#the casting certainly is...weird...scrolling...

[fideidefenswhore]

not being able to reblog any substantial number of edits of elizabeth (howard) boleyn bcus in the past 20+ years she has literally only been given dialogue in one production, is? my villain origin story.

[calypso-rt]

When Rafe Realizes...

He’s Falling for You

-> Rafe x F!Reader

-> Pt. 2: Your Favorite Dates with R.C.

The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting golden light over the backyard as Rafe leaned back in his chair, the legs precariously balanced on the uneven patio bricks.

You were sitting beside him, scrolling on your phone, the occasional sound of your laughter breaking through the hum of cicadas.

He wasn’t sure when it started, but lately, he found himself watching you more than he should...at least more than someone who was supposedly "just friends" should.

He told himself it was harmless. You were easy to look at, after all, with your beautiful hair catching the light and your lips quirking into tiny smirks when you read something funny.

"Rafe," you said, your voice cutting through his daydream. You barely look up, your attention still on your screen. "Your hair is doing that weird thing again."

"My hair doesn’t do a weird thing," he shot back defensively, running a hand through it out of instinct.

You snorted, finally glancing up at him. "It absolutely does. Hold still."

Before he could protest, you leaned in, your fingers brushing against his forehead as you flattened a rogue piece that had sprung up, defying gravity. The touch was brief, just the lightest pressure of your hand smoothing over his hair, but Rafe felt his entire body tense like he’d just been electrocuted.

"There," you said, sitting back with a satisfied nod. "Now you look less like a mad scientist."

"I didn’t look like a mad scientist," he muttered, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck.

"You kinda did," you teased, your focus already back on your phone.

Rafe leaned back again, a smug retort dying on his tongue as he felt the ghost of your touch still lingering. It wasn’t like you’d done anything grand. Just fixed his hair.

People did that kind of stuff all the time, right?

Except… no one else did it to him. And certainly not like that. There was something so natural about the way you’d reached over, like it was second nature, like it was the most normal thing in the world for you to touch him.

And now he was stuck, hyperaware of how the air still smelled faintly of your sunscreen from when you’d leaned in.

How the air between you had felt charged, even though you’d gone back to scrolling like it was nothing.

He shifted in his seat, trying to push the thought away, but it clung stubbornly to the edges of his mind. How could something so insignificant make him feel like the air had been knocked out of his lungs?

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you laugh softly at something on your phone, oblivious to his internal crisis. He swallowed hard, his chair tipping back a little further as he tried to refocus.

How does something so insignificant feel so important?

"Careful," you warned without looking up. "Fall off that chair and I’m not driving you to the ER."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

You had no idea, did you?

No idea that one absent-minded touch had just tipped his entire world off balance.

"Thanks for your concern," he said dryly, finally steadying himself.

You gave him a fleeting smile, one he tried to memorize. Because somewhere in the chaos of his overthinking, Rafe Cameron was beginning to realize something terrifying and wonderful all at once.

He was falling for you, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Rafe leaned against the counter of the grocery store, pretending to scroll on his phone while you wandered the aisles. He hadn’t even wanted to stop here, but you’d insisted on grabbing snacks before heading to the beach.

"What’s the big deal? It’s just food," he’d grumbled earlier, but you’d only rolled your eyes and dragged him along anyway.

Now he was waiting impatiently, glancing at his watch every few seconds. “You done yet?” he called out.

“Almost!” you yelled back. “I’m looking for something specific.”

He sighed dramatically. “We’re going to miss the sunset at this rate.”

When you finally rounded the corner, a triumphant grin on your face, you were holding a bag of… lemon pepper sunflower seeds?

“What’s that for?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You blinked at him, clearly unimpressed. “For you, obviously.”

Rafe stared at the bag, then back at you. “What?”

“You told me a few weeks ago you used to eat these all the time when you were a kid. Remember? You said your dad used to bring them home after his fishing trips.”

For a moment, he was silent, caught completely off guard.

He had mentioned that, hadn’t he?

Some random memory he’d thrown out one evening, barely thinking about it. It wasn’t even important. Just some passing detail about his childhood.

But here you were, holding a bag of sunflower seeds like it was the most normal thing in the world to remember something so small.

“I didn’t think you’d…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.

“Didn’t think I’d what? Listen to you?” you teased, tossing the bag into the basket.

“Well… yeah,” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I always listen, Rafe. You just don’t talk enough for me to prove it.”

There was a lightness to your tone, but the words hit him harder than he expected. You listened to him. Actually listened. To the stuff no one else cared about, the random memories he’d barely even registered himself.

“Sheesh,” you said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “If I’d known this would blow your mind, I would’ve grabbed these for you weeks ago.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, but he was smiling now, following you toward the register.

As you paid, chatting casually with the cashier, Rafe kept glancing at the bag of sunflower seeds in your basket. Something so simple, but it made him feel… seen. Like you actually cared about the parts of him that most people ignored.

Walking out of the store, he finally nudged your shoulder. “Thanks. For, uh, remembering that.”

“Of course,” you said, flashing him a grin. “Just don’t eat them all at once. I’m not buying more if you get another craving later.”

He laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets as he fell into step beside you. Inside, though, his chest felt warm in a way he wasn’t used to.

She actually listens to me, he thought, stealing a glance at you as you debated what playlist to put on in the car. How is she so thoughtful?

And just like that, another piece of the puzzle slid into place. He was falling for you, headfirst and helplessly, and he wasn’t even mad about it.

The rain was relentless, pounding against the pavement like a drumline gone rogue. Your car sat lifeless on the shoulder of a backroad, hazards blinking uselessly in the downpour.

You’d tried everything.

Turning the key again and again, Googling quick fixes, even giving the steering wheel a good, frustrated whack.

Nothing worked.

Which is how you ended up sitting in the driver's seat, soaked from your earlier attempt to check under the hood, dialing a number you swore you wouldn’t use unless it was an absolute emergency.

“Rafe?” you said when he picked up, voice sheepish.

He immediately picked up on the edge in your tone. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“It’s probably nothing,” you rushed to say, cringing at how pathetic you sounded. “My car broke down, and it’s pouring, and I’m kind of stuck on the side of the road. I just… I didn’t know who else to call or...or what to do...”

For a second, there was nothing but the sound of the rain hammering against your windshield and the faint noise of his car’s radio in the background.

“Where are you?” he said, tone clipped and serious.

You gave him the location, muttering something about how you didn’t want to bother him if he was busy, but he cut you off.

“Stay put. Lock your doors. I’ll be there in ten.”

True to his word, Rafe’s truck pulled up exactly ten minutes later, tires skidding slightly as he parked in front of your car. You barely had time to roll down your window before he was at your door, an umbrella in one hand and an intense look in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning down to peer inside.

“Yeah, just a little damp,” you joked, gesturing to your soggy clothes.

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he opened your door and handed you the umbrella before crouching to look under your hood himself.

“You didn’t have to come all the way out here,” you said, feeling a little guilty as you watched him fiddle with something. “I could’ve called a tow truck.”

“Yeah, and waited an hour for them to show up while sitting out here alone?” he shot back, not even looking up. “Not a chance.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the sharpness in his tone.

“Rafe, I’m fine—”

“You’re not fine,” he interrupted, standing up straight and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Your car’s dead, you’re soaking wet, and it’s pitch black out here. What if someone stopped by who wasn’t me, huh?”

The thought made your stomach flip, but you tried to shake it off. “I had my doors locked.”

“That’s not the point,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair.

You stared at him, taken aback by his uncharacteristic panic. “Why are you so worked up?”

“Because I care about you!” he snapped before freezing, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You… care about me?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I care, okay? I don’t like the thought of you being stuck out here alone in the middle of nowhere. It freaks me out.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The Rafe you knew was cocky and confident, never flustered or vulnerable like this. Seeing him so visibly shaken made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“Well,” you said softly, “thanks for coming to my rescue.”

He finally looked at you, his usual smirk nowhere in sight. “Always.”

You smiled, holding the umbrella a little higher to shield him from the rain. “Guess you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t let that get around.”

As he helped you into his truck, soaking wet and dripping water all over his leather seats, he couldn’t help but glance at you out of the corner of his eye.

You shivered, hugging your arms to your chest in a futile attempt to ward off the cold.

Rafe’s eyes softened for a split second before he quickly reached for the spare jacket in the back seat, tossing it to you. “Here,” he muttered. “Put this on before you freeze to death.”

You gave him a grateful, but shaky, smile, slipping the jacket on. “Thanks, Rafe.”

He didn’t respond, but you caught the way he kept his eyes on you, making sure you were okay. The warmth of his jacket, the concern in his eyes, it was enough to make the cold rain outside feel like nothing.

She called me. Out of everyone, she called me.

And that’s when it hit him, hard and fast like a tidal wave. He wasn’t just smitten. He was utterly and completely gone for you.

Rafe sat back in his chair, his gaze lazily sweeping over the busy café. He had his usual coffee in front of him: black, no sugar, no cream.

Just the way he liked it.

It was a Saturday morning, and the place was a bit quieter than usual, with only a handful of people scattered at tables around him. His fingers tapped the rim of his cup as his mind wandered.

He was halfway through a text to a friend when he noticed something that made him stop mid-typing.

You had slid to sit across from him, sipping on your own cup of coffee. When you lowered it, you caught his eye and gave a small smile.

"Coffee’s perfect today," you commented, stirring it absentmindedly.

Rafe blinked, then stared at your cup for a second. It was identical to his: black, no sugar, no cream.

"You—" he started, his voice trailing off in confusion. You hadn’t ordered the same thing, had you? No, you always chose the caramel latte, but you had started transitioning to more bitter coffee...

His eyebrows furrowed, watching you take another sip.

"What?" you asked, noticing his stare.

"Why’d you..." Rafe caught himself. "Never mind."

He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. You’d been unconsciously drinking your coffee just the way he did. Had you even noticed?

His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned back, his gaze not leaving you. You’d also been humming that same song he had been listening to on repeat all week. An old track by some band he'd introduced you to, one that had been stuck in his head for days.

When you softly hummed the chorus as you fidgeted with your phone, he couldn’t help but grin.

"You always hum that?" he asked casually, raising an eyebrow.

You stopped and blinked, then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I didn’t realize it was the same one we were playing the other day, though."

He sat forward slightly, his eyes searching your face for a moment, trying to figure out if you were joking, but there was something in the way you said it that made it clear: you weren’t aware of the little things.

How, over the past few weeks, your habits had begun to align with his.

And in that moment, Rafe felt a quiet thrill spread through him. You were becoming his person without even trying. Without even realizing it.

He leaned back, smiling to himself, then took a sip of his coffee. “Guess we’ve got the same taste,” he said with a half smirk, watching you carefully for your reaction.

You looked at him and shrugged again, clearly clueless about what had just happened.

"Guess so," you said, a playful glint in your eyes.

Rafe’s heart gave a small, almost imperceptible flutter.

You weren’t his yet. Not officially, at least. But in this small, unspoken moment, he was already beginning to feel like you were.

You had spent hours upon hours, which felt like minutes, talking, joking around, and watching ridiculous movies with stupid plots, chowing down on various snacks.

The door had clicked shut behind you with the usual soft thud, and now that you were gone, he couldn’t help but feel that sharp pang of longing in his chest. It was like someone had tugged at something deep inside him, pulling a part of himself along with you as you left.

Rafe’s lips pressed together, and his gaze drifted to the spot on the couch where you had just been sitting.

When did she start taking up so much space in my life?

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake the thought. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how true it was. Every time you were around, everything felt just a little more... right.

Even the way the silence between the two of you felt more like a conversation than an awkward pause.

With a groan, he grabbed his phone, half-wishing he could text you to come back, but he knew that was ridiculous. You’d left, and it was just the way things were.

Still, as he sat there in the quiet, he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d gotten so used to your presence in his life.

And how much he already missed it.

Pt 2: Your Favorite Dates with R.C.

[madhatterbri]

Shakedown | Mafia!HOOK

Summary: The Perry family take you from Tyler with help from the inside.

@99hook @shawtys-things

"Have you heard the news?" Taz asked taking a few puffs from his cigar. He placed the cigar on the ashtray and looked at his son. The smoke caused a haze above their table. He noted his son's silence that he hadn't. "Jack and his family of low life criminals have been spotted around New York,"

Tyler tensed at the news. He had been careless the last few days with taking his girl out. He thought about all the places they visited. All the places Jack and his men could have been hiding. He cursed inwardly at his own foolishness. A glimmer of hope cast over him. Maybe they hadn't been around long.

"How long?"

"The boys are saying three days. Could be more or less. He must have drove from LA this time," Taz answered and leaned back in his chair. He stared at his son noting his worried expression. "Where is your name?"

"At school. Anthony is there like usual," he answered feeling sheepish. HOOK knew he messed up. He didn't need a whole ass lecture about it.

"Make sure you alert Anthony that Jack is back. Maybe have them come here right after class," Taz advised. Right now he needed to make sure Jack wasn't poking around where he shouldn't be.

🖤

You smiled seeing Anthony at the car. He always waited patiently for you no matter how long or short your classes ran. He was scrolling through his phone while he leaned against the car. His normal happy expression shrouded in worry.

"Hey, Anthony. Is everything okay?" You asked.

"Bad news. Boss man is telling me to get you to one of the safe houses. New York got a visitor you don't want to be acquainted with," he broke the news to you. You frowned.

"But St. Marks isn't too far from here. Couldn't we go back home?"

"We don't know if any of his men infiltrated the place yet," he answered while opening the door for you.

"Is Tyler gonna visit us there?" You asked hopefully while throwing your bookbag in the backseat. You slid inside the car.

"That's the plan,"

🖤

Tyler noticed the time and immediately started to worry. He couldn't get a hold of Anthony or his girlfriend. A couple of his men drove around NYU but hadn't seen you. They talked the professor who informed them you left with Anthony hours ago.

"Son, this isn't like Anthony. We may have to accept the fact that-"

"He wouldn't betray me. I told him to come here as soon as he got her. Class ran late or something," he snapped at his father. He rested his head on his hands. His fingers pulled his hair as the stress took over.

"You gotta think with your mind and not your heart. Every second you treating Anthony like he didn't betray you is another second your name could be out there in danger,"

🖤

"We are here," Anthony informed you after the long car ride. You kicked yourself for leaving your phone back home. It was weird. You left in on the nightstand last night and this morning it was gone. Maybe it fell under the bed while you slept.

He stepped out of the car and opened the door for you. You thanked him and walked out seeing the safe house.

The house was made of brick surrounded by tall pine trees. There was no windows and lots of security cameras. Several armored cars were already parked near the house.

"Tyler never mentioned this one to me before," you pointed out. You thought you had visited all the ones his family owned. This one was certainly not as modern as the rest but it seemed cozy.

"Come on. Let's get you inside. It's a little chilly out here," Anthony offered while extending his arm towards the house. You walked towards the door with your stomach tied in knots. Something was off about this situation. None of HOOK's men were outside.

You stopped just before the stairs on to the porch. He stopped right behind you.

"I don't think we are at the right place. I want to go to St. Marks. I-" you stopped once you turned around. Anthony's gun was pointed at you. Your mouth fell open in shock.

"Why?"

"Enough. Get up the stairs and knock on the door. He's been expecting you," he ordered and flicked his gun towards you. You turned around and slowly walked up the stairs. Before you could knock on the door a man answered it.

His brown hair pushed back into a bun. His brown eyes stared down at you. You hadn't seen this man before in your dealings with HOOK.

"You must be your name. I'm Jack and I've been dying to meet you," he greeted.

🖤

"I'm really sorry, Taz. We tried tailing them but he used the traffic to get rid of us. They were going out somewhere Northwest," the driver spoke through the cellphone speaker. HOOK slammed his fist in the table. He breathed heavily and crossed his arms to control himself.

"How did your name look?"

"Like everything was okay. I'm sure Anthony was feeding her some mess. We are gonna keep our eyes open. We got an informant telling us where they went. We will keep you posted," the driver assured and hung up. The twisted pain of betrayal weighed heavily.

"Son, calm down. We are doing everything we can to locate her," Taz promised. Tyler remained motionless until his cell phone rang. He grabbed the phone from his back pocket. The screen lit up the last name he wanted to see.

Anthony

"Where the fuck is she?" Tyler barked into the phone.

🖤

Tyler's voice through the phone sprung tears to your eyes. He sounded so upset and you couldn't be there to help him. You looked at Jack as a tear slid down your cheek.

"Now see you are going to make her cry. Is that what you want?" Jack asked with annoyance over the phone. He stared at you. "Tell him you are fine with his friends Anthony and Jack,"

"I... I'm fine, Ty," you stuttered afraid of what he would do if you hadn't cooperated. For now you were sitting on a couch surrounded by Anthony and several of Jack's men.

"Enough games, Perry. Where is she?" Tyler demanded.

"You weren't any good at hide and seek were you? You know you wasted Anthony as a babysitter for your little girlfriend. He really is a jack of all trades," he complimented the man that betrayed the Senerchia family. "But look it's late. Let me call you in the morning and we can settle this like men then,"

"Tell me where you are now and we can settle it when I get there,"

Jack yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"Patience, young Tyler. Good night,"

🖤

Once Jack ended the call someone called his dad. Tyler hoped it would be information regarding Jack's whereabouts. Sure enough he was in luck. In a matter of minutes he was driving to her location. The GPS said he would be there in a few hours.

"Just hold on, your name," he whispered as the driver sped through New York.

🖤

Jack left you on the couch while he conducted business. Your hands tied in front of your body. He didn't trust you to be alone by the front door. A man stayed with you to watch you. With no windows the thought of escaping seemed small.

Anthony appeared in the room. Ever since he betrayed you he hadn't been able to look at you. The betrayal ate you up and you had one simple question for him.

"Why?" You asked him. Your voice so small and innocent. That was exactly how you felt. None of this revolved around you. You just happened to be dating the son of a very important man. "Why didn't you tell him you didn't want to watch me anymore? Was it something I did?"

He flinched at your words. You weren't going to understand. This was a man's game and you were just a silly little pawn.

"Shut her up," he ordered one of the men in the room.

"Gladly," the man laughed and placed a piece of silver tape over your mouth.

🖤

"He's here," Jack yelled running through the front door. Tires screeched outside signaling HOOK's arrival. Before you could think Jack was dragging you outside. A gun pointed at your back.

The SUVs parked outside in a half circle. Tyler stood in front of them. Their lights showing him brightly.

"No daddy here to protect you? I'm shocked," Jack announced while grabbing your hair and pulling back. You yelped in pain against the tape as he forced you to walk towards Tyler. HOOK's men raised their guns trying to get a clear shot at Jack but he used you as a shield.

"What do you want Jack?" HOOK asked. "Give her to me and it's yours,"

"I want the Senerchia family to be no more. The Perry family will reign Supreme. My dad couldn't do it before he died and now it's my turn," Jack spoke his terms for your safety. You shook your head. You knew how hard his family worked to build their empire.

"Deal. We will pack everything up here and you will have all our point of contacts," Tyler agreed.

"You think I'm stupid? I want you and daddy swimming with the fishes. I want the Senerchia name gone from the mafia history books. When anyone says your name they will think of me and remember my face as the one that brought you down. You and your daddy are noth-," Jack was suddenly silenced once your elbow connected to his stomach. He doubled over in pain allowing you a chance at freedom. You ran towards Tyler. His arms wide open to grab you.

