#the muscled AND metaled variety

[bird-inacage]

Are you KIDDING me??? Kant and Bison have no right being such cute ass boyfriends. The rom-com feels are hitting hard.

Kant looks so fond. Bison looks so twee. Ugh, this combo be killin' me.

Note: Ohhh I've finally realised that the things around Bison's neck are arcade ticket stubs. BLESS. Their dates look SO WHOLESOME.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

In The Minotaur's Maze

Male Minotaur Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violently painful noncon, mild bleeding from sex, size difference, belly bulge from massively huge dick, mild mention of musk, stalking, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 980 (Tried to make a drabble, failed again with a mini-fic instead. Oops. This is one of my very few works, so far, that is technically fanfiction as Asterion is the canon name of the Minotaur in Greek mythology.)

You were a talented explorer seeking ancient relics for fame and fortune.

You used a combination of minor magic to speak to the dead and serious investigation to discern the location of the fabled Minotaur labyrinth.

It was deep within an enchanted cave system that in many ways served as an extension of the maze hidden away within.

You carefully navigated the treacherous caves until you came upon the secret entrance. You placed your hand in the middle of a smooth wall and uttered the magic incantation.

The wall dissolved in a flash of light, and you stepped through the entrance as the stone reformed behind you. This was it. You were in the maze proper. What secrets lie ahead?

Of course, you knew the legends of Asterion the Minotaur, but he had been slain in them. And nothing could live so long anyway, especially without food.

You navigated the stone corridors easily. Despite their age, they still looked brand new. As you continued on, you occasionally heard what sounded like hooves plodding along behind you.

You pushed it from your mind. Your imagination was playing tricks.

As you stepped around a corner, you came to a wooden door and opened it. When you stepped through, gone were the twisting stone paths filled with the scent of earth.

Instead, there was an ancient style dwelling overlooking some farmland growing a variety of trees, bushes, and vines.

The door you had come through was still behind you, you closed it and from this side it looked like a door to a shed. So the labyrinth had pocket dimensions… You had heard about them in passing. You wondered how large it was. The realm may look like an idyllic farm on earth, but if you went far enough away, you'd surely hit an invisible wall.

Perhaps the door to the house would lead further into the dungeon.

As you got closer, you realized how large it was. When you pushed the big door open, it actually was a house. Albeit with furniture that was made for someone very large.

Suddenly, you felt a hot breath at your neck. You turned to find the very large, naked Minotaur staring down at you. He was a hairy wall of muscle. One with the head of a bull, complete with metal tipped horns. His legs were covered in dark fur and ended in large hooves, and his full nutsack dangled beneath a frighteningly large prick.

Before you could react, the Minotaur grabbed you and pulled off all your clothing.

You had no idea how Asterion could have survived all this time. He had been killed!

But apparently, he hadn't gotten the memo.

In the past, he had consumed most humans that wandered into his labyrinthine prison, but you were bravely entering his home, his nest.

You weren't cowering like the old sacrifices. Well, you weren't before he grabbed you anyway.

That, combined with him being in rut and driven insane by thousands of years of isolation, made him not consider you as a meal for even a moment. You were firmly in the mate category in his brain.

So small and cute.

You writhed and fought to get out of his grasp but he ignored your greatest efforts as if they were nothing.

Asterion licked at your face as you pleaded with him to let you go.

He couldn't understand your language but he could guess at their meaning.

But he had no intention of ever letting this new mate of his go.

He tossed you down on the bed and you now saw what he intended to do.

His hard cock now at full arousal, as large and thick as a man's arm.

"No no no! Pleasepleasenono!!!" Your words blended together in a garbled panic as his musk hit your nose, sharp and dominating.

The only preparation your entrance received was a few gobs of slimy Minotaur saliva before he slammed inside you.

You shrieked.

It felt as though your entrance was on fire. As if it was being ripped apart.

With every thrust you shuddered in pain and sobbed. Nearly incoherent cries for mercy dribbled from your lips and fell on deaf ears.

You felt so warm and tight around him. This was just what he needed. Surely you had been sent to Asterion in his time of need by the gods. They finally, after eons, granted him mercy in the form of your insides.

So pliant to his girthy cock. Every time he dove back into you the outline could be seen in your stomach.

Tears streamed down your face as you silently wept, no longer able to scream or even babble your silly little pleas for it to stop.

Asterion wished he could tell you how well you were doing. That you were such a good cow for him. That you fit his cock so perfectly.

But he couldn't, so instead settled for licking and nibbling at your neck before wiping your tears away with his broad tongue.

With a final thrust he filled your belly visibly cum.

When he pulled out a torrent of his seed rushed down your thighs, it had noticeable streaks of pink from bleeding. You were such a fragile little thing compared to him.

He hadn't been able to hold back since that was the first time he had ever sought release inside of someone before, but he made note to be more careful.

Even though the breeding had stopped you were helpless. Broken. At least for the moment. You still cried silently, feeling utterly invaded and defiled.

Asterion took the time to lick you completely clean before laying down beside you and holding you close, spooning you with his mighty arm as you shook beneath it.

You came here to explore the deepest reaches of the maze... but had your deepest reaches explored instead...

[rapturously]

Dwayne or David facesitting. Period. Like, vampires don't need to breathe! Hell, let em stay down there for hours. Also, am I too gross or crazy to think about having fun during that time of the month? 🩸

blood moon.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. | dwayne (the lost boys) x fem!reader

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓. | drabble — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. | 3.7K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. | SMUT (mdni), dubious consent (mild coercion) cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), reader is on their period, bloodplay (lots of it, he’s a vampire), facesitting, biting, hair-pulling, pet names (mama, girl, sweet girl), dwayne is hungry and he’s nasty, kissing, vampire antics, possessive dwayne, Dwayne is a little selfish in this

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. | wow ,,, a fic three days in a row ??? you can tell I’m hyperfixated because I’ll produce a ton of content very rapidly. Also, I love dwayne so much, he’s my daddy. ALSO — please keep sending me horny requests for the lost boys, I’m being fed !!! also, hello to all of my new followers & tlb fellows :)) love y’all and hope you enjoy!

A blood moon — it was a humorous term that your mother used to use for your menstrual cycle, something that you’d grown to despise with every fiber of your being. It was another unfortunate shackle of humanity, a reminder that you were still flesh and blood. Whenever your time of the month came about, you were always tempted to beg David for a sip of that forbidden wine.

The oppressive heat of the cavernous labyrinth that the boys dwelled within had felt somewhat comforting to you as you curled up on Dwayne’s makeshift bed, form contorted into the fetal position. A slow, agonizing pain spread throughout your lower abdomen, making your muscles feel weak and useless.

Sunset was just upon the horizon as you struggled to endure the suffering that you were forced into with each passing month. The mattress felt cool and smooth underneath your cheek, having abandoned the scattered pillows in favor of awaiting your demise. You wanted to sob, biting at the inside of your cheek, teeth scraping against flesh as your fists balled into the blanket.

Everything hurt — what began as a dull ache soon manifested into a pain that gripped your entire body. Your back was sore, head throbbing, and your insides felt as if they were being stirred around by the hand of another. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to move from your spot, anchored to your slice of space.

Once dusk fell, the vampires you’d been living with came to life, no longer hanging from the rafters of some dark, damp alcove. You could heat Marko and Paul’s guffaws and laughter, accompanied by David’s stern, tempered remarks. It all served as idle background noise, prompting you to close your eyes.

The noise dissipated — it was too quick for your liking. Silence settled in, save for the faint rustling of ambience within the cave, combined with something rattling around out in the remnants of the old lobby.

As much as you didn’t want to move, you sluggishly rolled out of bed, discomforted by the sensation of sloshing liquid rushing between your legs. It was the worst part of your cycle — the unpleasant sensations, the feeling of being wholly unclean. You draped a blanket around you, hobbling from Dwayne’s roost.

Strong, veined hands were buried within the grease-laden guts of a motorcycle, dismantling a variety of components. The vehicle was partially dismantled, stripped down to the metal underbelly. Dwayne’s dark tresses were disheveled from slumber, parts of scrap scattered around him. An elongated, metal screw was lodged between his teeth as he concentrated on his work.

He could smell you long before you’d crept into the lobby, but he hadn’t expected to see you in such a downtrodden state. Dwayne was often respectful of your space, especially during your cycle. It wasn’t something he would ever endure, but watching you writhe and suffer wasn’t entirely enjoyable, either.

“Dwayne?” You croaked, awkwardly shuffling across outcroppings of debris and dirt, draped in your shoddy sheet as you spotted your boyfriend. There was something beautiful about him, particularly when he practiced his hobby of playing mechanic. Specks of black oil lined his forearms and fingertips.

Without missing a beat, Dwayne turned to look at you, hazel hues drinking you in with reverence and concern. Dark brows furrowed together as he abandoned his current project, grabbing at the tattered, red cloth that rode around within his back pocket. “Hey,” That familiar baritone held a subtle warmth to it. “What’s wrong, Mama?”

You knew that he knew, but he still asked you nonetheless. As he swiped away at the oil and pungent grease, Dwayne stepped closer toward you, stooping down to press a kiss against the top of your head. You smelled wonderful, natural sweetness intermingled with that of your menses.

“Everything,” You exhaled, shuddering when his large palm splayed out across your back, rubbing soothing circles into your sore flesh. “Where are the others?” Admittedly, it was a bit unusual to see Dwayne alone without the company of the pack.

“Hunting,” Dwayne confirmed, and without hesitation, he hooked a strong, taut arm underneath your legs, hoisting you up as he carried you like a blushing bride. Cradling you against his chiseled chest, he made sure you were back in bed, where you belonged. “I was worried about you.” He confessed, laying you back against the mattress.

His throat was burning — a fire so intense that he wanted to scream, but Dwayne was rather talented at smothering his hunger for the good of another. His thirst would be extinguished soon enough, whenever he could leave the cave to find unsuspecting tourists. He sat down along the edge of the bed, hand massaging into your thigh.

Guilt rippled through you, knowing that Dwayne had abandoned the hunt to tend to you, this fragile human. His brows furrowed together — he must’ve been reading your thoughts. “I’m sorry. You should go feed.” You encouraged him, despite keening into the comforting chill of his hand.

Dwayne’s mind had gone elsewhere — there was a way that he could feed without having to abandon you. Of course, it was purely self-gratifying and your best interests were secondary to his starvation, which crawled across his stomach, burning a hole through him. He kept quiet, gingerly massaging your leg with his hand, which drifted towards the swell of your hips.

He didn’t like seeing you this way, agonized and letting yourself sit in the suffering. “If there was something that I could do to help, would you let me?” Dwayne asked, gazing down at you with an incendiary look. It was distinct, reminding you of the plethora of times he’d seduced you. Your stomach lurched, insides feeling as if they were withering away.

Your expression was somewhat quizzical, lips parting slightly as you reached for his arm. He was so much bigger than you — the strongest of the pack, urging you closer until his fingers could sweep away the hair framing your visage. That thick, coppery swarm of blood invaded his nostrils, singing his throat yet again.

