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[makerbazar]

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[just-some-random-blogger]

Bound By Blood

Being on your period was already a pain as it is, but accidentally binding yourself to a demon with a menstrual pad was a real cherry on top.

demon!Daemon Targaryen x Reader x bf!Aemond Targaryen | 2k+| cw: fem!reader, modern au, menstruation and its symptoms (duh), bloody depictions, crack fic, dumbass shenanigans, internet translated high Valyrian, typos, etc.

A/N: after reading @happilyhertale's period fic and @lady-phasma's period fic, i remembered a tumblr post i saw a long time ago about how napkins have really pretty designs for no reason cuz ur gonna get blood all over it anyway. as tumblr posts do, it spiraled and someone likened the designs to like a pentagram then someone was like u could accidentally summon a demon, thus this. i really did try to find it but alas i could not

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @ceoofyearning

@targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @pendragora @sloanexx

If you've ever had a hard time with your period, please consider donating €5 to Nour's GoFundMe, as the people in Palestine do not have access to any sort of feminine hygiene products; help her and her family evacuate.

"Lovie?"

"Yeah?"

I put my phone on loud speaker and place it on the side of the sink, "did I tell you to buy macadamia chocolates?"

"... no. I'll get you some."

"And something salty," I sit on the toilet and open my pad packet. I peel the red wrapper off.

"Mmm... crisps?"

"Yeah, the pink one."

"Alright. Anything else, love?"

I change the napkin on my underwear before replying, "mmm... oh! Please read the packaging. I want pads with wings, Aemond, with wings."

"Right. Copy, copy. With wings."

I pull my shorts up and flush the toilet, "thank you, love."

"Mmm. Love you. Bye."

"Bye, love. I love you."

The call ends and I wrap my used napkin in the wrapper of my new pad, rolling it up, and throwing it out. I grab my phone and walk back to my bed.

I huff and get under the sheets, petting the black cat asleep on top of it. Vhagar wags her tail once and I grab my laptop, continuing my binge session.

I wince when I feel a dull pain in my uterus. I pause my show and lean into my pillow, riding out the discomfort.

I moan and begin to heave. My eye twitches at the stabbing sensation. I slowly get out of bed, annoyed by the gush of blood I feel when I move. I make my way to my kitchen and grip on the counter as I prepare a kettle for some tea.

"Stop hating me cause I'm not pregnant," I hiss at my uterus as the pain continues.

I push my weight onto the counter top as I reach for a mug and a tea bag. I huff and screw my eyes. Once the pain subsides enough, I grab my kettle and turn, putting it on the stove. Once the fire is lit, I turn back to grab my mug and place the tea bag in my mug.

Suddenly, the room is thick, the atmosphere is heavy, and there is an inexplicable feeling of dread in my stomach. I feel my body warm and the hairs at the back of my neck raise, and it was not because of my period.

"Iksis ziry iā rūs jaelā?" Is it a baby you want?

I gasp and snap back, pulling my mug to my chest. My eyes widen and my heart leaps into my throat as I behold a towering figure covered in blood. Its body is barely contained in the room; its long neck coils downward to peer at me and its wings are cramped together behind itself. It's as though all the blood in my body drains.

The dragon-like creature chuckles deeply, his golden eyes sparkle, "gaoman jorrāelagon se yknagon hen zūgagon," I do love the smell of fear. It reaches out and delicately scratches its talons on my neck, "but I would not frighten you to death before completing our pact, devoted."

My body is frozen cold in fear as he pulls away. Slowly, its body morphs into a man. The reptilian features and glistening scales where replaced by long, silver hair and plump, smirking lips, all still drenched in blood. His expression mischievous and expectant.

"Ask of me, and see the beauty in thine blood offering to Daemon, The Rogue Prince."

Through barely a breath, in the most strained of voices, I mutter, "w h a t ?"

A rich chuckle bubbles out of his curved lips, "oh, I do loathe the coy and simple-minded. If you wish to amuse me, flatter me. Do not play dumb."

I slowly try to maneuver away from him, "I-" I whisper under sharp breaths, "I don't know what you mean-"

In a rush of either confidence or lunacy, I sprint away from him and run back into the bedroom. I scream and halt in my spot when I collide with the same being's chest.

I feel blood stick to me as I recoil and drop to the floor at the impact. The creature looks down on me and lifts his chin, "what's that then?"

Daemon points to the floor, causing me to look and see nothing but the panels.

Just then, Vhagar awakes and begins to go feral. She hisses loudly at the man, and I scramble to my feet, trying to get to her and calm her down, fearing he blood bathed being would kill her.

Remarkably, it seems I should actually do the opposite as the demon is deterred by Vhagar. He steps back and lowers his gaze. He chuckles dryly as I jump on the bed, going behind Vhagar.

"What is this trickery?"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

He scoffs and I swear his eyes are set ablaze, "I am bound by my sigil, woman, and I smell the blood on it."

My face morphs into bewilderment, "I DID NOT MAKE A BLOOD SACRIFICE-"

"Where is your summoning circle then!" he demands.

Vhagar hisses at his tone, her fur prickling as Daemon steps forward. He stills and draws in a deep breath. I swear his eyes go red for a second.

He points again, this time at me, "your legs."

My eyes widen preternaturally.

"My blood altar is between your thighs."

Meanwhile, Aemond was on the bus when he received a call.

He picks it up, "hel-"

"THERE'S A-" he pulls his phone away from his ear, "-DEMON IN OUR HOME! AEMOND-"

Aemond knits his brows tightly in concern at the sound of sobbing. He pulls his groceries closer to his chest, "honey, what do me--"

"THERE'S A DEMON IN OUR- VHAGAR NO--"

Aemond's heart drops at the sound of the commotion from the other end of the call. He hears cat yowling and objects crashing. He stiffens and speaks as calmly as possible, "I'm coming home. I'm almost there. Can you hear me, I-" the call ends.

By the time he gets home, his defenses are up. The ruckus from the inside is audible from outside the apartment. He holds his groceries in one hand and opens the door, warily entering. He grabs the long purple umbrella by the rack and closes the door soundlessly. He stalks inside, clenching his jaw at the sudden silence.

He surveys the place and sees the mess, yet no soul was present. He places the groceries on the kitchen top and creeps into the bedroom.

The door was already open, but, still, there was no one.

He freezes when Vhagar hisses. He lifts his gaze upon the black, senior cat sat at the top of the closet, looking into space with her fur raised.

"Aemond?!"

Aemond lowers his gaze.

"NO, DON'T HURT HIM!" I scream from inside the closet.

Aemond grips the umbrella and looks around the room. Vhagar hisses again.

He looks at his cat then the closet door.

"AEMOND- NO-- I'M PULLING YOU IN-"

Without another word, I leap out of the closet and grab Aemond, yanking him inside. I immediately shut the doors and begin to hyperventilate.

"What's happening? What's going on?" he asks, clutching my cheeks.

I whine and grip his wrists in distress. I whisper, "Vhagar's keeping us safe."

Aemond's nostrils flare, "what's happening? What's wrong?"

I shake my head and shudder, "there's a demon--"

"You know I can hear you right?"

I squeal, making Aemond tense and tighten his grip on me. I hear Vhagar hiss from above the closet.

Without much thought, Aemond pushes the doors open and holds his umbrella like a weapon.

I scream and pull him back when I hear sinister laughtera, "AEMOND, NO!"

Aemond claims an offensive stance, ready to bat his umbrella at whomever was in front of him, and yet there was no one. My breath hitches as I anticipate Daemon to jump us both, but he doesn't.

With furrowed brows, the man looks over to me, "baby, there's no o-"

Aemond yelps as I rush out of the closet and drag him out of the bedroom with me. We make our way to the kitchen, and I immediately rummage through the groceries, grabbing the pack of pads.

"Honey, what was it exactly that you-" Aemond cuts himself off as he watches me run out of the room, heading to the bathroom.

Immediately, I pull my shorts down and replace my bloody pad. I stare at the menstrual blood on the white napkin, realizing only now that there was, in fact, a sigil of a three headed dragon on the surface.

"There is it."

I scream. I look up at the bloody Daemon staring back at me, smirking with crossed arms.

I hear Aemond run towards the bathroom door. He calls out my name in concern.

I rip my used napkin off my underwear and chuck it to the demon. I scream once more when he manifests beside me, avoiding my assault.

"Unsanitary," Daemon clicks his tongue.

Aemond bangs on the door, "what's going on? Do you need any help?"

I sidestep away from Daemon and hurriedly replace my pad.

Aemond calls out my name as he knocks.

Daemon turns to the door, lips curling in annoyance, "I will slay him if he enters."

My eyes widen. It was only then I realized there was a sword hanging upon his hip. I feel sick.

Aemonds sounds agitated, "I'm coming insi-"

"NO!" I rip my pants up and run to the door. I shove Aemond back the moment I can. I squeeze myself out of the small opening and I push him back until he finally repels me and grabs my arms. Aemond and I are in the kitchen by then.

He calls out my name and grabs my cheeks. His face is marked by worry.

I panic, "wait, where's Vhagar?"

"She's probably just-"

"DID HE KILL VHAGAR-"

"Look at me!"

I stare at him with wide, watery eyes. I whimper through a broken voice, "Vhagar was the only thing keeping me safe."

"From the demon?" Aemond asks carefully, swiping my tears with his thumbs.

"Please-" I choke out, "-believe me, I-"

"I believe you, darling," he strokes my hair. He pulls away and grabs the salt jar on the counter. He shows me the container before pouring some in his hand.

I raise my brows as he presents me the salt in his cupped palm.

Aemond speaks calmly, "if I see that fucker, I'll-"

"You'll what?"

Aemond shrieks and chucks the salt behind me. In the same terrified manner, I squeal and run behind Aemond.

The demon groans, "ao doru-borto qogralbar!" You stupid fuck!

Aemond pushes me behind him as he watches the blood covered man rub his eyes. He almost, out of instinct, chucked the whole jar at him, but he was glad he didn't. He pours a salt circle on the floor.

Aemond pulls me into his chest and begins to chant, "qrīdrughagon lēda ao!" Away with you!

Daemon looks up at us with a furious expression. His rage is quelled but when he sees the ground which we stood. His red eyes widen as he looks up at me, as if in disbelief of what he was seeing.

I tug on Aemond's shirt with agitation, "is this circle gonna keep us-"

"QRĪDRUGHAGON LĒDA AO!" Aemond shouts.

Daemon's eye twitches, "who is this imbecile you seek refuge in?"

"Don't answer it! Don't give him my name," Aemond says as he fishes something in his pocket.

"You act as though I know not your name is Aemond, imbecile."

"Aemond, I really think we-"

"Ignore him," says Aemond as he pulls out his phone.

Daemon chuckles darkly, "oh... how sweet you think such a thing is possible.

I cling tightly onto Aemond as he pulls out his phone. I whimper, "is now really the time?!"

"I'm calling Aegon," Aemond replies, placing his phone to his ear.

"What?!"

"He knows how to do an exorcism."

"?!?!?"

"You dare," Daemon yells, "think that I-"

"He was recruited in a cult once."

"-would be easily cast out by m-"

"QRĪDRUGHAGON LĒDA AO!"

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider donating €5 to Nour's GoFundMe so that she and her family can evacuate and experience the luxury of reading fics in the safety of their homes.

[rjalker]

Edit: Can't believe the irony of me having to say this, but I do apparently have to say this: Not wanting boobs and not wanting to be seen as feminine does not mean you are, or want to be seen as masculine. I'm not transmasculine just because I don't want boobs and don't want to be seen as feminine.

You cannot read a post where the point is having boobs does not equal being feminine and go oh! right. Because not wanting boobs equals being masculine! No!! I'm not transmasculine! I'm not trying to look masculine! Kill the gender binary that has a stranglehold on your views of gender!

Stop shoving nonbinary people into a new set of binary boxes!

___

the idea that having boobs gets you automatically and inherently classified as being "female presenting" and "feminine presenting" in so-called progressive circles makes me want to maul people.

I've said this before and I'll just keep repeating it forever: I'm disabled. I can't wear a binder. If I tried I'd dislocate several ribs and that'd be the least of my worries. Like. you know why ribs not being where they're supposed to be is dangerous? Yeah. Yeah. Use your imagination. That's a real thing I have to worry about.

I can't even wear a sports bra that's several sizes """too large""" comfortably.

And yeah, I can use trans tape, but that takes concerted time and effort to put on and take off, and every time you put it on you get different results, and you might just mess it up entirely and waste it, and it can get itchy if you're sweating with it on (and it's 90 degrees almost all the time it's not actively winter here, so that's...literally unavoidable. Even sitting in the living room. Because the electric company charges an arm and a leg for AC during the summer AND won't even give you enough to actually cool your shitty tiny apartment even with all the doors shut and curtains drawn!!!!!), and it's expensive to buy more of.

And especially because this declaration of "feminine presenting" or "female presenting" that gets shoved onto you is not only misgendering you, but placing the blame on you for being misgendered for not looking not-female enough. It's no longer the speaker making incorrect assumptions, they're now literally declaring that this is a concious decision you make. You are choosing to "present" yourself this way...by having a body that you have no control over.

And even when it comes to clothes, the idea that the clothes you wear is another purposeful, conscious Presentation™ of your gender...

Even if we ignore for a moment the fact that being disabled and poor severely limits the clothes you can wear and even just have access to, what about people who literally don't get to choose what their clothes are? Kids whose parents buy their clothes for them, people whose carers choose their outfits for them?

My gender is not "sun-bleached tank top and shorts with a reflective sun hat". That's just what I wear so I don't die of heat stroke every time I set foot outside, and so that my joints are not being painfully constricted every time I move. I literally can't take my hat off outside during the day without developing a headache (or are they fucking migraines? fuck if I know!) within minutes from the sun trying to murder me from my light sensitivity. And it took me years to even realize that it was light sensitivity causing this. I remember in middle school the substitute gym teacher asked if I was a vampire because I moved to the closest shady spot every time we moved to a new area.

And like. Let's be honest. Even if I could safely wear a binder...They're fucking expensive.