Before they were able to shoot Jack a reinforced car pulled up in front of him. Anthony yelled for him to get in and they drove off in a matter of seconds. Jack escaped but you were safe. That was all HOOK cared about. You buried your face in his chest and cried.

"Let's get you home," he whispered as he untied your hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you bridal style to the car.

🖤

"We almost had him!" Jack yelled in the car. "Why did you do that?"

"You think he was going to let you getaway with taking his girl? You were going to be gone and the Perry name left in shambles," Anthony reasoned. "Don't worry. I know all of New York like the back of my hand. You'll get your kingdom and I'll get my revenge,"

Anthony stared off into the distance getting further away from his ex best friend.

[chainofclovers]

I'm definitely still not allowed to have twitter (not that I'd go back now) or Bluesky or whatever the fuck because I just managed to put myself in a bad mood on tumblr by clicking into the TL tag and deciding that apparently I ought to scroll through that TL Takes blog for the first time in ages. So many of the polls are incredibly obvious bait followed by polls by offended people who've been incredibly obviously baited, and I get that an account dedicated to putting numbers behind anonymous opinions is gonna attract a particular type of troll and/or mean fan and/or embarrassing crusader for whatever they ship, and yet my emotions took the bait and I was like "wait, no, we're not all like this, why is everyone being so gross about these characters??!!!?? Now I feel sad about anonymous people being mean to each other about my show. It's February 2025. I should definitely spend my time and energy on this!!!! " 😂😂😂😂 Such an idiot. Suuuuch an idiot.

And while we're at it, it's also driving me up the wall that in this time of no official confirmation on more of this show getting made (and, yes, I certainly think there's a strong likelihood that more will happen at some point) people are so convinced that x or y or z will be happening that they're actually getting angry about specific plotpoints or specific characters appearing or not appearing as if it's already fact. I realize many of us are living in a fascist hellscape and having big feelings about something you care about is a very natural occurrence even in the best of times, but all the filling in of blanks seems so unnecessarily stressful. It's fucking weird that the way that the "news" broke was related to options being picked up (in other words, way early in the cycle). Each of the actors being questioned by the press knows some of the information and is making a conscious choice about how much they should say or not say, and in some cases are clearly having a little fun with some light trolling (Nick Mohammed gets a pass for life). I guess I understand why reporters keep asking about it, but it's not like options and the contract process are a typical part of the news cycle for a show, so it doesn't seem weird to me that there's a lack of concrete information. We don't know how many seasons of the show there will be even if Moe could speculate. We don't know who has signed contracts even if we know a smattering of people who's options were picked back up. We don't even officially know if it's happening. It feels weird to me that the s4 inside people's minds feels real enough for people to be writing reviews of how they blew it and missed opportunities when not a single second of it has been filmed.

(And that's not to say I think everyone """should""" be excited for more or not. It's perfectly reasonable to be excited or to be not excited based on the available information! I'd have been okay with no more TL but I'm definitely interested in watching what they make it if comes to that lol. I'm talking specifically about takes like "I hate that Ted won't be in it" or "The women's team storyline is going to take too much emphasis away from the main cast" or super specific ship wishlist items.)

I started the day by sleeping later than I'd meant to, then wasted all my writing time on this. Now I have to go to work. NICE.

[azfellesquire]

Season two isn’t (fully) real, it’s a peaceful, fragile existence

The more I rewatch the show and read different theories, the more convinced I get that S2 is some sort of elaborate dream sequence or a distraction or memory alteration attempt (Neil’s chaotic angsty ineffable husbands fanfic?). But not all of it.

(This gets kind of rambly so if you want my true hook, scroll down to the Michael Sheen Staged gif.)

Let me make this perfectly clear on the outset: I don’t think all of it is a dream, and I certainly don’t think the final 15/kiss is or is going to be discounted (and not only because there would be literal riots in the street, because there absolutely would be, but also I’m putting trust in Neil and the team wholeheartedly). I think that could actually be the domino that brings them out of it. I read somewhere recently something along the lines of “something loved can never be truly forgotten” and I think that fits my theory perfectly. I’m also making no claims (yet) as to what I think is real and what I think is “enhanced”.

Also I apparently am either too far deep or cannot work the tumblr search function with any modicum of usefulness, so please link me to the posts I’m alluding to if you think it’s the right one. I will edit them in and sincerely apologize to the brilliant minds that exist outside the confines of the search function.

Now, On with the show:

You can be in charge of the biscuits

Maggie and Nina: Look, I get that recasts happen, they change the actor playing the character because of scheduling conflicts, etc. But to cast the actor/actress that is immediately recognizable from a prior interaction (whether with the characters or the audience) is not something you see. FFS Maggie DIED in S1, and Nina was pivotal (maybe too strong a word, but enough to be memorable surely) to the storyline. It’s like someone said “Hey, they’ll work, bring em in, no I don’t care that they were in S1. It’ll be a test of how well our facade is working. If they (A&C) notice, then the gig is up and we’ll know it.”

Also why in the world is the owner of a coffee shop offering Eccles cakes to calm down, when camomile tea is right there? (Resists the urge to go off on a tangent on how Eccles cakes were used to celebrate the “Eccles wakes” at the feast of St. Mary (yes that Mary) and how that ties into the second coming plot.) Do Eccles cakes count as biscuits? Ugh another thought for another day I suppose.

It has come to my attention during writing that Shax is the same actress as Madame Tracy. I have less of an affront to this knowledge since I’m 2 months deep and countless rewatches in and only just noticed. But I’m going to pop it in this header anyway. Are you really trying to tell me that a show that apparently has demon entrances happening precisely on the 6s really didn’t think these choices out very deliberately? (Edit 3: https://www.tumblr.com/noneorother/735823422626709504/the-secret-timeline-inside-of-good-omens-season-2 JFC why can I never find the blogs when I want to insert them? It was a breakdown about how all of the demon entrances happen at a 00:00 that ends in a 6.)

Yours very faithfully, Maggie

Text to mail disconnect: There’s been a theory pop up (at the time one writing this at least (edit 2: https://www.tumblr.com/azariah-z-fell/743434274903048192/it-is-extra-weird-because-it-is-on-the-record) that Maggie actually texted Aziraphale her request to talk, and it was magically translated into a physical form, and the spelling error (that so many people are shouting DEMON at) was just an autocorrect typo. But, surely Maggie would know he doesn’t text if she knew him for several years at least. We’ve never seen either of our boys text, only call. Seems like someone doesn’t know how phones work, but wanted to get the message received? See also: currency, below.

You ever think, what’s the point?

Numerous people have pointed out the same obvious background people. There are theories about the guy in the Hawaiian shirt being the second coming or something similar. I wonder if it’s some sort of play on a badly executed attempt to make Wickber Street seem “normal” in an alternate reality, an elaborate distraction, but they have to keep using the same character models because their imagination is just slightly better than Shadwells’ (Oh gfdi how did I miss Mrs. sandwich right there). I’m not saying we haven’t done a “oh oops silly me I forgot something” but that isn’t usually done in the middle of a sidewalk. When Aziraphale is initially talking to Jim with the blanket, there’s a guy just chugging his arms outside the window, not walking. Another one in E3 when Shax show up outside the shop, a guy in an orange sweatshirt passes in the background, then passes again, and not close enough in time/area to just be the continuation of the walk. Especially in the early episodes, there are veritable conveyer belts of people, straight lines, no trying to pass, etc. I’m trying to look at the background in S1 and while there are still tons of people, the background is… livelier. People passing, shoving past, actually going places.

“I’m looking at the statue of Gabriel.” “Oh, good job?”

Aziraphale basically learns fuck-all when he makes the trip to Edinburgh. Granted, I do believe most of that was to make the Bentley “our car”, but so many things are out of character. The no drink, the over-the-top “investigation” (as awkward as he is, Aziraphale knows how to act more normally than that with humans), the background on the drive up there…

All the others were taken (random collective thoughts)

Somehow ALL the businesses on the street are different from Season 1?

A normal person would have moved out of the rain instead of just lolling there letting raid splatter their glasses, yeah? (As a person with glasses I can confirm).

“We have all the hosts of hell searching for him” cue Crowley looking around like then why the fuck are there still demons around me?

The cross disappearing from the Gabriel statue between shots.

“I’m a bit out of miracles” and “that’s not how miracles work” from the guy who got written up for too many frivolous miracles.

I have here a sixpence and a farthing There’s always money in the banana stand

The lack of (accurate?) paid transactions seems like whoever is pulling the strings has no concept of earthly money and how it’s supposed to work, just that it exists. Crowley and Aziraphale talk bluntly about poverty and know that money is needed and used in current society (“Give her the money, Angel”, Rome, Globe Theatre, 1941 magic shop, etc.). Could be a “let’s not get lost in the trivialities” thing but it does strike me as odd. Caveat: Aziraphale forgiving the rent doesn’t quite fit, but cost of the record is obscenely low.

But this does give me hope about the 3rd 1941 flashback, because they were using money accurately there, which hopefully means the flashbacks and memories aren’t being altered, just “present day”.

We’re real people

One of the overarching themes in Season 2 (and S1 now I think of it) is “stop interfering in the lives of other people”. Maggie and Nina, Job, Elspeth, the entire dance party, Warlock, the book of prophecy. It would be a shame if someone were to make sure I failed to be messing about in their own lives.

I had brothers, you don’t scare me

Something happened just before Maggie told them to “Come in here and say that to my face.” Another demonic turn potential here, but also kind of like someone’s saying “FFS get on with the plot”.

The book of love has music in it

This post https://www.tumblr.com/noneorother/731977308306636800/all-the-music-you-didnt-hear-the-good-omens (finally, one I can find!) popped up, and there’s another one that purports to have noticed that there’s music lines missing from the opening sequence (edit 1: Found it!: https://www.tumblr.com/dadesu/726651737165938688/anyone-noticed-the-missing-half-bar-in-good-omens ). Possibly Clueing us in that there’s something that’s missing elsewhere (I mean obviously, that’s the whole point of this season, is it not?).

So where do we go from here?

As much as I’d love to say “Alright so the kiss breaks the spell whoever was put over them because of ✨the power of love✨, the ruse will be revealed, and they’re not talking because they don’t have to”

I don’t know, my thoughts are just the overarching patterns I’ve noticed over many, many rewatches and probably reading a few too many magic trick theories and/or fanfics. I don’t intentionally make my theory posts open-ended, but in the end that’s the fun of it. Nothing has to be mutually exclusive (yes I’m referencing my “Is Crowley already the new Supreme Archangel” post, I think I’m allowed that much). I’m happy to be proven wrong, and probably will be.

Lots of things are wrong right now

But I will leave you with one parting thought: Crowley knows. He knows there’s furniture missing. (That’s why he keeps just tossing things everywhere, because he know it doesn’t matter.)

And he. Does not. Care. For it.

How many theories that I myself hate can I dig into?

I’m a demon, I lied:

[kas-e]

Futility

Resistance isn't futile.

What started with printed propaganda a hundred years ago eventually morphed into programming through tube televisions, then to computers, and now to phones.  The change we've witnessed since the turn of the century is unprecedented, yet ironically hardly noticed.  The globalization of social connectivity has cast a strange cloud over our collective spirit as human beings.  At our core we are the same people born into the world as our great grandparents, but our attention spans are far shorter and are being held hostage by the same corporations that built the modern world.  Our minds are weak in the face of advertising, and the spirits of those who succumb to the new normal are numb - which accounts for a staggering percentage of earth's population.  This is no big conspiracy, this is no new world order plot.  It is simply what happens when people are presented with the shiniest of toys, exhausted from being overworked and underpaid, and brainwashed to the point of complacency.  

I used to smoke a lot of weed.  I remember knowing wake and bakers who used to pull a chalky bong hit the moment they woke up.  Everytime I did it myself, my day was shot.  My mind was fogged, and well, just off.  But the impulse, the idea, and even the need, I deeply understood.  Many humans, myself included, every single day before even getting out of bed reach for the phone and scroll a bit.  Before coffee, before breakfast, we get that hit... and it taints our day, and puts the mind in a place that is sometimes, well, just off.  Everyday when we wake up we have a choice, but it's so easy to reach for the phone.  It's so easy to surrender to the impulse of our new commonly shared addiction.  Nobody would dare relate their phone use to the fentanyl addict bent over on the corner, or the alcoholic at your job, but it's not so different. They both steal your time, mess with your mind, and have negative consequences when abused and misused.  How do you act when you've lost your phone?  That sinking frustration, that paranoid panic, that's a feeling that addicts are all too used to, and now you've had a lick of that lollipop too.  But it's ok, it's normal, no big deal.  We're cyborgs, not junkies...

Our youth is pacified into adulthood now because of these devices.  Social skills are lacking in the face of the past, and are steadily on the decline.  Humanity has been shaken up by this new tool, and the shakedown still has a while to unravel.  

It's certainly not all bad because despite the weirdness and negativity, the silver lining does shine bright.  There is no excuse for an artist not to do their thing because we've been presented with the most powerful creative tool fathomable.  Imagine Mozart with Ableton, Salvador Dali with Photoshop, or Ansel Adams with a Nikon and a laptop.  

When I started shooting photographs, digital photography was just starting to make waves, so I shot film for a year or so.  I paid for every shot and every step in the process - which was slow, tedious, and time consuming. The gear was clunky and heavy and breaking all the time.  Now I can blast off thousands of shots in a day with a reliable camera and glass engineered so well that it's almost incomprehensible.  I can shoot at night without a tripod.  Some photographers hike with their entire kit on their back, throw a card the size of my thumbnail into their laptop, and process as many shots as they want in the matter of minutes in a tent on the summit of a mountain.  Not to mention, now cameras are essentially free since the tech on phones is approaching a quality that will soon rival that of a camera.  I'm already starting to feel like a relic, but I, like many others, live for the process and will continue to do so.  

Now, to resist is to live.  When I'm dealing with my camera I haven't a single thought about my phone.  It pulls me into the moment and makes me present.  When I'm on the road, I use the maps, but that's about it.  In today's world, the only thing that is futile is you, if you can't find the wisdom and value in what it means to resist.  

[hopeymchope]

The impact of "Ch. Yakou: Thank You, My Detective" on Master Detective Archives: Rain Code's story (and any possible sequel?)

The DLC for "Master Detective Archives: Rain Code" is complete. And having now played through all five of the "Substories," I think we can at least say that only ONE of them leaves any major impact on the larger narrative.

I wouldn't say "Ch. Yakou: Thank You, My Detective" is the best of the substories. Not to me, at least. But it certainly ends on a note that strongly suggests a change to the status quo we all understood when the game ended.

MAJOR SPOILERS for both the main-game narrative of "Master Detective Archives: Rain Code" and the DLC "Ch. Yakou: Thank You, My Detective" are under the cut.

At the very start of "Ch. Yakou," we're controlling Yakou Furio from a side-scrolling perspective as he slowly plods and stumbles down a hallway.

His face is in shadow with his hood up, and we occasionally get flashes of his memories... including Yuma pleading "Yes! I'm Yuma! Chief, you understand me?" And if you don't immediately remember when that moment occurred, it'll all be cleared up by the time you complete this trudge down memory lane. Because it all concludes with a memory of his death on the floor of the lab underneath Amaterasu Corporation.

That's right — we're controlling Yakou Furio when he's already a shambling zombie homunculus! That memory of Yuma is even from the final chapter of the game!

These memory flashbacks are really an excuse for us to experience the backstory of how Yakou met the woman who ultimately became his wife — the one who was the driving motivator behind his actions in Chapter 4. (And who sadly isn't even given a name during this chapter in spite of getting backstory and a voice actress. Wtf is that.) But you might be thinking, "We could've seen Yakou thinking about this storyline at any time. Why doesn't this chapter just take place at some vague interval between chapters 1-3, like all the other DLC stories? Why is THIS the one weird outlier?"

Answer: Because of how it ends.

Yakou's march through the corridors comes to an end when he meets... a ghost? A memory? I'm leaning towards her being the former, but I can't be 100% sure. Regardless, some version of his deceased wife is there to leave him with a parting gift.

I'll let her explain it:

Yup, you read that right. We end with DeadWife handed off a small batch of her experimental medication — a means by which Yakou can truly resurrect himself. ... Although she does add that cavet about how it "might be completed if someone takes over my research," which certainly leaves room for doubt about its efficacy at the moment.

In summation: Most of the final DLC chapter takes place in flashback... but it ends with dead zombie Yakou Furio being handed a medication that could potentially restore him to his original living state.

So uh... I guess they just set up the possbility of Yakou Furio showing up alive and well for Master Detective Archives 2, huh? They gave themselves an excuse to have the whole band back together if they so choose.

But...

My Thoughts

Look: I love Yakou, sure, but his death is the emotional high point of the entire game. Furthermore, it's the ONLY loss to our central cast. Unlike in Kodaka's preceding franchise, the core cast of Rain Code manages to stay safe from harm throughout the adventure — with this one exception. The only loss to the group is Yakou, who goes down like an absolute badass via an exceedingly clever plan to exact his own brand of justice against the man who had his wife killed.

It feels wrong to undo that, y'know? It's just such an important moment for him, for the story, and for the group of detectives at its center who become to be so attached to him.

Despite that, will I be happy if he shows up in a sequel? Well... yeah, actually. He's a super-likable character that ultimately proves to be far more clever than those around him ever realized. There's a lot you could do with that.

So I guess I have mixed feelings. I'm surprised by this choice more than anything, but that's not to say that it's not still kind of cool. I definitely didn't expect it.

[greenticklerdreams]

Vex vs. The Ticklelock

Fandom: Critical Role - Vox Machina

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Vex'ahlia, Ler!OC, Ler!rest of VM

Word Count: 2992 words

Summary: Vex is captured by a very strange villain with an even stranger set of powers. Can she hold out until she's rescued?

“FINALLY!! You FUCKING creep!!” Vex’ahlia shouted, finally free of the Hold Person spell. Her mouth was dry and tasted terrible. Her arms were stretched out to either side, locked at the wrists by padded cuffs. She was sitting up against that backboard, back straighter than when Father tried to drill good posture into her and her twin when they were little. Her legs were propped up on a bench, straight out in front of her, her ankles locked in a wooden stocks. Her bare feet felt clammy with fear, despite the roaring fireplace that was the only source of light in this weird underground laboratory. “What’s the big idea, taking my boots off?!” she snarled. “And ONLY my boots?? Not anything else?? Really?!”

“It’s necessary, my dear,” came a voice from the chair by the fire. Vex perceived the hooded man there, though his face was just obscured by the dancing shadows. This same hooded man had dragged her off after successfully casting the Hold Person spell upon her. Dragged her away from the fight, from her friends battling the giant tentacled creature that had risen from the underground lake in this dank dungeon of his. He’d taken her down hallways, stepping around traps, moving past slavering aberrant creatures waiting in the wings, and bringing her here… It certainly looked like every other mad arcane caster’s lab she’d ever seen, and Vex had seen a few at this point in her adventuring career. A shelf full of scrolls, weird instruments on a nearby table, books… and a rather unusual amount of feather quills. They were quills, right? Most humiliating of all was being completely unable to resist as he forced her into this position, removed her boots and socks, shut her wrists and ankles into their bondage, and spoke a command word that sealed the locks with a magical click. Vex had been terrified at the time, but now that she found herself almost fully clothed and otherwise untouched, she was mostly just nonplussed. And pissed off.