“What do you have in-mind?” You asked, somewhat hesitant as he caged you in between his arms, bending down to press a hungry kiss to your lips. Sex was the furthest thing on your mind, but you relented, moaning into his mouth as you reached for his dark tresses.

Dwayne was a phenomenal kisser — passionate and slow, as if he were savoring every second of it. Though, he had a tendency to let it whirlwind into something ravenous and primal, fitting for the quiet, stoic vampire. He exhaled, kissing you with a thinly-veiled desire, hand moving to cup your jaw.

“Could take the pain away.” He uttered, withdrawing from your lips with an indiscernible expression. Dwayne was always difficult to read — endlessly complex, an enigma that you wanted to unravel. His mystique was always present, but you knew him better than most.

To you, it was an act of generosity — you were gullible, naive to Dwayne’s true intentions of feeding from you whilst making the ache fade away. Your heart fluttered within your chest, causing you to wet your lower lip. Dwayne’s thumb rubbed along your jawline.

“How?” With a soft gulp, you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, feeling his lips graze your jugular. His natural musk was enticing, often intermingled with the twang of stale copper and machinery oil. Dwayne shrugged his jacket off, bulky musculature engulfing you.

His shadow eclipsed any sliver of torchlight as he bathed you in darkness, gaze dusky as he gave you another deliberate kiss. Dwayne was silent, adjusting himself until he knelt at the foot of the bed, partially on top of you. His hand pushed against the inside of your knee, and that’s when you stopped him.

“N—No,” Your protest was weak, embarrassment rippling through your voice. There was something that felt inherently dirty to you, if Dwayne intended to follow through on whatever it was he planned on doing. “Dwayne, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” A shrewdness crept into your tone.

He read your mind — you thought he wanted sex. If you weren’t in so much pain, he would’ve been fucking you within an inch of your life by now. Dwayne’s chest rumbled with a brief chuckle, lips curling into a faint smile, pearlescent teeth glimmering against his caramel skin and stubble-coated visage. “Not like that,” He exhaled. “Something else. Help us both.” He murmured, stroking along your leg.

So that’s what he wanted.

Admittedly, you were a little nervous about the idea. He’d never insisted on feeding from you before, and certainly not in this manner. It sounded so crude and messy in your head. He’d bitten you, but never enough to cause any lasting harm. “I don’t know.” You mumbled, feeling another sharp, dagger-like jolt course through the pit of your stomach.

“It’ll make the pain go away,” Dwayne was gorgeous — like a chiseled god, crouched between your legs as he sought your consent. Of course, it was somewhat swayed through consistent persuasion, but there was something mutually beneficial to be found in this. “Let me.” His voice dropped to a husked octave, dripping with something amorous.

You were still hesitant, heart beating like a fluttering of a hummingbird, swift and constant, pounding just above your breast. Goosebumps coalesced along the length of your spine, crawling across your flesh like a tidal wave as he pressed a series of kisses against the inside of your thigh, face dangerously close to swarming forward.

“Okay, just — Just go slow.” Molten heat sloshed within your belly as Dwayne stalked forward, musculature parting your legs. He was so broad and strong, smooth underneath your fingertips as they brushed against his taut, veined forearms. He bracketed you in, arms like a cage as he kept you close.

Dwayne felt that blistering itch within his throat, the urge to feed, to savor the sanguine heat between your legs. He had no intention of being slow. Once the feeding commenced, it was difficult to stop. “‘Course, girl.” He nodded, dark eyes glued to your features as he flattened down against the mattress.

Sinewy hands curled into the waistband of your panties, slipping beneath the shirt you wore, one that didn’t happen to be covered in age-old blood. You were flustered, beginning to squirm as Dwayne peeled it all aside, menstrual pad included.

He rucked your shirt up, propped up on his elbows as his palms gripped at your hips so hard that it was sure to leave bruises. That smell of blood hit him immediately, scorching his throat and insides until it was all ash and dust. Dwayne was silent, broad tongue parting past until it drew along the length of your cunt.

Blood wept from your core, which felt uncomfortable for you, initially. You huffed, nearly sinking down into the mattress in a heap as Dwayne began to openly lap at your slit, drinking you in as if you were the most delicious thing he’d tasted. Your cunt clenched, nerves set ablaze as his nose bumped against your clit.

You tasted saccharine — coppery and vitriolic, but it was his sort of feast. Dwayne let out a grunt, lapping at the blood that oozed from your cunt, letting it linger upon his lips, invading his senses. Once he heard your sweet moans from above, he tugged you forward, a growl ripping through his chest.

Those aches and pains were sluggishly beginning to ebb away, soothed by the vampire who drank from between your thighs. It wasn’t as much as he wanted, but it was enough, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt as the pleasure unfurled within your stomach.

“Dwayne,” A blissful sigh escaped you, back beginning to arch off of the bed and toward his mouth. Your fingers clamored to hold on, finding their purchase amongst his tousled mane of jet-black hair. He’d eaten you out before, but not like this. There was the added element of blood involved. “D—Dwayne, don’t stop.” You whimpered.

Within the dim light of the alcove, those orange flickers of light from the small array of candles made his skin look like velvet. Those dark eyes never left you, pinning you in-place as he drank freely from your cunt. Your menses stained his mouth with red, tongue occasionally drifting from your entrance to your clit.

A burnished, golden sheen glistened within his eyes, hunger somewhat dissipating. He wasn’t satisfied nor satiated, intending to drink his fill — as for you, he suspected you’d have to endure his constant lapping and sucking until you were nothing more than a sobbing mess.

Your poor legs were quivering, wobbling on either side of his face as he steadied you, hands clamping down to keep you still. He idly massaged into the pliant flesh of your thighs, tongue assaulting your cunt with a viciousness to it. Crimson dribbled down his chin, but your flow was beginning to taper off from your prone state.

A myriad of throaty, wanton mewls escaped you, toes curling in delight as he gingerly suckled at your clit. The sensation was temporary, fleeting as his attention drifted elsewhere, tongue lapping at another slow-trickling rivulet of blood. Dwayne hummed, deep and gravelly, stubble tickling the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.

It was only when he withdrew that you were babbling and stammering, wanting to know why he’d suddenly stopped. “W—Wait,” You whimpered, pitiful as ever, cunt aching something awful as he licked at his lips. Seeing Dwayne’s mouth and chin drenched in a darker shade of scarlet made you feel hot, heat creeping through your belly. “Please.”

His hearty chuckle made you irritated, but it was short-lived. You watched as Dwayne settled himself onto the mattress beside you, hues a vibrant gold, his countenance stained in your menstrual gore. “I’m not finished, pretty girl. Still hungry.” He reassured you, and plucked you up with two strong hands.

You were eternally grateful for Dwayne in that moment, who placed you on his chest. Without missing a beat, he bumped you forward, and you were gazing down at Santa Carla’s most stoic, vicious predator. An endless hunger danced within his eyes, soon to be quelled by the delicious blood that pooled between your legs.

Dwayne could tell that you weren’t expecting this, and it certainly made it all the more enticing for him. You were so smitten, his sweet little human. He’d fantasized about having you sit on his face until you were nearly unconscious, but this was all the more sweeter. Embarrassment flooded through you, but Dwayne seemed entirely unphased.

Initially, you were scared of hurting him, a notion that Dwayne found to be a little too innocuous. He could hear your heartbeat pounding away beneath your collarbone, thrumming like the beat of a drum as he lowered you back onto his mouth.

Your knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his head, dark tresses splayed out like a halo. With this newfound angle, you were staring at Dwayne — or more like, he was gazing at you. His tongue quickly invaded your throbbing cunt, blood catching on his lips. It was messier this time, making you tremble beneath his hold.

A liquid heat coursed throughout your body, pooling heavy within your stomach. Cruor oozed from your throbbing cunt, and now that you weren’t lying on your back, Dwayne was getting another taste. He continued to dutifully lap at your slit, ensuring that he didn’t miss a single drop of blood.

It sat thick and heavy upon his tongue, beginning to bring some semblance of relief to that raging fire that scorched within his throat. His pain was relinquished, and so was yours — a mutual exchange. Even then, he wanted more, digits digging into your haunches as he flicked his tongue over your clit again and again.

There was something disgustingly entrancing about the way he greedily lapped at your core, face buried deep within your cunt, hungry for your menses. If he wasn’t a creature of the night, you might’ve been somewhat indifferent to all of this, but he was bringing you such a wave of relief.

You wiggled your hips, accidentally grinding yourself onto his face, and Dwayne indulged you. As he lapped at another stream of crimson ichor, you moaned, chest heaving with heavy pants and wanton mewls, hands perched along the rickety, half-torn headboard.

“S—Shit,” You exhaled, tears stinging your eyes as you began to make that steady climb toward your climax. Dwayne didn’t stop, never relenting or slowing any movement as he lapped at your cunt, broad tongue swiping over every inch of your slit. The pleasure began to outweigh any pain you felt, muscles spasming. “Dwayne!” A whine left you, head rolling forward.

A deep, guttural growl emanated from Dwayne as it rumbled throughout his wide chest. It was mesmerizing to watch him from above, your hands splaying themselves along his bronze shoulders. His mouth drifted toward your inner thigh, and he looked to you, seeking approval before he bit you.

With a messy, lazy nod, your cunt throbbed and pulsated with molten heat, causing your nails to dig into Dwayne’s skin, hard enough to leave behind crescent-shaped imprints. Golden, crimson-ringed irises flashed in your direction as his countenance contorted into something inhuman, monstrously beautiful in your eyes.

Pearlescent fangs and pretty teeth sought out the pliant, soft flesh of your inner thigh, and he bit down — hard. It left behind the angry-red marks of unusual teeth as ringlets of a sanguine color trickled down your leg. Dwayne licked his lips, appraising you with an incendiary stare as he hastily collected every scrap of your lifeblood.

“M’close,” You whimpered, shuddering when he pressed a kiss atop the freshly-formed bite. His face promptly nestled back to the cleft between your legs, drawing another stream of your menses into his mouth before seeking your clit. “Close.” You said again, breathless and drunk with desire.

Dwayne felt his cock twitch within his jeans, able to smell your arousal through the haze of blood. The siren’s song of cruor was far more powerful, but even then, he could savor both with a feeling of sheer delight. His hunger steadily dwindled, fed by your saccharine cycle — if only you were like this all the time.

His lips formed a tight seal as he began to suck, causing you to nearly double over. “Don’t stop, Dwayne,” Perspiration began to break out along your body, coalescing along the length of your spine, dewy beneath the shirt you wore. “Please, please.” You were desperate, wanting to feel that white-hot explosion of a release.

Exhaustion settled in, your energy having been expended by keeping yourself aloft atop his face. Your cunt tasted sweeter than anything he’d had before in his centuries of existence. Dwayne considered you to be his fountain — a very captivating fountain. His touch screamed with amorousness as he rocked you into his tongue.

At last, your body began to quiver, muscles twitching and spasmodic as you climbed toward your orgasm. Dwayne could feel your weight fall a little heavier atop him, and he happily supported you, so long as you were bleeding. He added that edge of teeth, letting them graze over your clit with a feather-light pressure.