It's just really fucking annoying that so many people equate binding with being trans and so many people who are supposed to be allies are just so comfortable labeling other people, who they haven't asked, as "feminine presenting" just because of the presence of boobs. Like we have any choice in the matter. Like having visible boobs just means you're asking to be misgendered.

[nobredoesart]

So, since seeing the new season announcement about The Dragon Prince I've been ruminating and wondering what I would differently with this universe. And I reached the conclusion that I would do a lot different, and so, wanted to explore that, in what will hopefully be a series of posts!

With that in mind, here is the first one! Effectively, they are just my initial notes and sketches, but they are important to what I want to do. I want to make the world feel more vast and involved in its own magic system, and to do that, I wanted to alter some of the Primal Sources/Arcanums, and I wanted to change the elves! Especially the elves. I'll definitely make a post just about the elves in general too, but first-

Moonshadow Elves: Of course they aren't all assassins, or even close to that. They are the most competent assassins, sure, but that portion of their society is less than 1%, and whilst it would have some focus due to Rayla's role in the story, I don't believe it should be the focus. I'll expand more later in the post, but the moon Arcanum and Source are deeply entrenched in Liminality, in Unreality, in Deception and in Death. Creatures that have a connection to it are, therefore, deeply odd. They are in a constant state of vague of uncertainty, but instead of it bringing them distress, it makes them flexible, malleable and more often than not, capable of connection with that which surrounds them.

Moonshadow society is, therefore, filled with philosophical discussion, an odd state of impermanence, and a loving relationship with transitional periods, such as youth, equinoxes, death and journeys. They have a tendency to be "grounded" by choice, choosing to dress down to earth, fulfill simple tasks and keep a steady hand, while letting their mind wander, and keeping their thoughts flighty. It is also, of course, nocturnal for the most part, with most Moonshadow Elves feeling a little lightheaded when out in broad daylight.

Truth is, of debatable usefulness to a Moonshadow Elf, because it is mutable to them, just a trick of the light.

Rayla, and her band, for example, are wonderful assassins, because they do question what is given to them, they question and wonder and thrive in the uncertainty of what is in the balance, only finally using the binding ritual to assure they can go through with it in the end! I think it's an interesting tool, that Bindings like that are used within that society to assure that one can't let their mind wander once more!

Also, as will be touched on later, all elves know some inherent magic, and have more innate magical properties than canon, with one of the weirder ones for the Moonshadow Elves being the fact they can feel any boundary line, metaphorical or not.

Skywing Elves: Freedom, Idealism and Change, Skywing Elves embody their Arcanum all their life, and try to always reach beyond their measure. They all, also, have wings, because damn it, it's in the name, and it makes no sense for a race that is hyper-connected to the sky to not be capable of flight! Those wings, usually coming in pairs, but at times more than that, are useful in a society that tends to reside among mountain tops, cliff-sides and high altitude environments, with great spires, bridges and nests built all over the continent, but mostly within their Principalities!

As they value Freedom and Change above all else, if there is a race of elves that keeps trying to push for progressive measures, for acceptance and constant change to that which existed for long, it is the Skywing Elves. To avoid the whole, Planet of Hats scenario, this isn't of course, universal. But the connection to the Sky does push a lot of elves to become mages, speakers, inventors and even bards, traveling and pushing others to change and fight. Though, you will also find many Skywing Elves love exploring the land, and come back home to roost.

As the image shows, they usually dress in bright, airy clothing, with a lack of attention or rigor to modesty, because it's not like it matters too much to people so focused on the freedom of everything, The brightness of the colors is also so they can spot one another at a distance, even in flight, and the loose fabrics help them feel the wind and currents, even through layers and layers.

A small constant pull that affects all Skywing Elves is that they always feel a passive restlessness when entrapped in some manner, and their instincts sharpen to compensate, from reflexes to even pushing their bodies further than expected.

(You'll also note, that due to the Arcanum being explored more, it will affect Callum's connection to his first Primal Source, which I'll address later!)

Startouch Elves: Frankly, I didn't like the idea that Startouch Elves barely canonically exist. So no, they do exist, and are just, around, though they are a smaller population than most others elves.

They are weird, even by elven standards, as will be their opposite, the Tidebound/Oceanbound Elves, because both of these races are connected to the Primal Sources that most deal with time and existential concepts. The Stars touch on Paths, Possibilities, Understanding and Vastness of the Cosmos, and so, the Startouched are almost fully alien from most species in Xadia that aren't also connected to the Arcanum. Slightly displaced in time, Startouch Elves effectively have a limited distortion of time, existing in a sort of fugue state half the time where they're nigh on prophetic, but not to a grand scale without the assistance of magic. Due to this, they tend to seem, space-y and displaced, not quite understanding what is going on around them, or understanding it to a level that is so uncanny as to make most uncomfortable.

Their society is therefore truly a disorganized collection of families and lands, all kept with hundreds of years ahead in mind, haphazardly constructed structures and half incoherent communication that still ends up making sense to those within it. They produce a great many researchers and academics, many historians and prophets, and a fascinating amount of friendly faces, even if disconcerting. There is a lot of things odd about them that will require more exploration, but I wanted them to feel, alien and kindly, but almost not in the same plain as others. Distant, but watching, like stars, finding meaning in the emptiness and connecting dots that aren't there, like constellations.

I also gave them antlers because they all shine on the tips, resembling constellations!

-

I'll add the other 3 races later, and start expanding on the Arcanums and more, because gods do I have so many ideas!

[cottonlemonade]

*taps foot* could i get a medium mocha latte to go w makki

Red String Of Fate

word count: 585 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Makki x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with extra cheese

warnings: spoilers

request: fluffy, celebrating an anniversary with boyfriend Makki

____________________________________________

Makki dreaded your anniversary. Not because he didn’t want to show you off at any given chance but because he was embarrassed that for this year he was unable to pull his usual lavish extravaganza of gifts, fancy dinner and dancing that he went for in the past.

He lay on the couch in your shared apartment, staring at the ceiling as he absent-mindedly turned the little blue velvet box over and over in his fingers. Originally, he wanted to propose to you next week - he had planned it out for months but under no circumstances did he want to bind you to a jobless loser with no prospects. Sure, he waited for replies on countless resumes he sent out but if he learned anything between spring and summer it was that he did not interview well. He opened the little box to look at the ring he picked. It glinted promisingly in the sunlight shining through the large window of the living room. You had joked about how you wouldn’t mind if he would run the household while you went out kicking butt at your job and provide for them both. And Makki knew from years of watching his mom dedicated to her three children, husband and household that this was just as hard as any other job out there but he wanted to be able to offer you even more. He wanted to marry you and be a partner you could be proud of. As proud as he was of you. Snapping the box shut again he sighed.

The following Monday you came home with a big box of cream puffs and a bouquet of flowers. Makki laughed and happily accepted both with a kiss, leading you to the kitchen where he had tried to come up with the best meal on a budget.

“What happened to our living room?”, you asked, once you cleared the remnants of a delicious meal and finished off dessert.

“I just moved some stuff around.”, Makki shrugged and blushed slightly when he added, “Thought we could… at least dance at home.”

Your eyes lit up. “I’d love to!”

Turning up the music from the speaker he offered you his hand. Leading you to the free space between TV and couch, he twirled you around before you rested your head against his chest, turning slowly on the spot.

“This was a perfect anniversary.”, you said, nuzzling closer into his shirt and he closed his arms around your soft form, kissing the top of your head.

“It’s not over yet.”

You looked up and grinned, a suggestive eyebrow raised.

Your boyfriend chuckled, “That too, but first… this.”

He reached into his pocket and produced a small flat paper box he had obviously folded by hand.

Inside lay two bracelets braided with red string. They looked like the woven friendship bracelets you and your friends had eagerly exchanged in middle school.

“They are so pretty, babe.”, you said earnestly.

Makki let out a sigh of relief and helped you put yours on before you did the same for him.

“I know it’s not much but-”

“Shush! They’re lovely. And so thoughtful! - Did you call your sisters to ask them for help?”, you couldn’t help but tease.

“I may have done.”, he admitted and kissed you again, “Just so you know, if you’ll have me, I fully intend on marrying you as soon as I’m back on my feet.”

Beaming from ear to ear you met his eyes, “Can’t wait.”

a/n: you muppet xD I laid on the cheese extra thick for you 😂

[afrowrites]

~What A Difference a Day Makes~

High noon, blistering heat scattered across the wastelands. Rolling waves of heat come off of the scared man. His weathered coat and hat absorbs the warmth of the sun. But a man like him doesn’t mind it. He clings to its warmth like he clings to radiation it’s familiar and after 200 years of life that’s the first thing that gets him going. As he traverses the weathered ground and picks from the weathered weeds he’s home and home is wherever he lays his hat. And today his hat lands right at your home.

Word Count: 3,102

Warnings: Hostages, Explosions.

Tags: The Ghoul/Black Plus-Sized Reader, Fluff, Domesticity, Banter, Slowburn(Kind of, not really)

Read on Ao3

The Ghoul enters an old dilapidated town,“Well, well, what do we have here?” 

 He trips and before he can figure out what it is that he tripped on he hears music, a song from the past. “What a difference a day makes”  

The Ghoul pauses for a moment, letting the song wash over him. He hums softly to himself before his features fall back into the familiar sardonic smirk. “Well, ain't that just a day late and a dollar short.”

Suddenly the record stops then it rewinds, a haunting and demonic sound ringing through the speakers from that turntable. It explodes and sends him hurling towards some old rickety building. 

He slowly gets back up, rubbing the back of his head. His expression changes from amusement to annoyance. “Well, ain't that just a real humdinger. What's a ghoul gotta do to get some peace and quiet around here?”

He suddenly feels the barrel of a gun at the back of his head "Now I don't know who you are and what your doing here but you have about three seconds before I blow your head to smithereens"

He turned slowly to see a beautiful brown figure, she had luscious full lips that were twisted in a scowl, a sharp stare that could cut glass, and a body that would make any man fall to his knees. Which is what our cowboy wants to do so bad but he also doesn’t want to get shot. 

“Well, ain't you a proper little ray of sunshine, darlin'? If you want to know who I am, just call me The Ghoul. As for what I'm doing here, well, sometimes a fella jus' needs a little excitement, know what I mean?”

"And what pray tell would that be?" you looked at him, gun nudging his forehead.

“What do I want? How ‘bout a damn drink and a decent meal. Maybe even a little bit of friendly conversation that doesn't involve pointing a gun at my head?” The Ghoul's tone is cool and calm, unruffled by the threat of violence.

You take his bag from him and motion him to hand over his weapons, after all your modified grenade launcher is much scarier then some dinky pistols, after collecting the items you bind his hands with rope tightly and make you decent to your base of operations. 

"Alright if food and good company is what you seek then I guess you can follow me, but don't think you can escape or I'll make sure you face my music."

All while you're talking he for some reason can’t stop staring at your lips, The Ghoul raises an eyebrow, his smirk turning into a wry smile. 

“Well, looks like I'm just a damn dog on a leash now. But, if that's what it takes for a little vittles and banter, I guess I can't complain. Lead the way, darlin'. I'll try not to bite.”  He shows you a grinning smile. 

It takes half a day's journey to get to a dilapidated house on the outskirts of the shady sands. We walk in and it smells of mildew and dust.

 "Welcome to my abode, rough skin." I tie him securely to a sturdy post of the house. He has enough room to sit at the dinner table without causing too much of a fuss.

The Ghoul glances around the dilapidated house, taking in the dusty surroundings. He doesn't hide his surprise, but masks his discomfort with sardonic wit. 

“Well, ain't this just the picture of comfort and luxury. Mildewed walls, a chair that's seen better days, and the distinct smell of desperation. It's like a damn holiday.”

"I'm sorry this house is 250 years old and has survived two nukes safe to say I think I'm doing just fine, besides it's not like you know any better.” 

The Ghoul laughs, a raspy, guttural sound. 

“Two nukes, you say? Well, now we're talkin'. But hey, maybe I just prefer the finer things in life, like a decent roof over my head and a bed that doesn't squeak louder than a dying Radstag. But who am I to complain? After all, I'm sittin' at the table of a bonafide wasteland celebrity. And the company ain't half bad, either.”

"You're funny, what's your name?" I squint and I lean in closer to his face.

The Ghoul gives a crooked grin, revealing yellowed, pointed teeth. “They call me The Ghoul, sweetcheeks. But you can call me whatever you damn well please. Just don't expect me to be all sunshine and butterflies every damn minute.”

��You idiot I already knew that,” You chuckle and hit his arm playfully, “But you do look awfully familiar, I can't quite put my nose to it but I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough"

The Ghoul's lip curls into a smirk as he leans in close. “Well, darlin' if you recognize this old mug of mine, then you must be one hell of a fan, considering how much more handsome I used to be.”

He takes a moment to relish in this compliment before his sarcasm returns. “Now, are we gonna talk about my good looks all night, or are ya gonna get a fella somethin' to eat?”

"pushy, much" I rummage through my cabinets to open my secret stash of food behind my fake out cabinets 

"Alright I have some cram and mac'n cheese and drum roll please"

The Ghoul's eyes light up at the sight of the canned meals, He quickly returns to his usual sarcasm. 

“Well, hot damn! Look at you, pullin’ out the good stuff. I reckon I’ll take a bowl of that there “mac and cheese” you mentioned. Gotta tell you, darlin’, nothing says fine dining like canned crap.”

"You didn't even let me tell you what was for dessert, hmph." In your pouty frustration, he finds it endearing which is awfully close as he remembers that one you have him tied up in your hide-away, and two he barely even knows who you are. 

The Ghoul chuckles, enjoying this brief interaction with someone who isn't actively trying to kill him. 

“Desert, you say? Well, now you have my full attention. Let's hear it, darlin'. What's the sweet treat you're hiding in that stash of yours?”  

"Fancy lads snack cakes, they are actually good which worries me because that means they put all sorts of chemical crap in here. But beggars can't be choosers can they?"

The Ghoul's eyes light up again, and he almost seems enthusiastic. 