The hooded man stepped into the light. He was pudgy in his brown robes, looking a little like a fat monk. Throwing back his hood, his red-brown hair was revealed to be long and lank, and his beard and mustache needed a trim. His eyes looked just a little too large for his face, and a little too black. “You and your friends have something that my master needs, and he has asked me to get it from you.” He grinned a sleazy grin, those black eyes glinting in the firelight. “I must confess, I hoped you would be the one to fall prey to my spell.”

“You would, wouldn’t you? Get in line,” she spat at him. Damned Arcane Locks, she thought, trying and failing to thrash against her restraints. The hooded man advanced to her, stopping just in front of her stocked feet. “At least ravish me like a proper villain. Freak. Pervert.”

“Like I said, lovely Vex’ahlia,” purred the man, his voice low and honeyed. “What I need is information. I need it quickly. And I am going to get it. Although… I am going to enjoy getting it out of you.” Vex felt his soft, pudgy hands caress the soles of her feet. She shuddered in horror - and worse, it tickled!! - and tried to pull her feet away, but her big toes were tied to an unseen hook on the front of the stocks. “You CREEPY fucker,” she snarled, trying not to let him see her reaction.

The hooded man just smiled. “I also would not deprive my pets of the pleasure,” he said. With a flutter of feathers, a pair of doves descended from atop the scroll case. They were the type noble ladies bred, with big, fluffy feather skirts around their ankles. However, Vex recognized that these were not normal pigeons. Their beaks were just a little too long and sharp, the feathers of their wings a little too large and fluffy, those odd spots of exposed flesh on their chests weren’t normal, and their eyes… were too intelligent. These had to be mage constructs of some type. “Lester, Leelee, get to work,” said the hooded man, and the creatures alighted on Vex’s hapless body. The mage-pigeons walked over up and over her chest - she could feel their sharp little claws hooking into the unarmored parts of her clothes, barely poking her quivering skin - and then they started using their sharp beaks to cut holes around her underarms. “Hey!!! What?! Are you serious?!” she snapped, and she tried to thrash, but she could barely move, and the birds hung on anyway. She felt her armpits exposed to the open air. The hooded man smiled. “Start brushing.”

With uncanny intelligence, the birds looked to their master, and then began brushing Vex’s taut, stretched armpits with their fluffy, feathery wingtips. Vex felt an electric sensation course through her body and choked back a cry. Biting her lip, she grunted with exertion.

[MATT: Make me a Constitution saving throw.]

[LAURA: ……17! HA!]

Releasing her lip, Vex gasped as she convinced herself this wasn’t too bad. “You’re gonna have to do better than that,” she said, blowing air out of her nose with a little “hmph” for emphasis. “What do you wanna know so badly anyway, you freak? Who are you?” The bearded man smiled. “I am Gruvo, a servant of K’nizz Mo’lag, a creature from beyond the stars and beyond your mortal comprehension.” Well, at least he’s easy to persuade to talk, Vex thought through the terrible feathery sensations in her armpits. “His many-feathered wings sweep through the universe and will soon alight in this world. None will be able to withstand him, and your kingdom will be reduced to helpless laughter in his ticklish embrace.”

“Lamest Far Realm patron I’ve ever heard of,” Vex taunted. Gods, it never ends. Oh gods. It tickles. “Did the cool eldritch… beings pi-hick you last at recess? You must be so disappoi-hointed.”

Gruvo looked back into Vex’s defiant eyes and raised his hands, wiggling his fingers in her full view. “Form of Feathers,” he said. Suddenly all ten fingers contorted and transformed into long brown feathers, wiggling at the ends of his palms. His beard changed, too, going from unkempt hair to a mass of reddish-brown feathers that surrounded his lips and covered his chin. His eyes seemed to grow larger and blacker, like an owl’s. He lowered those hands, out of view behind the stocks, and suddenly Vex’ahlia felt ten brushy, whispery feathers gliding all along the soles of her feet. “How do you like this, Lady of Whitestone? Do you still doubt my patron’s power?” A strangled squeal escaped Vex’s lips. Her head thrashed back and forth. “Mmhmmph!! Mmmm!!!” The soles of her feet were tingling like crazy. Her knees spasmed and banged against the bench. Then she felt just the tips of the feather-fingers jittering against her soles, ten little points all at once. They quested for the tips of her toes and the spaces between. They danced on every wrinkle. Gruvo chuckled. “You are already succumbing to our power. Now tell me, Lady Vex’ahlia: where is the Tome of Isolation?”

[MATT: That’s another CON save.] [LAURA: … 19.]

[SAM: LET’S GOOOO!!]

“I’ll… never… tell you… ANYTHING!! Eeheeheeheehee!!! Hmmmph!!” Angry that she had let even a few giggles escape, Vex bit her lip again. Her armpits were twitching, her feet were squirming against the toe-tie, but she resisted with all her might. She resolved herself to scrunching her feet as hard as she could, even as those feathers brushed all over her wrinkled, curled soles. “My friends… hhh-are… haha! They’re… going… to kill you… SO hard! Pfffhaha!”

[LAURA: Seriously, how long does it take to kill a stupid tentacle monster?!?!]

[TRAVIS: Ow!! We’re workin’ on it!!!]

“Maybe… heehee!! Maybe if you tell me… hh-why?!” Through scrunched-up eyes, Vex saw Gruvo’s smile fade. He looked oddly serious as his feather-fingers brushed her feet. “My patron attempted to enter this world and brush his feathery wings over it, but he was thwarted… by a goddess called the Dawnflower. That tome of the Knowing Mistress’s is able to banish a god, am I right? Well, my patron will be able to corrupt that tome to drag a divine being into his realm. There shall we bind her, and K’nizz Mo’lag will tickle your meddling goddess into oblivion.”

Seriously easy to persuade, Vex thought through the sensations flooding her body. Would’ve been more appropriate if he’d grabbed Pike. Not that she would’ve fallen to a lousy - hhooooohhhh gods. Oh gods my feet. Don’t let him get between your toes. Focus. “Stu-stupid plahahannn,” she gasped. “Ahahaha. Heeheehmmmph.” 

Gruvo’s face grew uglier. “This is taking too long. I think it’s time we changed it up.” He raised his hands and Vex saw his fingers and beard go back to normal. “Lester. Leelee. The belly.” He walked over to his shelf, but Vex was too busy watching the pigeons walk down her ribs - damn those little claws - so they could start snipping off the middle of her shirt. “Come on! Really? Not my look, you freak. Though I’ve got better abs than you!” It was a lame taunt, but Vex felt woozy from resisting the tickles. 

The chubby warlock walked back over with a bottle in his hands. He uncorked it, poured the glistening yellow contents into one hand, and rubbed them together. It had to be oil of some kind. He then started rubbing it into her feet. Vex gasped. Just rubbing the oil on tickled her poor feathered feet so badly. Suddenly all of his fingers slid between all of her toes to rub it in. “YEEE-hee-heek!!” she squealed, throwing her head back. When she looked at her captor again, he was grinning. The birds had fully exposed her belly by now. Gruvo walked around to where she sat, poured more oil into his hands, and then rubbed down Vex’s pale, quivering belly. Vex smothered another squeal and squirmed for all she was worth. “You do have nice abs,” he murmured, looking her full in the face. “Does it tickle, Lady Vex’ahlia?” 

Vex shook her head violently. “Nuh-uh. Fuck you.” Gruvo just smiled back. “I think our tough ranger has a ticklish tummy…” He curled his fingers and squeezed Vex’s slick midriff. “Mm-hm!! Hmmmm!!” came the strangled cry. The warlock chuckled softly as he rubbed more oil into her armpits. Suddenly his fingers were digging in! “YA-HA! Heeheehmm!!” Vex heard Gruvo chuckle as he walked away, back down to her feet. The oil wasn’t making her cold - if anything, it was too warm. And her sensitive skin was tingling like crazy. Gruvo raised his hands again. “Form of Nodules,” he said. It was hard to see in the firelight, but Vex perceived his palms and fingers sprouting weird, rubbery-looking little nodules, like painful-looking boils, darker-colored than his sallow skin. “Oh, what the fuck,” she said. “Lester! Leelee! Tentacalus!” One of the pigeons hopped up to Vex’s chest while the other perched just above her belly. Their heads reeled back… and two fleshy tentacles emerged from those odd bare spots on their chests, squirming like giant earthworms. “Ohhh WHAT THE FUCK!!” Vex screamed in horror. “Now,” said Gruvo, voice low and dangerous. “We’re going to try this again.”

Suddenly Vex’s feet were being scrubbed, rubbery nodules bouncing and sliding all over her oil-slick soles. The pigeons’ tentacles were in her right armpit and slithering all over her belly, the tips finding purchase in her soft, slippery skin. One tentacle slid into her belly button and vibrated around while the other prodded one side, then the other. “Where is the Tome?” Gruvo called in a raised voice.

[MATT: Make another CON save, this time with disadvantage.] [LAURA: Aw WHAT?!] 

[MATT: It’s magic oil.]

[LAURA: …… 4.]

[the table groans and laughs]

[MATT: There it is! First failure.]

“BAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! AHAHAHAHAAAA!!!” The laughs Vex’ahlia had been holding back suddenly exploded forth, like a burst dam. She felt herself give in to the sensations as her back arched and stiffened, head hitting the backboard, as tingly fire filled her body. She had taken lightning damage before. This was worse. Her feet were being tortured with endless electric shocks as the nodules scrubbed her arches. That tentacle in her belly button had to be like Percy sticking one finger of his Diplomacy gauntlet in and turning it on. “NOHO!! NOOO!!! WE ALREADY HAVE IIIIIITTT!!! WE HAVE IT!! WE HAVE IIIT!!! AAAAA-HAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

“You see?!” Vex could hear the glee in Gruvo’s voice rising above her laughter, oily as his hands. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Poor Vex here can’t handle the tickles… she’s such a ticklish girl… all will fall before our master.”

[LAURA: Will you hurry the fuck up?!?!]

[LIAM: We’re almost there, we’re almost there! Geez!]

“You're doing so well, my lady,” purred Gruvo. “You like this form better, don’t you? Now you’re going to have to tell me…” He grabbed her left foot, nodules helping him to grip despite the oil. He raised his other hand, showing her his knobby fingers, wiggling them slightly. “Where did you put the tome? Which one of you has it? You will tell me.” He lowered his hand and Vex felt those fingers, noduled on three sides, force their way between her toes and start sawing back and forth.

[MATT: That’s another CON save. With disadvantage.]

[LAURA: I KNOW!! ……… There is a thud as her head hits the table.]

[TRAVIS: barks with laughter]

[LIAM: Yeah, that’s a natural 1.]

[MATT: Hmm. I think that’s Vex’ahlia’s worst spot.]

[the entire table cracks up]

[LIAM: That’s canon now, motherfuckers!!!]

[SAM: Go update the wiki!! Hurry!!]

Vex shrieked as the nodules raked her sensitive toes, her normally sultry voice going full soprano. “NYYAAAAHOOO!!!! NOHO!!! AHA!!! AHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!”

“Tell me, Vex’ahlia!!” Gruvo bellowed triumphantly, and through the horrific tickling on her belly and armpit - the pigeon had switched to her left - she felt that hand grip her toes and bend them back. “NO!!! NO!! NONONONO!!!” Vex cried, but it didn’t matter. Gruvo took one noduled index finger and scrubbed back and forth across the top of the ball of her foot and under her toes. “AAAAAAAGH!!! IT’S SCANLAN!!! SCANLAAAAANN!!! AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!”

“The little gnome, you say? Then he will be next on our list. My shrieking, laughing beauty, I will drive you mad!!!” howled Gruvo as he continued to saw under her toes.

Just then, the door slammed open from a mighty kick. Gruvo stopped what he was doing and rose with a start. Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III planted his front foot and leveled his pistols at the astonished warlock.

[TALIESIN: Natural 20. 23. And another natural 20.]

[the table cheers as Matt shakes his head ruefully]

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Gruvo’s chest exploded, then his shoulder, then his face. Even as he started to fall backwards, Vax’ildan swept past Percy into the room, swift as a shadow. Dagger, dagger, dagger! One pigeon shot off Vex’s chest, transfixed by a knife, then the other fell upon her belly and slid off. The third dagger buried itself in Gruvo’s ruined chest as he collapsed to the floor. The warlock was stone dead in a matter of seconds.

“Well. That was easy,” said Percy, checking his guns for damage. “I guess the tentacle monster was the real threat… darling! What in heaven’s name happened to you?! Did he hurt you?”

However, Vex’ahlia was not looking at her betrothed. She was glaring daggers right past him at her twin brother. Percy looked to Vax and saw he was wearing his most teasing smirk. 

“Don’t just STAND there!!” yelled Vex, out of breath, sweat coating her brow, braid half undone from thrashing about. “Let me out, ya asshole!!”

“Oh, dear sister,” Vax said smarmily. “What an interesting predicament we find ourselves in.” “WE?!?! Get me out of here, you shi-”

“Percy.” Vax clapped his hand on the human’s shoulder. “Did you know my sister is terribly ticklish?”

“So’re you, ya fucker!!” screamed Vex as Percy blushed scarlet.

“Yes, I am. She always won tickle fights when we were growing up.” Vax’s face was all mock sorrow. “I can’t help but see a golden opportunity… to get even.”

“YOU WOULDN’T!! YOU CAN’T!!”

“Her feet were really bad, the couple times I got them,” Vax said to Percy. “I think there was this one time I got right under her toes, and she shrieked-” 

“NO!! DON’T YOU DARE!! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!!!”

The rest of the team started filing in behind Vax and Percy, coming to see what all the commotion was. A slow grin was creeping across Percy’s face, a grin Vex’ahlia did not like to see at all.

“I’ll tell you what, Vax. I see this as a great opportunity for some team bonding. I think everyone should get in on this.”

“WHAT?!?!?!”

“Come on, everyone!” Percy waved all of Vox Machina into the room. Scanlan was already rubbing his hands together as he walked to her stocked feet. Grog started guffawing as he walked behind the backboard and started to reach over for her armpits. Keyleth hung back, watching with wide eyes as Pike joined Vax at Vex’s tummy.

“All right,” declared Percy in his most noble voice, “on my signal. Keyleth, get over here, everyone participates. I get a foot, Scanlan, you don’t get both to yourself. Ready?” “NO!!! FUCK NO!!! FUCK YOU ALL!!!”

“One… two… and begin!”

They would eventually let Vex’ahlia out, far sooner than Gruvo the warlock would have. Until that time, however, the air rang with laughter, and only a few swears - because, as Vex would have to admit to herself later, being tickled by friends was actually pretty special. Or at least better than being held captive by a creep with “nodule” hands.

[sarcasmismydefaultmode]

My MCM London Experience

So my Comic-Con experience certainly had its ups and downs...somehow, I always seem to end up catching a bug like COVID a few weeks before an event I've been looking forward to for months, and then I'm left with a chronic cough and feeling like death even once I stop testing positive. I had so many plans to meet up with friends and catch up over drinks, and I ended up going to bed in my hotel room by 6pm...

But........

There were certainly some highs. Meeting and chatting with @wifeofsyril & @karnpuffs in the queue for the photo ops with Denise on Saturday, talking all things Star Wars, Andor, and Dedra (which frankly I don't get to do enough of, it's criminal)...

Meeting up and getting to play with my old saber training group, Silver Sabres, and spend half the day surrounded by fellow saber nerds...

The utter chaos that was the Witcher 3 panel. It felt a little...strange, like it was vaguely linked to it being ten years since the Witcher 3 came out, but it all felt quite loosely connected to the fact. It was more fun watching Denise slowly lose her mind over having to draw anything 😄 (I felt that, Denise. As a fellow artistically-challenged-person, I felt that. Pictionary is my idea of hell) and the conversations the cast were having about their characters. An interesting snippet from Denise was about her decision to pitch Yennefer a little lower than her natural speaking voice, to project authority and power, and I felt you can hear that in Dedra's voice too.

The lighting wasn't great so this was pretty the only picture I took during the panel which didn't turn weird...

Nearly had a heart attack when they started mentioning fanfiction. Admittedly, it was Witcher fanfiction, not Star Wars or Andor, but now I can't get the image of Denise scrolling the Dedra Meero tag on Ao3 out of my head 🤣🤣. Denise and Doug, the guy she's sat next to who voiced Geralt, and some of the other cast, also spoke about the importance of fandom and the escape it offers as they've been told by fans over the years, which I fully concur with. Fantasy has always been my escape when the world gets a little too much.

And finally, what probably had to be the highlight of the weekend:

I debated about covering my face but I'm posting this on the clock app too since I post cosplay shit over there. You should've seen the way Denise's eyes lit up when I offered her the lightsaber. Don't get me wrong, I love that Andor doesn't rely on the Sith-Jedi-lightsaber stuff at all beyond occasional references to ol' Palpy, but I think it should be written into every Star Wars actor's contract that they get to play with a lightsaber at least once. This is also my Inquisitor Dedra cosplay's debut, got some really great comments walking around MCM, and when I took the photo for Denise to autograph, she basically said she wants a black uniform like mine. Now, to work on my photoshoot skills so next time, you can actually see more than just my cloak, one boot, and one gauntleted arm 🤣😅

[oisin-hakinvar]

Do you think you could teach me magnificent mansion sometime? I’ve been wanting to learn that spell really bad for a while now. I can teach you any divination spell you want in return.

- Adaine

Certainly! We can meet up to go over it, but my trick with high level Conjuration is a sneaky one, and imagine the spell as an abjuration. That might sound strange, but if Banishment is abjuration and Demiplane is conjuration, there's some wiggle room when it comes to interaction with demiplanes. As such, attempting not to manifest (conjure) the door to the mansion, and instead banishing the portion of the material plane you're going to replace with the door to the mansion tends to work for me. Might be a weird quirk of my casting, but it might help others. I'd love to learn Borrowed Knowledge if you're familliar with it, It's on my list of want to learn spells but I haven't actually been able to track down a scroll.

[lowlevelkoboldadventures]

Do you have any advice for kobolds seeking to become spellcasters, be it tapping into their own inherent magic or trying to learn something more structured like a wizard or trying to tap into the divine?

Absolutely!!! Here's a quick list of things to try! ✨🙌✨

(Summary:)

Try seeing if you have latent draconic powers

Try the typical sorcery route (or be a mage like me!)

Get bestowed powers by a dragon

Worship a god (highly suggest the draconic pantheon, see below!)