It sent you careening over the edge, cumming onto his mouth with enough mewls and moans to last him for days. It echoed throughout the alcove, and you were on the verge of sobbing, having gained some sliver of relief in the end.

Dwayne lapped at your cunt through it all, consumed by the shadow of greed and possessiveness. He could hear the rest of the boys clamoring throughout the cavern, which soured his mood just a little. They had a poor habit of acting up whenever you were enduring your menstrual cycle — understandable, of course, but an annoyance for Dwayne.

With a grunt, he gently nudged you back onto the taut, musculed expanse of his chest. His mesomorphic stature felt so solid underneath your pliant body, and your hands brazenly felt along his sternum. There was no heartbeat, forever frozen by immortality. His countenance was one of sheer satisfaction, lips and chin smattered in your blood as he licked at his mouth.

“Feel better, don’t you?” Dwayne mused, unable to withhold that little twinge of amusement in his voice. His large hand rubbed and massaged along your thigh, drifting up towards your hips, and then back down again on a continuous loop.

You nodded, feeling all warm when his body shook with a brief tremor of laughter. Dwayne sat up just a little bit, palm grasping at the back of your neck as he brought you forward for a very intimate kiss. A startled gasp tore through your throat, but he held you there, letting you taste yourself — ichor and all.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your entire physique hummed and buzzed with satisfaction. Of course, the ache of your cycle never fully dissipated, but Dwayne had certainly done his part in quelling the pain, for now.

Dwayne gingerly patted the swell of your ass, copping a feel in the process before pressing another string of kisses against your neck. He grabbed at the hem of your shirt, rucking it up a-ways. He was quiet, and you were fine with that, eyes widening as he wiped his mouth off with the remnants of your nightshirt.

Jesus — you knew better than to tempt fate, arousal stinging at your core again. You huffed, taking a moment to compose yourself as you attempted to reach for your panties. He intercepted you, snatching your wrist before your fingertips could even reach the lace trim.

“Not tonight, girl,” Dwayne uttered, placing you right beside him, bulky arm curling around your frame. He made you feel so safe — a glaring juxtaposition to his ravenous hunger and vampiric state.

You felt a pair of fangs tauntingly scrape over your jugular, able to feel the chill of his bare chest nudging into your back. “Might get hungry later.” He rumbled, pressing a chaste kiss against the back of your shoulder.

[xensilverquill]

Amigurumi/Crochet Toy 101 + Resources

Noticed a couple folks in my tags mentioning that they wanted to learn or wished they knew how to crochet amigurumi. So here's a quick and dirty little how-to guide with resources I threw together? Hope it helps!

Tools + Materials

Crochet is one of those hobbies that is actually relatively cheap to get into. Here is a basic list of what you'll need to get started. You can find most of these at any craft store or even Walmart.

(1) Yarn (Required)

Yarns come in a variety of weights (sizes) and fibers. I recommend a soft, worsted weight acrylic yarn (indicated by a number "4" and "medium" on the yarn label) for your first few projects.  

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(2) Crochet Hook (Required)

These come in a lot of sizes and styles, and what size you'll use will depend on your yarn weight and how tight you want your stitches to be. I'd recommend buying just one hook to start with rather than a larger set. Metal hooks with ergonomic rubber handles are easiest for beginners (and on your wrists longterm, lol). A 5.0 MM/Size H or a 4.50 MM/Size G works best for making amigurumi with worsted weight yarn.

(3) Polyfil/Stuffing (Required)

For stuffing your project.

(4) Yarn Needle (Required)

Most crochet projects require sewing to one degree or another. Yarn needles are distinguished from regular sewing needles by their larger size, larger eye, and blunter tip. Yarn needles may be straight, or they may be angled at the tip (i.e. a darning yarn needle).

(5) Scissors (Required)

Any sharp, medium-sized pair of scissors will do for cutting your yarn.

(6) Sewing Pins (Recommended)

For holding parts in place as you sew them on.

(7) Stitch Marker (Recommended)

Many amigurumi projects are worked in rows of continuous rounds, and stitch markers can be used to mark the beginning or end of these rounds. They can also be used to mark areas of interest in your project or to secure your project to keep it from becoming accidentally unraveled. I strongly reccomend getting split ring ones. Scrap pieces of yarn also work in a pinch as stitch markers.

(8) Counter (Recommended)

For keeping track of your rows as you work a pattern.

(9) Safety Eyes (Recommended)

Most amigurumi will require eyes of some sort. Safety eyes (you can find these in various sizes in the doll section of any craft store) will give your project a polished look, but you can also use buttons, felt, or even embroider the eye details on your amigurumi.

(10) Stuffing Stick (Recommended)

For getting your stuffing into hard-to-reach spots. A chopstick or wooden skewer works very well for this.

Basic Crochet Stitches + Amigurumi Techniques

Most crochet patterns are built from a few basic stitches. Before attempting any larger project, I recommend getting comfortable with these stitches by making a few small, flat pot holders out of each basic stitch. A lot of crochet is pure muscle memory and practice, and this is a great way to start.

There are also a few techniques specific to making amirugumi that will be helpful for you to know. You can find any number of free videos/tutorials online. Below are links to a few videos that I found helpful when I was learning to crochet.

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How to Make a Slip Knot

Single Crochet (+ Starting Chain and How to Count Stitches)

Half Double Crochet

Double Crochet

Triple Crochet

How to Keep Starting Chain from Twisting

Magic Ring

Ultimate Finish

Invisible Finish

Invisible Decrease

Beginner Amigurumi Patterns

These were the first three patterns I learned in the process of teaching myself how to make amigurumi. I recommend working them in the order they are listed. The first two links have step-by-step instructional videos and will help ease you into learning to read amigurumi patterns. All of these patterns are free, and there are many more free patterns out there as well. Have fun!

Amigurumi Ball

Amigurumi Whale

Amigurumi Stegosaurus

[moonbaby26]

Title: Wine

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Pairings: Doflamingo x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Crocodile (implied), Doflamingo x Fem!Reader x Crocodile (implied)

Warnings: language, non con, full on cruel Doffy taking out his own insecurities on reader, warlords being pompous assholes, vaginal sex, sex as punishment

Synopsis: Inspired by Day 1 prompt of #Doffytober2024 “Wine”. You were one of the kitchen servants in the royal palace in Dressrosa. Unfortunately you were also alone, responsible for attending to the king’s needs during one of his late night meetings. Doflamingo is more stressed than usual due to who his current guest is, and you end up bearing the brunt of that aggression after a simple mistake.

A/N: I know Doffytober is more a fanart tag, but I can’t draw. Soooo…yeah 😅. I couldn’t call this a Doffy blog without contributing something! Just a quick oneshot.

Fic Masterlist

——————————

You were cursing to yourself. That damn brat Dellinger had slammed into you. And you knew it was on purpose. The wine you’d been balancing within perfectly poured glasses for the young master and his guest was now all down your front. The remains of the bottle along with the rest of it, now shattered and sparkling across the stone floor of the palace corridor as you still heard Dellinger’s deranged giggling fading into the distance.

There was no time to clean this up. So you turned straight back into the kitchen. You were alone in here this late at night. Thankfully at least. Because you’d just have to change quickly. More white uniforms were in the far cabinet.

But you set out new wine glasses first. That now broken bottle out in the hall had been the only year left of the tawny port the king preferred.

Why he even liked it you had no idea. It was far too sweet to your pallet, even as a dessert wine.

Yet you knew exactly which other varieties were still in the racks here, and there was no time to go all the way back down to the palace wine cellar to search further anyway. 

So you grabbed another bottle, this time your preferred choice to end the meal you knew had already been sent upstairs earlier for their business meeting.

With the new wine bottle and glasses set out, you then went to stripping. Your stained shirt was already off. Your soaked pants falling around your ankles next as you had just been stepping out of them when the kitchen door swung wide open.

You gasped, reflexively grabbing the metal serving tray that’d still been nearby. You held it in front of you as if it were a shield.

And if it had been literally anyone else, you likely would have still thrown that tray at them in the moments that came after. But as it was now, you were completely frozen in your surprise. And your fear.

“Young master...” You finally said in a voice that didn’t even sound like your own.

And Doflamingo had been scowling, bad posture and all as he’d first barged through that door. But you saw the way he’d straightened up. The way his scowl faltered in the briefest look of confusion as he took in the sight of you.

“Where the fuck are your clothes?” Came the immediate vulgarity you’d so often heard when he berated you and your fellow workers.

You knew you were nothing more than another insect in the strict social hierarchies he’d furthered during his short time as Dressrosa’s new king.

It felt like he was now scolding a misbehaving animal.

Your only option was to admit fault and submit immediately in hopes the punishment would remain only verbal. He’d listen to no excuses you knew. Especially any that concerned his own shithead crew.

“I spilled the wine, your highness. I was changing and was then going to pour more to deliver to you and your guest.” You were trying to keep your face muscles tight. Trying not to let your lip quiver for as painfully aware as you now were that the meager serving tray was not large enough to cover much of you.

And the air in this kitchen was cold as chill bumps were starting across your bare skin.

But you saw that blood vessel beginning to rise in the king’s forehead. His own lips pulled to the side to reveal more of those perfectly white teeth in his familiar sneer.

“First, you kept us waiting.” He growled out. “I summoned you over ten minutes ago, you little twat.”

And he was starting to walk again, starting to close the gap between the two of you with his long strides as your fingers gripped harder and harder against that tray.

“Second, you spilled the only bottle I had left of that year then? I already saw it in the corridor. So don’t you dare deny it. I should make you lick it off the goddamn floor!”

You felt a wave of nausea go through you. Panic is what it truly was as his large hand had moved so quickly. He’d grabbed that tray. Ripped it right from your arms as it was then thrown with a violent clatter against the far stone wall.

His grip had been hard enough to bend the tray, and the impact enough to chip the stone itself.

But you didn’t avert your eyes from him now. Even as you couldn’t tell exactly where his own glare was focused. 

Was it most on your terrified face as he leaned further in?

Or on your chest barely covered in a tattered old bra you should have thrown out weeks ago? And would have if you’d only had the money to indulge in newer clothes.

Or down to your thighs maybe? Pressed together as if they would hide anything else from him, with only the small strip of fabric that had also been washed and dried to nearly nothing over time. Frayed and distressed, now shielding the last of your decency.

The insanity of feeling this insufficient, humiliated and standing before the king in such poverty highlighting garments was not lost on you. 

But it fit further into his ideas of what you really were didn’t it?

You were just a mongrel to this devil.

Those soulless red lenses of his sunglasses seemed to remind you of this too. As you saw your own pitiable reflection in them while his sneer changed into a smile that was somehow even worse.

Because there was not a trace of mercy in any of it.

He was going to punish you now.

And it would be physical this time.

Doflamingo hissed like an animal even through his false smile.

And in that moment you thought only of a snake with its fangs already out. And the fear of having to watch it strike when nothing could be done to move your body away from him in time.

You screamed, a sound that was fully primal as well as his hands closed briefly like shackles around each of your arms and his body hit against yours.

“Louder.” You heard him grunt when your spine slammed down onto the counter behind you.

He wanted the whole castle to hear you. He wanted them to know. 

