I’m not quite sure what I look like. Donna? Donna, what do I look like, I can’t remember, I haven’t seen my reflection in years, I-”

“Hey, hey, Doctor, calm down, it’s alright.” Donna resisted the urge to grasp his hands, which were wandering around his face, desperately trying to gauge an appearance from feel alone. She couldn’t even touch him to help calm him down.

“But everything is so fuzzy, and-”

“Tell you what, I’ll draw you then. How’s that sound?”

“Really?” The Doctor’s wide eyes looked into hers. “You’d do that?”

“Of course I would- you’re my friend, you daft ghost. ‘Course, I’ll have to learn to draw first. I’ve been meaning to, and it’s never too late, I suppose.”

The Doctor gave her a shaky grin. 

“I’d like that, Donna Noble.”