“Well, now we're talkin'! Fancy lads snack cakes, huh? Sounds like a piece of pre-war heaven. Hell, I've tasted dog food that was better than some of the slop I've come across in the Wasteland. But, you're right, darlin'. When you're out here scavenging for scraps, you gotta take what you can get.”

"I'll heat this stuff up then." You turn away blushing,and you honestly don’t know why?

The Ghoul gives you a sly smile, noticing your flushed cheeks, and nervous nature. 

“Well, ain't that a sight for sore eyes. Here I am, tied to a chair and at your mercy, and you're the one gettin' all flustered. Careful now, darlin'. If you keep givin' me these heated stares, a fella might start getting some ideas.”

"Now what kind of girl do you take me for?" You raise my brow and smirk.

The Ghoul's eyes twinkle mischievously as he looks you up and down. 

“Well, darlin', let's see. You're a proper little badass, ain't ya? Tying me up, feedin’ me grub, givin’ me the eye. I reckon you're the kind of girl who knows how to hold her own in this here Wasteland, and if provoked, could knock a fella flat on his ass with just the force of your glare. Hell, I'd say you're the kind of girl who could kick my ass while lookin’ damn fine doin’ it.”

"That's real cute but flattery will not get you untied." I get closer to whisper in his ear "Mister~"

The Ghoul chuckles, the hairs that would be  on the back of his neck rising at your touch. “Well, ain't you a sly one? Look darlin', I'll gladly sing your praises from here to the Grand Canyon. But you're right, there ain't a compliment in the world that could charm these ropes off me. And don't get me wrong, I ain't complainin'. A pretty lady, good food, and I'm tied down at her mercy? Sounds like a hell of a good time to me.”

"Your just in luck because the food is ready." You take the macaroni and cram off the fire and plate it on the mis-matched plates and cutlery.

The Ghoul's eyes light up as the food hits the table. Well, isn't this a sight for sore eyes? You ain't pullin' any punches, darlin'. Canned mac and cheese and cram. It's like a damn feast for a Wasteland king. I appreciate the effort, darlin'. You've got me hooked. He grins, his stomach rumbling in anticipation.

"You really better be glad I'm wasting my food on you, if I didn't have other food drops and suppliers you'd be starving."

The Ghoul gives a hearty chuckle, his sharp teeth glinting in the light. “Oh, darling, I'm aware. Believe me, I don't take your generosity lightly. But hey, I'd say I make up for it with my sparkling personality. He winks playfully. If you wanted to leave me hungry, you would have done so already. So, why feed me? You gotta be expectin' somethin' in return.”

"Honestly I don't know why I'm helping you, you just feel familiar to me and I don't know why. It's like in my mind I know who you are. But I don't know I might just be talking out of my ass."

The Ghoul's grin falters for a moment, his thoughts racing. He can see the confusion and memory in your eyes. “Ah, familiar, eh? Well, I won't lie, darlin'. I've been around these parts for a damn long time and have met more than my share of fascinating folks. It could be I've got a face that sticks in the mind. But, who knows? Maybe it's just a coincidence. The Wasteland is a mighty big place.”

You abruptly pause and think for a moment, “Would you want to watch a movie with me?"

The Ghoul's eyebrow arches in surprise and amazement. “Now, that's a damn fine suggestion. It ain't often a ghoul gets an invitation to watch the latest Hollywood flick. But, if you're askin', I'd love to join you. As long as it's a proper action movie, none of that romantic crap. I wanna see things blow up and people kick ass, you know what I mean?”

You laugh at his response, gritty and rough, “"Oh yeah you can watch my favorites with me. I only really have a cowboy cooper so I hope you don't mind." You give him a sheepish smile.

The Ghoul's expression grows intrigued. “Cowboy Cooper, eh? Sounds like the kind of movie fit for a true Wasteland outlaw. As long as it's got that proper Wild West charm, I'm in. You better believe I'm ready to sit back and enjoy the show. Let the explosions and bullets fly, darlin'. Hell, it might even make me forget about my current predicament.”

"You're such an old man."  You chuckle to myself as I turn on the movie.

The Ghoul lets out a low chuckle, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well now, aren't you the little firecracker? I ain't called old man in years. But hey, if it gets me a front row seat to this flick, I'll wear that label proudly. Now, let's get this show goin'. Nothing like a proper Western to get a ghoul's blood pumpin'”

You watch the movie together on your dilapidated couch on a tv that somehow works. "Now I know who you remind me of."

The Ghoul nods, his eyes flicking between the movie and you. He can tell you’ve got something on your mind. “Go on, darlin’. I could use a good mystery unraveled. Who do I remind you of?”

You make this somewhat off connection in your mind. "Cowboy Cooper, your voices are somewhat similar and you both have the same teeth which is shocking considering you're a ghoul."

The Ghoul's expression is unreadable for a moment as he processes your statement. Then, a slow, sardonic smile spreads across his face. 

“Well, now, isn't that something. Cowboy Cooper, huh? Guess it makes sense, given this ole’ rugged good looks. I'll take that as a compliment, darlin’. As for the teeth…well, I guess you could say life's been rough on them. But it just gives me that extra charm, don't you think?”

"I guess." you chuckle to yourself, as I start to rest your head on the ghouls shoulder.

The Ghoul's smirk softens slightly as he feels you rest your head on his shoulder. He can't help but let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“Well, ain't you somethin'? Here I am, all tied up and helpless, but somehow I end up playin’ the role of your personal pillow.”

You nuzzle into him, “Well you are comfier than you look.” You smile to yourself, this is honestly the first time you’ve felt anyones touch in a long time.

The Ghoul's smirk widens into a wolfish grin. He leans against the ropes, allowing you to use him as your makeshift pillow. “Well, darlin', if I knew I’d end up as the Wasteland’s next hottest pillow, I would have tied myself up years ago. But I gotta admit, you’re onto something. Maybe it’s these rugged good looks that make it so comfy. So, is this my new job? Just stayin’ put so you can rest your pretty little head on my shoulder?” 

"Whatever you say cowboy," you  yawn and stretch off of him. "Hey I don't know if you ghouls need to sleep but I will be doing that upstairs. i'll even tie you to my bed so I can sleep easier"

The Ghoul can’t help but chuckle at your bold invitation. He gives you a sly look, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Well now, ain't you the forward one? I haven't slept in years, so you don't gotta worry about me gettin’ into mischief while you catch your rest. As for the whole "tying me up to your bed" shenanigans, well, I won't say I'm opposed to the idea.”

You chuckle and give him a sleepy smile. "I bet you aren't, come on cowboy" As you lead him upstairs.

With a low chuckle, the Ghoul follows you up the stairs, his steps slightly hindered by the ropes. Despite his predicament, he can’t help but feel a bit excited at the prospect of spending the night in your bed. “Well, darlin', if you're offerin', who am I to refuse? Just don’t hog all the covers, alright?”

"Ah ah take off your shoes" You grin with your hand wide open motioning him to give them to you.

The Ghoul pauses for a moment, confusion flickering across his face. “My shoes? Look, darlin’, I ain’t one to question a lady, but this seems like a bit much. If I take my shoes off, then the next thing I know, you’re gonna be demanding I sleep naked and give up my guns.”

"That's not a bad idea, hand em over cowpoke" You knew he had extra weapons you were honestly confused as to why he hadn’t tried anything.

The Ghoul raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, but can’t help but chuckle, clearly amused. 

“Oh now, darlin’. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a wild one, sure, but takin’ off my shoes and sleeping naked? You keep making me an offer like that and I’m gonna start thinking you’ve got plans for me beyond just restin’. Maybe I oughta keep my weapons within reach, just in case.”

"Relax if you think I'm thinking about doing anything of that nature you're surely mistaken" this next part you say under your breath "I've never even done that." 

The Ghoul quirks an eyebrow at your muttered words. “Now wait now, hold up. That sounded like a mighty important confession you just let slip there. Are you tellin' me that you’ve never done any of that?” His eyes rake over you for a moment as a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. “Seems like some fellas in this world are missing out on a good time.”

"Oh be quiet" you throw a pillow at his face and you take his weapon and throw it at the far side of the room. "And if you don't mind I'll be sleeping with my gun, is that ok?”

The Ghoul catches the pillow with a smirk, setting it aside. He watches as you move his weapons away, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Oh trust me, darlin’, I’m perfectly fine with a lady keepin’ her weapon close. In fact, I’d say it’s a mighty smart move, even when you’re sharin’ a bed with a fella like me. Can’t be too careful in this Wasteland.”

"Hmmm you're too eager and I don't like that, but I'll keep you around. I need a guard dog after all" You smile cheekily at him.

The Ghoul's smirk turns into a wolfish grin, revealing a hint of sharp teeth in the dim light. Your wink doesn’t go unnoticed, and he can’t help but appreciate your boldness. “Oh darlin’, you’re playin’ a dangerous game. Keep givin’ me those looks and making comments like that, and you just might find yourself tangled up in somethin’ more than just bedsheets.”

You roll my eyes "goodnight Cowboy"

The Ghoul watches you roll your eyes, a smirk plastered across his face. He can’t help but laugh as you bid him goodnight, his deep chuckle filling the air.

“Alright there, darlin’. Goodnight~” With a wink, he settles down on the bed, his gaze never leaving you. 

[celestial-witchposter]

Home Protections: Methods and Magick that Guard a Witch's Home

Normally, I make a point not to share the exact protections I've made around my home. However, in the interest of keeping this community open and communicative, I think it's best to show how I keep my home safe from negative people and energies.

This will be focused on what I do for my *apartment*, not my altar or my person, which I may feature in a later post.

Smudging/Smoke cleansing - I feel like this is one of the most basic skills in a witch's arsenal, as it were. For smudge sticks, I recommend plants that grow in your area. For me that's garden sage, lavender, cedar, mugwort, and rose petals. You can make your own smudge sticks by binding stalks of these herbs together with pure cotton string. You can even collect and dry your own herbs for this purpose. As for incense, my favorite overall is jasmine but for smoke cleansing and protection I opt for Wild Berry Sage and Santo or Ispalla Palo Santo & Rue incense sticks. I tend to avoid buying whole palo santo sticks or white sage smudge bundles, though I do inevitably end up with them as gifts.

Protection oils - its ridiculously easy to make your own blends, though it can get expensive. My favorite at the moment is a blend of cedar, juniper, clove, mugwort, and bergamot in a base of olive oil so I can wear it as well as anoint with it. Be careful the surface you use these on - I wouldn't recommend finished hardwoods, for instance, unless you've diluted it in a spray or cleaner. Diluted vinegar is my favorite for non-porous surfaces (like linoleum, tile, or tabletops), with one part each of vinegar and water, and a few drops of oil.

Sound cleansing - whether you prefer singing bowls, a bell, singing, or playing music or chants on a speaker, sound has a powerful impact on the energy in a space. Just think of the difference music makes in the energy of a cafe versus a club. Sanctify and purify your space with sacred sound and music, or simply get your house spirits dancing while you clean! There is so much to choose from with this option.

Charms and amulets - There are. So many different ways to protect your home. A partial list of my favorites include: Witch bells, railroad spikes, hagstones, pentacles, spell bags, spell bottles, most black or white crystals (onyx, black tourmaline, obsidian, selenite, clear quartz), and of course the evil eye. More specific charms include dream catchers to catch and prevent nightmares, and horseshoes turned in the shape of a 'u' to catch the good luck entering your home.

Runes, bindrunes, and rune staves - my personal favorite being the Elder Futhark rune Algiz ᛉ, which you can either use on its own, or combine with other runes to create a bind rune (where the different runes share a single base line and you draw each rune onto it), or what is known as a rune stave, which is a sigil of your own making consisting of multiple runes. There's no exact science to this, many different types of staves have been found that were used for many different purposes, both lingual and magickal, over the centuries. For example, I seal many of my spell bottles with a simple, even cross (like a crossroads) with the end of each line forking three ways like an Algiz. Here is a more complicated stave that protects the entrance to my home, which I drew in white candle wax on the bottom of my door mat.

In the center, I bring the focus to Jera ᛃ, the year, to represent each season and a full cycle, good harvests, restful winters, bountiful springs, etc. To protect and bring prosperity year round.

The middle cross represents the values the rune protects in my home: Algiz ᛉ, is for protection, Pertho ᛈ is for play, joy, and laughter, Othila ᛟ, for home and family, and Kenaz ᚲ, for the torch or hearth.

The outermost circle is the protective ring in envisioning around the house. I invoke Isa I, or the ice, to freeze out and make unwelcome any who would wish to do us harm. Gebo X is a symbol of giving and taking. Reciprocity is important in any relationship, whether with the earth or with friends, and any who pass through our doors and receive our generosity as hosts I want to instill with this giving spirit.

Salt - This one is the simplest. So simple in fact it ought to have been first. Salt has such rich history and folklore from all around the world, I won't even begin to touch on all of it. But its essential role in our bodies and lives is undeniable. Not only is it nutritionally necessary, and a wonderful preservative, but it is also the earth's most powerfully protective mineral. You don't need anything special, in fact it's best to just buy the cheapest you can because if you're getting into spellwork, you're going to be using a lot of it. It can be mixed with ashes from your spells and incense, herb blends, and blessings to make different witches salts. Aunt Lucinda from The Spiderwick Chronicles wasn't as crazy as she seemed for having a line of salt in each doorway and windowsill. Be careful using salt outdoors, as too much kills any plant, and too much around small children and pets simply because they'll eat anything.

Prayers, affirmations, and incantations - these will of course be extremely personal. They can be as simple as saying "I am protected" or "I am guarded" etc., as you walk your house. You can make symbols or sigils with the movement of your hands. You can pray to a deity if you choose. A personal favorite of mine is to incant as I smoke cleanse, rotating my incense or smudge stick counterclockwise (to release, dispel, or banish - clockwise to attract) and say "I release that which does not serve me. I banish that which would do me harm."