Your underwear was torn with a single pull from his hand next. He didn’t even have to use his string to cut it. The weak fabric just ripped as if it were paper in his grip.

“Young master! Please!” But you rather be hit. You rather be cut.

This was too far, even for him. You couldn’t…

“Please what?” The king only laughed right above you.

You could feel the intensity of his body heat. You could smell his rich cologne as he untied his bright colored pants so easily. 

He freed his hardening length without hesitation, not even a flicker of empathy in this man as your tears began and you still refused to look at anything but his face. 

He was smiling back at you too, as his hand fished in an inner pocket of that feather covered coat which remained over his broad shoulders like a cloak.

A little foil covered square came out of that pocket as he brought it to his grinning mouth and bit it quickly to tear it open.

Of course the luxury of a condom meant nothing to you in the horror of this moment.

Yet he spoke again while he lowered his hand to unroll that thin cover over what you now knew was fully ready between his legs.

“You know you don’t deserve this level of attention…do you, little mutt?”

The overwhelming arrogance was dripping from what really should have been a forked tongue by this point. 

Once the condom was on, his rough hands shoved your bra up, pushing it uselessly to your collarbones before he squeezed that soft flesh painfully while he positioned himself at your entrance.

“You’re not even that pretty either.” He added so purposefully too, just for that additional touch of cruelty before you felt the beginnings of that lower pressure.

And you didn’t care about these words, truthfully. He wanted to hurt you however he could now. It was a mental game just as much as it was a physical humiliation.

Your steady tears weren’t yet enough to satisfy him.

But you did gasp as that pressure spiked abruptly. 

He was big. Very big, as you squeezed your wet eyes shut and endured the first of his shameless moans while he pushed his way inside of you.

That and the disgusting sound of the suction your channel soon created around him, slicked at first only with whatever synthetic lubricant that condom had been precoated with.

He began to thrust faster as his hands stroked down your body though. He was feeling everything, touching everywhere despite all his heartless words.

If you really disgusted him so much, that was not shown in the way he couldn’t keep his hands off of you now.

But your eyes were still closed as you tried and failed to fully dissociate from each additional complicated feeling. 

It was only self preservation to attempt and relax, you knew that. You tried not to hate yourself as that first tremble went through your thigh either from how deep he was then moving rhythmically inside of you.

You weren’t resisting him in any way now. 

And he was getting wherever he’d wanted to be all on his own. You could hear his breathing change soon enough. You felt his hands grab onto your hips as he groaned again, that pace still increasing.

But even your fierce will to not look at what carnal crime was now being committed against you had its limits.

Because the added element of an all new male voice was finally enough to make you turn your head as your eyes reopened in a return of fear. 

“Well this is a lovely picture.” 

The words came across with all the warmth of a morgue as the new uninvited also strode their way into the kitchen.

Doflamingo snarled above you, seemingly caught off guard himself even as he did not pull his cock out of you. He actually bottomed out even deeper in response to the interruption. His short fingernails still well sharp enough to hurt as he held your hips against his own in something that nearly felt possessive instead.

Like a predator not wanting to share its current meal.

“Fuck off, reptile. I’ll be back upstairs in a minute.” Doflamingo growled to the other warlord.

“That’s the first true thing you’ve said tonight. Because it does only take you a minute, now doesn’t it?” Sir Crocodile scoffed, only walking closer as you felt him taking in the pathetic scene of your bared body currently pinned beneath your king’s.

Doflamingo sneered defensively again as that smell of cigar smoke encroached in tandem with the other man’s highly judgmental aura.

“I don’t have all night, you whore.” Crocodile’s voice darkened more then as he addressed Doflamingo. “I sail at dawn regardless. So if you want to finish this arms deal, then I suggest you get to compromising. Instead of riding the unwilling help.”

“This brat spilled our wine.” Doflamingo retorted, and for the first time it felt ridiculous to be reminded that this had been your great crime. So childish and nonsensical of a response, especially with him still fully sheathed inside of you like the monster he really was.

But you were only staring at Sir Crocodile by then. Because he was making eye contact with you while Doflamingo just complained.

Crocodile was looking at you as if you were actually a human in that moment.

“Good. Because your taste in drink is shit. I got tired of waiting and came down here to pick my own anyway.” Crocodile responded in irritation regardless, then noticing the other bottles still in the nearby wine racks.

“Fuck you.” Doflamingo spat, beginning to move his hips against you again only when the other had turned back away. But the Heavenly Demon’s wary attention clearly remained on the other pirate even as his cock continued to pound into you.

“Keep wishing.” Crocodile’s true disrespect of the other was palpable too, while his hand grabbed one wine bottle after another by the neck, turning them to read the labels.

And the way this retort clearly got beneath the king’s skin was of no help to you of course. Doflamingo only thrusted more erratically in his growing frustration, hurting you more.

His aroused panting had stopped too. His self-pleasure within you had been interrupted with the threat of the other’s presence and he was now almost embarrassingly struggling to recapture that high.

And Crocodile noticed, glancing back over then when you made another noise of pain at the king’s roughest thrusts. “Are you actually having sex or just humping her with all the skill of an unneutered dog?”

You winced as Doflamingo’s hands somehow gripped you even harder at this insult and his voice loudly erupted.

“Just fucking go back to my office already! Let me finish what I started!”

You’d never heard the Young Master sound this flustered.

But in the meantime, Crocodile’s continued perusal of the remaining wine bottles had led him back to the one you’d set out just before Doflamingo’s attack. 

Still being brutally fucked, you were now helplessly watching as Crocodile set his cigar down. He checked the label on that bottle too before deciding to pour himself a tasting portion.

He sipped it, then making abrupt eye contact with you again. He spoke to you too, with all the casualness as if you’d just been standing here alone together.

As if Doflamingo wasn’t still balls deep between your legs.

As if the other pirate wasn’t even here with you and Crocodile at all right now.

“Is this the wine you were trying to bring us instead, Miss?” Crocodile asked, swirling the glass a bit before taking even a second taste.

And why you did it, you didn’t know. Even a nobody like you could recognize the freshly lit fuse of Doflamingo’s flaring temper as his body heat seemed to increase at these words.

“Yes, Sir Crocodile.” You answered so quietly.

Just before the king’s hand clutched around your throat to silence you and he yelled again.

“Go. Upstairs!” His orders which usually held the weight of a near god in this country, seemed to roll harmlessly off the other however.

Crocodile only filled that glass completely now with the wine you had chosen. He put his cigar back in his mouth before picking the glass off the counter to carry it with him.

He gave the two of you a parting look of only mild interest this time.

“Leave that one alive when you’re done then. I need better kitchen staff anyway. We can make a trade of some sort.”

And there was silence for a painful amount of seconds, before Doflamingo did release your throat abruptly. His smile had vanished. 

“You’re serious.” The king stated with a foreign air of incredulousness.

“You have a poor eye for talent.” Crocodile huffed, refusing to further explain himself as he did exit the room as unceremoniously as he’d come. 

And Doflamingo just stood there for a while, like his brain was trying to catch up.

He then looked back down at you. You who was still keeping his cock warm for him as he frowned.

“He actually likes you. You lucky little shit.” 

Yet his voice was different then. Because for the first time it did feel like he was talking to you instead of at you.

To your further shock his long fingers now moved over your clit as he began to rub it as well.

“But this just made you have a value. So you better remember who you really work for if I send you home with him…”

You couldn’t stop your abdomen from tightening then as Doflamingo rubbed that little bundle of nerves so purposefully now.

And it was a different kind of smile this time as he watched your reaction beneath him.

“The next time I’m in Alabasta, I’ll expect you to butter him up for me too. You can be the appetizer for that gator. But remember, I’m the entrée.” 

One that apparently paired well with your particular wine choice which Crocodile now favored as Doflamingo’s strings grabbed the whole bottle instead.

He took a crass guzzle from it after pulling it into his hand, rocking into you as deep as he possibly could again. 

His odd expression seemed to say he didn’t think it was half bad either.

Either that or he was finally starting to enjoy your body again without the distraction of the other warlord in the room.

“You aren’t off the hook with me either though. I’ll want my taste too the next time I see you.” He grinned, starting to pant again then as his fingers ran over your mouth. 

He leaned down over you more, body heat further mingling with an added intimacy that made your insides churn even as your orgasm finally threatened to overtake you.

Doflamingo’s voice whispered as he pushed his fingertips past your lips next, bidding you to suck them. “Maybe then we’ll just start with three to begin with. A cute little mutt, and her two warlords. But I’ll let you choose the wine for each round that night.”

You could see the way his mask was finally faltering now, his own lips parting while he watched you suck him subserviently and his fingers slipped in deeper.

“Is that a deal…my little cur?”

He actually shuddered once you nodded, with your tear stained cheeks and all as your channel clenched reflexively around him below your waists.

And that squeezing of your body around his did finish him off at last. His body still trembling as he rode that orgasm all the way through and came within the condom.

His larger frame was so heavy and uncomfortable when he draped briefly over you in the aftermath before pulling out. But his voice was nearly as soft as his spent cock then.

 “Good girl…such a good girl.” Came that rare praise only at the very end. “Behave in Alabasta, and I’ll see you soon.”

And the devil smiled at you one more time.

“Keep his bed warm for me.”

————————

End. Thanks for reading!

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: post-sex conversations--the nerdy law agenda is real

“Oh, hey—I keep forgetting,” Law murmurs as he quickly kisses your forehead, “I have something for you.”

He wrests himself from your languid embrace, your bodies still trembling and sweat-slicked as you slowly descend from breathless highs. He dangles his torso off the bed, rooting around underneath it, the sounds of boxes shifting and unidentified objects clacking together echoing in your small room. You prop yourself up on your elbow and take the opportunity to let your eyes drift over the half of his body that remained on the bed, over the muscled planes of his lower back, the lean lines of his hips, and the slight curve of his ass. You stifle a laugh as his legs suddenly tense and kick, trying to keep himself from sliding off the side of the bed.

He grunts and crawls back up on the mattress, holding a small, black, velvet box in his hand, and your heart flutters a little—you know it isn’t that—is it? Would he…? And right now, after you’d just absolutely ruined each other—what kind of timing is this, anyway?

He slowly opens the box, and inside is a glimmering copper coin, the front adorned with a bird motif. He grins at you expectantly, his eyebrows raised slightly as he holds the box out towards you, inching it closer and closer the longer it takes you to respond.

“Oh!” you exclaim as you tilt your head, glancing at the box, then at his beaming face, then back at the little box. “It’s a…coin?”

His smile quickly disappears, as he swallows and his lips part as though to speak, but he pauses, a deep flush blooming on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, this is stupid.”

“No!” Your hands quickly fly across to grip his forearms, and you plant a small kiss on his cheek. “It’s not stupid, you got me a gift—it’s pretty! What’s um, what’s so special about it?”