[SPOILERS, read below]

Try seeing if you have latent draconic powers Some kobolds carry something inside them that taps into the inherent magic of dragon lineage! This is probably the easiest way to start casting spells, though not all kobolds have this, and such raw ancient power can be hard to control, especially when you're only 2 feet tall... 💥😅💥 (If that doesn't work, or if draconic magic is just too much to handle, there are plenty of other opportunities! Keep reading!) Try the typical sorcery route (or be a mage like me!) I personally am a mage, but that is really rare amongst kobolds, as most tend to go the sorcerer route and don't tend to be too big a fan of studying dusty tomes and scrolls and such. If sorcery sounds like the method for you, try going to places of magical power, consuming certain ingredients or potions, meditating, tracking dreams, and other such things that help you connect to the magic in the world around you and passing through you! If you're interested in being a mage like me, feel free to check out a book from the archives and get reading!!! 📖😋📚 (Also, if you're trying sorcery, don't be afraid to get weird with it!!! Just find what works for you! ✨☝️✨) Get bestowed powers by a dragon If you're still struggling and are still set on casting cool spells (or just don't have the time), my next recommendation would be to go to a dragon for help! Dragons will often bestow power of some kind to their followers or people they find an interest in, including magical abilities! I didn't recommend this first because I know working for a dragon isn't everyone's idea of a good time, but it is how I'm able to cast such powerful magic at such a low level! Worship a god If no dragons are immediately available, you still might get bestowed the powers you're craving by gods you worship! I highly suggest the dragon pantheon, though non-draconic pantheons would be very lucky to have you too! I personally prefer to serve my dragons in person, but the idea of pledging to the most powerful and noteworthy of all dragons ever is certainly also appealing in its own way!!! Here's this encyclopedia on the Outer Planes System's dragon pantheon, and I think Kereska especially might be who you're looking for! 😉 Pact If you've come this far and still don't have what you're looking for, maybe have you tried being a bard?? Or maybe a chef!!! Inventors are cool, right??? Who needs magic anyways, pshhh, totallly overhyped... Y-You're still here? Well, I guess... technically, there's still one last thing you could try, but I Super Highly Very Strongly advise that you reaaaaaally consider if it's worth it on this one.... You could, theoretically, make a pact for it. I'm not saying that all beings who make pacts are bad, but it's as easy as trading basalt with a hatchling to get screwed over in a way that will permanently remove the words "I'm ok" from your vocabulary. Demons, eldritch, and even some dragons may make this offer to you if you're desperate enough for it, just be really really really careful alright? 👉👈

Hopefully this helps, thank you so much for the ask!!! 🙏🥹 And again, you're free to check out any of the mage books in the collection here if you're interested! I'll even lend you my personal annotated copies if you ask nicely~ ✨;)✨

[koneko-pi]

Silver Season

Chapter Three: Bad Banter

Dungeons are mysterious.

It's well known by magic knights, and even the citizens, that the Dungeons were magical tomb-like spaces left behind by a previous civilization. Traps and magical creatures could be found within, and at its deepest parts would be the "Treasure Room". Here all the rewards and riches of the dungeon could be found; and these items ranged from Magical tools, to scrolls, to books, to gold or a large collection of all those things.

The dungeons were usually maze-like but always held some kind of building-esque structure to them; like hallways, ceilings, water ways. Signs that they had been definitely built with human hands. Or something close to humans. The traps too, magical or physical, gave way to the fact that some kind of intelligent entity was behind the architecture.

But now, entering this place, the air was moist and cold. Like a cave, the occasional sound of water dripping further emphasized the thought, and it was pitch black. Nozel couldn't even see the squad mates around him. His eyes were struggling to adjust as he squinted into a void.

"No one has fire magic," Curtis' voice came somewhere from Nozel's right. "Anyone have a tool?"

"Why would we have brought a tool for light?" Nils snapped in the darkness. "We were investigating a village not dungeon diving!"

"Because some of us could have been prepared." Someone else said.

"Prepared for what!? How could you have possibly known-"

Their bickering only escalated until a glow began to fill the room and everyone could now see each other.

Curtis was the farthest away and was pointing angrily at a wall. Another eagle, Rob, was looking at no one. And Nils, the unfortunate man, had been yelling the loudest right in front of Nozel. He visibly shrank under the glare of his captain.

"Sorry sir…"

"You're nobles." The man bitterly responded. "Act like it." He then turned to where the light source had come from.

He wasn't surprised by the fact Briar had been the one to find the light source, she was just weird that way. What did surprise him was that the light was coming from her dagger; which, after now getting a proper look at it, didn't actually look like a dagger.

It looked like a tooth.

The "blade" was a foot in length, fang shaped and was a pearlescent color, glowing yellow and red with flecks of blue reflecting within it occasionally as Briar moved around. The handle was wrapped in leather as a form of grip, and the scholar held it up like a torch as she scanned the area around them.

"It's a cave." Curtis said bluntly.

It certainly was. Rarely did Nozel come across a Dungeon that didn't come across as man made. This one looked like the inside of an ant Hill. Which, when he considered that day's events, made perfect sense. They stood in a large center room with massive holes dug out all around them, from the floor to the walls and ceiling, they were surrounded in entryways.

"Wait-"

He spun around for a moment to see Briar was already giving the whole room a walk around. Her hand was dragging along the wall as she looked up and down; occasionally she stopped at the holes to stare down them, even if her makeshift lamp couldn't light all the way down.

"This doesn't make sense…"

Curtis, along with the others, had gathered around a table of stone he had conjured. The spell he had cast was one many earthen mages had; to pull in mana around them to create a model of the area around them. Mages used it all the time in Dungeons to get a better layout of who was where and make a map so they knew where to go. But the surface of the table was writhing like sand, like something was interfering with the spell itself so it could recreate their surroundings. Curtis could barely hold an image of the room they currently stood in before the whole spell completely collapsed in on itself.

"What happened?" He said mostly to himself but…

The mages all glanced to one another, then to their captain. Nozel stared back at them, he wished he could give them an answer but even he had not been in a dungeon quite like this before. So he eventually turned, begrudgingly, to the woman who seemed to have an inkling of what was going on.

Before he had the chance to yell out "woman!" Briar was already at his side. Almost like she sensed that noble assholery he had developed anytime he had to talk to her.

"Map making magic and tracking spells won't work here." She quickly said. "The Mana around you is canceling it out."

"What?" The eagles looked confused as they leaned in a little closer, expecting an explanation.

Rather than outright tell them like she had been, Briar instead turned to Nozel. "You're the strongest here aren't you? Try and cast yourself out, to sense things."

Nozel's response was to simply raise an eyebrow and Briar sighed.

She wondered what kind of training the knights went through to not know these little tips and tricks. Well… if she thought about it long enough she figured it was simply because nobles were confident in their Magic, and thus learned how to cast powerful spells to gain explosive magic. Very few actually trained to hone their mana sensitivity and how to exist with it. And she did have to give them some credit, it had been working for many years now. The Clover kingdom was in fact thriving.

And she knew of some mages naturally born with sensitive mana sensing, but still. Some things could only be learned with practice.

And they did come in handy in moments like this.

"You can use Mana Zone right?"

"Of course I can." He responded.

Briar moved her hand to gesture to their surrounding area. "Try using it. But rather than use it to CONTROL the space you're in, focus on your senses within your zone instead. Like it's an extension of yourself."

Nozel gave her a suspicious look but inevitably would give it a try. As much as he wanted to tell the woman to shove off he would admit her knowledge of things was becoming useful. So he closed his eyes and everyone around would feel the burst and heavy feeling of Nozel's mana expanding out from his body. It felt like a tight blanket had wrapped around them, squeezing them so they couldn't breath as easily.

Mana Zone was an extension of a Mage's ability. Anyone who wanted to be a decent mage would have to learn it, it was essentially a requirement if you wanted to gain higher ranks or even skill. The most common use of Mana zone was to take your own Mana and assert it over what was around you, be it people or the natural Mana in the air. Really skilled mages could even take that natural mana and add it to their own to make Mana Zone more potent. Once the Mana Zone was established a Mage could then apply a spell to it, creating an A.O.E. concept, or, Area Of Affect.

This means a simple spell that could fire off one spear, using Nozel as the example, could be amplified to create an entire room of spears. This was the most common application of Mana Zone within the Magic Knights. There was however a less interesting use of it that most people never bothered to learn, probably because they never thought it would be useful. The last person Briar had even heard of using this method was a blind man, which made sense.

Rather than put a spell into the Mana Zone one simply had to put their Focus into it. Using the ability to extend their senses out rather than their power and magic. From Briar's own experience she would think it was similar to how a bat would see things with its sonar, but a little more detailed.

It would take Nozel a couple of tries but he managed to finally get an idea of what Briar had been trying to show him. With eyes closed he could tell how many cave systems were around them and which ones would lead into immediate dead ends. Like a mental map was slowly forming, but he wasn't seeing it he was feeling it. He could feel the heart beats of something alive scurrying through some of the passageways, their bodies had very little mana so no shapes came to mind, but he assumed it was more insects. Extending his Mana Zone father he felt a larger space full of small flickers of mana, and beyond that-

Suddenly it felt like something hit Nozel across the head, his eyes flew open as his head jerked to the side. Nothing had actually hit him, but a feedback of mana had hit his own so hard it created a painful recoil. A headache resonated in his skull along with the sound of a vicious screech of defiance. It was so loud he didn't hear his squad mates call his name in concern. His vision was blurry as his hand came to cup his aching head. He hadn't seen anything, but the feeling he got deep within the cave created an image in his head: a massive creature easily the size of a manor, with glaring eyes watching him intently.

"It knows we're here." He hissed.

Briar brought her light lower to her leg so it didn't disturb him too much. "You saw it?"

"Sir?" The eagles looked at their Captain with increasing concern but he waved them off and straightened himself up.

"The Queen?" He asked Briar.

His squad all looked stunned.

"Yes. This entire dungeon is her domain, the mana around us is her Mana Zone."

"Since when can monsters manipulate Mana!" Nils cried out.

"That's one of the things we need to find out." Nozel straightened himself. "And that means exploring, we find Nebra and we find the treasure room…"

No one looked eager for this mission, every step they took towards finishing it just raised more questions and concerns. But nobody said anything against him.

"Do you know the way?" Briar asked.

Nozel glanced at her before walking off down one of the paths. "This way… generally…"

The others, albeit nervous, followed.

Briar joined Nozel at the front, as the holder of light.

The paths really were like a twisting maze. Different passageways leading up, down left or right. The deeper they went the colder it got. Sometimes they found slime on the walls. Or would be forced to make detours because a pathway may have caved in.

Sometimes Briar would hold her glowing blade up to some of the smaller caves and eyes would be staring back at her before quickly skittering away in a panic.

"What is that?"

She glanced towards Nozel. He wasn't looking at her as he walked but it wasn't hard to understand what prompted his question.

"A dragon's tooth." She responded simply.

"How did you get something that valuable?" He looked to her hand, his lavender colored eyes once again scanning over the blade carefully.

"In a dungeon." She responded curtly. "The Golden Dawn had brought in tools for us to check over a couple of years ago. I asked Julius if I could use it, and he thought that would be a better fate for it rather than sitting in some storage room or on a noble's mantle."

"Did he let you have it because you have no spells?"

She glanced at him for his attempts to prod into her secrets. "Perhaps. I'm rather adept with weapons." To prove her point she flipped it several times in her hand, the blade whipping through the air-

"Please stop that…"

-and creating a strobe effect that none of the mages liked in such a dark space.

"Pardon me." She stopped and once again held it up like a torch. "I don't like daggers though. I'm better with larger weapons, but I can't exactly carry an ax around."

"And how did the likes of you become so skilled…" Was he insulting her? She would admit she didn't look the part of some seasoned veteran mage, not that he could see anyway.

"With experience…" Was her only response.

"Experience?"

He was oddly nosy now, wasn't he…

"Contrary to popular belief, there are quite a few of us scholars that get out into the field." She tilted her blade so the light cast ominous shadows across both their faces. "Who do you think usually finds your dungeons, discovers new medicines and monster species."

They watched each other, neither daring to look away in a show of weakness.

Curtis slowly leaned into the mage beside him. "They have an odd tension between them." He whispered.

"I agree." The man responded. "I can't wait till this mission is over with and she's gone."

"What's that up ahead?" Nils pointed beyond them, ahead of his leaders and to where he could see the mouth of another cave.

Briar frowned and slowly she sheathed her weapon. Nozel held a hand out in front of him.

"I can still see."

"There's light ahead?" Curtis asked.

The squad moved forward swiftly, rushing out of their current passageway and coming to a halt at what looked like a cliff's edge.

"Dear god…" Nils spoke for all of them.

It was a cavern, long and cylindrical, with more holes dug out into its walls with no particular pattern. But this time stone bridges connected them together, making it easier to traverse through the colony.

"Is that what I think it is?" Curtis asked as he pointed up.

What had drawn his attention was at the roof of the cavern. A massive crystal was hanging from the ceiling, they couldn't accurately tell how large it was, but it was in fact massive. It was flickered with dim color, gray with faint blue, an indication of what magnificence it must have once held. Even with its lack-luster light it managed to provide them with visibility, and with that they could see the hoard of busybody ants flying quickly between the holes.

"A magic crystal." Nozel was wide eyed, he had never seen one so large before. He was aware of the Diamond kingdom mining and harvesting such minerals for their own, unethical, uses. And had only ever seen the stones while embedded within their mages. He had no idea they grew to such a size.

"It's dying." Briar said as she squinted up at the crystal. She took a slow step forward and almost like a warning the earth began to shake.

The massive cavern shook as a tremor rocked it, the insects going mad as the light above flickered with failing light. Boulders fell and all the mages stumbled back into their hiding space as a crack, with an echoing crunch, shot up one of the walls.

They all clung to what they could, the walls or each other, as they waited for the shaking to stop.

"What the hell was that?" A mage asked with shaky breath.

"The dungeon is collapsing." Briar was wide eyed and panicked. "That's why all the monsters have been appearing outside. They're trying to run away!"

"What!?" Nozel's head snapped to her. "That shouldn't be happening until the treasure room has at least been opened!"

"Well obviously this dungeon isn't like the rest!" It actually concerned him how worried she looked about the situation. "The place is more like a monster's den than it is someone's long lost tomb! We won't have time to explore like we wanted, we have to get in and get out."

Nozel gave an irritated click of his tongue. Another mild shake of the walls made him second guess arguing with her. "How much time is left?"

Briar leaned out of their hiding place to look up at the crystal again, its light even more dim than it was before. "An hour, at least."

The Silva cursed under his breath. They'd be forced to split up if they still intended to at least find the treasure room.

"I'll find Nebra."

His eyes shot up to the woman. She was watching him with intent, probably following the exact same thought process. "At the very least we have to kill the queen or trap them inside."

"With the dungeon collapsing like this all the creatures inside have been smart enough to know to make a run for it." Curtis said while looking horrified. "They're going to swarm for the exit once their power source finally runs out."

"And then we'll have a lot more of those things to deal with…"

Everyone glanced at each other as they remembered the swarm they had already attempted to deal with outside. God only knew how many were living in this huge colony.

"Nebra's not going to be with the queen." Briar urged. "Likely they've put her in a brooding room with the rest of their food source."

"How would you know that?" He hissed

"Basic animal behavior!" She hissed back, irritated with his question. "They have babies to feed, don't they!?"

A pit fell in Nozel's chest at the realization of what she was saying. Even with their house falling around them they would prioritize the young first.

"Do you know where she is?" He demanded with a hard expression.

Briar nodded. "The brooding room is on this level. But the queen is lower at the core." She nodded to the edge of the cliff. "You'll find her down there. She controls all the soldiers. It's likely if she screams for help, they will come running."

A plan was slowly formulating in Nozel's mind on how he was going to deal with the matriarch.

"And the exit?"

"It's at the top." Briar pointed up. "You can probably use Mana Sensing to find it better once the queen is dealt with and her Mana Zone isn't interfering with your spells."

This was the worst plan, thrown together so quickly but another tremor of the walls around them pushed Nozel over the edge.

"Nils, Rob!"

"Sir!" The mages stood at Salute for their captain.

"You're going with the Researcher Woman. Everyone else will follow me into the depths."

"Yes sir!"

He turned to Briar who had pulled her dragon's tooth out once more. "Bring Nebra back quickly. Or I'll make sure your basement friends suffer from your mistake."

"Have more faith." She said to him before she jerked her head and rushed out into the open, running along the cliff's edge. Nils and Rob briefly looked to their captain as they followed after her.

"Let's go." Nozel opened his book and a bird made of silver formed at the edge of the opening. He climbed onto its back, and with permission so did his squad mates. With a flourish of silver feathers it took off and then dived down into the darkness.

The bottom of the pit was nearly suffocating. The walls were surprisingly smooth, save for the few cracks, from the digging the ants must have done, and the chill in the air almost captured his bones in a rigid embrace. The lower they went the stronger the mana felt, to the point that Nozel didn't even need to try and sense anything. It very much made its presence known… he felt disgusted by it, the queens mana had the strangest allure to it, it was probably what kept her minions in line and allowed her to communicate.

But for it to have such an effect on humans as well…

He glanced at his men to see their body's trembling as they too felt the overwhelming sensation of orders.

Dig. Kill. Eat. Survive.

How a monster was able to give off such potent magical power in the form of orders, he was unsure. Who knew what it would be like if a creature like this could even comprehend spells. After all, all she was doing was asserting authority. But even with all this pressured mana around him, lower they still went.

The bottom was not as dark as Nozel had been expecting. Smaller, still dimly lit, crystals dotted the floor and walls of the cavern, letting him see just what exactly he had to face.

Smaller soldier ants circled her, but compared to their queen, their size was miniscule.

The queen's body was massive, she easily could have devoured a couple of towns by herself, and he was almost worried she already had. Nozel had no idea how many of her minions still lurked outside beyond the area they had investigated.

Her body was a sleek white color, which made her more visible in the darkness with the light bouncing off her. Her legs appeared to have pointed blades on the end, pincers on the front of her head that could crush a house and massive eyes that seemed to be looking everywhere. All but directly above at least, a small blind spot right behind her, up in the air.

"How do we kill that…" Curtis looked frightened, now faced with the reality of needing to keep this thing from escaping.

Nozel was wondering just that. He was not going to underestimate the beast simply because it was an animal. Its underlings had already proven to be a challenge; so he suspected her exoskeleton would be incredibly hard…

"No matter." He muttered to himself as he finally decided on what he would do. "I will deal with the Queen personally. The rest of you will be dealing with the rabble that shows up to try and defend her."

While his squad looked nervous to be facing such a foe, they nodded their heads.

"Then let's begin."

The Silver Eagles leapt from their Captain's magical ride and fluttered down to the ground. Landing with no issue, but heavy grunts.

A slow groaning filled the cavern as the Queen Ant lifted her head, and slowly turned it to see what had disturbed her nest. The men up close and personal could see the blade-like teeth hiding within her maw, and the strings of fluid to indicate how hungry she was.

Nozel's grimoire fluttered to life as he held a hand up in the air.

"Double-" Two poles of Mercury appeared on either side of his mount, quickly shaping into large spears. "-Silver Shining Regal Spear!"

With a booming burst of air, the spears shot down to the ground. With such speed it would have been impossible, even with her Mana permeating the air, for the Queen to notice. So she didn't even look up as they came down-

A heavy crunch was followed by the boom of the earth cracking and bursting from Nozel's strike. The spears had collided with the Queen's first two legs, right at her joints where the exoskeleton could not fully protect her, and severed them completely from her body. Along with the dust and debris created by massive limbs falling to the floor, green, foul smelling fluid exploded from the gaping wounds.

The Queen, now realizing she was under attack, registered the pain in her limbs and reared her body back, nearly knocking Nozel from the sky. Her pincers opened and the room, and mana, vibrated with her shrill cry for help.