For all of these, *intention* is going to be your best friend. Visualize a white, protective light filling your home, pushing the shadows from every crevice, and let your power and the powers you trust to call on shield you from any harmful energy that may come your way. Some of these will have to be redone yearly, or monthly, some I only do when I feel the need for something particularly strong, like when an evil eye breaks or a string of ill fortune strikes, and sickness or an unwanted person has been in the house. Let your intuition guide you.

Hope you enjoyed, let me know what I should share next!

[ssruis]

love seeing you hate on the showtime ruler set . keep up the good work

I appreciate it! but I don’t think it’s something praise worthy. I think speaking up about the issues with RMD should be the norm and it’s disappointing that it isn’t. You would think that “I don’t think the cultures of historically marginalized and oppressed groups should be used as costumes” wouldn’t be a hot take. but apparently it is.

On the subject of that: I’ve heard a lot of people say “it’s not really based on native Americans” and “they didn’t know any better.”

To the first point: that is probably correct. It most likely draws inspiration from the colonist idea of indigenous people in general, but more specifically the Ainu (indigenous people to Japan).

Which brings me to the second point - they absolutely should have known better (and saying otherwise warrants a discussion on the infantilization of East Asians as well as Japan apologism in general. but that’s off topic).

The Ainu have historically been subjected to absolutely horrific violence and oppression by the Japanese government, on par with how the US has treated Native Americans. They were viewed as primitive and barbaric. Their land was taken, Ainu women were sexually assaulted, they were forbidden from practicing their religion, they were put into Japanese speaking schools and forbidden to speak their own language. They were forced to assimilate by law. In 2008 there were ~100 native Ainu speakers. The Ainu weren’t recognized as an ethnically distinct group by the Japanese government until 2019, but they are still continually erased by the push for a homogenous national identity.

Portraying the colonization of indigenous people as a simple “well both sides were prejudiced against each other they just needed to hold hands and get along :)” erases the very real history of oppression against indigenous groups. It allows people to ignore the atrocities committed and their lasting impact. Native Americans and the Ainu (as well as other indigenous people) are still feeling the effects of colonization. It’s not an issue that can or should be viewed as a thing of the past.

Portraying indigenous people as a vague fantasy race/group or as a costume contributes to their continued erasure. It leads to people believing indigenous people and their culture no longer exist. The reality is replaced by the fictional representation.

Phrased more eloquently by Gerald Vizenor (and the person he is quoting) in Mannifest Manners:

“… other masters of manifest manners in the nineteenth century, and earlier, represented tribal cultures as the other; to them ‘language did the capturing, binding Indian society to a future of certain extinction,’ wrote Larzer Ziff in Writing in the New Nation. ‘Treating living Indians as sources for a literary construction of a vanished way of life rather than as members of a vital continuing culture, such writers used words to replace rather than to represent Indian reality.’

[…]

“Those who ‘memorialized rather than perpetuated’ a tribal presence and wrote ‘Indian history as obituary’ were unconsciously collaborating ‘with those bent on physical extermination’ argued Ziff.”

(P.8, emphasis mine)

Vizenor is speaking about Native Americans here, but I think it’s applicable to this situation as well.

This post goes into it a bit more, in terms of harmful tropes present in the RMD story itself.

There’s definitely character related reasons to dislike the RMD story, but I think it cheapens the discussion to center it around “why rui wouldn’t write that” because that is not the important issue and defending a fictional character from the colonization apologist allegations is like. A non issue. Considering everything else.

[moonlightgrisha]

All those stories about a Moon Summoner? True.

Masterlist

Backstory 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Part one

1. First encounter

2. A dance of shadows

3. And then, she woke up

4. Ride on

5. How to lose a secret

6. Show me

7. Make a choice

8. New Moon

9. Everybody knows

10. Little Palace at night

11. The view from the hill

12. Summer Festival

13. The consequence of imagination is fear

14. The gift

15. After me, comes the flood

Part two

16. Wax and Wane

17. The Haunting of You

18. ?

About this story: This is a romance fan fiction about the Darkling and a female OC, born in the royal family with a power that binds her to the moon. I am not a native English speaker and I have not written a fan fiction in almost ten years. I have now actually accomplished to write for a living, as a professional author of books for young audiences in my home country. As much as I like my job, I missed the simplicity of posting online, so here I am, although my identity shall remain secret. I also wanted to experience writing in another language - my English might not be perfect, but I’m having a lot of fun. This story is simple, linear, romantic and maybe a little dull, but it’s something the teenage me would have liked, and I hope it can bring a little happiness to anyone who’ll read it. We always write to escape. So, here’s a little escapism. Enjoy.

[wordsmithic]

Greek words for Magic – Part 1

Please note that the full and/or root words mentioned here, like most Greek words, are still in use since antiquity. As a Greek speaker, I love sharing my interesting language with people like you! ღ

1. γητεία (ghitía, n)

"Enchantment," "spell," or "magic." The charming or casting spells, often associated with witchcraft or mystical practices. from γητεύω ("to enchant" or "to bewitch", derived from γήτης or γόης (sorcerer, enchanter, deceiver).

Pervasive throughout the Eastern Mediterranean and Western Asia until late antiquity and beyond, mághos (μάγος) was influenced by (and eventually displaced) Greek ghoēs (γόης), the older word for a practitioner of magic, to include astronomy/astrology, alchemy, and other forms of esoteric knowledge.

We also have the words γοητεία (ghoitía, n) and γόητρo (ghóitrο, n) which mean "charm", "allure".

2. μαγγανεία (maganía, n)

Literally, “from a device” or “machination” (literal).

Only used metaphorically, as "Sorcery," "magic," or "witchcraft." Magical practices, enchantments, or trickery, often with a negative connotation (as deceitful or malicious magic).

From μάγγανον (device, contraption, mechanism," which was often used to refer to tricks or deceptive contrivances.

3. μάγισσα (mághissa, n)

A woman who practices magic, enchantment, or supernatural arts, often associated with folklore, mythology, or mystical traditions. In modern usage, “μάγισσα” is commonly referred to witches in fairy tales, folklore, and popular culture, though it can also imply a powerful or wise woman with mystical abilities.

From μάγος (mághos), meaning "magician" or "sorcerer", + the feminine suffix -ισσα. It derives from the Old Persian word maguš, referring to the priestly class of the Zoroastrians, known for their knowledge of astrology and rituals.

4. μαγεία (maghía, n)

Magic or witchcraft. The art of performing supernatural acts, spells, or rituals. Τhe use of esoteric knowledge to influence the natural world or events in a mystical manner.

The term entered the Greek language through contact with the Persians during the classical period. It is used in modern times instead of μαγγανεία (maganía).

From the Persian "maguš".

5. μάγια (mághia, n, always plural)

Literally, “Produced of magic”. Spells or charms used for magical purposes. It refers to magical practices or sorcery, often with a connotation of folk magic or superstitions.

Form of μαγεία (maghía), often used in a more colloquial or folkloric sense.

6. καταδεσμός (katadesmós, n, “d” as “th” in “the”)

Literally, "a binding down." In ancient Greek culture, it referred specifically to spells or curses intended to bind or constrain another person’s actions or will. Refers to a magical act, often written on a tablet, that was meant to bind someone or something, typically used in love spells, curses, or other forms of ritual magic.

These were commonly associated with ancient magical practices, especially in the context of invoking deities or spirits to enforce the binding. It has taken the meaning of "binding spell" or "curse." From κατά- ("down" or "against") + δεσμός ("bond" or "binding").

Today we don't use the term, but we our tradition still considers the enchanted person "bound" by a spell.

7. κατάρα (katára, n)

Lit. "A wish against someone". A curse. A spoken or written spell intended to bring misfortune or harm to someone.

from the καταράομαι (to curse, - deriving from κατά- ("against") + ἄρω (“call upon”, "wish")).

8. φυλακτό (filaktó, n)

Literally, “Guarding object”. A talisman, amulet, or magical object carried or worn for protection against evil spirits, harm, or misfortune. Also met as φυλαχτάρι (fylahtári).

From φυλάσσω (to guard, to protect).

▣ ━ Find part 2 here

▣ ━ My masterpost with similar posts on Greek Language ━ ▣

[froidefille]

Day 8: rec a fic that was recced to you

📚 The Bolthole by aideomai, Tepre and GallaPlacidia

Draco/Harry, 54k, E

Summary:

Harry is a hoarder, Draco is grief-stricken, and both are capable human adults who can definitely spend a month in a cottage in the Cotswolds together without ever talking about the time they slept together in eighth year. Yeah, no, totally.

Lil story time to kick things off so I can properly convey how excited I am to rec you this fic! Here goes: I was freshly after reading Tepre’s Grounds for Divorce (which made me want board first plane to Luxor) and aideomai’s Far From the Tree (the way I screamed when I realised the final twist) when @sitp-recs reblogged the post with @haxkattpress’s georgeous bind for The Bolthole. Coincidentally, I was also in my Gallapod era at the time (and what an era that was 😭) so just now please take a minute to imagine just how exactly the stars have aligned for my poor fangirling heart at the time when I realised there’s a podfic of The Bolthole narrated by no other than Galla herself, who has co-authored this story IT’S JUST THAT AO3 DOES NOT SAY THAT because Galla went and became a successful published writer. How rude of her :D

So that was more of an inspiration than a rec? But hey, is there a better rec than taking your time and money to create a piece for the text? 🤍

About the story

First things first for us non-native speakers of English:

In this fic Draco escapes London to Harry's cottage in Gloucestershire, where the authors invite us to spend 50k words with them. There is a Major Misunderstanding™ theme which is very enjoyable indeed and the prose is, of course, exquisite.

Still, this fic's best feature in my opinion is how it tells the story of heartbroken, guilt-ridden characters and how they slowly heal. Oh, the way this story has broken my heart into a hundred pieces, only to put it back again in the most delicious way!

Exibit A: Harry has never had the opportunity to actually own much possesions so once he can have his own things he gets so lost in owning stuff that it gets completly out of control. . Draco helps him to get it a bit less out of control and I love it for them. I symphasize with this character so much, because I myself am very attached to objects: I like how they remind me of things, I like how pretty they are and I like having them in my own version of order (which is far from the typical understanding of tidiness, or so my husband keeps telling me 😅).

Exibit B: Draco has lost an OC parental figure and isn’t coping very well. (Harry is not great company at the time either but he is some company and the change of scenery helps Draco manage his grief and I love it for them as well.) The way Harry’s mental state is painted by his house. The contrast of Draco’s need to organize his sourroundings for comfort while Harry needs them to stay just the way they are.

And don’t even get me started on the cupboard under the stairs. Which Harry has barricaded. So Draco just took a crowbar and a hammer and kicked the door open. Which is such a beautiful metaphor for what he actually does here: literally stripping down the walls Harry has created around himself and one box after another makes an order out of Harry’s life.

All the while the feelings between the boys boil, the tension grows. Just look at the emotions in the scene when Draco realizes what the cupboard symbolizes to Harry:

“It’s only a cupboard,” he said. “It can’t hurt you.” Harry looked up at him, then. His eyes were blood-shot. He wasn’t upset, or angry: this one, Draco knew. This one was despair. He’d tried to board something up and the damn thing wouldn’t stay closed. “Ah,” said Draco, delicately. He knew his own despair was self-indulgent, ridiculous, but somehow it seemed wrong to suggest that the same was true of Harry’s. He wasn’t like Ron and Hermione, he couldn’t call Harry out, his instincts were all wrong, and he couldn’t leave him alone, either. He’d never had the knack for that. He took two faltering steps forward and went to his knees before Harry. “I see,” he said, and almost touched Harry—hands hovering. “One of those rare, malignant cupboards. The ones that can hurt you.” Harry’s eyes dropped to the ground, such a small movement, and yet so desperately, so horribly hopeless that Draco was overwhelmed with the dizzying rush of wanting to soothe, to take away all bad things. He couldn’t help himself: he took Harry’s face in his hands. “No, Harry,” he said. “You can’t be this sad. You’re supposed to be angry at me, not sad, this is not the right reaction at all.” And Harry, with a bad failed attempt at a smile: “I’m trying.” “Try harder ,” Draco said, and his hands were moving: over Harry’s face, his neck, restless. To his knees, squeezing him. “You see,” he said, and now his voice shook. “You see, if you keep on being so sad I won’t have any choice but to make violent love to you. It’s really the only option; I don’t make the rules.”

Spoiler: They do make violent love later on. It’s amazing. The intimacy between them and the power dynamics is just so ... I don't actually have words. I’m pretty sure I will remember this one particular scene for a long time (IYKYK😅). If you are into gentle D/s relationships, you are going to melt. Just like Draco did.

To sum up – an amazing read, a gorgeous listen, 12/10. I've put a few quotes under the cut for your heartbreak enjoyment.

Thank you for today @hprecfest and see you in the next one!

That night at the cottage, he found an old desk in the shed, and broke it to use the pieces to board up the cupboard under the stairs. He knew, while he was doing it, how mad he must seem—how mad he was. But the only thought he had was, it’s too small and nothing should be in a place so small. Not boxes, or pets, or food for the pets, or food at all, or anything alive. Not children. Especially not children.

Can someone get baby Harry from the cupboard please? 😭

“Sometimes you need a push,” Draco snapped, looking up. “Instead of a request.” 

That’s what Draco says which I personally hate because I can’t stand other people enforcing their ideas on my order of things (my skin literally crawls as I write these words) but let’s face it – sometimes you do need a push. So then Draco reorganizes the cupboard (oh and almost dies) and it is a breaking point for Harry.

This is terrible,” said Draco into his mug. “Yeah,” said Harry. “Wait. The tea?” “No,” said Draco. He looked at Harry. “This. D’you want to, I don’t know, should we punch each other, or something? Make it more normal?”

Sure, punch your way out of trouble, Steve Rogers would be proud 😅

“We’ve hung out before without punching each other,” said Harry. “It was fine, we had a nice time.” He meant the long, quiet nights in the eighth year common room, that last year in Hogwarts, with Hermione drowsing by the fire over a book and Ron teaching Draco chess—he was very bad at it—and Harry just sort of sitting with them, his whole head echoing with the resounding shock of peace. Sometimes when Ron went to the bathroom or to go make cocoa in the corner Neville had set up or to gently lift Hermione’s hair and sheepishly kiss the nape of her neck, Draco would wave Harry over to the chess board and say in a panicked whisper, “Fix it, Potter!” and Harry would inevitably give him bad advice. “Now you’ve done it,” Draco said, and once, “Well, at least he’s beating both of us now. At last, Harry and I are in the same boat.” It was the first time he’d ever called Harry by his first name.