Law’s eyes light up, glimmering with excitement, as you give him permission to explain. “Okay, well—I got it for you because, well, I remember that story you told me about the time those birds kept dive-bombing you when you were eating that sandwich at the beach, and well, wouldn’t you know this is the same species of bird? Now here”—he took the coin out carefully, dropping it into his palm—“is why this one is special. You see this demarcation right here? So that’s from a minting process they stopped using about fifteen years ago—which, don’t get me started on why that was a mistake—and anyway—”

You wrap your plush bedspread around your shoulders and rest your chin in your palm as you watch your love, still sitting naked in the center of your bed, eagerly gesturing at the shining coin in his hand and growing more and more animated with every sentence. You nodd affirmatively at all the right times, his tone growing more and more excited the longer he explained every process and its purpose, every variety of metal you’d never heard of, every complicated part of the minting process. This man—this sweet, passionate, nerdy man—had never seemed more perfect for you as he did in this moment.

He suddenly comes to a halt as his eyes refocus and settle on your face, picking up on some minor tic or twitch in your expression that seemed to indicate disinterest. “I’m—I’m sorry, I’m rambling.” He drops the coin back in the box and shuts it. “This isn’t very sexy, is it?”

You lean forward, running a hand through his tousled hair, before placing a hand on either side of his anxious face, pressing your palms into the hollows of his cheeks. You hold his head steady, forcing him to meet your gaze, as you touch the tip of your nose to his and smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever found you sexier, my love.”

[prophecyofwinter]

Se Riña Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | V

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen daughter of Jaehaerys I ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | Angst, Slowburn (Hot&Cold), TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed, Reader is Self-serving, tags to be added

Word Count: 3k

Prologue | Chapter IV | Chapter VI | Masterlist

Chapter V | He Won’t Forget

“It is the hour of the nightingale my lady, you must wake up.” A hushed voice stirs you from your sleep and shakes you awake. A groan escaped your throat and you opened your eyes to meet the voice that woke you. A girl no older than yourself stood above you, with pitch black hair and wearing what you would assume to be a maids attire. It was still very early in the morning, the sun hadn't even broken the horizon.

You could tell there was one other maid by the torch light, she was lighting candles that were scattered in different places throughout the room.

“She is not a lady quite yet, miss will do until then.” By the other maids' voice you could tell she was older and more seasoned. You sat up against the headboard to wake yourself up some more. Naturally, the furs that covered your body in the night slipped down exposing your upper torso.

“Miss makes me sound like a spinster.” You groaned while stretching your arms. You step out full from under the sheets, standing on the cold stone floor. The younger maid has a robe open for you to slip into and you follow.

“The Queen has ordered that you see her and the Hand of the King before midday. In that time we must get you bathed, fed, and clothed.” The older maid said while reaching for a jug to spill into a metal bathtub that you hadn’t even noticed.

“Very well. Since you’ve already seen my breasts, I assume it’s appropriate for me to ask your names?” You laugh to yourself as you wrap the front of the robe criss cross. The younger one finds it funny and lets out a soft laugh while the older one simply clears her throat.

“My name is Mela, and this young one is Ellyn. While I am experienced, you are the first person Ellyn has served so please forgive her childishness“ Mela sends a warning glare at Ellyn for her giggles. Ellyn pouts for a moment before joining Mela in emptying the water jugs. You look at the features of the two women for the first time, Mela has blonde hair and Ellyn a medium brown.

It seems counterproductive to put a robe on just to take it off moments later to bathe. As soon as they are finished filling the tub, the water has cooled enough to not be boiling hot. You grab onto both sides of the tub and sink in slowly. A moan escapes your lips as you feel your muscles truly relax. Being on a ship for almost a month didn’t give you many hot warm baths, just room temperature ones. Mela pushes you forward so she could access your back to begin washing. While Ellyn poured scented oils into the water filling your nose with a smell you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You could fall asleep right there, especially when your hair was being washed. Her nails massaging your scalp with even better smelling things. You’ve had your hair washed by another person a few times, but then it was by one of your mothers prostitutes in the workers' baths with her breasts pressed against your back. Up in the air which one you preferred.

For the first time a while you felt fully and utterly clean. You wanted to whine when the water cooled down to the point where it was no longer comforting to sit in. Ellyn holds up the same robe as before waiting for you to slip in. Being careful to not slip as you leave the tub, you put on the robe.

————

As your hair dries, your breakfast is set in front of you. Bread, butter, assorted fruits, salted fish and sweet wine. Mela tells you this is what is normally served in Westeros, a larger variety is served if you decide to eat meals with the Targaryens. You pick and choose from what you are given and take your fill.

A knock clearly made by metal against wood rings through the quiet room. You let out a sigh having an inkling that it may be a certain white haired brother of yours. You speak out a ‘come in’, and maybe you should pick up gambling. Vaegon walked in with clinking armor and his hand on the pommel of his sword.

“Forgive me sister, I didn’t mean to interpret your very important work. But, while I don’t need permission to protect my sister, I have been allowed to be your personal guard until you're fully settled.” Vaegon held himself proudly, he’s clearly getting a kick from being allowed to stalk and follow you around in the name of protecting you. His weird little dream is being fueled.

This news makes a shiver roll down your spine. If you weren’t already full you would’ve lost your appetite. “That's… Great brother. That means you’ll be leaving after me and Aemond marry then?”

He clearly stiffens up at the implication, gripping his sword harder. “Most likely yes, unless you still need me here. I recommend you keep me here by your side.”

“No, I’m sure Volantis needs you more than I do. The temple needs you and silver wouldn’t suit you.” You say passive aggressively hoping he will get the hint. After many years he still hasn’t understood so you knew your hopes would be set to the side.

Vaegon opens his mouth again to voice his opinion but you cut him off swiftly.

“I am quite full, I should be getting dressed brother. Make your leave. Now.”

He staggers for a minute before leaving with his tail between his legs. Nothing would dissuade Vaegon from his passions, if he died his ghost would haunt you surely. When the door shut an awkward silence filled the room, neither of the maids sure what to do next. You realize how this must look, harassing your brother. But you know him, they don’t.

The chair squeaks on the floor when you stand up to face your maids and give them a smile. “It's about time I get dressed, no? I would hate to be late.”

A ‘yes of course’ was said in usion and you were guided to a full mirror. You stripped from your robe, seeing yourself fully for the first time in a while. A month at sea and you still looked as beautiful as always.

From what you have seen, Aemond is a proud and cold man. Most likely due to your bastard status. But, men are men at the end of the day, their desires will get the best of them even if it’s against their morals.

You slip into your small clothes, in the mirror you see Mela holding a red dress that you don’t recognize from the ones you brought. You turn to take a proper look at it, it looks like a fairly simple dress. Long sleeves with slits from the forearms down, straight neckline, long skirt, faint decorations throughout, and there's a chain resting on the dress that will dangle across your waist.

“Whose dress is this? Surely you can’t just have ones this nice lying around?”

“Well, it did belong to someone but it was left behind over 6 years ago and hadn't been worn even longer ago than that. Queen Alicent said to go through old wardrobes and find you something for the time being.”

You hoped it was at least washed before giving it to you. It was very pretty, very pretty, but second hand all the same. It was bunched up for you to step in and put on. You felt the strings on the back be picked up and before you could react they were harshly yanked back and all the air was forced from your lungs. A whine escaped from your throat and hands gripped the sides of the mirror. A string of panicked apologies follow as you recollect yourself.

“No no, it’s quite alright. I just wasn’t ready. Whoever owned this had real taste, they have my thanks.” You posed in the mirror, finding a position that wasn't crushing your ribs. The chain was clasped round your waist and groups of your hair are braided back.

A smile creeps onto your face. This small taste of importance is greater than any wine in Essos. Baths to yourself, food served directly in your chambers, lovely kind maids who dress you themselves, soon to be called a Princess with a Prince by your side… It is almost enough.

—————

Vaegon stood two paces behind you. You originally told him to stand 10 paces behind but he insisted. You can’t win every battle. A guard walked you both deeper into the keep. He didn’t tell you where you were going, just that it was by the Queen's orders. You pray it isn’t to get probed again.

Suddenly you hear footsteps approaching rapidly towards you. You turn around and see a clearly Targaryen man, white wavy hair and a slightly shorter stature than Aemond. He looks excited, really excited.

“Just the girl I was looking for. I needed to see you for myself.” He caught up quickly and walked right next to you. The guard uttered a ‘my Prince’ and continued his walk. He could either be Aegon or Daeron.

“You’re Aegon, yes?”

“Did my good looks and charm give it away?” Aegon laughs and you laugh with him. Aegon looks around with his hands out feigning shock. “Where’s my brother?”

“I don’t think Aemond likes me that much.” You let out huff mixed with a laugh while gazing at Aegon from the side.

“He’s always had a stick up his ass, don’t take it too personally. He’ll come around eventually, I certainly would.” Aegon whispers the last part into your ear with a hand on your back, you can smell the wine on his breath. You are surprised by his boldness, but far from the worst things you’ve heard. You give him a straight lipped smile and lean back into him.

“Where am I going?” You whispered slowly with passive aggression.

“Oh? You haven’t heard? I’m surprised you haven’t been told. In the throne room they are reading your letter of legitimization.” He wears a smile so wide you would know he’s drunk immediately. Your eyes go wide. Is it happening this fast? You just got here, you’d thought it would at least take some time.

“Normally it’s a simple letter, but since you are already here…” Aegon makes a weird gesture with his hands.

That makes sense, all you need is a letter from the king, and the King has already asked you to come. You imagine the rest of them would just want to get it out of the way. At least Aegon doesn’t seem to care, maybe too drunk to care.

Not too long until you arrive at the doors to the iron throne. Doors as tall as the ceiling and two men stand at the front, noticing Aegon and you they grip onto the rings of the door and pull them open.

The first thing that graces your eyes is the Iron Throne. It was grand, on top of all those steps with swords casted together. It entranced you. Your mother told you about the Iron Throne, only once. She said her father sat on it like a god and he called her a whore. She’d hoped that it would stab him through the chest just as it did to Maegor.

Snapping you out of your short lived daydream, Aegon grabbed your wrist and led you in a direction. All of the lords and ladies were staring at you both, you hope it wouldn’t linger for long. Near the front of the room you could see that it was Aemond, Alicent, and another silver haired girl. Helena, you believe you were told?

“Look who I found! Ran into her on the way here.” Aegon walked you over to Aemond directly and grabbed his arm and forcibly linked your and Aemonds arms together.

“I believe you lost this brother.” Aegon patted his brother on the back and caressed your shoulder. Between the two of you he caught a glimpse of a servant boy carrying wine and simply moved on to drink his fill. Aegon's mind is an enigma…

Aemond lets out a huff but doesn’t let go. He leans into you with darkened eyes. “What do you think you are doing?”

“I was talking to my future brother-in-law. He is quite funny.” You laugh in an attempt to lighten his mood. Of course, this doesn’t work and Aemond tightens his grip on your arm. Eyes were still on you both so he tried to make it look like a simple conversation.

“Don’t.”

Before you could scoff in Aemonds face, the doors are pulled open once again. You turn your head to see an older man with brown hair and a thick beard. This clearly is not King Viserys by the state of him.

“King Viserys is still too unwell to sit at court. As Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, I will assume his courtly duties.” The room is silent and there’s no sound but the clicks of his heels on the floor going across the floor, up the steps and sitting on the throne.