Nozel and the others had to cover their ears from the sheer volume of the beasts scream. It rattled his bones and he too suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to stop this assault, as she poured her mana out into the colony.

Her plea echoed back, both naturally and in the form of her children coming to her aid. And with her call heard, her head turned to Nozel.

"Your pitiful scream wont work on me." He spat down at her, glaring at her from his space in the sky atop his silver eagle. "Your reign ends her."

-

The closer they got to the brooding room the more the air began to stink. A fog had started low to the ground, covering up their ankles, and thick slime had caked the walls so much you couldn't see the stone underneath it anymore.

The stuffy atmosphere reminded Briar of another dungeon she had spent far too much time in. Although this one lacked any of the soft greenery that one had held. There were no trees or softer wildlife. No grass under foot. This was all just a dark suffocating space that created an uncomfortable feeling deep within her body. She was pretty sure her Coworkers called that feeling "claustrophobia". But for her, there was a lot more to it than just being trapped in an enclosed space.

"How much farther…" Nils gagged. "I feel like I'm being swallowed by something."

That wasn't an inaccurate feeling. Everything around them was akin to being inside a creature's body, even the Mana still lingering in the air felt like it pulsed, similar to a heart beat.

Briar gently put a hand to the sticky wall and felt the outward flow of mana in short bursts, not just to stimulate insides but to also push back unwanted visitors like them.

"This really is an annoying beast." She muttered angrily to herself. She was a little upset that she couldn't see the Queen before her demise, she wanted to get a good look at her to hopefully satisfy a burning curiosity inside her. But Nebra was her priority, she wasn't one to abandon siblings. Hers or someone else's.

Her thoughts would be halted by a sound. Quickly she flipped her blade back into its sheath, promptly surrounding them in darkness. Then her arm snapped back as she grabbed hold of the mage behind her and shoved them both as far against the wall as she could.

"Guh-!" Nils squirmed in disgust, feeling the moist wall soak into his cloak. "What are you doing-"

His sentence was cut off by an angry "SH!" and Rob, their other eagle, quickly joined them in hiding.

There was an angry pulse of Mana, one that had their eyes rolling, and caused Briar to grit her teeth.

'To me!'

It was like the words were echoing around her skull. A call from the Queen, which means Nozel had already started his assault.

Not moments later they were surrounded by the sounds of skittering, heavy, bodies. Ants of all sizes flew down the passageway like a torrent of water, crawling over ground and ceiling, even the Mages bodies, as if they too were just part of the walls.

Nils eyes were snapped tightly closed, daring not to move even as his body tried to recoil in disgust with small feet clinging and then letting go in rapid succession.

He wasn't sure what was worse. The sensation of insects crawling all over you, or the fact it was happening while he was completely blind.

They didn't move, even after the sounds of the scuttling insects had turned into echoes then complete silence. They all were taking a breath as it really began to settle in: the danger they were in. Had any of those ants stopped to realize what they were, and how close they were to their brood, they would have died. No mage could handle a hoard that large in such a small space.

Briar slowly let out the breath she had been holding as she slowly relaxed.

"Disgusting…"

The scholar had pulled her knife out from her sheath again to provide light, and turned just in time to watch Nils pull away from the wall, and all the strings of gunk and slime that were still attached to him.

"I'll just burn this cloak." He grimaced as he tugged it to the side to look at the damage. "The captain will understand…"

Briar could only shake her head. 'Nobles.' She thought sadly, only a noble would worry about his expensive clothing in such a situation.

'How did knights become like this?' She sighed sadly.

Onwards she would walk; now with less fear knowing most, if not all, of the guards had rushed off to assist their queen. She was incredibly relieved to find the chamber was empty of the ants. She held her dagger up as high as she could, and channeled more mana into it, till the tooth was blazing white and heat began to radiate from it.

It illuminated the whole cave which, just like the passageway they had just walked down, was thickly covered in yellow slime and fluid. Attached to the floors and walls were, at first glance, watermelons. Getting closer though and crouching down to see, while her company branched out in the room, Briar rubbed a hand across one.

It was soft and malleable, with a slightly transparent yellow-green colored skin. Inside she could see the squirm still dormant form of an insect larva. Once again she looked up and around, 'there could easily be thousands.' Briar thought to herself.

She had to take one with her. The crew back at the research lab would already be demanding live specimens of Julius, she had no doubt. Many of them enjoyed oddities like this, and it warmed her heart just a little bit.

Briar glanced over to Rob and Nils, both of which were shouting across to one another.

"I've got a man over here!"

"I found a couple of kids!"

"It's the villagers!"

It's just as she thought. While many had probably lost their lives or ran for it, many more had been captured and dragged down here to be the new colony's first meal. They should still be alive, to be as fresh as possible, and now it was just a matter of getting them all out…

Briar looked once more to make sure the other mages were still occupied pulling civilians from the gunk prison before she flicked her wrist. A small rose bud had appeared in her hand. She aimed its base carefully towards the egg. One… two… another swift movement and the bud was embedded in the sloft, leather like shell. It glowed faintly then bloomed, a vibrant red rose, a root like system grew out from the bud to surround the egg in a kind of tight net, or cage. And once it was fully encased the rose shifted from red to Blue.

"Perfect." Briar dug her hands into the ground to yank the unborn creature out of its nest. "Shouldn't be able to hatch now."

"What are you doing!"

Turning around Briar watched Nils, while glaring at her, yank a farmer out from a gross cocoon of mystery slime.

"We have a lot of people to get out of here you know, and we still haven't found Nebra-" he halted in his scolding when he noticed what she held in her hands. What are you doing with that?!"

"Taking it with us." Briar suddenly tossed it over to him. Nils dropped the farmer and scrambled to catch the heavy egg with a less than manly scream.

"What!?" He looked disgusted as he held it at arms length. "Why?! And what's with the flower?"

"You ask a lot of questions." She grumbled in irritation. She could lie and say it was a magical tool.

Something in the back of her mind clicked a little too late, like a spark suddenly crossing the back of her neck. With wide eyes Briar spun around, whipped her blade down but a heavy blow landed against her side before she could properly block. Pain bloomed across her ribs and hip as she went tumbling to the side, crushing some of the eggs and landing in a heap against the wall. Her blade had gone spinning to the side, but luckily stayed lit.

She coughed and gagged as she tried to intake air after it had all been forced from her body. Blurry, tear filled eyes looked up to see the image of a black hulking figure coming towards her.

An armored ant, one that most likely stayed behind to defend the eggs, despite the queen's call. It was larger than the others, with thicker limbs and a heavier tank-like body.

"Shit-" she cursed to herself, one arm wrapped around her side as the ant let out a deep bellow at her. The mages behind it were stunned into statues, one holding the egg and the other had two people draped over his shoulders, intending to carry them away.

Right… they still had to evacuate everyone…

Briar pulled herself to her feet, one hand propping herself against the sticky wall. Luckily the ant had chosen her as its intended target and completely ignored the other two men behind it. Of course she'd be stuck playing distraction.

It seemed Nils and Rob had thought the same thing, as they quickly returned to their task of grabbing people. Briar wasn't sure how to feel about that, honestly. She couldn't see them being smart enough to read her and understand that was the plan.

Which means they just intended to use her as a Martyr, because they only saw her as the Scholar. "Nobles." She muttered with an eye roll. She could not dwell on the emotions for long though as the Ant charged forward.

The woman ducked to the side quickly, avoiding being crushed between its hard head and the wall. She tumbled to the side, snatching her knife as she did and leaping to her feet. She landed in a battle ready stance as the Ant pulled back with a groan. Its armored joints creaked under its own weight as it turned to face her with its glowing compound eyes.

Briar flipped her blade once, to make sure she had a proper grip on it, before using it to make a "come on" gesture.

"Let's go."

She really was bad with banter.

[caliburnabsolute]

Inverse Awakening: Henry

It's everyone's favorite boy! And certainly one of my favorites, for that matter. Henry in this AU is simultaneously much different from how you'll remember him, and still the same old Henry, crows and all.

Henry ends up joining the army much sooner than in canon. For some reason there's a character slot between Sumia and Lon'qu's recruitment? It isn't for Donnel—his slot comes after Lon'qu, the way I have this arranged—but I don't recall anyone else that you can recruit between those two? Bit weird, but whatever. Either way, with his earlier recruitment, I had to think of a way to justify him showing up at the Ylisse-Ferox border, and between that and my reintroduction of the magic triangle (as I mentioned in Aversa's post), I had an idea...

The beats of Henry's backstory in this AU are largely similar, though it starts to diverge early on. Rather than being sent to a boarding school or orphanage as a boy, Henry was dumped off at a monastery on the border of Plegia and Ylisse, where he was taught the tenets of the Nagaite faith. His experiences were exactly as miserable as they were in his canon backstory, but that didn't stop him from being sworn in as a preacher in the name of the divine dragon. Of course, Henry being Henry, he was rather... eccentric in the way he practiced and taught his faith. Outright radical, even. With his sermons proving more macabre and borderline sacrilegious over time, the papacy deemed him unfit to continue serving the church, and he was cast out.

Now, Henry travels across Ylisse as a simple vagabond, continuing to share his unique apocrypha to any who will listen, always with a murder of crows at his beck and call. He still dresses in the robes he had as a clergyman, though they're tattered and worn after years of travel. With such a directionless way of life, it's not hard to sway him into joining the Shepherds—excommunication be damned (hah), they'll take any help they can get.

Rather than being a Dark Mage, or even a Priest, Henry's a Light Mage now. To differentiate it from anima and dark magic, light magic would provide its wielders a variety of minor stat boosts, like Hoshidan scrolls in Fates. Upon promotion, he can become a staff-wielding Bishop, as all Light Mages can, or he could become an Exorcist and take up dark magic, like his canon self. Every non-lord character gets their own alternate promotion for their base class, in addition to the default promotion path. Henry's Second Seal classes, meanwhile, include Thief and Priest.

[bonemarrowrites]

Flower Defiled House of Thorns and Desires Part I

As a trans princess enters heat, her father has to make a choice.

Explicit erotic dark fantasy story.

F / M ┃ Dubcon ┃ Trans x Cis ┃ Taboo┃ Voyeurism ┃ Denial ┃ Edging ┃ Group ┃ Domination/Submission ┃ Age gap ┃ Cumflation ┃ Impregnation ┃ +11k Words

Content Warning: A/B/O themes. Transgal with a tool. Weird biology. Don’t take it too seriously, because I certainly didn’t, that’s why the House is named Ashbane (ass pain, hah!)

Scroll to this ╭ᑎ╮ mark to skip the story parts.

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Another season, another rejected suitor. The pine trees outside the High King’s tower were roaring with the gusts of winds blowing against the mountainside as the King stood by the window, his hands held behind his back, lost deep in his thoughts. High King Zaarko of House Ashbane could feel the desolation creeping into his veins again. His only daughter had renounced the possible union with the last unmarried son of the Freehold thus shaking the fragile balance holding the country together and making the continuation of High King Zaarko’s reign questionable at best. Any of the six Houses might be able to usurp his throne now, a thought which made him feel even more agitated, a feeling he had felt even before the doomed day had even begun.

The Princess had always proved to be troublesome, even as a child. She had acted as if she belonged to the domni caste like her mother and father, but the High King knew better; The Princess was not a ruler and her actions were nothing but a sham. In truth, she was born castless, bearing none of the marks of a higher nor lower caste member. Yet, everyone else seemed to believe she still belonged to the domni caste and the King had decided to keep the truth a secret, but that aspect of hers made her ineligible for the throne on her own and he had to marry her to someone with enough prestige to continue their line. Zaarko had tried to emphasize to Princess Yanja the importance of her union with the prince, he had even threatened to disown her if she didn’t comply, but the brat had decided to embarrass him yet again and had undermined his reputation as a ruthless leader who would get results, gnawing away little by little his dominion.

Yanja had grown up in the abbey like most begats of the rulers, only returning home once reaching adulthood, successfully hiding her heats from the others during her time there, a condition thought only to belong to the lowborn rabble. A shameful aspect for someone holding her status, yet an aspect nevertheless, at least she had been able to keep her secret safe and those able to sense her heats were forced to use dulling herbs while working in the Nevakraj fortress as it had been a custom for a long time. When the Princess had shown first signs of entering her estrous cycle, the Queen had ordered her to take the same herbs in hopes of making it all disappear, but after her death, the Princess had started to act more brash and the King was worried she would soon try to stay off them if given a chance.

Remarrying had come to the High King’s mind from time to time after his wife had perished to consumption, yet he had not been able to find another suitable mate, finding one born in the same caste was tough when the Houses were all looking for themselves. Whether he liked it or not, Zaarko’s whole reign lay in the princess’ hands who refused to marry and there was no other way around it. A problem he had been dreading for a long time now, proof of which could be seen in the dark circles under his eyes that were covered only a little by his even darker skin.

The High King clenched his fists. He had been too lenient to his daughter and that would have to change soon. He would have to force her into marriage whether she liked it or not.

“Come over here already,” a soft voice rang from the large canopy bed behind the High King’s back and the alluring proposition made him postpone his plans for a little while longer. The red-headed woman lying in his bed spread her thighs to reveal a glistening treasure the King was eager to plunge himself into.

It was better not to act on impulse after all and he gladly took the offered distraction of a wanting woman’s warmth.

❖

Another season, another disappointment. Princess Yanja leaned against the edge of the copper bathtub with her hands crossed, listening to the sounds of the howling winds coming from the outside in the candle-filled washroom. Usually, such sounds would have helped her to calm her nerves, but not tonight. Her heat was coming up and she had no one to spend it on. The last potential spouse her father had introduced her to had been a disappointment, despite for the fact she had even decided against taking the heat-suppressing herbs and letting her beginning cycle make her more desirable to him, but the prince had avoided her eyes the entire diner, believing himself to be inferior like many others before him. Yanja desperately wanted someone to claim her, but due to her upbringing and assumed caste, every single one of her possible suitors had been of a lower caste than her, making them meek and unattractive to her, she had feigned her status for so long even she believed they were beneath her.

Ever since she had come to an age, she had known she wanted to submit to someone, but to her disappointment, no one was fit for the task. Yanja believed only a king or a queen would do and her father would not let her even meet the unmarried ones and she could only guess why. Marrying an heir would not weaken the High King’s authority whereas wedding a king or a queen would. Now there was no one else left to be wed and her father’s reign would be in danger because of it. She knew her decision to reject the prince had angered her father greatly, but he’d always had a soft spot for her, especially after her return from the abbey, giving her almost anything she could wish for, yet even that didn’t spare her from his endless lectures about the importance of keeping one's appearances and upholding the pride that came with their caste, a caste that Yanja didn’t belong to. She had tried her best to become everything he wanted her to be to no avail, so they argued a lot and even she was willing to admit that some days her behavior was not very princess-like.

The warmth between her legs was spreading with each second almost like it was mocking her for her high birth. Yanja was not supposed to have an estrous cycle, she was never supposed to submit. Her parents were born into the highest caste, meant to rule over everyone with divine right. There had been no lowborns in her family tree in hundreds of years, she should have been the same.

Yet she wasn’t.

╭ᑎ╮

Yanja’s hand reached down between her legs and she began tenderly to massage her hardening cock. The lukewarm soapy water stirred around her milky white body as she swayed gently in the tub and through the small hole in the limestone wall, the High King was watching.

When the High King Zaarko had heard from the maids that his daughter was taking a bath, instead of knocking on the door or waiting for her return, he had decided to enter the servants’ passage, small corridors going through the fortress used by the servants to move unseen in the past. Most had been demolished or filled when one of the previous High Kings had been assassinated, but a few remained untouched. Zaarko had no idea what had compelled him to enter one, but the hole carved into the wall revealed he had not been the first one. He could see plainly into the room and the Princess, kneeling in the copper tub, pushing up her upper body with one hand as the other moved in stroking motion below the line of sight. Yanja’s small but perky breasts bounced with her hastening breathing, her nipples popping out from the rosy areolas as sprinkling water was divided into new streams by them. The Princess’ round, heart-shaped lips were ajar and the High King couldn’t help but imagine them clasping around his shaft, moving up and down while the Princess’ silvery short curls jumped wildly. She had an alluring aura, which beckoned him to her in an extraordinary way.

Watching the unfolding view before him, Zaarko quickly realized he had not been tense all day because of the meeting between the Prince and the Princess, but because he had sensed his daughter’s heat. The High King’s heart began to pound in his chest, he had never been around during Yanja’s heats before and had always thought they would have no effect on him, but the bulging in his trousers made him recognize that would not be the case tonight.

No one needs to know, he thought to himself, and a wide devilish grin spread to his face. The High King dropped his pants and began to rub his fat hardening bulge, watching as the gorgeous vision in the other room created a seductive play for the undetected viewer. Princess Yanja swayed her hips more and more, letting a few whimpers escape from between her plump lips, unable to hold them in anymore. She lifted her left leg over the tub, putting the edge between her legs, allowing the King to see her small cock in her hands, its reddening tip rivaling the gentle redness of her nipples. Unlike him, she didn’t have a knot on it. The Princess’ stance allowed the High King to admire her whole body and his eyes trailed over every little detail from her slim waist to the wider hips. Her skin was like freshly fallen snow, pure white and untouched. The growing need inside him wanted to taste her, plunge into her with fervor, and make her pay for the earlier embarrassment. At the same time, he was glad she had not accepted the Prince, letting her stay untainted by such waste.

Yanja began to move her hips against the copper edge, rubbing herself against it and moaning even louder, glancing to her right every now and then. The High King had to lean into the wall separating them as his throbbing hefty shaft almost reached full size when suddenly he let out a loud grunt. The Princess stopped immediately and looked around in panic.

“H-hello…?” Yanja squeaked, her cock still proudly erect. Zaarko cursed under his breath, the show had ended too quickly and it took all of his willpower not to bust through the limestone wall to mount his daughter.

The Princess looked around the room, focusing on something on her right at first but finally spotting the small hole to her left. The faint candlelight allowed her just barely to see the piercing gaze of a stranger. The Princess’ eyes widened when she realized there was someone watching her.

Then she bit her lower lip. Yanja’s arm began to massage her protruding nipples and it was like the High King’s silent prayers had been answered.

“Do you like what you see?” the Princess asked with a teasing tone in her voice as she stepped towards the wall, the candlelight made her body glisten as it hit the water droplets on her naked body. Whoever was behind that wall had not averted their gaze yet, which enthralled her. Maybe it was the safety provided by the separation or something else, but no one on the lower caste would have dared to meet her eyes and she could feel herself become more receptive with each passing moment. The Princess kneaded her breasts with both hands, letting the King revere her beautiful body.

“You know… If you want to keep this wall between us, there are other holes where the stone meets the wood,” Yanja purred and pointed to her right, “I think this washroom might been used for something like this before, that’s why I picked the room next to it as mine.”

True to her words, when Zaarko glanced further down the passage, he saw a faint light marking the place. Swiftly, the King moved towards them and the Princess followed. There were two holes, one for watching and a second one lower down, covered by a small sliding hatch accessible from the passage.