The warmth of this scene!!

Wait, have I already mentioned that Draco has a crush on Ron in this fic? In a bit platonic way, but anyway, it’s super cute:

In eighth year, Draco had been horrified to discover that he had a crush on Ron Weasley. His solution had been to flirt outrageously so that no one would ever suspect him. It had worked remarkably well. 

[no-shxme]

OKAY so i have all the pieces im gonna go full lunatic ramblings and talk about the new talon skin.

The skin in question:

(spotlight video)

and his bio:

“Talon doesn’t remember much of his past anymore; all he knows is the sorrow and regret etched deeply within his soul. These emotions have transformed into hues, dying him and making him what he is today. Others revere the power he wields, but to Talon, it’s no different from shackles binding him. Refusing to be a pawn in destiny’s game, he fights desperately, determined to rewrite his unfinished tale even if it means only darkness awaits his blade at the end, where all the colors shall eventually converge.”

Additionally he has vo in br portuguese as well as spanish. i've taken the liberty of translating the spanish vo as i know some, even if my english is better >_> you can find the english translated lines here. and if you're a fluent speaker feel free to throw ur two cents in the ring.

i am going to also ramble a liiiiil bit about the other skins in the line in connection with talon, and also go into sett a bit more and at the end i'll talk about a talsett lens. ofc this is all just my opinion blah blah im yapping. this will be a very long post.

OKAY SO FIRST OFF LET'S TALK ABOUT THE DESIGN.

I think splendor opus talon's design is... probably his weakest aspect of him... like imo his design falls into a line of 'there's too many things going on.' too many bells and whistles. i know there was some contention about his colors but i personally like them, tho i dont really like the swirly stuff he's got going on by his shoulders. and idk if i dig his anglerfish lure like hmm. his outfit is kinda a mess but that's okay i forgive him. i wish he had visible eyes always and its interesting that you can see them sometimes they're just super fucking yellow.

like wow hello!

imo his splash art is also great!! compared to his last skins, primal ambush on pc and stargazer/prestige on wr (we dont talk about the prestige) this one just gives off a better vibe to me?? the pose is better than stargazer imo.

and his EXPRESSION is so good here. it's cool neutral, and if you squint then yeah maybe he COULD be smiling just a tiny bit, or maybe he could be frowning. its so GOOD.

(once again not a fan of the wispy shit but blah blah)

in terms of model animation, like the wild rift entrance visible in the spotlight intro,, i don't like it as much? just in the starting animation, when he's on the boat all the way up to looking at the camera, i think he gives off yone energy there, not talon energy. i think its because he looks too put together. i think talon should be noticeable for his less than stellar posture lol. he's got some grime i think they should let him keep it.

wild rift offers several poses and there are several that i think do a better job. i dont think his default screams much talon, tho i understand that he would keep good posture sometimes. (i reference it while writing too.)

he breathes fire in his animated performing pose, which is fun. i think poised and the end of performing are his best poses. idk i just think dignified is a strange word to associate with talon, personally. i wouldn't even associate that with enduring blade.

extra side note about his model i love the lil thing that ties his fuckass hair back.

as a side note (but generally more unimportant compared to other apsects of his skins) the animations and in game of him is also very good, but that's a given bc of the better wr models. i love his e, and sometimes ingame he pulls out his fan for a sec? the way his cape moves almost reminds me of rakan.

EDIT: FORGOR to mention that sett is LITERALLY IN HIS RECALL??? AUGHHH

anyway, model aside, let's talk LORE/THEMATIC:

now full disclaimer there's gonna be an event ingame so if there's more lore revealed i'll have to make a summary post or smth, but we'll find out later.

lore/thematic is what i was most wary about, especially because wild rift was handling it, and their last entry (stargazer talon) was so brutally boring in terms of thematic. ive said this before but it gave him no real texture, just someone who was 'secretly working for the enemy.' when i refer to narrative texture i'm more talking about complexity. talon is such a complex character, so if there isn't a layer of complexity in his bio then its shrimply not as good. i always consider skins to be a 'translation' of the character. so painting talon as a flat villain is a poor translation of the character. there are a couple champs that suffer with this tbh, getting reduced or translated to other skinlines poorly. (yone. for example. sett too. maybe some other day i'll make a post about it going into my thought process.) all this to say that i dont really trust wild rift's quality when it comes to character interpretation? like i trust lol pc much more. i think wr gets away with things that wouldnt get through on pc. stuff like putting heels on all their women models, etc.

anyway.

i was VERY PLEASANTLY SURPRISED THEN BC the lore isn't actually one note or flat or leaving little room (primal ambush for example, was a filler line that didnt really give lots to chew on). but this line not only interprets talon but also gives a fair amount of texture!!!

but basically it boils down on first glance to 'sett and the others have to defeat talon (and mundo technically who is like, following behind talon) i'd assumed talon would be a villain from the teasers and i was scared of him being just a flat villain. but that's actually so opposite to the case, because once you look at talon's bio and voice lines he's a tragic and textured villain fighting to choose his own future.

there is admittedly a lot of haziness in regards to the actual world context. even the cinematic they released (here) is set very non-specifically. we know that teemo is Literally Destiny and 'is [trying to] ensure that the chosen ones walk their destined paths.' in sett's bio it mentions being chosen by the 'Paints of Providence, being chosen to take on the mantle of The Gallant Hero' and defeat talon. are the paints different from teemo? uhhhhhh... dont really know.

there are some instances in riot lore where im like 'they totally didnt mean to do that' but i think they very much intended talon to be seen as 'correct' in his motive (though prolly not his actions.) trying to achieve his goals in the wrong way.

i think from all the lore (as in the bios and voice lines) its implied that fate gives you a role to play and erases your past memories? im really not sure about that last part because sett references his ma in his legendary lines... but at the very LEAST fate gives you a part to play. and in talon's case he doesn't want to play it. he's got lines about deciding his own destiny and its fucking sick and on brand. there's even an animated emote (which i'll post separately) explicitly called 'i define who i am.' and YET he's portrayed as someone who 'needs to be defeated.'

ITS TRAGIC. in a talsett lens it really is peak enemies to likers, and FINALLY we're back to themes of control/loss of control that we have with talon's best skins (thematicwise.) and its more tragic if you push it further and think maybe teemo (destiny) knows that him 'fighting his destiny at any cost' is just him cementing himself in his predetermined role of antagonist.

HE IS FIGHTING FOR HIS OWN AGENCY LIKE. HELP.

like high noon also has the same reoccurrance, of things happening to talon outside of his control and him struggling to deal with it. enduring blade: loses his POWERS? (irelia, chill) and suddenly being cast down to mortality. i thiiiiiiiink i've said this before but thematically across (most of) his skinlines talon has two major vibes:

struggles with control

themes of being pushed too far to the point that he doesn't care if the whole place burns down/anarchy. (withered rose and blood moon are two notable examples.)

if you pair this with the idea of him loving perfection and also the idea of 'the edge' you get a tragic portrayal of someone who is just pushed too far (edge) to the point where they snap. feast or famine, all or nothing. and i think that's SUPER interesting because when you look at like, his base/lore that stuff is very much under the surface/not as evident. (imo this is because he's just not at that breaking point yet in story.)

splendor opus is thematically very good because it covers both of his major vibes. it's kinda what i was missing from the stargazer skin. (my criticism was that it's a missed opportunity to put talon in a story about fates and futures without adding his struggle with them.) it also portrays him as a foe but sympathetically, which imo is 90% of the time how it should be. high noon was: yeah he's a devil but he's going through it. enduring blade was: yeah he's a prick but he's going through it. KATARINA COMIC was: yeah he tried to kill her but he's being manipulated. she even let him live like she knows this!!! AGH

as an added note, because this is peking opera themed, i havent ruled out the idea that this is all a stage play and that irl this isn't actually happening. but idk if that can be determined yet. unless i've missed smth, we'll have to see if anything else is revealed.

in summary: i personally rate this thematic VERY high tbh, though still under like, high noon at the very least. i wish the setting was more established but the lore/theming surrounding talon is quite excellent imo, even if his design leaves stuff to be desired.

ALSO, a note on splendor opus sett:

i like his skin a lot tbh! (mythic chroma not as much) and the model/animations are great ofc, but as a legendary skin released alongside another legendary skin this is definitely the lesser of the two. the voice lines are very nondescript and add little thematically compared to talon, and he only has 1 alternate pose? (and a different alt pose on his mythic chroma) so it seems like unequal quality? strange. i think they could've added a tiny bit of doubt to his bio, personally, because a lot of sett's theming is around fighting for those who need it, and talon kinda... needs it? (well, he doesn't need it, but he could USE it.) but this is once again dipping into my opinions on how sett's character is often reduced. though talon actually DOES have a voiceline with him where he calls him stupid, so maybe its something that clicks later for him.

that being said i still like his skin. i'll take what i can get.

if you read this whole stupid thing then thanks for humoring me lol. this is all just my personal opinions, if you wanna discuss feel free!!! yayyy talon

now i must draw them together....

also im not even rereading this so if there's mistakes ill uhhhhhhh fix them later.

[pocket-watcher]

I remember that somewhere at the beginning of your blog there was a story about a magician with a card trick. And there was information in the tags that the magician would show a trick with a pocket watch next time. So the question is: when will we see it? I know that this is a typical trope, but I would be interested if a magician caught the same person over and over again in order to show him a variety of tricks, each time binding him more and more tightly to himself...

Okay I was kinda joking about that HOWEVER if the Watchlings want a follow-up, who am I to deny the people??

This takes place directly after this post!! I guess it’s a part 1 now?

She awoke, still sitting in the casino. The noise of the people, the slot machines, it all seem to come back to her at once.

She was dizzy. Her thoughts felt unfocused, still.

The whole room tilted back from its axis, straightening up again. Coming back to reality.

Remembering what had happened, the magician, her head darted around to find him. No luck. Damn casinos and their lack of windows, how the hell could she tell what time it was?

She checked she wasn’t robbed first. Phone, wallet, and keys all in check. Her phone told her it had been about an hour. Nothing crazy, luckily.

She wandered around in a daze, looking for the man. Where had he gone? What exactly had he done to her?

But nothing. He had simply vanished. Just like the time she had lost due to him… his… whatever it was.

Magic isn’t real.

She eventually came across a sign for a show. It was Vegas, so these were pretty common. However, the familiar face on the poster is what caught her attention.

It was him.

The show was in the next door hotel and started in 30 minutes.

She rushed over, managing to just grab one of the last open seats as the lights began to dim.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and the people of Vegas. Now introducing: Theodore the Illusionist!”

The overheard speakers boomed and out on stage walked…

Him.

Theodore, the man who had - put that spell, or whatever on her. Bored her to sleep. Forceful meditation, or other nonsense.

“Hello everyone,” he smiled at the audience. “How are you all tonight?”

The crowd whooped and cheered.

She sat silently, arms crossed.

“Now, I have many tricks lined up for you this evening, but for this first one I’ll need a volunteer…” He moved to the side of the stage and brought a hat back out, making a large show of the hat being empty, before he turned the hat upside down and pulled a small piece of paper out of it.

“Seat G52! Won’t you come on down…”

The spotlight found her before the realisation did.

Well, shit.

She gave an awkward smile and wave in response to the applause, and then moved to walk up to the stage. His eyes flashed with mischievous recognition.

“What a lovely lady. And what might your name be?”

She wondered if she had even given him a name the first time round. Her memories were still fuzzy.

“Dijaya.”

“Dijaya, what a lovely name. Give her a round of applause, folks!”

The crowed obeyed enthusiastically.

“Okay Dijaya, first things first could I ask you to stand here? Perfect. Good at following orders, that should make the show a whole lot smoother!”

Laughter was heard.

Of course she was going to do what he said. How could she not In front of all these people?

“Okay Dijaya, do you believe in hypnosis?”

Hypnosis.

Was that what he had done?

“Oh, uh, I’m not sure… maybe.”

“That’s good enough for me! Now I want you to stare at this pocket watch for me.”

He’d produced it out of nowhere, earning impressed gasps and murmuring from around the room.

“That’s it. Watch it go back and forth as I swing it.”

“I…”

“Don’t worry, you’re completely safe! Isn’t she, folks?”

The audience whooped. She felt her eyes growing heavy following the movement. Already her copy was sinking in on itself, much faster than last time.

“N-no… not again…”

“Not again! Why, let’s fill in the audience, shall we?”

He bobbed the pocket watch up and down, and Dijaya’s head nodded as her eyes stayed locked on it.

“You see everyone, this isn’t our first meeting. In fact, I planned this so that you would come here tonight to find me. I planned the seat you’d request, and that you’d get up on stage as my willing volunteer.”

If she had been able to think she’d be horrified.

“That’s right. Your choices were never your own.”

She dropped to her knees, still following the watch. Dipped chin and heavy eyelids, and yet still following.

So much deeper than before.

So much better than before.

She was so much more willing than before because she knew how good it felt to give in and go under.

“Now, when I snap my fingers, you’ll fall completely under my control once again.”

The audience stared with bated breath.

“3… 2… 1…”

Snap

She fell instantly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, now the real show begins.”

[undeadcannibal]

Summary: While escaping with a cult vehicle, you forget to turn off the radio and are captured and turned over to Jacob. Only this time, you wake up somewhere you don’t recognize, tied down to a chair and left to the mercy of Jacob Seed -- and his hunting knife.

Pairing: Jacob Seed/Reader

Genre: Smut, one-shot

Word count: 1,891

Warnings: mentions of brainwashing/conditioning, slight(?) dub-con territory, knife play, ‘nsft’ content, AFAB reader, no use of y/n, spoiler free, not beta read

A/N: Look at me, finally touching up and finishing a draft from 5 years ago. After finishing Far Cry 6, I had the urge to replay Far Cry 5 and recalled this old draft I had. Figured why not rewrite it and post it, y’know? Hopefully y’all will enjoy this little piece. ( Gif credit: xxx )

It was too late when the realization of the mistake you'd made sunk in.