“First things first, a formal declaration of legitimization from King Viserys himself.” Otto held out a rolled up letter with a red seal holding it together. “Come. Present yourself to the court.” He motioned for you to step closer to the open center, Aemond released his hold and nudged you to go.

You detached from Aemond and walked to the center of the room in front of the Iron Throne. You swallowed hard with your hands folded in front of you, head held high. You wish you’d at least been told this was happening. If it wasn’t for Aegon you wouldn't have had the slightest idea.

The seal was popped open and the scroll unraveled by Otto and cleared his voice before he spoke.

‘As Viserys Targaryen, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

It is with much honor to the Targaryen name,

My Cousin, Y/N of Volantis, daughter of Princess Saera Targaryen, is declared Princess Y/N Targaryen of House Targaryen.

From this day until your last.’

An applause echoed throughout the room, no doubt one done out of obligation. A smile decorated on your face hiding your anxieties and swirling thoughts.

“King Viserys and House Targaryen have my love and appreciation for allowing me into their walls. My mother is extremely pleased with this outcome.” You make a curtsey before the throne. Otto nods and gestures for you to return to where you stood previously next to Aemond.

You thought such a thing would be longer but it makes sense. Bastard legitimization isn’t something that is celebrated as a great thing like Weddings or Name Days. You stand next to Aemond for the next few proceedings until Alicent has Aemond to lean over to her and whisper something in his ear.

—————

You’re linked by the arm with Aemond as he walks you through the palace gardens. You assume this is what Alicent whispered to Aemond about. As your protector, Vaegon is nearby but you try to ignore him.

There is still a tension between you and Aemond that has persisted for the past 24 hours. You are unsure if it is just his nature or if it’s due to other obvious factors. Legitimization doesn’t change the social problems with being a bastard in Westeros. You didn’t expect it to, but you’re nothing if not ambitious.

“Do you take many walks through the gardens or am I special?” You laugh to break the silence.

“I prefer to walk in the gardens at night. For Privacy and it’s better at night.” Aemond doesn’t attempt to make eye contact, preferring to look forward.

“I would take similar walks myself in the courtyards in the Black Walls.” Aemond looks to the side ever so slightly with confusion. “Oh, Right. The Black Walls is this gigantic oval of walls that contains all kinds of things. Palaces, Courtyards, Temples and more. I think I’ll start missing it sometime soon.” Rambling and reminiscing makes you feel better.

Aemond seems to actually take interest, making full eye contact. “I believe I read about the Black Wall before. Only people who can trace their ancestry to Valyria are allowed in, correct?” He talks in a tone you haven’t heard yet, he’s being genuine.

A smile paints your face “You are well read. My father has property in those walls and my mother needs help in her older age so I would split my time between the two.” Hopefully you can visit soon, but realistically it wouldn’t happen for another year or more.

“Your father? No one seems to know anything about your father except that he has quite a bit of money.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you someday if I really like you. I might even want to take you to Volantis someday.” You tease him, holding onto him a little more snugly.

Aemond likes this banter showing you a small smile for the first time. Though, this doesn’t last long when you see a flicker behind his eyes and he pulls back emotionally and physically.

“Forgive me for cutting our walk short. I have lost track of time and I must head to the dragon pit.” He says with the same tone as he had with anything before this conversation. You swallow hard and attempt to say anything.

Aemond puts his gloved hand on your cheek and kisses the other. “I hope to see you at dinner.”

“I hope the same.”

Aemond takes his leave and all you do is watch him walk away. You bring your fingertips to your cheek and trace the area he kissed you on, your face drops with a sad expression.

“He remembered what you are, Sister. He won’t forget.” With Aemond gone, Vaegon is more comfortable getting closer to you. You hate that he is right. You can’t let him of all people be right.

It’s only been a day and you're chipping at Aemond faster than you thought. It feels like he’s chipping at you at the same time.

[puuuders]

Brat ~ Terzomega oneshot

Smut

~

Um. So I wrote this based on Vanmecs er... Art series... On Twitter. 18+

I've been debating posting this because it's... Ummm not what I usually write. Very intense. But I decided fuck it, I'll post it. Hahahaha

~

Terzo gets put in his place.

Content warning - bondage, blindfolds, gags, overstimulation, sounding

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Click.

Omega pushed the barred metal into the slot on the other side, the chain of the handcuffs clanking quietly against the metal bed frame. He slid his hands down Terzo’s shoulders as he examined, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched Terzo test them. As intended, his hands were held in place above his head, allowing only enough wiggle room to slightly bend his elbows. His ankles, too, experienced a similar fate. They were cuffed to a metal bar, forcing his legs apart for Omega’s convenience. Terzo was grinning wider than Omega was, although there was room for debate. He stared up at his own defenselessness, tugging gently and twisting his knees inward for the sake of feeling trapped. 

Terzo wore his favorite black gartered socks, hating the feeling of being without them. On his upper body, his jacket was unbuttoned and thrown to his sides, leaving his torso entirely available. Around his neck was a pink bow, a collar charm dangling from it that had the degrading term “brat” engraved on it, and a matching bow around the base of his already throbbing cock. 

“Last chance,” Omega warned, dragging a finger around Terzo’s chest. Terzo watched, chest puffing, mouth slightly agape. Omega was kneeling on the bed beside the bound man, wearing nothing but his own black boxers, surrounded by a wide variety of toys: a whip, some beads, and, much to Terzo’s interest, multiple vibrators.

”I will not be merciful.”

“Good.” Terzo hissed through his smile. Omega raised his eyebrows and blinked slowly, tilting his head.

”Is that so?” Omega removed his hand from his chest, slowly wrapping his fingers around the pink, leather whip. Terzo’s smirk faded as he watched with wide eyes, yet no protest escaped his lips. Omega chuckled.

”No. Nonono,” Omega stood up, opening a drawer in his nightstand where a bottle of lube sat on top, “you think I am finished?”

Terzo furrowed his eyebrows, yet the confusion gave way to shock as Omega pulled out a pink ball gag and an object that was hidden behind a gray cloth. He knelt back down, unwrapping the object tantalizingly slow in front of Terzo, making direct eye contact as he now held a small metal sounding rod in front of Terzo.

��You know where this goes, don’t you, Papa?” Omega teased. Terzo stared wide eyed in shock, nodding, silent as a mouse.

”Forgive me for what I had said earlier. Now, this is your last chance.” Omega grabbed the ball gag in his other hand, twirling the sounding rod in his fingers, examining it as if he had never seen it before.

”Do you see a spot to cum through this? Because I don’t.”

Terzo shivered. He swallowed, his mouth dry, muscles tense. He remained quiet. 

“I’m being nice, amore,” Omega sighed dramatically, “this is your last chance to-“

”Don’t be a pussy, ghoul.” Terzo barked. Omega stared at him blankly, his mouth slowly closing. Terzo grinned. Omega had never seen someone look so confident, so defiant.

So bratty.

Omega grabbed his jaw, prying it open, Terzo’s squeak like music to his ears. He jammed the gag into his mouth, huffing angrily, pulling him by his hair to clip the gag to him. That confident look vanished from Terzo’s eyes, replaced with desperation, almost fear. A useless look, as Omega used the cloth that hid the sounding rod to blind the now whining man.

Terzo’s silence had transferred over to Omega. Terzo was whining, whimpering, squirming gently. Omega said nothing. His claws raked down his chest and down his stomach, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave faint red marks trailing down his skin. He could hear Terzo trying to speak through the gag, but if it were anything worth hearing, he would have said so during the chances Omega had so mercifully given him. That opportunity was over now.

Omega grabbed the sounding rod. He placed the tip of it on Terzo’s chest, making him flinch, dragging it down the middle of his torso. Licking the tip of his cock, Omega moved it all the way down, crawling up to meet his tongue, where the only sort of lube he decided to use being his own saliva. He licked it, held Terzo’s cock still, and began to insert it.

Terzo gasped. His back arched and he whined louder, tugging hard on his cuffs. Yet he remained there. Not still, but in place. His breath was rapid as the rod was fully inserted, creating a pressure inside of him that he only felt when he would orgasm. 

But, of course in Omega and his cruelty, that was not all. He grabbed the bar that Terzo’s ankles were strapped to, looping it around his head, squeezing Terzo’s thighs. His fingertips dug into the skin of his hips on one hand, the other reaching for one of the vibrator packs that was set next to Terzos waist. It was a small pink box with a dial, attached to it being bullet vibrators via a cord. That, too, Omega licked and spat on, and without any warning, he began pushing the bullets into Terzo.

Terzo’s thighs tensed and he whined behind the gag, jolting slightly in surprise. Too soon, as Omega had lubed himself, and began stuffing the vibrators deep inside of Terzo with his cock. Terzo gasped and arched his back, moaning, jerking his head side to side and tugging on the cuffs. 

Omega let out a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut as he entered his partner entirely. No. He tormented himself for a moment, forcing himself to pull out once he thrusted the vibrators against Terzo’s prostate a few times. 

“Not yet,” he mumbled under his breath, both to Terzo and himself. 

Another. This time, a wand. Pressed against his entrance, holding up his balls, Omega took a roll of medical tape he had stolen from the ministry's infirmary just for this special occasion they had been talking about for a few days. He taped the box of the bullet vibrators along with the wand to Terzo's thigh, unnecessarily digging it into his skin just to leave a reminder of how much of a slut Terzo was for begging for this. 

A physical reminder would not be necessary, though, for the shock that coursed through the bound man's body as Omega turned the vibrators on at once at full throttle would be burned in the back of Terzo's mind for a long time. 

“Mmph!” Was all Terzo could say. He could squirm and twitch, flail his thighs, but he was silent. He could not escape the feeling with the toys taped in place. 

Omega stared at his work, fangs poking into his lower lip as he grinned sadistically. But, oh, his work was not done yet. There was still another vibrator pack. 

“Hmm…” Omega thought aloud, trailing the plastic cover of the box across Terzo's stomach. “Where… Where…”

The bullets dragged behind, gliding up to his chest, circling his nipples. Terzo gasped through his already growing-frantic moans, puffing his chest out as if inviting Omega to torture it. So he did. He taped each bullet to either nipple, this time teasing the poor pope by gradually increasing the intensity until it was at max. 

“Filthy.” Omega grumbled, climbing off of the bed and admiring him. Terzo turned his head to the sound of Omega's voice, moans escaping in high pitched but quiet whines and whimpers.

“So filthy, in fact,” Omega walked around the bed, Terzo's attention following his footsteps, “it makes me want to go take a shower.”

“Mmph!?” Terzo cried. He shook his head. Omega chuckled. 

“Oh, yes. Right now.” Omega made it a point to open their shared clothing drawer loudly. Terzo whined and cried through his gag as Omega collected his clothes. 

“Shh, shh.” Omega returned to the side of the bed, startling Terzo as he touched his face to caress his cheek, makeup smeared with drool, “I'll only be gone for… 30 minutes. Oh, I sure hope you don't have to cum.”

Terzo gripped the chain of his hand cuffs, shaking his head desperately, his begging for Omega to stay unintelligible. His squeals grew louder with each distant footstep until a final cry of panic as the door to their shared bathroom shut and locked. 