“… Or maybe you’d like to come here?” Yanja whispered. The High King knew the moment would be over if she knew who she was talking to and opened the hatch as an answer. He pushed his hips against the thin wall, shoving his erected cock and huge balls in. The Princess gasped in delight, “Oh, wow… I certainly like what I see.” Some part of her tried to place where she had seen a similar dark complexion before, but her growing heat quickly dismissed any ability for reasoning. Yanja knelt down and quickly brushed the King’s shaft with her fingers, she had never touched someone else before and felt like she could ruin the moment by doing something wrong. Her hesitation made Zaarko frustrated and he thrusted his hips forward, startling Yanja.

“Uh, d-do you want me to touch you?” Yanja asked and the High King answered her question with another thrust and a grunt. Yanja had dreamed about a situation like this so many times she did not dare to count, but now she began to feel unsure, she was in heat and unwedded, and lying with someone of the lower caste was a crime, yet she knew what she wanted deep down. The Princess put one of her hands on his firm shaft and the other under his balls, fondling them as she began to stroke the fat cock. Feeling her slender hands on his cock, made Zaarko’s balls throb, wishing he could enter her hole. Yanja moved closer and opened her mouth, her warm breath hit Zaarko’s tip and she gave it a small exploratory lick before kissing it and taking it between her lips, gently licking the hole while putting pressure on the head with her lips. The King’s breathing got faster and he wanted to buck his hips only to be stopped by the wall separating them.

For Yanja, the stranger's eagerness only made her hornier. Whoever was behind that wall wanted her and wasn’t afraid to push her around even without any words. Yanja loved how the stranger's cock filled her whole mouth as she slowly began to take it deeper, the tip easily sliding in with her spit and reaching all the way to the back of her throat. Slowly, she moved her head back and forth while grabbing the stranger’s balls with both of her hands, squeezing them each time her lips reached his knotted base. The moans coming from behind the wall made her cock drip with precum and the torridity of emotions made her disregard the feeling of the uneven slate stone flooring burying into her knees. Her mysterious benefactor was giving her what she needed and nothing was going to stop her from sucking that well-endowed cock in front of her.

Feeling his daughter’s taking in his whole shaft felt amazing to Zaarko. Yanja’s inexperience made her movements unpredictable and knowing he was being pleased by his own daughter made it even more thrilling. She truly has no idea, whose cock she’s slurping with hunger, the King thought. He wondered how she would react if she knew, maybe with disgust, but he would still force himself on her, claiming her as his own. That thought delighted him greatly as Yanja’s lips and tongue continued to caress him and with that another sinister idea came to his mind.

Maybe if he bred his daughter, he could have another heir to save his reign.

The High King imagined himself pommeling into the Princess’ hole, plunging himself so deep he would lock his knot inside her womb and breed her like a bitch she was, impregnating her with a new heir who would truly belong to the same caste. Zaarko’s balls swelled and his seed rocketed up his shaft, erupting from his tip into Yanja’s mouth. The thick cream filled her small mouth completely, almost bulging her cheeks and she had to back away, making him glaze her face with another load of sizzling cum.

“Oh, that tastes so good,” Yanja gasped between the gulps, she savored the taste with her tongue, swallowing as much as she could, “Please, I need to have more, get over here and claim me!” Giving release to her mysterious mate had shifted something inside her, her heat had taken over her mind, and part of her knew the stranger behind that wall was the one for her, one who she should submit to. Yaarko huffed loudly against the wall, his softening cock still shooting small loads to the ground. Secretly releasing his seed into the oblivious princess had unlocked something inside the High King he had never felt before. Whatever had just happened had sent him a way stronger wave of pleasure than one delivered by a concubine or what he had felt when mating with his queen.

Without his knowledge, Zaarko had dug his nails into the wood and clawed at it in his lust, the overpowering feeling inside him grew as his cock got harder again, and the King’s feral nature was about to take over as he saw doe-eyed Yanja on the other side, on all fours, his seed still streaming down her face when his weakening sense of judgment was interrupted by the knock coming from the other side of the washroom.

“Oh, sranje,” The Princess cursed before turning back towards the wall, “Tomorrow! I’ll be here tomorrow night, please come back then!" She gave a quick kiss on the King’s half-hard shaft, giving it one last bereft look before hurrying back into the bath while the High king closed the hatch, cursing as well as he was coming down from his thirst. The Princess called the unknown intruder in while the King quickly made his way from the passage, falling back into his chambers.

Anica, Yanja’s lady-in-waiting stepped into the washroom, her browns burrowed in worry.

“Mistress, my apologies, I know you called me earlier, but I was… Held,” Anica spluttered, she wasn’t a good liar, but telling the High King’s daughter that she had spent the last hour in bed, holding her legs and hips up so that the Princess’ father’s seed would take root and displace her as his heir seemed unwise so she kept her words vague. At the same time, Yanja deeply hoped that she had gotten all of the stranger’s cum from her blushing cheeks and that Anica would not see the fluids staining the floor near the secret gloryhole. “So, you’ve taken another lover?” Yanja asked playfully, Anica had told her about her escapades with various lovers and Yanja had listened to those tales with keen ears, hoping she would one day experience such acts too. Yanja trusted Anica with her whole being, she had always been able to share her deepest thoughts with her, but now she was unsure what she should share. Should she tell her how she had sucked a cock for the first time or how she had enjoyed their thick seed on her tongue? “That’s alright, I’m actually fine by myself,” Yanja answered, averting Anica’s stern eyes while brushing her curls with her hand.

Anica slapped the side of her palm to Yanja’s forehead, “Do you have a fever? Your cheeks are red,” she said with a worried tone in her voice and Yanja quickly pushed her hand away, “I’m alright, I just…” the Princess hesitated for a moment, before adding “I think I found someone…” Anica squinched her eyes and showed the Princess her best-feigned smile, “Really? Have you changed your mind about Prince Branamir?” she asked, hiding well the poison trying to creep into her voice. Working as a servant in Nevakraj had helped her learn skills that made her likable even when she didn’t mean any of it. Ever since the last queen’s burial, Anica had made a plan, she belonged to a lower caste sure, but it was unheard of for one to rise the ranks once siring an heir for a ruler, a goal within her reach. The Princess had rejected all the others and her sudden decision to change her decision could ruin Anica’s plans.

“Well…” Yanja hesitated again, she didn’t know who had been behind the wall, but she could sense they had been someone made for her. The Prince had light skin unlike her mysterious lover, but maybe the candlelight had fooled her eyes, even though she was quite sure the prince had left the fortress hours ago, deflated from the rejection. The Princess had no idea who it had been, but she planned to find out.

Anica took Yanja’s hands into hers, “You should tell your father soon! He will be delighted!” Anica exclaimed, desisting the growing poison from dripping into her innocent-sounding tone.

“Please, don’t tell him anything, not yet, I still need to figure something out!” the Princess objected, “It’s not the prince, but…”

“Oh, you have a secret lover too?” Anica giggled when a sudden shock spread all over her face, “Mistress, it’s not someone below your status, right?” she whispered.

“I don’t know…” Yanja answered sincerely, “You know I’m not like the others, but I’ve never liked someone below me before… They seemed… Assertive…”

“You don’t know who they are?!” Anica shouted in dismay.

“Hush, don’t scream, someone might hear you! I might not know who they are, but I’m going to find out!”

This new revelation brought back the ambition inside Anica. If the Princess saw someone who belonged to the lower caste, the High King would have no other choice but to disown her and that would make her own plans far simpler.

“How did you meet them?” she asked, now smiling sincerely.

Yanja blushed, “You know, I’m quite tired, we’ll talk about it later,” she mumbled and got up, hiding her still-hard cock with a towel, something in Anica’s demeanor had made her feel uneasy suddenly and besides, she had not had the time to relieve herself and thinking about her mysterious lover only made her ache for more. There was no way they would come back tonight and the only relief she would get that night would be by her own hands.

╭ᑎ╮

The lady-in-waiting muttered something in return, disappointed for not finding out more about the stranger. Anice helped Yanja back to her chambers attached to the washroom and left. The Princess let her towel fall to the floor and sat naked on her bed, her soft blue bedding was made from the finest silks, brought from the edge of the known world. The room was decorated with cool-toned tapestries and swaying silvery decorations that twinkled when the light from the red paper lanterns hit them, filling the room with a glimmer that looked like a starry night sky. Yanja laid on her back and began to touch herself again, imagining in her head all the things the stranger could do to her, she slipped two of her fingers in her mouth and drenched them with her own spit before beginning to rim her hole, visualizing the magnificent member she had seen tonight spreading her hole, the fat crown prying her open like it had done to her mouth and pushing in. Yanja’s other hand stroked her cock gently, moving her hand up and down, caressing her taint and balls as her hand reached the base. The stranger’s cock had been so much bigger than hers and with a visible hole to pour massive amounts of cum of which Yanja had been able to taste only a little.

Unknownst to her, her secret lover was thinking about her too. Back in his chambers, the High King was sitting on a settee made from bone-white wood with his cock in his hands, infuriated by the ruined moment and the wrongness of his newly found sin. He wanted to go back and show his daughter her place, thrust into her hole furiously just to hear her whimpering. It didn’t take long for his fourth load of the day to spurt out from his girthy manhood, dripping down his hand and hitting the stone floor beneath his feet. Almost at the same time, in her own chambers, the Princess arched her back and came, finishing on the silky bedding.

The two huffed, separated by one floor and multiple walls from each other, yet both dreaming about the other.

Waiting for the following evening would be a pain in the ass for both of them.

❖

The morning sun began to gently warm the walls of the Nevakraj fortress as its corridors came alive with the sound of the nobles, soldiers, and servants who were going on with their daily business as usual. News about the Princess' latest rejection had spread fast and some of the nobles were worried about their positions. If House Ashbane were to fall due to not finding the Princess a suitable spouse, one of the other Houses would likely stage a coup and execute all those allied with the dethroned king. Anica bared little thought for such woes. Her monthlies were late and she was heading towards the High King’s chambers to make sure he would spend his seed on her yet again. With his House’s desperate situation, he would have no other choice than to marry her and make her his new queen, giving her the ability to raise her House’s name from the mud back into its former glory. Anica had tolerated the Princess for long enough as her lady-in-waiting and would make sure the Princess would be removed from the family tree as soon as she had the power to do so. Anica knew the Princess didn’t belong to the domni caste and having her claim otherwise was a stain on the divine hierarchy. However, she also knew she would be lying if she claimed only to be interested in becoming the new queen. Anica enjoyed getting ravaged by the High King, visioning his rough hands on her hips as he thrusted into her was enough to make her drip from wetness.

He would be all hers soon.

Anica quickly made sure her red bun was still neatly in place before knocking on the King’s door, waiting to be called in and surely enough, soon she heard her King’s voice and entered the room. To her surprise, it looked like the King had just woken up, still wearing a night-chainse too small for someone his size. It was unheard of for him to sleep this late, usually when Anica arrived he had already begun to work and sat on his study until she would distract him. She knew she wasn't the only one prying for the King’s attention and seed, but the lady-in-waiting had made herself somewhat of a favorite of his, arriving early enough to beat any other potential mate and coming back before the night fell, so the King would share his plentiful seed only with her. The King’s dark skin tone almost glowed through the white shirt he was wearing, his thick body hiding his true strength and Anica admired the broad shoulders hanging low as the King washed his face over the washbasin. That’s why his sudden words came as another surprise.

“Shouldn’t you be assisting the princess?” The High King growled while washing his face. His slumber had been restless even with his self-stimulation. Sensing Yanja’s heat had made his thirst unquenchable and he could not wait for the day to end soon enough. She had been in his wicked dreams, whimpering and moaning under him and that was all Zaarko could think about.

“… But…” Anica stammered, “Wouldn’t you like to start your day with some fun, my lord?”

“Not today,” the King answered without explaining further and Anica knew better than to linger around. To say she was disappointed would be an understatement, she kicked a small wooden stool in the hallway as she began to make her way to the Princess’s chambers. Had someone pleased the King before her? He had never before declined her and before this day he’d been ready for sex at a moment's notice. The High King had sounded irritated, maybe the Princess had already told him about her plans to marry someone else? Anica thought, or worse, he had impregnated another woman. Anica’s heart sank and she gulped loudly.

She had to find out who that woman might be.

The sun was already high as Yanja began her day, eager and waiting for the evening to fall. Some part of her was afraid that her meeting with the stranger had been one-time only, but in her deepest thoughts, she felt that the mysterious lover had liked her well enough to come back later, maybe even to meet her face to face instead of face to phallus.

One of the maids brushed her silvery hair with a comb and had a hard time untangling her thick wild curls, but they were all in a good mood, undoubtedly influenced by the Princess’ cheeriness.

“Mistress seems to be in the most favorable mood this morning, can I ask why?” One of the maids with raven dark hair asked as she washed the Princess soles with fragrant flower water.

“Oh, I think I have some good news for my father,” Yanja answered with a smile, “… But first, I need to figure some things out.” The maid around her trilled with excitement, the unspoken reason for such good news could only mean one thing.

“Who is it?” A third one picking her clothes asked making Yanja blush again, she had been unable to tell her closest friend that she didn’t know who her lover had been and she would not tell about it to maids either who were not known for their tight-lippedness.

“You’ll find out when it’s time,” Yanja eluded as the maid fixing her hair finally managed to tame her curls into a somewhat respectable braid going around Yanja’s crown. Their superficial chatter continued until Anica’s arrival who took the Princess into the study hall for tutoring. While walking over, the lady-in-waiting had managed to collect her thoughts and had tried to devise a plan for how to find out why she had been rejected by the King this morning. At this time of the year, there was a blooming flower with pollen of such staining abilities that it was almost impossible to wash away. If Anica were to place such flowers near the King’s chambers, she could deduce who visited him without her knowledge. The smile on her face was genuine today, but only she knew why. The group stepped down the winding corridor and entered the large hallway on the ground level as the King was just about to pass it on his way to the war room.

The Princess and her entourage bowed before their King to greet him and when the King saw what Yanja was wearing, he suddenly found the ground more than interesting to watch than his daughter. The High King never averted his gaze and suddenly everyone was looking down the floor, thinking there was something important to see. The Princess had decided to wear a white, almost see-through strapless dress with a low cut, covering her shoulders with a pearly pink open robe reaching down to her ankles like the dress was.

Yanja stood just a few steps away from him when the almost uncontrollable need to bend her down flushed over the High King. The Princess’ heat was getting stronger and soon even he would have a hard time denying himself what he wanted to take. Yanja was certainly not taking her suppressing herbs and an image of him taking the Princess in front of everyone flashed into Zaarko’s mind. He would push everyone around her away and force her head down to the cold stone floor while lifting her hastily stripped rear into the air as he unbuckled his belt and let his aching bulge free before slamming it into her without any second thoughts. Hammering her vestal hole with all of his might until she’d leak from his seed, belly bulging from the amount cum the King would unleash into her fertile womb. The servants would watch the forbidden sin unraveling before them in horror, but he or the Princess would not care as gushes of pleasure overwhelmed them and she would be his forever.

Yanja had felt butterflies flutter in her stomach as she entered the hallway, a sure sign for someone of her affliction to feel their potential mate nearby and she couldn’t help but peek around when everyone was staring at the floor, yet she could not see anybody except for the sentinels and her father. The feeling inside continued to grow when her eyes met the King’s. Her nipples began to stick out through the thin fabric as Zaarko stared at her large eyes, making him just seconds away from going through with his vision when Yanja opened her mouth.

“Good morning, father, it’s good to see you. Are you seeing someone in the war room today?” Yanja asked, bringing the King back to his senses.

“Yes, dear. A Watcher, they should arrive soon” The High King answered quickly.

A Watcher! Yanja thought. A spy for her House would have had a reason to hide behind a wall! Watchers were usually from the high caste, sons, and daughters of either dethroned head of a House or heirs or who would bring too much trouble if they were to gain any power within their respective Houses and as such they usually began serving other Houses as their watchdogs.

“Can I come with you?” the princess inquired, “I think a real experience will beat anything I could learn from a tutor.”

Yanja’s earnestness made the King even more concupiscent. This was a dangerous territory he was about to walk into, even if he had already decided to meet her again in the evening. The uncharted path before him had no set destination yet he felt like he was heading towards his downfall.

“It would be my pleasure, my dear” the King answered before he was able to, “But your servants must stay behind. It's the Kingdom's secrets after all we're talking about here.”

Yanja nodded with a joyful smile on her face and asked the maids and Anica to rest as she followed her father into the war room. Zaarko did his best to hide his nervousness, wondering what he was doing as he led his little lamb to the slaughter. The sentinels guarding the door to the war room let them in and shut the large stone door behind them leaving the two alone in the dark room lit only by a few lanterns.

╭ᑎ╮

Yanja stepped closer to the large round table in the middle of the room. She had never been in the war room before and now she would meet her possible mate too! She leaned her little body over the table to see the map spread in the center showing in great detail every castle, city, and even little huts. The small flags and metal symbols on it meant little to her when she suddenly felt her father’s weight pinning her back down and before she could utter out a thing, the King’s hand grabbed her by the wrist and slid it towards the large mountain range on the map.

“That’s Nevakraj,” the King explained, pushing his bulging member against Yanja’s rear, holding on to his senses with his dear life. Yanja was unsure what was pushing against her, maybe a buckle or a large pouch her father had on his belt, it was something firm yet in her heat she wanted to buck towards it. Her hips were pinned against the table and she had no room to move. The King pointed her hand to another spot on the map, telling her what it was, but his words escaped her ears, her focus was on the weird feeling. Zaarko’s other hand brushed past her breast almost accidentally and the sensation made Yanja let out a silenced yelp. She now regretted not taking her herbs in time, she had no idea she would react to everyone like this in heat.

Or had she?

The sudden thought made her freeze. Her maids had touched her, Anica had touched her and yet, she had not felt anything. Was it because her father was part of a higher caste than her? But she didn’t know what caste she belonged to, only that those princes had not felt right and she wanted something else.

Yanja pushed her hips slightly against Zaarko and his tip touched her taint through the robe and the dress. The King tried to keep his focus on the lesson, unable to ignore the growing warmth between them. Desperately hoping her father would not realize what she was doing, Yanja began to circle the bulge she was feeling, kneading her sensitive spots with it, still believing it to be a random belt accessory, but Zaarko could feel everything. His daughter's clothed rear felt so good against him, making his member swell even larger. Yanja was biting into her necklace, hiding her panting into it and Zaarko could feel his breathing get harder. Yanja spread her legs slightly to give the assumed belt buckle more room to push against her.

The High King contemplated over his options: he could lock the door and take her then and there or drag the brat into a secretive location for desecration when all of a sudden he could hear the doors behind them open. Zaarko quickly let the Princess free and greeted the approaching watcher. Yanja’s cheeks lushed red immediately as she realized what she had been doing, mere moments ago being in too much haze to control her actions. She hastily slipped past the two men and realized that the Watcher was too short and light-skinned to be her mysterious lover. She gave them quick excuses why she couldn’t stay and returned to her chambers, frustrated and embarrassed.

Maybe it was better to evade other people until her heat came to an end?

As frustrated as his daughter, the King listened to the Watcher’s report, not happy at all by the news he was bringing. The Watcher’s former House was planning for a coup as retaliation for the unsuccessful union and the House Ashbane had to get stronger soon or face a war. Either the High King would have to force his only daughter into a marriage or he would have to strengthen his House’s claim to the High King’s throne by other means. If he were to remarry himself, taking a wife from a lesser House with more members, he could boost his numbers enough to intimidate the bastards, but that would weaken his strong bloodline, and even though it could take decades, his House would eventually fall because of it, a thought which entertained him even less than a war.