After managing to sneak off with one of the Cults' trucks, you'd forgotten to turn off the radio. Before you could switch it off, you could hear the familiar song begin to play throughout the speakers. Within little time, you could feel the brainwashing effects being to take over you...

Shortly after the first lyrics rang out, your head began to ache; vision blurring red at the edges whilst confusion was soon overcome by a surge of pure, animalistic rage. Jacob had - unfortunately - done well with conditioning you. Once the effects began to kick in, there was nothing you could do to stop it. You could only hope that no one knew where you were so he didn't send any of his hunters after you. It'd been some time since you'd received his last message for you on the radio. Maybe he'd been so pleased with your last round of 'culling' he felt he didn't need another round of it so soon. You really doubted that though.

Beginning to lose control of your muscles, your body began to twitch and jerk before going slack entirely. Your vision starting to fade as well. Grunting, you watched as your vehicle began to veer off from the street into the woods. Barrelling through bushes and small trees. You couldn't see much after that, your head falling back to slump against the headrest of the driver seat.

The last thing you heard before losing consciousness was the sound of the truck's tires rolling over rough terrain, then the impact of steel colliding with wood and glass shattering.

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

When you finally came to, you couldn't recognize your current surroundings. However, you were able to determine it wasn't any of the locations Jacob had taken you to before.

Instead of filthy cages with humans - and sometimes animals and corpses - inside of them in the sweltering sun, you were in a dark room with dim lighting. And, as you began to struggle, you also came to discover that your limbs had been tied with a rough rope-like material at your wrists, thighs, and ankles.

Quickly glancing around the room, your eyes eventually adjusted to the dark and you managed to notice a small table nestled off in the corner. A leather-bound book with the cults' insignia stamped on it in the middle laid atop it as well as that damn small wooden box Jacob used. The same one that played the same song that had gotten you in this predicament in the first place...

You had to find a way to get out of here immediately.

Attempting to jerk and struggle in your binds, you briefly wondered if you would be able to wriggle your way out of them if you tried hard enough.

"Funny thing about the vehicles..."

Stopping all movement entirely, your blood ran cold and you could feel the hair on the back of your neck and arms raise with fright.

You didn't need to see who it was to recognize the owner of that voice.

Jacob Seed was a bastard that was difficult to forget.

The sound of heavy footfall nearing you made sweat begin to bead at your temples. You really weren't eager to discover what he had in store for you tonight.

As your breathing picked up and your pulse quickened, you finally saw him step into the light. Standing in front of you with a strict posture, his expression unreadable as ever.

"When we first got them, John suggested equipping them with tracking devices," Jacob explained as casually as if he'd been discussing the weather. "I told him there was no point at first, but eventually he talked me into the idea, so we decided to add 'em anyway."

Your jaw tensed and relaxed periodically whilst he spoke to you.

"Guess they proved to be pretty handy after all, huh?"

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. Jerking your arms once more in retaliation.

"Fuck you, Jacob."

"Oh," He tutted at you, clicking his tongue with a shake of his head. "Don't worry, we'll get to that part soon enough. But first--" He reached down to a strap attached to his thigh, producing a large Bowie knife with a black handle.

You watched him laugh at you as your eyes frantically flit back and forth from his face to the knife he was wielding.

Jacob stepped forward and slowly began to walk around you. Stopping just behind you before you felt the nipping edge of sharp steel press against your clavicle through the flimsy blouse you'd chosen to help yourself blend in. Swallowing the lump in your throat, did your best to remain still. Even as Jacob began to move the tip of his blade up to your throat. Scraping it across the delicate flesh there before moving to repeat the same motion across your throat and the underside of your jaw and chin.

Unable to help yourself, you found yourself breathing faster. Almost panting even whilst your thighs pressed together. Unsure if your reactions were fear or arousal based at that point.

Your knife play kink really picked the worst time to flare up, didn't it?

Jacob Seed could kill you with a flick of his wrist. Have your throat sliced and you'd be able to do nothing but cough and gurgle as you'd slowly asphyxiate with your own blood...

Yet, you never felt the horrible sting of the blade piercing your throat.

Instead, you felt Jacob pull his blade away. Watching curiously as he knelt before you and began to slice through numerous parts of your pants until was satisfied. Peeling away the filthy denim till he had you in nothing but your underwear for bottoms.

"W-What the fuck do you think you're doing, you fucking pervert?!" Baring and gritting your teeth at him, you lunged forward only to be stopped short by your bindings. Unable to do anything as he smiled up at you.

"Don't act like you weren't just squirming when I had my knife against your throat, Deputy. Besides," He smirked, glancing down at your lower body for a brief moment. "I'm trained to recognize the small reactions you might not know you even do. Don't worry though, pup. Secret's safe with me."

Not bothering to wait for your reaction, Jacob slid his knife beneath the waistband of your underwear. Slicing through it before repeating the same on the opposite side. Afterward, he grabbed the remaining shreds of your panties, bringing them up to examine the cloth without an ounce of shame.

As you groaned and turned your flushing face away, you could hear him make comments that had you biting your tongue.

"Can't deny it, girl. The crotch of these are soaked."

Jesus fucking Christ.

Maybe you'd have been better off if he'd just slit your throat...

Surely anything was better than this humiliating and arousing situation.

Slicing away the cords restraining your thighs, Jacob freed them only for him to stand up then.

With your legs apart, you forced yourself to stare up at the ceiling as he leered over your naked form. Bright, cold eyes unable to look away from your flushed and glistening slit.

"Look away all you want, there's no denying you're clearly gettin' off on this just as much as I am..." Jacob taunted as he knelt before you again. Though, this time, he didn't move in with the hand that was wielding his weapon. Instead, he reached down and spread you open with a calloused thumb, causing you to gasp and your muscles to go taut. Unwilling to cave and give him any sort of further reaction.

Still, that didn't stop him from making things worse with his words. Verbally taunting you as his thumb seized spreading you to instead drift up. Circling your puffy clit till it was wet with your own juices before he moved away. Stroking the thick pad of this thumb all the way down to your hole then gliding it back up to your clit again. Repeating the motion over and over till your back was slightly arching off the chair you were tied to. Your hips weakly jutting forward in a poor attempt to chase the pleasure his thumb was providing. Yet, Jacob seemed to be as cruel as ever. Pulling his hand away right before you could grind yourself against it.

God, you were going to need so much therapy after all of this...

Huffing through your nose, you watched with wet, fearful eyes as he removed his bare hand and returned with the hand wielding the knife. Holding it by the blade-end skillfully as he brought it between your quivering thighs and held it inches away from your cunt.

Quickly shaking your head, you pleaded, "Please, for the love of God, Jacob... I'll let you kill me, just any other way than t-that."

The tears that'd welled up in your eyes finally spilled down your cheeks as you tried not to sob and hyperventilate.

Jacob didn't move as he glanced up at you with a cold, halting expression.

"Stop your whining, pup. I'm not going to hurt you. At least, not in the way you're thinking..."

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Shaking in the chair, you could only watch as Jacob finally moved. Pushing the handle of the knife against your mound and moving it up and down your slit. Every so often, he would pause at your opening just so he could push the slightest amount of the end of the handle inside of you. Fucking you once, twice, three times with the first few inches of the handle before pulling out. Smearing your arousal all over your slit and clitoris till your thighs shook and your mouth finally parted. A soft cry left you as he continued to work you over with the end of the knife.

"J-Jacob..." You panted, glancing at his face and back to the blade between your legs.

"Shh... it's okay. I know whatcha need, Dep'."

Now, Jacob was only grinding the edge of the blade against your wet slit before he finally brought his other hand over. Using his thumb again, Jacob circled and worked your hypersensitive clit until you were openly whining and moaning. Your body finally gave in and writhed for him within its bindings as you pleaded for more with red, flushed eyes.

By all means, you shouldn't have been this close to cumming because of Jacob Seed, of all people in Hope County.

Yet, you couldn't hold your orgasm off any longer.

With a disappointed and wanton cry, your hips began to rock back and forth as you desperately fucked yourself against Jacob's hand and knife. Thick, muscular thighs quivering as waves of pleasure began to overtake you. Thankfully, he didn't stop moving and was at least kind enough to help you ride it out. Continuing to stroke and grind against your moving mound till you begged him to stop. Transparent and slick cum covering not only his hand and knife but your thighs and the chair as well.

"Good girl~" Jacob cooed whilst wiping his knife clean on the front of his pants.

"Was it that hard to just give in?"

Yes.

Yes, it absolutely fucking was, you thought to yourself. 

[life-despair-and-monsters-blog]

Kinktober Day 23 & 26: "Bondage/Restraints" & "Voyeurism/Exhibitionism" - For OTP: "Femme Fatale and the Apex" (Sonya x Jennifer)

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @adelaidedrubman @spookyrares @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @voidika @cassietrn @aceghosts @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins and @florbelles + anyone else who want to join.

Prompt based on this kinktober post made by fellow mutual @starsandskies. While the main Kink of this post is "Bondage/Restraints" & some "Voyeurism/Exhibitionism", there's also some minor inclusions of "Dirty Talk", "Orgasm Control", "Praise Kink", "Knife Play" and "Dom/Sub dynamic". I would have put down "Naked-Clothed" but the "clothed" person in question is an almost 10-foot tall cyborg beastie (with a human's brain) whose only covering is metal welded into the flesh so... SHRUG!

Anyway, SimpleGenius here from my Life, Despair & Monsters Blog. Just making my first contribution to Kinktober. I'm not really an excessive smut writer, though with that being said, I have written it on occasion, just never posting it (...until now). This is a oneshot devoted to Sonya and Jennifer just being their kinky selves.

From the mature tag and the title you can probably already guess that this oneshot (which will also be uploaded onto my AO3 as well) contains explicitly sexual content meant for 18+ users only. Minors Do Not Interact!

Here's some more warnings to scare off any stowaways.

CW: Explicit BDSM, Teasing/edging, stripping, (tail???) knife play, the equivalent of thigh riding for these two (but on Sonya's tail), naked female with not kind of non-naked female (there's like barbie physiques/anatomy involved with Sonya), and minor mention of a blood kink (unsurprisingly Jennifer's kind of a freak too). Basically monster-fucking (maybe robot-fucking? Or would it be cyborg-monster fucking???). A mix between praise and degradation kinks. Sexual fantasies. Really freaky behavior coming from these two. But very enthusiastic consent! Also vulgar language. And whatever else there is.

I’ve tried my best to research the sex aspect of it all, and even if I don’t believe it’s all accurate I think I did good with what I could find.

TW: Slight mentions of referenced murder and maybe cannibalism (Sonya's got a human brain inside a very non-human body so I don't know what lines that crosses). And minor implications of a toxic dynamic. They're both possessive people who suck so bad.

With that out of the way, I hope you do enjoy what I've written below the cut. This will officially be my first smut that I've publicly published. I'll be sure to reblog this post with the link to the one that'll be posted on my AO3. Also I'll be publishing another Kinktober Oneshot shortly after this one from my @the-silver-chronicles blog, about the main couple of that series, Silva and Faith. So don't be alarmed by a random ping from an icon you may or may not recognize.

Title: The Tails That Bind

Series: Life, Despair & Monsters (Love Death + Robots)

Character/s: Sonya/Sonnie | The Apex/Khanivore (re-interpreted canon character with OC qualities), Jennifer, Dicko (referenced in passing) and Sir Enigma Malvolio (referenced OC).

Words: 5,635

She heard her before she saw her; the click-clack of heels on marble closing in to their quarters.

Sonya remained where she was though; hanging from the ceiling in the expansive space that was refurbished to specifically accommodate her massive form, the high walls adorned with deep claw marks and scrapes she entrenched her talons and tail spikes into. Certainly, better than the restrictive pod or the dirty paddocks.

In contrast to her usual straightforwardness, when it came to dealing with her "mistress" of all people, Sonya made an effort in entertaining her more dramatic flairs.

If only to piss off the shrewd woman.

The door opened with such force that when Sonya peeked through her only optic, shutters uncoiling from her lens, to witness the blonde slam the door shut with a ferocity that immediately turned her on.

Someone's already pissy today, Sonya noted as she continued to observe with growing interest.

Jennifer turned around, short blonde hair barely touching her shoulders, noticeably a little frazzled with a few more wild strands curling out than usual. Her yellow rose still managed to survive staying pinned in her hair in spite of the fact Jennifer looked on the verge of ripping her hair out.

Her brows were furrowed, her face was scrunched in anger and a lovely snarl adorned her lips. Blue eyes darted to her white laced gloves, ripping them off as she mumbled curses under her breath. Sonya's optic lingered on the curves of her body, covered only by the golden dress Jennifer preferred to wear.

Sonya preferred when she didn't wear anything. Ogling Jennifer had been the closest her human brain could get to experiencing arousal within a body that wasn't designed to feel it. She had to get creative and tamper with many of the strange machinations and codes Malvolio left in her cursed Beastie body to at least have her body acknowledge the feelings.

In spite of this, she was still so far from reaching her goal of actually feeling the satisfactory conclusion of pleasure.

"-that old fuck!" Sonya was brought back to reality by the enraged outburst from Jennifer.

"Which old fuck are you referring to this time?" Sonya spoke in a voice more mature and sophisticated than her original gruff and accented voice, the crackling of the speaker embedded in her throat alerting Jennifer to the other presence in the room.

Jennifer's alarmed blue eyes pointedly gazed up to meet her gleaming red optic. However, she relaxed once she saw it was just Sonya, who uncoiled herself to lower her body, but refrained from leaving the ceiling just yet.

"It's one of Dicko's closer business partners," Jennifer told the Apex, kneeling down to take off her heels, "And I thought you were down in your workshop."

That doesn't narrow it down to who it is at all, Sonya wanted to retort, but chose to respond with, "I was, but it's so hot down there that I decided to seek out the coolest room I knew of."