Omega only smirked to himself as he listened to the gradual increase in volume of Terzo’s shrill, gagged cries. He'd think he was being murdered with those sounds if he didn't know any better. If it wasn't his own hands who set him up for this torture. 

Omega took his time, drying himself off, his content hums occasionally drowned out by particular high pitched wails. He didn't bother putting his clothes on. There would be no point, he would only discard them as he stepped back in the room to deliver more sensation to his toy for the evening. He gently stroked his throbbing length, closing his eyes, imagining the scenario of Terzo writhing there in the sheets, tear stricken and drool pooling around his cheeks. He played with himself briefly, just enough to bead up some precum, before opening the door. 

Terzos head jerked to the side, though he still couldn't see. Omega nearly stumbled at the sight; his makeup was nearly gone, cried off of his skin apart from some blotchy spots and his nose. Bruises circled his tense wrists from tugging on his cuffs, his knees twisted inwards, though the spreader bar forbade any relief for the suffering man. 

“Fuck.” Omega growled, slowly stepping towards Terzo, who whined and choked eagerly behind his gag. There was no telling what Omega would do to him, but for some reason he believed that Omega would have mercy on him. His thought was backed up with the evidence of Omega turning off and removing the vibrating wand between his legs, gently pulling out the vibrators stuffed in his ass that tormented his prostate to a mind numbing level. He sighed, though the bullets on his nipples continued to make him jerk and shiver. But, mercy did not mean that it would all be over. 

Terzos delusion was shattered, losing all sense of mercy as the bullets were reattached to his still stuffed cock, just below his tip. He shrieked, bucked his hips and wailed loudly, groaning with no time to react when Omega stuffed a heart shaped plug inside him. 

Saliva trailed off of his lips and tongue as Omega removed the gag. In his typical fashion, Omega refused him any time to speak before his cock was jammed between his lips, only replacing the gag, except this time his vocal cords were restrained. His cock penetrated so far down his throat, the only sounds Terzo could produce being a strained, quiet hum, further stimulating the ghoul who fucked his throat so harshly. And, despite his suffering, Terzo did his best work for his love. 

Omega didn't finish. The mercy he refused to show the rest of Terzos sweat-coated body he showed to his throat as he slowly pulled out as to not seriously hurt him. Omega let his cock slap against his face a few times before climbing on the bed, straddling Terzo, ignoring his now ungagged babbles and begs for nothing in particular. Still blindfolded, he could only sob to the feeling of his legs being lifted, hooked around Omega's body, while the sounding rod and vibrators were finally removed from his throbbing, red cock. 

Startling him, Omega ripped the vibrators off of him as his mouth descended to his chest, biting and sucking, growling sadistic threats through gritted teeth each brief moment he pulled away. Threats to knock the poor man out with his cock alone, pounding him beyond repair. These threats were not empty, as he was already hastily lining himself up, grinding against him, hands now grabbing at his waist as he carefully yet quickly pushed inside.

Terzo wailed. His back arched off the bed, blindfold refusing to give him any idea of what the ghoul had planned for him. His entrance was stretched, Omega only going in slow enough as to not tear him from impact, prostrate still throbbing and stimulated from the vibrators before. Omega wasted no time to begin pounding, their skin slapping together, the sound drowned up by Terzo's crazed, desperate moans and the sound of the chain clinking against the bed frame. 

Terzo was losing his mind. He was seeing stars at this point, overstimulated to all hell. Light reflected off of the sweat beading up on his body, soaking the sheets beneath him, cock leaking precum. Naturally, after everything he had gone through, it was impossible for him to last. He could feel it throbbing in his balls, gurgling up, sending waves of intense pleasure up his spine that made him twitch until his eventual, hard release. His hips flew up, seed shooting out of him, some strings landing in his wide open mouth as he screamed Omega's name.

“Feeling too fucking good? Can't fucking wait for me?” Omega hissed. 

“Sí!” Terzo shouted, fucked so stupid he forgot how to speak English. 

“I'm gonna fucking breed you. Do you want to carry my kits? Do you?” Omega threatened, gripping his hips firmly. 

“Sí, sí, sí!” 

Omega was not far behind Terzo's orgasm. He pounded faster, grunting, nails digging into Terzo's back and belly, the latter constantly inflating and deflating with a bulge as his cock pumped in and out of him. In and out, in and out, all the way to the tip and slamming back in up to his balls. with a final, forceful thrust, he finished deep inside his mate with a harsh growl, making the bound man sob and jolt. 

Apart from Terzos sobs, they were silent and still once Omega finished. Omega huffed through clenched teeth, looking down at the dripping mess he made of his partner and the bed, covered in both of their cum. His eyes trailed up his abused body, claw marks and hickeys leading up to his still blinded eyes, his eyebrow muscles turning upright as his lip quivered. Omega tilted his head as he ever so gently pulled out, a flood of cum flowing after. Gently undoing Terzo's blindfold, Omega hummed in both satisfaction and concern at the look in Terzo's eyes. Glossy and fearful, but just the way Terzo had begged him to make him feel hours before. Omega smiled first, his grin contagious, forcing Terzo's lips to curl upwards. 

“Are you okay?” Omega asked softly, wiping drool from Terzo's face. Terzo nodded. 

“Sí… Sí… Yes…” he murmured. Omega reached up, unclipping his hand cuffs, kissing every claw mark and hickey as he moved down his body to release him from the spreader between his feet. Terzo peeled himself off the bed, body still shaking. 

“Come here,” Omega was speaking with such gentleness now, scooping Terzo up and sitting him down on a chair, “these sheets need to be cleaned.”

Terzo giggled, his voice raspy from all of his screaming. Omega tore off the sheets from the bed, tossing them in the laundry basket before putting his boxers back on. Then, he picked out a pair of pretty black panties, decorated with hearts and presented them to Terzo, as well as some comfy pajamas. Terzo blushed and took the clothing, getting himself dressed as Omega replaced the sheets and blanket on the bed. 

“You're sure I did not hurt you?” Omega asked, picking the tiny man up again and holding him. Terzo shook his head, exhausted. 

“You always fuck me perfect, amore… you never hurt me.” Terzo kissed Omega's cheek. Omega nuzzled his nose in the crook of his neck, kissing repeatedly, making Terzo giggle and try to push him away. When he did, Terzo gave the ghoul a shit eating grin. 

“What was that you said about ‘kits’?”

Omega blushed. 

[bananahkim]

❤️ 💛 💚

❤️Red Son

He always reminds me of one of my classmates from elementary school(due to his thick eyebrows, glasses, and short temper), so I guess his design was partially inspired by that classmate.

For some reason I’ve always headcanoned his skin color as tan, but he blushes a lot so he has that red tint on his face.

I thought it would be nice to give some patterns to her coat, as she comes from a very powerful family.

I tried to emphasize the blueish colors(violet, purple, and indigo) just a little bit. When people draw fire, they tend to focus on just a few colors like orange, red, or yellow when when in fact flames have a wide variety of colors, including blue. The cooler colors of Red Son’s design represents the more ‘unexpected’ side of them.

💛MK

MK has ‘rounder’ shapes than Red Son, reflecting his easygoing nature that contrasts Red Son’s impatient and short tempered personality.

His sneakers are important to him since he works as a delivery boy and has to run around a lot of places, even when he has his tuk-tuk.

I added some light blue to his original design because… well, because it looked pretty. It doesn’t clash with the yellow and red and makes his design more appealing in my opinion.

💚Mei

Mei is very affectionate and outgoing, that’s why she doesn’t have any sharp edges to her face and body.

But she’s very energetic and athletic as well, so I tried to draw her shoulders and legs like it had visible muscles. Her shoulders, the area that receives more focus than her legs, are covered with a soft jacket so the muscles aren’t that visible, but since she’s wearing tight white pants they can show the exact silhouette of her legs. That’s why her body looks so soft AND firm at the same time.

Despite being short and stocky I think she’d have a very light and graceful walk and a good sense of balance so I gave her some dainty sneakers with metal soles so she can literally kick ass.

[silentglassbreak]

They say vampires and werewolves are enemies.. and all over the world they are usually at each others throats.. but Noah isn't at yours.. he's had a taste for you from the moment he met you.. He just can't get enough of you.. he keeps it secret from his family (coven/pack) until they find out... Your choice which side is which... I would prefer a happy ending but drama and and a sneaky smutty relationship would be awesome, hidden away trying to hide from their respective sides! How Noah's boys take it before they are EVENTUALLY accepting? Or.. does he leave because he prefers to go with his love?!? But yes, forbidden supernatural romance if you could? You are absolutely amazing!

Well, I already wrote Noah as a vampire so for the sake of variety…

After Writing Notes: So, I know this ask implied the reader, but my female character needed an identity. My apologies. Also...I'm sorry. Hope you enjoy!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, blood, violence, character death...It's a vampire/werewolf fic...and it's angsty. Fair warning.

Jaded

Her lips, painted cherry red, were parted so beautifully, her eyes fallen closed. My tongue licked a long stripe up her core, making her body shiver in excitement. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, fingers tangled in my hair as she pressed her hips against my face.

"Mm, that's it baby boy." Her back arched off of the armchair. "Just like that."

Following her instruction, I focused my attention on her clit, sucking down hard, humming into her. Her moans fell out of her mouth so softly, making her sound even more exquisite than she usually did.

"Ugh, if you keep up, I'm going to come."

I breathed out a laugh at that, pulling her thighs in closer, attaching myself to her.

"Baby, please. I need to feel you. I need you to fuck me."

It was tempting to ignore her, continuing my assault on her pussy, but her begging always did something to me. It was too good to resist.

I stood up, unbuckling my belt and opening the front of my slacks. Her hand reached up to palm at my erection over the fabric of my boxers. I placed a hand over hers, pressing it harder where I needed it, my eyes rolling back in my skull.

Her fingers found the opening, letting my cock free, and licked her lips. I had to lean down, placing a knee on the side of the chair, so I could line myself up to her, pressing in slowly. The feeling drew the most beautiful groan from her throat.

She was struggling to breathe through my thrusts, eyes wild and teeth bared.

I had almost forgot, but the desperation in her eyes reminded me.

Without interrupting my rhythm, I reached over to the table next to the chair, gripping the steel blade tight. Quickly, I swiped it over my pectoral muscle, opening a long, deep wound. Blood began pouring out, falling onto her face.

She hissed, mouth falling open, the first few drops landing directly on her tongue.

Her hands gripped my neck, pulling me down so she could bury her face in the blood streaming from my chest. Her lips wrapped tightly around the wound, her voice humming in pleasure and appreciation.

My hips snapped forward, the burning feeling on my skin just adding to the frenzy that I had began, my breathing becoming hoarse.

"I'm going to..." I ground my teeth together, trying to focus. "I'm going to fucking come."

She pulled back, lips covered in the viscous red fluid. "Come for me, baby. Come for me."

"Fuck." I pulled back, gripping my cock in my fist, pumping it over a few times before my release hit me, landing on her chest and stomach.

She smiled, my blood staining her bright white teeth. The look on her face was wild, and something about it pulled somewhere deep inside of me.