The High King Zaarko spent the rest of his day with his closest confidants, detailing possible plans for facing the looming darkness. The only redeeming quality of this grim day was the prospect the evening would provide as soon as the sun set behind the mountains, an evening he couldn’t wait for.

Outside the walls of Nevakraj, in the misty mountain craig, Anica had gathered princess’ maids to collect flowers with her, as a gift for the King and the Princess, she had claimed to them. The air was filled with laughter and chatting as everyone collected bundles of flowers, some even competing who would collect the biggest, but Anica had her eyes set only on one type of flower, her bundle would not be the biggest, but it would have another price.

❖

╭ᑎ╮

As the shadows of the day shifted and the dusk swallowed the world into twilight, the King had had enough, if he had any doubts about his evening visit, those were long gone before he even got to the secret passage and sneaked in with trembling in his heart. For his excitement, Yanja had already entered her side and had brought with her something soft to lay on. Her frail nude body faced the glory hole, legs spread wide open as she stroked her small cock with one hand and caressing her nipples with the other. The Princess had been waiting for him and the King did not hesitate with the hatch, thrusting in his half-hard member without any words.

“My, my, you came back after all, I was already getting worried you would be a no-show,” Yanja purred, “I have been thinking about you all day, even when I was supposed to be with my father.” Her words made the King’s cock harder and Yanja crawled towards him, taking his member into her soft hands once again, carefully examining his hefty balls and giving his sheath playful kisses, revering the gift she had been given.

“You know… I’d like to know your name, we can’t keep meeting in a washroom every night…” She smiled before pressing her lips against the King’s tip, sucking it tenderly as it became hotter and redder. She swirled her wet tongue around the hole, prodding the tip of her tongue in at a tantalizing pace. Zaarko moaned and humped his hips against the wall, wanting to tear it apart just so he could mount the girl. Yanja turned her attention back to his balls, giving them small kisses and licking the veiny dark skin, adoring the size of his veins, which were as wide as her biggest fingers.

“I could offer you so much more if you dared to enter this room,” Yanja teased her unknown lover, “I want you to breed me like a stud, fill me with your seed.” To Yanja, it was like some hidden part had taken control of her mouth and spoke words she had never used before. She had never experienced a full heat and each new thing she learned about herself intrigued her more and more. The High King could sense it, he had never been with someone in heat, and even though he had enjoyed mating with the former queen, fucking her had never felt anything close to what he was feeling now with his daughter. Entering the princess would surely feel even better and he thought about her offer, he had already pondered about it last night, but now the feeling was growing even stronger not being helped by the fact of how he had acted in the war room.

Yanja got up and turned her back to the wall, pressing her butt against Zaarko’s cock and sliding it between her oiled cheeks. The King’s breathing quickened with hers, he was so close yet so far away from her he could not plunge himself into her hole. Yanja pleasured herself, enjoying the feeling of the stranger's cock between her cheeks, passing over the rim without entering.

Yanja’s whole nimble body trembled as shocks of pleasure flowed through her, almost making her buck too far behind and take in the pulsing tip leaking from the precum as she came.

She craved for more, but she had to get some answers first. She stepped forward and chuckled.

“Last night you left me hanging, tonight I will leave you hanging. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her bright giggling ended almost as quickly as it had begun. Yanja grabbed her clothes and fled the scene of her crime, afraid of what her mysterious partner might do next, and for a good reason. The King was furious, he had never been left unfulfilled before, he was supposed to be in control and his daughter had embarrassed him once again. The King punched the wall, he thought about how he should run after her, pin her down on her own bed, and claim what was rightfully his, make her pay, but sudden realization flushed through him. Her fleeing made him think she was afraid of just that and letting her stay that way would make tomorrow even better. Waiting for him would be a punishment in itself, she was in heat after all.

He would not pin her down tonight, not out of chivalry or weakness, but because he would save his seed for tomorrow and make her beg for it.

❖

Yanja had trouble sleeping that night, she had already once checked the washroom to see if her mate had stayed there. She wanted to apologize to them, but it had been too late. They were gone and now Yanja was certain she had ruined everything. She had hoped she could have mated with them tonight, but their refusal to say even a word had made her do something she didn’t intend to. Never before had she met someone who could be her equal, who could make her submit without words, and now that chance might be ruined forever. Yanja pressed the pillow in her hands tightly into her chest and prayed for the next evening to come soon.

❖

As light had begun to make its way into the mountainside again the High King Zaarko had a hard time keeping his frustrations in. He wanted to march into the Princess’ room or take the willing mate offering herself to him before the rooster’s crowing, but he kept to his plan. He would stay frustrated so he could deliver the greatest punishment for his daughter, he would not deliver a little bit of his seed into her but as much as he could save. The King’s leniency would end tonight and before that, he would continue his duties like nothing had happened last night. The princess’ Lady-in-waiting had tried to enter his chambers that morning like every day, but he had denied her. A shame, he thought, Zaarko had enjoyed her body, but he had also grown tired of her. The Lady-in-waiting had a little fight in her and her willingness made her boring after such a long time. Her House might be part of the lower caste now, but they had not gained the ability to have heats, and once the King had tasted someone with them, he knew he could not accept any partner without them any longer.

Zaarko’s cock stood arrogantly as he sat at his study, aching to be plunged into a wet hole. Today will be even harder than yesterday, but it will be worth it, he thought with a grin on his face.

The princess would be his.

❖

Inside her chambers, Yanja was still feeling guilty and did not let any of her maids enter her room, claiming to be ill and wanting to be alone, only allowing them to deliver her diners next to her door. Tonight she would apologize to the stranger and show how much she wanted them. Whoever they were, their caste nor name no longer mattered to her, she could always run away with them if they proved to be of a lower caste. She believed their lower caste might have been one of the reasons why they had not shown their face yet and it wasn’t like she had a lot to go with. You can’t really tell someone’s caste by tasting their cock.

Or at least she hoped that was the case.

Yanja screamed into her pillow, it turned out that someone like her failing to submit was worse than not finishing, the fleeting moment of euphoria was not worth this much of overthinking and what was even worse, her heat was still going on strong and it would not end anytime soon, she had been mated by someone worthwhile for it to pass. Going back to heat suppressants wasn’t a possibility anymore either, they could only suppress it if it hadn’t started and she had felt it for two days now. There was a peak she was supposed to reach, but it felt like her body was constantly getting more sensitive, even her silken sheets felt like they could set her mind into a neverending haze. Sooner or later someone would come in and see her, bothered and mewling for someone to breed her. That would ruin everything, if someone else rather than her father or lady-in-waiting knew about her castelessness, it would destroy her family name. ╭ᑎ╮

Yanja could feel her hips move without her will and grind the pillow between her legs. She let her hands trail all over her body and make her situation even worse than it had been moments earlier. Maybe I should ask Anica to help her with this, she thought. They had explored each other's bodies a long time ago, but it had been mostly clothes-on, nothing deeper and neither of them had tried to rekindle after that yet now her mind lulled her into a dream where she saw the red-haired Anica over her on all fours, naked like Yanja and panting as someone was thrusting into her. Anica’s round breasts touched hers, their poking nipples brushing against each other with each thrust.

The voice coming from behind her was familiar, as that of the mysterious stranger which made Yanja envious, she was supposed to be the one bred by them, not her friend, but the sight of Anica moaning on top of her was seductive and Yanja knew her turn would be soon. Mesmerized by the sight of the large cock penetrating her friend's wet pussy with deep and fast strokes, Yanja could feel herself getting hard. The man kneeling behind Anica grunted in rhythm with her gasps as their sweat mixed together. The Princess could see the man’s hefty sack slapping against Anica’s lower pelvis, leaving red marks behind with each thrust.

Then she noticed the coarse hands holding Anica’s hips tightly. A dark color like her lover had and as she fell even deeper into her hazy heat-driven fantasy she realized the man behind Anica was her father, sweating profusely and gnawing her friend's soft neck as he pummeled into her, when all of sudden he pushed Anica to the side and grabbed Yanja’s lower body, lifted her legs up and plunged his fat cock into her wet hole, spreading her tiny body open as he kept pounding into her with fury. Yanja tried to push him away, screaming for him to stop, but the King had no intentions to do so. Anica laid next to them, pleasuring herself at the sight of father breeding daughter and the spreading sensation between Yanja’s tights forced her to whimper from pleasure. The King’s thrusts hastened until his knot popped right inside her, locking him in and with a bellowing roar the King came, his sizzling hot seed poured into Yanja’s womb, making her scream from the violation of her inner sanctum. She could see her belly grow as his cum filled her to the brim, unquestionably making her pregnant with her father’s seed.

Yanja jerked herself awake with a loud screech and realized her fantasy had only been a dream.

Or a nightmare, Yanja thought.

Yanja could feel something dripping between her thighs and for a second she was afraid it had happened for real until she realized she had accidentally made the mess herself, her own cum dripping between her legs, an unkind reminder of her heat and that for a moment she had enjoyed her dream.

Ashamed, she screamed into her pillow again.

The long, warm shadows enveloping her chambers into their soft darkness indicated it was already dusk and soon the Princess would find out if her secretive lover had decided to return after her trick. Yanja got up quickly and washed herself over the washbasin and thought about how silly it was, she was going to the washroom after all, but she wanted to look proper, as proper one could look in heat, desperate for someone’s cock.

Unbeknownst to her, the High King had made preparations for the evening. He had ordered all of the sentinels and the servants away from that part of the fortress and when one of the nobles had questioned his decision, he had told them that the princess would be learning a lesson today, having to learn to deal with her daily life without any help for a while, an explanation which had rang suspicious to some, it was not unheard of for head of a House to secretly eliminate any badly behaving House member in such way. As word about the King’s order reached the Lady-in-waiting’s eager ears, she was more than happy about the plan. She had placed her flowers into beautiful tall vases and set them next to the High King’s chambers, making one of his guards sneeze in response. It wasn’t the best way to find who had visited his room, but it would surely thin the stack.

╭ᑎ╮

Before the sun began to set behind the horizon, everything was ready and the High King’s muscles ached with anticipation, evening the feeling between his loins. The corridors echoed with his heavy footsteps, lacking the usual sound of the people working there, whatever was going to happen tonight, there would be no one else to hear about it. Zaarko slipped into the passage again, opened the hatch slightly ajar, and hung a small piece of fabric behind it so it would look like there might be someone standing there. Then he sneaked back into the washroom and hid behind the folding screen made from dark wood and gold fabric, a gift he had given to his daughter a long time ago when she still had to share a room with another royal brat at the abbey. Time had left its marks on it, but it was still a beautiful piece of furniture. Zaarko gently brushed the faded fabric with his fingers, thinking how the Princess would soon receive another gift from him.

The High King undressed as quietly as he could. His shaft was already hard from the mere thought of what he was going to do and he slicked it with some oil, coating it deep into his skin as his prowl began with the rising shadows.

The light coming from the tilted stained glass window became darker when the old hinge on the door creaked and the door was slammed closed again. Yanja stepped into the washroom walking on her toes and lit the candle sconces. To her cheerful surprise, the hatch was already slightly open and she could see someone was standing there. The Princess hurried to it, spread her towel in front of the hole, and knelt.

“Hello again, stranger,” she whispered trying to hide her glee, “You know… What I did last night was… Lousy… I would like to apologize…”

The King watched Yanja slowly begin to undress herself, revealing the silky skin underneath, she let her dress drop to the floor and raised with a slow twirl, the shimmering light coming from the outside sieved through the colored glass made her glow. Yanja’s nipples were already hard as well as her small cock. Tenderly, she massaged her breasts with her hands as she made another light spin.

“Do you like what you see?” She asked, aiming her words toward the wall and the King had to admit it, she truly was a beautiful sight to behold. He took a few silent steps and crept right behind her. Not giving her any time to make another move or utter any more words Zaarko grabbed her by the throat and pushed himself against her, clutching her hips with one hand. Yanja let out a loud shriek and turned to look at her attacker, her big eyes widened with astoundment when she realized her father’s piercing eyes looking right back at her. Zaarko was a lot taller and bigger than her, shaped akin to a bull and Yanja did not have enough strength to escape from his tight grip.

“What are you doing?!” Yanja shouted, “Let me go!”

“Something I should have done ages ago,” Zaarko answered with a sinister voice.

To her horror, Yanja could feel something poking her waist from behind..

“No, please! You can’t! I will scream!” She squawked in desperation, feeling her heat slowly poisoning her mind with other thoughts, the feeling of his hot crown pressed against her back turned her on and the way he squeezed her throat didn’t help either.

“It’s no use, no one will hear you,” Zaarko laughed and took in Yanja’s soft lilac scent, his lips found the skin behind her ears and he kissed her, relishing the foreboding moment and the feeling of domination over her. The sudden tickling in her ear made Yanja yelp out loud again and she struggled against her father, trying to get away but the more she tried the tighter his hold got. The King hissed her neck, savoring her fear as bumps rose on her skin.

“Hush now, love, you’ve already tasted it,” The King smirked and Yanja turned to look at him again, “What? No! It wasn’t you, it was…” she whimpered when it hit her, the feeling she had felt in the war room and what was growing inside her right now, an irrational need to fight yet to submit to the man holding her tight.

“You’ve been lost so long, girl,” Zaarko whispered to her ear, “Tonight you will finally find your caste and it will be beneath me!”

The High King forced Yanja down to the bedding, turned her upside down, and lifted her legs to his hips, leaving half of her body in the air, her shoulders and head barely touching the ground, giving Yanja a direct line of sight to what was going to happen.

“No, please! This can’t be why-…” Yanja’s sentence was interrupted when Zaarko pulled his member up and slapped it over her cock, which made it almost shrink from comparison. Her cock was only as long and wide as her father’s little finger whereas his member easily had enough length to reach her navel from between her tights. Zaarko began to stroke his cock against hers, rubbing their skins together, his impure roughness meeting her chaste silky skin.

“For the past two nights, I’ve enjoyed the feeling of your lips and let me tell you, darling, it has been the best feeling in the whole world,” The King hissed, “You’re so skilled and I finally realized why you don’t have a caste, you were always meant to be mine.”

“Please, no!” Yanja panted, “You don’t have to do this, I can get better!”

“Now, now, sweetheart, we both know this is right,” Zaarko said with an almost comforting tone, “You will enjoy this too as soon as you set yourself free.”

The High King hastened his movements, his balls slapped against Yanja’s behind, and the slapping sound combined with his heavy breathing made Yanja want more no matter how much she tried to deny it. The stimulation given to her by the rubbing made her let out a soft whimper, her hands dropped down and slid over her breasts as she began to knead her nipples again.

“Please, don’t do this to me…” Her refusal rang hollow even to her as she started to give in to her heat.

“Good girl,” the King hummed, “Give yourself to me.” Yanja’s toes curled every time his cock passed hers and his balls slapped against her rear. Pleased by her reaction, the King pulled away and adjusted his position. He then gripped even tighter to Yanja’s hips and bucked forward, aiming his tip towards Yanja’s rim making her yip again as he hit it with force.

“Open up, my little princess,” Zaarko coaxed his daughter, “Open yourself to me.” He tried to force himself in again, but the girl’s body resisted.

“A-ah… Please… Don’t” Yanja gasped between each thrust, “I’m in heat… I don’t want to get pregnant…” Zaarko pushed again and laughed, “But you will be,” he threatened and thrusted in again, now putting enough pressure to get part of his tip in, the burning sensation made Yanja’s whole body jolt, “Please,” she gasped again, “I can’t…” however there was no denying the High King of the House Ashbane and he began to put even more pressure, slowly pushing his burning hot tip inside her, the width of which was almost unbearable and Yanja knew the rest of it would not be any easier to take, he was simply too big for her.

With a forceful thrust, Zaarko pushed his tip inside her, locking himself in even before his knot was inside. He let his daughter take a moment to adjust to him and enjoyed the tense pressure her muscles were putting against his crown, “You’re doing well, girl,” he encouraged her, “You feel even better than what I could have imagined.” Yanja’s precum began to leak from her tip, dripping down her belly all the way to her heaving chest, the feeling of her father’s tip inside her was unbelievable, and yet at the same time, she felt ashamed, not wanting to admit how good he felt and how much she wanted him, her whole body was craving him so much she had to she wrap her legs around his waist to get closer to him.

Inch by inch Zaarko pushed more of his fat cock inside his daughter, emboldened by her soft whimpers and biting of her lip, her tunnel spreading slowly to accommodate his cock. Thrilled, Yanja saw how the girthy tip began to bulge her belly, slowly inching towards her. She moved her right hand over it and felt the firm crown inside her when pressing her fingers against it.

The High King chuckled, having pushed half of his cock in, “That’s enough groundwork, now comes the best part,” he smirked and pulled his member almost completely out, leaving only his tip in until he swiftly jerked his hips forward and drove his whole length without any warning. Yanja let out a high-pitched scream as Zaarko retreated again only to ram his cock in deep again and again. Yanja’s whole body jerked back and forth helplessly like a ragdoll in pace with the King’s pistoning as he succumbed to his feral senses. Zaarko’s eyes gleamed with sinister pleasure, his nails dug into the Princess’ skin and his breathing got harder. In his mind, there was nothing but the lust for his little princess and the need to pour his seed into her ripe womb load after load until it leaked out from her abused hole.

Yanja’s whimpers turned into loud cries and her whole body shook again when she came, her toes curled involuntarily and her legs trembled from the pulsating waves running through her muscles, another peak hit her as the King’s thrusting continued without any sight of stopping. When her eyes rolled back, the King demanded her to focus, to watch as he violated her hole with all of his might. Yanja’s limp hands and legs lugged weakly while her lower body was held up only by Zaarko’s sturdy arms. Every time she accidentally closed her eyes, the High King bellowed at her, he wanted her to see. Then another electrifying pulse ran through her spine, making her arch her back and at the same time, the King drove his whole length inside her breeding tunnel, this time pushing his swollen knot past her rim and locking himself in for good.

The outline of Zaarko’s cock visible beneath her skin disappeared as the first blast of cum filled her followed by another large load making her belly grow noticeably to the naked eye. The King roared with carnal need and plunged himself even deeper, releasing the third load of his potent seed straight into her womb.

“N-No…h…” Yanja managed to mumble between her gasps, her belly swelling more and more as her father’s seed stuffed her inner sanctum, she could feel his balls twitch against her rear, finally depleted. Zaarko collapsed to his knees and almost toppled over her, managing to catch himself before dropping his whole weight on her. Yanja’s small body shuddered as her pulsing rim still milked his throbbing cock, not allowing him to hold on to even a drop of his virile seed.

“Y-you need to pull out, I can’t have your baby,” she huffed only for the King to laugh at her.

“It’s already too late, love, your purity belongs to me now,” he stated with a wide grin on his sweaty face. The King’s lips brushed against the Princess’ neck, tasting her intoxicating sudor only secreted by likes of her and he kissed her breasts until they were sore, imagining how they would swell larger in the coming months. Yanja’s belly was twice its normal size, bloated by his cum and the High King chuckled at the sight, he would have to save his seed again if he wanted to fill her each time like that. The princess hadn’t begged for him like he had envisioned, forcing him to make plans for another visit.