"The wonders of an air con," Jennifer remarked, moving over to her vanity desk to set down her yellow rose from her hair.

Sonya rolled her optic at the snide comment, and returned her attention back to the source of Jennifer's sour mood, "Which one of Dicko's partners had it been? Ross or Carmen?"

"Ross. Carmen took a vacation, lucky bastard," Jennifer grumbled about the latter, though the former's name was spoken with disgust, "He was countering every proposition I made. Questioning my ability as a successor to Dicko's business. And attempting to belittle me in front of every one of those weak and cowardly geezers. The absolute gall!"

Sonya lowered herself above the bed, talons underneath her jaw as she watched her mistress rage. If she could, she'd be squeezing her thighs together to add a little friction. Unfortunately, her body wasn't included with genitals, and rubbing her thighs together in this body would just be pointless, so she could only visualize the image to force herself from screaming internally.

"The fucker was also leering at me. Almost all of them were," Jennifer continued, sitting down onto the foot of her massive mattress with a huff.

"I don't blame them," Sonya replied, extending her neck so her head was close above Jennifer, "Your body is desirable. You're probably the only woman in their life they can jack off to. I know that's what I'd be doing."

Jennifer abruptly turned with a face full of red; not blushing red, but pissed off red.

"Oh, fuck you," she replied, standing up to move away from Sonya and the bed.

"You'd have to beg me for that," Sonya said in a sing-song rhythm, chortling.

Jennfier crossed her arms as she stewed in her anger more, "This is serious. I know they're conspiring against me. Honestly, I wish I could have them all dead by tomorrow morning."

Sonya piqued at that, red optic widening with optimism.

"You know, if Ross is being so bothersome," she spoke up, her next words a suggestion, "I could eat him for you."

Jennifer turned to look at the beastie, opened her mouth to chide her, but closed it as she considered the idea, a smile crossing her lips, until a frown swiftly replaced it, and she shook her head.

"While I certainly wouldn't be against the idea," she told the Apex with sincere consideration, she rebuked the idea, "I can't just make an example out of him. At least not right now. I require his cooperation to gain access to his assets, and if I killed him now, it'd harm my reputation and standing with the other partners. And without them, we won't have a chance of finding Malvolio."

The very name of that... thing made Sonya's entire nervous system shudder, the dark thoughts resurfacing. She let them fester at the edge of her mind, before dispelling them back to the pits. She'll let them re-emerge once they found the creature; let him face the result of his violation towards her body.

Jennifer huffed out a sigh, which returned Sonya's attention back to her even as she went to make her leave, "I need to let off some steam."

Sonya tilted her head as she watched Jennifer pause just a step away from the door. The woman's blue eyes glanced back to the beastie, gaze following the Apex's elongated muscled arms, thick metal-plated tails, their twitching rattles near the piercing pincers and closed sharp jaw.

She bit her bottom lip, her hands slid down to her hips as she slowly strutted back over to Sonya.

"You know," Jennifer said as she reached the bed, "I just remembered how I never thanked you for stopping that assassin. And a good beast like you deserves a fitting reward for protecting her mistress so well."

Sonya cocked her head, red optic narrowing down at Jennifer. Sonya remembered the incident clearly; there had been a scorned bidder who lost because of Dicko's fateful mistake of convincing them to bet a lot of money against Malvolio. He managed to slip past Jennifer's guards and got too close for Sonya's liking.

Luckily, the Apex was on Jennifer's patrol guard, and she had spotted the glint of the knife before it had even left its sheath. Fittingly, she gave the man the same end she gave Dicko when saving her mistress; a biting introduction to her maw.

But that had been several weeks ago.

"Is that so?" Sonya inquired, wishing she had a brow to raise.

Jennifer only nodded, wetting her petite lips. She slid two fingers on both hands underneath her dress' loose straps, letting them fall limply down her arms to expose more skin. She reached behind her back, tugging the zip down behind her dress so she could loosen her front, exposing a small amount of cleavage to the Apex.

Sonya was surprised of her own self-control when her lens zoomed in on the skin, how calm and collected she managed to breathe. She restrained herself though; she had too much pride in herself to lay down and roll over like a dog.

No, she had a better idea.

"Oh, don't bullshit me with your "reasoning" darling, you just want me to fuck your brains out until you forget your own name and can't remember your troubles in the morning," Sonya retorts, her talons touching the ground as she leans over the bed, bringing her head closer to Jennifer's face.

There was no fear in her mistress' eyes, only a waiting expectation and a carnality that involuntarily made the Apex shake in excitement. Sonya continued, "If you think you can flatter me into getting between your legs, then I encourage you to resume because it is working."

Jennifer grinned in triumph as she proceeded to pull her zipper down further, but halted when Sonya added, "However, as I said before, it'll require you to beg."

Jennifer scoffed and shook her head, "I'm not doing that. You fuck me, or you don't. Your choice."

Despite her confidence, Sonya saw through her act and huffed out a disappointed steam of air as she started retracting backwards, "Oh well, I guess I won't-"

With her bluff blown, Jennifer's eyes widened as she reached forward for the Apex's face, pleading, "Wait! Fuck, fine, please fuck me. Please plow my pussy with your long, flexible and magnificent tongue until my mind goes blank. Make me scream your name each time you make me cum. I'll do anything you want, Sonya."

Sonya wished she could grin just as badly as she wished she could get wet right now.

She decided to put an end to her mistress' misery.

"Since you begged so desperately for it, I guess I have no choice but to fuck your brains out," Sonya concurred, and hummed, "But I'm curious... you'll do anything I want?"

Jennifer paused, narrowed her eyes in challenge, and responded, "Yes. I'll... try whatever you want, as long as I get fucked in the end. Sound like a fair exchange?"

Sonya nodded and tapped a talon on her chin in thought. There weren't much things her body could be used for during sex that wouldn't be detrimental to Jennifer's health, with exception to her tongue and the rattles under her curved blades that tipped her tails.

Although, she recalled the night she and Jennifer had met and began their cooperation, specifically to the moment where the Apex had Jennifer restrained with her tails, That has been something I've wanted to do again.

Gaining an idea, she replied, "You know, I've been wanting to try some bondage on you."

Jennifer's face scrunched in confusion until Sonya's tails disconnected from the walls and awaited by the Apex's sides. There were three in total, all tipped with dagger like pincers, and two rattles that resided near the curve of the blade, which she's been allowed to use like a vibrator before.

Jennifer once again bit her bottom lip while she thought of those around her body.

"I have no complaints," she tells the beastie, though frowns at the state of the bed, "Though I'm not getting naked until the bed's cleared of your mess."

Sonya knelt up so she could get a better look at the bed. Her optic immediately spotted the dust and chips of the ceiling that managed to fall down.

Without much patience, Sonya took the solution of using her tails to tip the bed to the side and shake off all the unwanted variables, before setting it back down normally.

"That better?" she asked.

Jennifer looked at the newest state of her large bed, which now lacked the pillows and blankets that were unceremoniously tossed off. Though seeing that the silk sheets remained on, all Jennifer responded with was a calm yet exasperated, "Sure."

Sonya positioned herself closer to the wall of the bed's frame, knelt down so she wouldn't cover most of the bed's space when her head laid down, while also keeping her tails free and ready.

Jennifer crawled onto the bed, swaying her body seductively while she made her way over to the Apex's head, which allowed the straps of her golden dress to loosen further down, just above her elbows. The front of her dress barely hung close to her chest, and Sonya swore she felt her brain overheat when her optic focused on the view of more of Jennifer's cleavage barely hidden by the loose clothes.

Jennifer got close enough to the Apex's face just to lean upwards until she sat at her bare heels, one hand going behind to zip her dress down the rest of the way, while the other kept the front of her dress from falling down. Sonya slightly tilted her head up so her optic could capture everything.

"I know how excited you've been for this," Jennifer purred as she gazed into the red hue of Sonya's optic, "I know you've been craving to see these again."

She pulled one strap down all the way, and then freed her arm of the other, before grabbing her the front of her dress and pulling the golden gown down, slightly jiggling free her petite perky tits. Sonya shook with a passionate eagerness at the visual image, just about all her mind could express through the body without pouncing onto Jennifer to forgo the bondage altogether.

She wanted to restrain herself, to prolong this just long enough to enjoy the experience and ensure she actually succeeds in listening to Jennifer's only demand.

"I know you've missed them," Jennifer swayed her chest, catching the Apex full attention. She grabbed hold of her breasts, massaging and giving her tits a pleasing yet playful squeeze as Sonya observed, winding herself up while putting on a show for her beastie. She gasped as she flicked her nipples, gently twisting them between her fingers as the tingling sensations caused her thighs to rub together.

She was enjoying herself now, and from how she looked at Sonya's quivering form, she knew the Apex enjoyed this show as well.

Jennifer stood up, dragging her hands over her breasts as she brought them across the skin of her body, the ticklish senses stirring a heat to coil within her. She performed a sensual dance in view of Sonya's optic, bringing her hands down to her hips where her dress hung closely, thumbs digging under the gown's hem, teasingly dragging it below her pelvis.

She spun around in her erotic sway, much to Sonya's surprise, but leaned down as she dragged the rest of her dress over her sexy ass, nothing worn underneath. She let the golden gown fall the rest of the way and glanced back at Sonya's now widened optic. With a pleased smirk, Jennifer gave herself a resounding smack against one of the cheeks.

Sonya's talons scraped against the marble floor. She clenched her jaw as she clutched hold over her fraying self-control, deciding that Jennifer's teasing needed to end here.

Thankfully, it was just about time Jennifer finished her little striptease for Sonya, and her blonde mistress knelt on her heels, dainty hands grabbing hold one of the alien protrusions coming out the Apex's head and underneath the narrow chin of her sharp jaw respectively, intentionally pressing her petite breasts against the optic as she leaned her head down to a small slit beside Sonya's frame to sultrily whisper in her audio receptors.

"What now, Sonnie?"

The lustful softness of her nickname snapped Sonya out of her patient observations, and she lifted her head up out of Jennifer's hold so her red optic could meet her mistress' blue eyes below.

"Now, I'll require you to turn around," Sonya instructed, her tails moving closer to the bed, "Make sure your arms are crossed behind you, and legs spread apart."

Jennifer turned around as instructed; not without doing a little show of shaking her ass temptingly as she settled into the position. Sonya was fueled with even more excitement of the opportunity of returning some teasing of her own.

Jennifer crossed her arms behind her, and Sonya immediately coiled her middle tail around the smaller woman's waist which then extended to her dainty hands, earning a surprise yelp from her mistress as her arms were secured tightly.

"Do you trust me?" Sonya let the question out softly at the shell of Jennifer's ear, her middle tail's blade carefully and gently stroking its cool steel-like tip down the human's back. The bladed pincer soon curved to brush one of mistress' lower cheeks, sensing her body clench at the sensual contact on instinct while the other tails began to coil under and around her thighs, "To release your doubts? To let go of all your inhibitions?"

With me, Sonya left unsaid. She shunned the thought... the very emotion infecting it, aside to the corners of her mind. No need to mix feelings with pleasure. Especially when she was nothing more than a thing to Jennifer...

As both tails snaked up from Jennifer's thighs to her upper body, the left pincer delicately scraped along her stomach while the right began to curl around her right breast with the blade leaving a ghost of a kiss to her jaw in passing.

Jennifer gasped out a light moan when her middle tail began to rub against her wet cunt, in a back and forth motion, ensuring the blade's sharpness did not touch the soft flesh. Soon the sleek metal was glistened with her slickness.

"Fuck, yes," Jennifer answered approvingly, rocking her wet cunt in unison of the tail. She bit her bottom lip to suppress another moan as the left and right tipped tails coiled around her tits, the appendages lightly playing with her breasts with deliberate twists and squeezes, the blades lightly kissing along the sensitive flesh.

Sonya focused on the priority of not piercing the skin with her tipped blades. She teased the flesh with an expertise akin to a surgeon, with her only intent of not cutting in and letting Jennifer bleed.

God forbid Jennifer cums early to the sight of her own blood because Sonya got sloppy. The Apex wanted to prolong this for her own sense of pleasure as well.

Soon her tails lifted up Jennifer, much to the smaller woman's surprise. Sonya raised her above the beastie's head, claws brought on to the bed in case the Apex had to catch her.

Slowly, she rotated Jennifer upside-down so her optic could get a better look at her reactions. To her delight, Jennifer squirmed in her grip, like last time. Unlike last time, the cause of her squirming came from the vibrating rattles that grazed closer to her swelling clit, the tipped blade positioned to poke above her trimmed blonde pubic hair.

Jennifer whined when the rattles on the left and right tails began to move, flicking her erect nipples between the vibrating pair on both coiled tails. She tried to arch her back into the vibrating sensations, as well as attempted to widen her legs so the rattles on the middle tail would have more space, but Sonya kept her restrained in position, brushing the rattles to her wet puffy pussy but never staying for long. She was completely at Sonya's mercy.

Much to the younger woman's growing frustration. A frustration that transitioned into a filthy, primal need.

Sonya was enticed by the desperate whines that escaped Jennifer's mouth, her red optic hungrily filling it's view of her elevated bare body; held up by her, restrained by her, receiving and being denied pleasure from her.

She focused on the blonde's gaping pouts, faint blush forming across her face, her blonde hair flowing downwards. Sonya's tongue flicked within her closed maw at the sight of sweat beginning to break from her mistress' body, who uselessly rutted her hips in the air to reach the teasing rattles, how pronounced her small breasts were from their bound state and the slick juices surrounding her pussy.

Sonya's entire system felt a fluctuation of pleasure within herself from the visual stimuli. It wouldn't be enough to ever reach a satisfying conclusion, though it was fun, nonetheless. When her audio receptors picked up pleading mewls coming from Jennifer, Sonya knew it was nearly time to settle her part of this exchange.

"What was that?" Sonya playfully inquired, listening to the words being interrupted by soft gasps whenever her rattles vibrated too close to her sensitive cunt and swollen clit, "I can't hear what you’re trying to say over such lewd sounds darling. Could you perhaps speak up?”

Through shaky breaths, Jennifer swallowed her murmured pleas and choked out a strained, "Sonya... I don't know how much longer I can do this. I want to cum. Please, it's unbearable, let me cum already. Stop teasing and fuck me!"

Sonya ate up her begging cries; she could see a glimpse of forming tears at her eyes. She briefly wondered if she should just wait long enough for her mistress to start crying, so she could bring out her tongue and lap up the falling tears. She hadn't kissed the woman's face with her tongue in a while, it could be a nice change of pace to show she cared-

As quickly as that idea came, Sonya dismissed the thought with a visceral fear? rejection. If she did that, then she wouldn't stop at the tasteful tears; she'd continue stroking her tongue along Jennifer's sweaty and salty unmarked flesh, until she got down to between her thighs and fed on the fluids there.

She could make Jennifer cry from pleasure then, sure; but she didn't want to use her tongue to have the woman undone, she wanted her mistress gushing from her very touch.

Sonya refocused on Jennifer once more, her helpless form cursing underneath her breath as her breasts were continuously played with while her pussy received nothing but teasing touches that edged her on but denied her true release.

Sonya hummed, feigning pondering in thought, as she took a sweet moment to bask in the wanton whimpers that were caused by her.

"How badly do you want this?" Sonya asked her, bringing her red optic to Jennifer's pleading blue eyes, "How desperate are you to want to be undone by a terrible beast like me? Say it..."

Those two husky, imploring, eager words made Jennifer shiver, feeling hotter. Through the haze, she rasped out with a sense of urgent need she's never spoken in before, "I can think of no one else who can satisfy me like you..."

Though caught off-guard, Sonya was not unsatisfied with the answer. She absorbed those words into the very core of her mind, sparking a renewed sense of determination.

"Well then," the beastie said, Jennifer's words lingering on the precipices of her audio receptors, feeling her "heart" pump faster, "I think you've endured enough teasing. You deserve this for being such a good, patient girl."

Jennifer shrieked in surprise when the vibrating rattles were buried against her slick folds and sensitive clit. However, when the initial shock wore off, it was replaced with an alluring moan, followed by a symphony of gasps, the short bursts of pleased shouts, and the sweet curses that she managed through her panting. She closed her eyes and started to arch her back again, and this time Sonya adjusted her tails grip to accommodate Jennifer's position.

It wouldn't be long until she was finished. Though Sonya decided to speed up the process by taking advantage of one of Jennifer's weaknesses; her voice.

"You should see yourself," Sonya husked out, her voice thick with lust, "How fucking enrapturing you are right now. Above here, bound by me, fucked by me, you look like a goddess. Oh, your little noises make it so tempting to ravish your flesh and pussy so I can make you scream louder."

Jennifer failed to suppress the whiny, pathetic whimper with a tender lip bite, and Sonya snickered at the reaction.

"Oh, but it's true," Sonya responded, the quills along her back standing up, elated by such noises as she continued, "Though I never realized how restraining you like this could bring out even more beautiful noises from you. I could just have you like this whenever you're being so bratty. Rip that dress off. Bind your limbs. Tease your wet cunt, edging it as you rut like a bitch in heat chasing after that final release. But it'll never come. More accurately, you'll never cum."

The image of Jennifer on her knees in this bedroom, writhing in the restraints of Sonya's tail, desperately begging her to end the torment, brought a familiar sense of sadism into her system. However, she did feel an odd sensation of heat rise in her body.

She returned back to the assignment at hand, the heat radiating at the back of her mind as she hummed and said, "Oh can you envision it, Jennifer? How much of a writhing, filthy mess you'd be? You'd be left unsatisfied, without release. Not unless you crawled onto your knees and begged so pitifully. Maybe alone. Maybe not. But tell me, if you were to do that, should I give in and fuck you like I do now?"

A resounding and gasping "YES" was Jennifer's response as her hips jutted at the rattles faster. So close now...

"Such an enthusiastic answer. You must be so close now," Sonya noted, not noticing her own jaw gaping open as her red optic recorded Jennifer's unravelling, "You've taken me so well this far. Letting me taste you, ruin you. So strong and resilient. With the most perfect body just for me. You do these filthy activities so impressively, as a naughty girl like you should. Oh, I love the way your flesh bruises and reddens and scars from me. I love the taste of your tears, of your sweat and of your juices. And I love how loud I make you scream and cry and moan. Especially when the only word coming out of your mouth is my name. Makes me fantasize doing it all in front of everyone. What say you? Perhaps on a live hologram broadcast during a Beastie tournament? In the storage unit for all the passing guards and personnel to listen to? Or maybe in a meeting with those morons who dare to ogle you-?"

Sonya was interrupted by an abrupt and approving moan, which slipped into a pleased humming smile from Jennifer.

"Oh? You like that idea? Is that what you want?" Sonya inquired with an endeared curiosity, surprised by the quick nod that followed, "Does it turn you on? At the thought of me fucking you in front of those leering senile men? My, my. What a dirty little slut you are, wanting to be humiliated by me so desperately that you would want those old fucks to see how good I make you feel. Or perhaps it because you want to show them that you're mine. For me, and me alone. No one else. Maybe in one of your next meetings, I'll accompany you. And whenever you go to speak, I'll be behind you, my long, flexible and magnificent tongue lapping at the nape of your neck, nibbling at the flesh with teasing little bites, my claws digging at your glimmering dress. One tail snaking under your skirt. Maybe I'll leave small cuts in passing, letting that lovely crimson run down those fine legs of yours. But once that tail reaches its destination, I'll let the vibrations tease your wet cunt until your legs begin to wobble."

"I'll tear open the front of your dress, let those ravishing tits of yours breathe within a room where they've been dreamed about for so long, except the only one having any fun with them there will be me," Sonya had a tail squeeze promisingly around one of Jennifer's tits as emphasis, "I'll have another tail play with one while my tongue lavishes the other. Don't worry, I'll have my last tail free to ensure none of them stop us, and no one leaves, bound by their pathetic fear. I'll rip your dress off, exposing your body to them all, let them see how dripping fucking wet you are for me, and I'll pick you up, bring you to the table, splayed out like a feast ready to be dined. But only for one though."

She pressed her closed jaw to whisper, "None of them will touch you. We'll show them how well you take me. How beautiful you sing my name. How much you enjoy being fucked dirty by me, and how good of a naughty girl you are to me. Show them you find more pleasure whoring yourself to a beastie than being touched by any of their limp dicks. Reveal your deadliness to them, unleash your claws and mark my metal with your scratches as I leave my own marks along your beautiful body. I bet their hearts would give out at the sight. I don't think their weak pride could take it. The fact you'd cum to a- disgu- terrible monst- beast like me, wouldn't you agree, my sexy- gorgeous- beautif- fucking - goddes- belov- m-!"

Everything was so unbearably hot. Her mind seemed to be on some kind of fritz, just like her voice box. Diagnostics on the system returned with nothing of issue, nor of any errors.

And yet Sonya felt so unbelievably strained from the task at hand. As if exhaustion of all things was overcoming her body as she continued to bring Jennifer closer to her release.

And her voice box. She didn't understand what was wrong with it. It bugged out, replacing words she wanted to say with those she'd never in her life say to Jennifer. But most importantly...

Was that my voice? Not her current voice, the one she was forced to adopt, but the one that Malvolio stole from her.

It didn't matter much, focusing on it was too much of a strain while she was fucking Jennifer at the same time. She refocused her efforts in bringing her mistress over the edge.

Luckily, she didn't have to wait long.

Her words, in combination to the unrelenting rattles fucking her pussy and fondling her breasts, had culminated in Jennifer arching her back more while screaming out Sonya's name, accompanied by the gushing squirts onto the Apex's tail.

Witnessing the result, Sonya swiftly stopped the rattles and brought Jennifer down to the bed safely. She managed to lay the woman down onto her front before her usually durable limbs failed her. She caught herself from laying on top of Jennifer, and carefully positioned herself to lay down by Jennifer's left.

Both beastie and mistress heaved for air, the activity exhausting for both parties involved, much to Sonya's bafflement.

They laid beside each other, just for the moment, to catch their breath.

Jennifer opened her blue eyes to just gaze at the Apex, eyes taking in Sonya's strangely exhausted form. She brushed a strand of her now messy and sweaty blonde hair aside, let out a little laugh, and said, "That was... amazing."

Sonya grunted in agreement, unable to currently verbalize. She did use enough strength to bring the tipped middle tail to her view, the rattles and the curved blade under it glimmering in Jennifer's juices, not dissimilar to the woman's dress.

She opened her jaw to bring her tongue out, cleaning up the slick fluids. She rumbled approvingly at the sweetly sour taste.

Her audio receptors picked up on the soft sound of a slick pussy being gently stroked. Sonya looked over to see Jennifer still staring at her but with a newfound hunger. Sonya noticed that her ass was slightly bent up, with one of her hands massaging her cunt.

"You look so hot when you do that," she husked out, and Sonya felt her exhaustion dissipate when Jennifer asked, "Do you want to put that tongue to better use?"

Sonya tilted her head, her lens focusing on Jennifer's face, "Round two? Now?"

"Don't you remember what we agreed on? "Until my mind goes blank", "until I forget my own name" and "can't remember my troubles in the morning"," Jennifer recalled, and in that sultry mocking tone of hers, "Or are you tapping out after round one?"

A new edge burned within Sonya, and she leaned up, looking down at Jennifer's nude body, asking, "Is that a challenge?"

Jennifer though playfully shrugged, spreading her legs wider as she continued stroking herself with hushed breathy moans.

Sonya took the opportunity to place her right hand over on the other side of Jennifer, until she was above the woman. She retracted until she was staring at both her mistress' sexy ass and her glistened pussy.

Blue eyes glanced to Sonya's observing form, and removed her slick-covered hand, caressing it on one of her ass cheeks before giving it a smack to entice the beastie, as she returned her hand to under her chin.

Sonya let out an amused chuckle as she took out her tongue. However, she pressed it from her mistress' tail bone all the way up her spine, the heat and wetness of the elongated and rough bio-mechanical muscle causing Jennifer to gasp and shiver from its texture.

Sonya lowered herself so she was right on top of her mistress, her gaping jaw releasing a soft exhale of hot steam brush at the woman's ear.

"You're not going to make it to any meetings tomorrow," Sonya informed her mistress.

Jennifer only smirked at her words, not returning a reply as she got comfortable. The beastie retracted back to where her mistress needed her the most.

Though unnecessary, Sonya couldn't help but lick around her mouth as she prepared to satiate her hunger, as well as Jennifer's.

[A/n] And from there on, Jennifer decided bondage was an excellent excuse to get out of a meeting she didn't want to attend the next day.

I wanna say that I may have gone a bit overboard, but overboard is just in-character for them (at least in my series).

[perpetual-stuck]

INTRODUCTION POST TO THE PERPETUAL KIDS.

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Amie Liatri is a 15 (soon to be 16) year old girl who is the reason why everyone started playing Sburb. Her mythological role is as a Maid of Breath, which she tries her best to uphold.

She loves making & solving puzzles, and views her own friends as puzzles she has to figure out. She's very open with her friends most of the time, but she tends to bottle up certain emotions. Her definition of "freedom" is one of her biggest challenges as a breath player, and it's something that she must strive to change as it has become warped overtime. Despite the fact that she's made to feel responsible for the faults in their session by one particular player, she still aims to be kind and cheerful! She's great friends with Seth and seeks to find validation from Finn.

Her views on how freedom binds her with chains on the ground, rendering her unable to let go. That, is freedom to Amie Liatri.

#🧩

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Seth Streli is a 16 year old boy who joined the Sburb session because he's a good friend of Amie and was thoroughly convinced by her pleading. His mythological role is as a Knight of Hope, a true knight in shining armor!

He loves card games and magic tricks and despite not truly believing in them, he still has fun pretending they're real. He's a great motivational speaker with a natural talent for getting people's morale up. Now, he has a pretty horrible savior complex, but he tries his best to be a good leader anyway. He's the pillar that everyone can comfortably lean on, and despite everything he manages to keep a great connection between him and everyone else. He masquerades himself well, making him seem put together and outgoing. However, Finn has seen what's underneath that mask, and knows the truth about Seth Streli.

A Knight of Hope's duties bound him relentlessly, and he is left to carry the burdens that such a job carries, no matter his desires to just spend time with his friends normally.

#🃏

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Finn Scabio is a 16 year old boy who joined the Sburb session becasue Seth had asked him to and he had a fondness for Amie at the time. His mythological role is as a Bard of Blood which makes it hard for him to truly connect with people.

He loves playing his electric guitar and enjoys pulling pranks. He hates Mira's company and involvement (or lack of involvement) in their session for many reasons. The most apparent of these reasons by far is that he hates how she compares him to her, as he thinks very lowly of her demeanor, especially towards those he deeply cares about. Despite the fact that he cares a lot about his friends, he has a hard time expressing his emotions about it naturally. He has self destructive tendencies and it leads to him sabotaging his relationships accidentally, but even with all that he still tries his best. He's an active player in their Sburb session and is the only one who ends up god-tiering.

His fate was predetermined into the inner workings of Sburb the moment he was chosen as a Bard of Blood, truly he shall never connect with his friends on an interpersonal level.

#🎸

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Mira Narcis is a 16 year old girl who begins playing Sburb after being forced into it by her friends. Her mythological role in their session is as a Seer of Void, however she rarely plays into it.

She values her alone time reading and is extremely introverted. Because of this, she tends to stay offline a lot and inconveniences her coplayers in their session. In truth, she isn't actually very close to most of her coplayers except for Seth, her true closest friend. Mira often fights with Finn and in general doesn't get along with him as they always get into disagreements when it comes to... everything. She believes that her ideals and his match perfectly, yet he sees otherwise, viewing her as an uncaring and callous figure. At times, she can get sentimental and emotional out of nowhere, attempting to hide it behind her large vocabulary of expressive words.

Mira Narcis is a pristinely clean page full of endless possibilities that she's too afraid to taint with a touch that might be her certain failure.

#📓

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