Yanja’s guts ached from the tremendous girth still inside them, slowly the King began to pull out and the pressure of his knot hitting her rim from the inside made Yanja come again giving the King another chuckle. He pulled his white-stained sheath out and once his crown popped outside a gushing stream of seed followed it, deflating Yanja’s protruding belly back to its size.

“Don’t worry, my love,” the King purred, “I shall fill you again soon.”

Zaarko planted one final kiss on her lips and got up, “Tomorrow morning, before the rooster's crowing, I want you in my chambers,” he ordered tersely and got his clothes, leaving Yanja all alone, lying on the washroom floor, his seed still pouring out of her. The Princess had now been marked permanently as his and she could feel all her hesitations melt away. She belonged to him and only to him, a man she had never even imagined to claim her. She had been given a chance to explore her true self.

As the remains of her last climax slowly faded away making room for the cramping the rough sex had left behind, Yanja’s lips curled into a mellow smile. Tonight she would sleep well and make sure she would arrive at the first light in her father’s chambers.

[never-surrender]

He pauses. One. Two. Three. Four seconds pass, and Astarion is still staring as he thinks it through. No, he most certainly did not cast a scroll of animal speak. Was this animal magical? It had to be, right? That was the only explanation?

"A talking ... thing. Fantastic! As if things in my life weren't already weird enough," comes his complaint, sighing before he decides to crouch down, placing his arms on his knees so that his hands dangle freely from his wrists. "But no, to answer your question, I would do much the same. I won't apologize, however... you are an animal."

He has to nip back the chuckle bubbling in his throat. Though the taste of this man is curious though… Nothing like he's ever bitten before, that's for certain. But he didn't draw a weapon upon the nip despite his obvious disdain, so that must mean he's half decent. Restraint is a pleasant trait to have!

Airin's tail draws over his paws. Despite this man's wavering kindness, there's still more ways to mess with him. " Don't tell me you wouldn't do the same if someone put their hand in your face? " Comes his lowly purr. " I do apologize though. One can never be too sure if a stranger is malicious. "

[criticalrolo]

who wants to read how Kestrel and Willow first met. @actionsurges this one's for you

ethical methodology, 3.7k words

“Shut the door behind you,” General Tidon says, not looking up from the mess of scrolls and maps spread across his desk.

Willow already knows that this assignment will be different from the others – there had been no need for secrecy when she’d been summoned to the fort before. She turns her back to close the door and whispers the incantation to detect Tidon’s thoughts, keeping the hand motions subtle and concealed beneath the folds of her purple traveling cloak.

Tidon’s surface level thoughts open up to her like a book. The usual frustrations are there, as they always are when she gets called in for a difficult case. However, he is also unusually excited, a bright spark of energy flaring to the top of his mind in a manner that seems almost… giddy.

She takes a seat opposite the general. “Your message said this was urgent. What happened?” 

He looks up, and detecting his thoughts confirms that yes, it is a flash of discomfort and unease that dashes across his face when he makes eye contact with her for the first time. Not enough to bury the odd mixture of irritation and anticipation he’s projecting, but enough for her to notice. 

“Nearly two weeks ago, a squadron patrolling the western border of our territory captured one of the enemy’s war mages. The boys brought him back in for questioning, and it would have been a standard enough process, except one of them recognized the little bastard.”

Willow has been called in to work on a few of the enemy’s Birds in the past, each of them with well constructed mental wards that had taken a few tries to unravel. They’re challenging, but not unbreakable or incredibly exciting. Not enough to explain the urgency with which she was called upon or the way Tidon is practically vibrating in his chair.

Tidon slides a few sheets of parchment towards her: intel about their newest prisoner. She picks it up and starts flipping through the pages. 

“This one’s calling himself Kestrel. We can’t find any other name he goes by, so we don’t have any leads for family or outside connections to mess with. My boys swear they recognized him as the mage that cast the temporal magic we’ve had hell trying to deal with in the past month.”

Willow looks up sharply from the intelligence file. “You believe he’s a chronurgist?”

“Quara thinks he’s the chronurgist, actually. First person to actually manage it on his own outside a lab.”

The mention of Tidon’s blood monk doesn’t fill her with confidence, but it certainly has Tidon worked up. He’s even moved past his initial discomfort at seeing her enter the room. Willow’s fingers linger on Kestrel’s file. He’s apparently only 22 years old. 

“I take it she’s been working him over downstairs to no avail.”

“Questioning hasn’t proven very fruitful, despite Quara’s more colorful attempts. The problem for her is we need a fully intact mind to explain the details of chronurgy, and she’s had issues with the preservation of mental faculties in the past.”

“You’re saying you need a scalpel instead of your usual sledgehammer for this particular venture.”

Tidon visibly twitches when she says the word scalpel. Gods, she’s weird, he thinks. Out loud: “It will be double your usual commission fee, as well as access to any and all of the army’s resources that you’ll require, in exchange for the complete extraction.”

The offer of a blank check doesn’t completely disguise the strange sting of confusion that runs through her when she hears herself in Tidon’s thoughts as “weird.” Her face betrays nothing as she stands up from the table. “For something this important, it will likely take a few days of work. Maybe a full week.”

“Take your time to make sure it’s flawless, and you’ll have everything you need from us. I’m sure you remember the way below ground? I want you to get started right away.” Tidon stands as well, gesturing for her to follow him out of the room.

Wind howls outside the stone walls as Tidon leads her through the hallways and to the large oaken door at the entrance to the dungeon. There must be some sort of silence spell cast on it, because as soon as he pulls it open, Willow can hear a distant screech that sounds…ongoing. 

Tidon goes to light a torch, but Willow pulls out her scalpel and creates a ball of purple light to guide them both down the stairs. He gives her a nod of appreciation, but that tinge of discomfort at the sight of her scalpel is still there. 

The stairs are cold, even with Willow’s light and the torches blazing with blue fire ensconced on the walls. Willow exhales, and can see her breath in front of her. Trembling from the cold will be a major problem while attempting brain surgery in a cellar.

As she goes to ask Tidon to provide her operating room with some sort of heating apparatus, her detect thoughts spell picks up on the low murmur coming from inside the cell at the base of the stairs. Whoever is inside has heard their footsteps, and is desperately begging the Gods that they will pass him by. Willow closes her mouth and doesn’t speak, although she’s not exactly sure why.

A dark hallway stretches before them. Occasional whimpers are audible behind solid locked doors, although whoever was screaming earlier seems to have stopped. Tidon ushers her along briskly, and not a single thought of his strays towards the people locked away down here. 

He stops in front of a cell with blue light streaming out from underneath the door and unlocks it with a heavy iron key. The door creaks open. He sticks his head inside and says, “Quara, your reinforcements are here.”

“Very well – I was just finishing up.”

Tidon jerks his head at Willow, motioning her inside. She steps through the doorway with her purple light and immediately begins detecting two new sets of thoughts: the nearly meditative thrum of the albino woman in brown robes whose hands are coated in a few layers of congealed blood, and the sharp spike of frazzled panic from the battered red haired wizard tied to a table in front of her.

“A pleasure to see you again,” Quara says, giving Willow a serene smile. Her thoughts betray her – the woman is livid that Willow has arrived to take over. “I was just speaking with Kestrel here about the importance of honesty and the healing power of blood and truth spilled before the light of the Gods.” 

Quara’s interior dedication to her god of blood is blazing and nearly overwhelming. If Willow didn’t dislike her so intensely she might have found her fascinating. Instead, she takes a moment to look over her new subject. Kestrel’s red hair hangs limp around his pale face, and she can see the odd angle of his left knee as well as the blood soaking through his torn shirt. He stares back at her, vivid purple eyes meeting her dark red ones. She hears the rapid-fire string of questions that shoot through his mind well before he coughs and asks in a thin voice, tight with pain, “Who are you?”

“My name is Dr. Willow Amaryllis. I am a brain surgeon and neurology researcher at the nearby university.”

“What…” He has to pause to cough and tries to inhale. His thoughts scatter at the influx of pain shooting through broken ribs before he can gather himself again. “What sort of brain surgeon ends up working for the army?”

“One who doesn’t wish to cause you any more pain.” Willow nudges Quara out of the way so she can sit down in front of Kestrel. “I know you doubt that, but it is the truth.”

“We won’t have to get Dr. Willow here involved if you just tell us what we want to know,” Tidon says from the doorway.

Kestrel’s eyes widen. “What does that mean?”

“I have developed safe methods of information extraction, directly from a patient’s mind, which are painless and seamless. If you do not wish to give up the information willingly, then I will remove it from the source myself.”

The frantic thoughts racing through Kestrel’s mind are a bit distracting, although Willow is attempting to be reassuring. “The process is painless. Your consciousness will be kept safe for the duration of the procedure.”

“No, you can’t –” 

Quara comes up from behind Willow and drives a fist into Kestrel’s face so quickly Willow can hear his neck snap to the side. ���It is not up for debate. Tell us your methods, or Willow will tell us for you.”

“Be careful, Quara,” Tidon snarls. “We need that brain whole and undamaged.”

Kestrel pants and spits a globule of blood out onto Willow’s hand. “Fuck you. You won’t learn anything from me.”

“Very well.” Willow raises her scalpel and begins to cut her first spell into the air. “I will be placing wards in your mind to bind your consciousness far away from here. As long as you remain in that place, no harm will come to you.”

Kestrel attempts to say something else, but his scattered mind capitulates to her spell quite quickly, and his eyes roll back into his head. Willow mentally tugs on the magical tether created between her mind, his, and their physical bodies. Everything seems to be in place.

“I’m getting started,” she says. “Bring down some food, water, and probably a blanket or two. We’ll be down here for a while.”

“Careful with that one.” Tidon gives her a nod and heads out of the room.

“I think I’ll stay,” Quora says. “I find meditating in these halls clears the mind like nothing else.”

“As long as you do nothing to distract me. This is a delicate process, and any interference could be disastrous for me and for him.”

Quora says nothing, but gives her a disquieting smile before kneeling in the corner of the room and closing her eyes. Willow resists the urge to roll her eyes and turns her focus back to her subject. She’ll only have to make one small cut for her spell to gain access to the inner workings of his mind. She carefully parts the center of his hair and makes an incision behind his hairline, so there won’t be any visible scarring he’ll have to deal with.

A drop of blood runs down Kestrel’s face. Willow touches his forehead, raises her scalpel, and begins.

The sensation of switching from the vividness of the real world to the fractal patterns and jumbled biological projections of a mental landscape has always been soothing to Willow. She is in a place where physical reality is secondary to intentions and will. Here, she can reach out with her magic and use the natural flow of her thoughts to guide along neural pathways to whatever information she seeks. Kestrel’s mind is complicated and restless beneath her fingers as she starts to prod the network for information about his chronurgy and where it comes from. 

The cells twist and jerk, rejecting her search, but she knows the way these building blocks function, and how to be as unobtrusive as possible. She molds her shape in this place to resemble a curious internal seeker, and not a threat, before reaching out with her scalpel again. This time she can tug on a mental thread and follow it where it leads, as though she is simply another thought racing through Kestrel’s head. After sifting through what feels like hundreds of mental threads, her guiding impulse comes to an abrupt stop.

She examines the neuron her scalpel has settled on. Nothing extraordinary jumps out at an immediate glance, other than the barest trace of the temporal distortion magic she’s on the hunt for. She carefully peels back the myelin sheath to get a better look at the axon. There’s no magic in this neuron in particular, but it certainly passed through this way. It’s a start, at least.

As she thinks this, she feels Kestrel’s consciousness start to press against her own from far, far away. 

Be still, she projects. I have a scalpel inside your head. Unexpected movement will cause you damage and pain.

Instead of quieting down, Kestrel’s mind starts to thrash wildly. The landscape around her begins to shudder and recoil from her touch. He comes alarmingly close to breaking through the barrier between the real world and the deeper world he should be sedated within when Willow severs the link and blinks open her physical eyes.

“I said,” she says, placing her hands on both sides of his face to hold him steady, “be still.”

“Did you find it?” Quara asks from her position on the floor. 

Willow doesn’t bother giving her an answer, and instead adjusts Kestrel’s head on the table. “Throwing yourself about while I have a knife in your head will only cause you problems. I have no desire to cause you pain or brain trauma, and the only mind you will be damaging is your own.”

Kestrel locks eyes with her, says nothing in response to her words of caution. She thinks she sees a glint of… something strange, wavering in his expression. Her detect thoughts spell has worn off, so she’s not exactly sure what he’s thinking, and she doesn’t want to cause him excessive pain by prodding the sore area she’d just ripped them both away from. 

End of day one, she notes to herself. No further progress.

Day two, no further progress.

Day three, no further progress.

“What are you doing?”

Quara has stuck her hands two knuckles deep in a cut slashed into Kestrel’s abdomen. She turns around to give Willow a wan smile even as Kestrel writhes on the bloodstained table.

“Your methods have been taking too long. I thought I’d encourage him by reminding him of our other strategies for extraction.” Her smile is yellow against the sickly pale white of her skin. “Besides, my god has been lacking for tribute this past week.” 

“Step away from him,” Willow says harshly. “He’s under my care now, not yours.”

Quara contritely pulls her hands away, raising them in surrender. Kestrel makes a choking sound as blood spills out of his stomach. 

Willow waits for Quara to step away from the table, then hurries forward to press her hands against the gash. It’s shallow and non-life threatening, but the edges are clearly red and irritated. Kestrel jerks beneath the pressure.

“Don’t worry,” Willow says calmly. “I have plenty of experience with stitches and wound sterilization to prevent infection.”

Kestrel gazes up at the ceiling with glassy eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you do.”

Willow sighs, keeping one hand pressed to his chest while digging through her tool bag for her suturing kit. “This sort of cruelty is unnecessary. My methods of information retrieval are much more humane.”

Kestrel lets out a sharp bark of hoarse laughter. “My god, you really believe that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Cutting apart flesh to force someone into divulging information is barbaric when there are much safer direct options.”

He sighs, twitching when she starts sewing the first stitch, and lets his head fall back with a thud against the reddened wood. “Hardly seems any different to me.”

Day four, no further progress.

Day five. Day six. No further progress.

“There has to be something you can do to speed this up,” Tidon grouches, crossing his arms and leaning against the cold stone walls.

“You could always let me do some of the work,” Quara says. She is kneeling quietly in the corner, far away from the table in the center of the room. 

Willow stops her scalpel mid casting. Kestrel’s mind hovers in a halfway space, partially concealed behind the protective barrier. “Your work is questionable at best in this case, Quora. Trying to find information when half of his neurons are flooded with pain signals makes my job exponentially more difficult.”

“Quora won’t be touching him again, not after last time,” Tidon says wearily. “But in the meantime, isn’t there anything you could do that would give you a bit more direction?”

Willow hesitates, scalpel still hovering in the air. “I suppose… if we allowed his consciousness a little bit more freedom, his automatic thoughts would be more likely to direct me to the source of his power. However, any degree of consciousness during a surgical procedure runs the risk of causing him pain or trauma.”

“Do I seem like someone all that concerned about causing pain to a prisoner?” Tidon says, raising an eyebrow.

Something twinges deep inside Willow’s heart, but she ignores the feeling. “You must understand: trauma and pain can warp memories and recollection. It could damage the thoughts I am attempting to extract. And you wanted this procedure to be flawless.”

“I also wanted the procedure finished days ago. The benefits we stand to gain from even some information on actual chronurgy are worth the risk.” Tidon’s voice is harsh and decisive. “You have new instructions, Dr. Amaryllis. Use the partial consciousness method and get us those notes.”

For a split second, Willow considers refusing. Kestrel’s mind is already hanging in limbo between the real world and the subconscious, poised on the edge of a knife for her decision. 

Finally, she nods. “Very well. I will do my best to keep this as clean as possible.”

“I don’t care about clean, I care about results.” Tidon’s imperious stance relaxes. “You may proceed.”

Willow takes hold of the magical tethers connecting their minds to their bodies. They feel different this time, now that she’s keeping Kestrel a bit more grounded in his physical form. While constructing the magical barrier keeping his mind safe, she factors in windows for him to see through. Not nearly enough for him to escape from without wreaking massive havoc on his mind, but enough that his consciousness should be able to provide her with impulses and directions on her search.

Descending into his mind feels clumsier than usual. The natural pathways she is used to traversing without effort shift and sway and change direction abruptly, as though they can’t decide what to focus on. However, there is a heightened awareness to the landscape that she instantly knows she can direct. 

Where is the source of your magic? She asks.

Almost instantly she can feel an automatic response from Kestrel’s mind. The surge of an electrical impulse shoots off through the neural pathways, and she follows, heading deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind. He’s done a decent job hiding behind barriers and wards, but chasing the automatic nature of his thoughts is childishly easy. 

A bright light made up of scattered golds and blues and purples glows in the center of a mess of neurons. 

There you are, she thinks. 

And then, Kestrel decides to wreak havoc.

Before she can react, Kestrel’s conscious mind flings itself forward at the barrier, shattering it and sending sprays of untamed psychic magic flying everywhere.

Stop – you’ll hurt yourself! Willow shouts wildly, trying to reign in the surge of magic.

I know, a grim thought answers back. 

Willow understands his plan the moment he throws himself forward onto her scalpel, impaling his mind on her blade. She reels back, trying to untangle herself from the web of neurons before Kestrel’s mind goes into meltdown. Distantly, she can hear someone screaming as Kestrel cuts his source of power to ribbons and tears himself in half.

She severs the tethers between them, rocketing back to her physical body right before Kestrel explodes in a surge of white hot energy. She only has time to think oh fuck – 

A high pitched ringing in her ears is the first thing she’s aware of. Her cheek is pressed against stone that is frigidly cold, almost like it has been coated in ice. When she blearily opens her eyes, she can only make out the blur of the cell floor and a figure trying to free itself from the table it’s tied to.

She blinks away the blood trickling down into her eyes, and the world lurches into a bit more focus.

The figure on the table – it looks like Kestrel, but she instantly knows that something is severely wrong with him. Invisible wind whips around someone who looks to be made of shadows, a half figure stradling this world and the next. He turns his head towards her, and his eyes have been replaced by shining cold lights. A jagged fissure splits his forehead down the middle, spilling blue light across the bloodied table. 

As she watches silently, the figure pants and gasps before coming to a shuddering halt. He freezes, takes in one deep breath, and exhales slowly. The shadows melt away, and Kestrel reappears on the table. Blood is spurting from his nose and ears, but he is focused completely on stretching his fingers towards the bloodied scalpel lodged in the wood of the table. After a few seconds of straining, he catches it and yanks it free, slashing through the ropes and tumbling awkwardly free to the ground.

Willow remains slumped against the wall, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he drags himself over to Tidon’s body and feels around for his ring of keys. He pulls it off the general’s belt with a gasp of triumph, then turns to look at her.

His wild purple eyes lock with her own. She blinks at him slowly. She can’t think of anything to say. 

Kestrel tosses the scalpel towards her like it’s burning him. It clatters to the ground. She wants to reach out for it, but she can’t find the energy to move her arms just yet. The floor is coated in ice and blood. 

As Kestrel stumbles his way towards the door and begins fumbling for the right key, she closes her eyes. There’s nothing she wants to do more than simply let herself drift back to sleep and not think about what she’s just done. The door creaks open behind her, and Kestrel’s staggering footsteps run away.