I collapsed on the chair next to her, pulling her up onto my lap. Her lips met mine, and I tasted the salty, metallic flavor on her tongue. I had grown accustomed to it, so it never bothered me.

We stayed there, breathing heavily and coming down from the high that we had been riding for the last hour.

She looked up at me, eyes tired and smirking. "Do you regret it?"

She asked me the same question every time. What had once been a serious ask had now become a joke between us.

Running a hand up her leg, I pressed my forehead against hers.

"Never."

“And what happens if they catch us?” Her finger was tracing down my jawline, goosebumps rising on the skin underneath.

I considered this, as I did every time her and I found each other again. What would happen?

I would be exiled at the very least. Banished to roam the hills alone for the rest of my pitiful existence…

But her? There was no chance that she would survive that. Jesse wouldn’t stop until her neck was on a stake, face mocking every last one of her Coven anytime they decided to come knocking…

The thought made me shudder, and I knew that she felt it.

“It’ll never happen, so there’s no sense in us stressing it.” She stood off of me, fleeting over to where her dress had been discarded a while before.

The house around us creaked, deep within the hollow, the only place we could truly be alone. Our safe haven was also so dark and damp, not an ideal setting for the blooming feeling we were spreading here every third night.

“But what if it does?” I leaned forward, balancing my elbows on my knees, and gazed up at her.

She smoothed her raven black hair down, placing it back into the clip effortlessly. Her teeth were back to their regular state, having been satiated plenty for the evening.

“Now, why would you go saying something silly like that?” She stood over me, leaning down, her chest nearly falling from over her corseted gown. Instinctively, I licked my lips, meeting her deep emerald irises.

“I have to.” Standing as well, now towering over her, and running a hand down her cheek. “One of us should.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I disagree.” Her hands searched idly on the dark floor for her heels. “Now come, mi amor.” Slipping each shoe on, she held a hand out for me to follow her. “The festival will be starting soon, and we have to show face.”

I had already redressed, pulling my belt taut and my jacket on.

The Occult Festival was a tradition in our secluded town, attempting to desensitize the local people to what was happening all around them - right under their ignorant noses.

Like myself, her family had a large hand in the festivities put on throughout the weekend. Despite being long-standing rivals, we got to play nice for these next forty-eight hours. For optics, of course.

“Luna?” I stopped her after we stepped out of the crumbling building, now out in the open where safety was always an issue.

Her fingers squeezed mine as she looked at me. “Yes?”

Calming my racing heart, I sighed, doing my best to communicate my emotions into my grip on her.

“I love you.”

She let her lips pull up gently, a breath releasing.

“Te quiero más, amante.”

-

“Noah!” I turned my head, seeing Nick jogging up to me. I was loading the last of the festival supplies into the back of Jolly’s truck, ready to be taken back to storage.

“What’s up, man?”

The look on his face concerned me, so I stood at my full attention. “Jesse wants to see you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “For…?”

“I don’t know, dude. Just mentioned to ask you to come to the house after we finished here.”

I groaned, leaning on the tailgate. “He’s going to bug me about the ‘mate’ thing again.” I rubbed my eyes with my hands.

Nick mirrored my stance, bumping shoulders with me.

“Is it so bad? He just wants you to find someone.”

I eyed him knowingly. “He wants me to find a mate to procreate with…” This made Nick chuckle. “It’s archaic, dude. This is the twenty-first century. We don’t need to arrange relationships to insure the pack doesn’t die out.”

Nick nodded. “I agree, brother, but he’s not going to let it go. You’re the only one of the Epsilon who haven’t mated yet.”

“And I shouldn’t have to! I’m a warrior, not a fucking breeder.”

He winced at that. “C’mon, Noah. You know we don’t call them that anymore.”

I shrugged, turning to lock the tailgate. “Might as fucking well. That’s what it is.”

Stalking through the front door, I let it slam heavily behind me. I walked through the large estate, feet pounding on the hardwood floors. I could already smell the food, so I made my way to the kitchen, hoping to find Jesse there.

As my instincts would have it, he stood at the stove, towel hung over his shoulder, stirring something in a pot. I cleared my throat, making my presence known, hands folded in front of me.

“Noah, you don’t have to be so stoic.” Jesse chuckled, not even turning to look at me. “Relax a little, huh?”

I stepped further into the room, sighing, and leaning a hip against the island.

“You wanted to see me?”

He turned, tasting something on the end of his spoon. “I did.” He nodded in satisfaction, wiping his hand on the towel before looking directly at me.

“How was the festival?”

I nodded smugly. “Boring. Flawless. Same as every year.”

He smiled warmly. It was a joke of an expression.

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear it.” He moved around the island, moving to walk past me. “Follow me?”

I did as I was told, and as we passed the dining room, he waved to his wife, who was setting the table.

“Dinner in ten, Amelia!” She smiled brightly at him.

We walked into his office, him locking the door behind us.

“Noah, I need to show you something.”

He stepped behind the large oak desk, unlocked a drawer with a key kept on the ring in his pocket. He slipped out an envelope, and handed it to me.

I inspected it, getting a whiff of the sour, rusted smell of blood.

We only got correspondence in blood from one place…

“Open it.”

Robotically and carefully, I pulled the page from it's place in the envelope, noting the thinly written scripture.

‘I only have so much patience, dog. I will not tolerate any reckless endangerment to my Coven. Keep your boys in line, or I’ll make sure to send them back to you in pieces.

Condolencias,

Señora

“And what happens if they catch us?” Her finger was tracing down my jawline, goosebumps rising on the skin underneath.

I considered this, as I did every time her and I found each other again. What would happen?

I would be exiled at the very least. Banished to roam the hills alone for the rest of my pitiful existence…

But her? There was no chance that she would survive that. Jesse wouldn’t stop until her neck was on a stake, face mocking every last one of her coven anytime they decided to come knocking…

The thought made me shudder, and I knew that she felt it.

“It’ll never happen, so there’s no sense in us stressing it.” She stood off of me, flowing over to where her dress had been discarded hours before.

The house around us creaked, deep within the hollow, the only place we could truly be alone. Our safe haven was also so dark and damp, not an ideal setting for the blooming feeling we were spreading here every third night.

“But what if it does?” I leaned forward, balancing my elbows on my knees, and gazed up at her.

She smoothed her raven black hair down, placing it back into the clip effortlessly. Her teeth were back to their regular state, having been satiated plenty for the evening.

“Now, why would you go saying something silly like that?” She stood over me, leaning down, her chest nearly falling from over her corseted gown. Instinctively, I licked my lips, meeting her deep emerald irises.

“I have to.” Standing as well, now towering over her, and running a hand down her cheek. “One of us should.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I disagree.” Her hands searched idly on the dark floor for her heels. “Now come, mi amor.” Slipping each shoe on, she held a hand out for me to follow her. “The festival will be starting soon, and we have to show face.”

I had already redressed, pulling my belt taut and my jacket on.

The Occult Festival was a tradition in our secluded town, attempting to desensitize the local people to what was happening all around them - right under their ignorant noses.

Like myself, her family had a large hand in the festivities out on throughout the weekend. Despite being long-standing rivals, we got to play nice for these next forty-eight hours. For optics, of course.

“Luna?” I stopped her after we stepped out of the crumbling building, now out in the open where safety was always an issue.

Her fingers squeezed mine as she looked at me. “Yes?”

Calming my racing heart, I sighed, doing my best to communicate my emotions into my grip on her.

“I love you.”

She let her lips pull up gently, a breath releasing.

“Te quiero más, amante.”

-

“Noah!” I turned my head, seeing Nick jogging up to me. I was loading the last of the festival supplies into the back of Jolly’s truck, ready to be taken back to storage.

“What’s up, man?”

The look on his face concerned me, so I stood at my full attention. “Jesse wants to see you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “For…?”

“I don’t know, dude. Just mentioned to ask you to come to the house after we finished here.”

I groaned, leaning on the tailgate. “He’s going to bug me about the ‘mate’ thing again.” I rubbed my eyes with my hands.

Nick mirrored my stance, bumping shoulders with me.

“Is it so bad? He just wants you to find someone.”

I eyed him knowingly. “He wants me to find a mate to procreate with…” This made Nick chuckle. “It’s archaic, dude. This is the twenty-first century. We don’t need to arrange relationships to insure the pack doesn’t die out.”

Nick nodded. “I agree, brother, but he’s not going to let it go. You’re the only one of the Epsilon who haven’t mated yet.”

“And I shouldn’t have to! I’m a warrior, not a fucking breeder.”

He winced at that. “C’mon, Noah. You know we don’t call them that anymore.”

I shrugged, turning to lock the tailgate. “Might as fucking well. That’s what it is.”

Stalking through the front door, I let it slam heavily behind me. I walked through the large estate, feet pounding on the hardwood floors. I could already smell the food, so I made my way to the kitchen, hoping to find Jesse there.

As my instincts would have it, he stood at the stove, towel hung over his shoulder, stirring something in a pot. I cleared my throat, making my presence known, hands folded in front of me.

“Noah, you don’t have to be so stoic.” Jesse chuckled, not even turning to look at me. “Relax a little, huh?”

I stepped further into the room, sighing, and leaning a hip against the island.

“You wanted to see me?”

He turned, tasting something on the end of his spoon. “I did.” He nodded in satisfaction, wiping his hand on the towel before looking directly at me.

“How was the festival?”

I nodded smugly. “Boring. Flawless. Same as every year.”

He smiled warmly. It was a joke of an expression.

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear it.” He moved around the island, moving to walk past me. “Follow me?”

I did as I was told, and as we passed the dining room, he waved to his wife, who was setting the table.

“Dinner in ten Amelia!” She smiled brightly at him.

We walked into his office, him locking the door behind us.

“Noah, I need to show you something.”

He stepped behind the large oak desk, unlocked a drawer with a key kept on the ring in his pocket. He slipped out an envelope, and handed it to me.

I inspected it, getting a whiff of the sour, rusted smell of blood.

We only got correspondence in blood from one place…

“Open it.”

Robotically and carefully, I pulled the page from it's place in the envelope, noting the thinly written scripture.

‘I only have so much patience, dog. I will not tolerate any reckless endangerment to my Coven. Keep your boys in line, or I’ll make sure to send them back to you in pieces.

Condolencias,

Señora Ladrón’

My hands wanted to tremble, but my self control held them in place, maintaining my composure. I looked up at Jesse.

“When did you receive this?”

“Yesterday at midnight.” He chewed his lip. “Any ideas?”

Shaking my head, I slipped the message back into the envelope. “Someone has been fucking with the Coven?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Fucking with, or…”

I nodded, understanding what he was insinuating.

“I have no idea which of our brothers could be that stupid. I’ve gone over it so many times. I can’t imagine the Ladrón family take lightly to intermingling species.” He rolled his eyes. “I would bet it’s Luna. She’s always been a bit of a whore.”

My spine twitched, but I held steady.

“We need to get ahead of this, Noah. We don’t need this kind of heat.”

“I understand.” I dropped the parcel down onto his desk, straightening my back and maintaining eye contact with my Alpha.

He shrugged, coming to stand in front of me. “I would feel a lot better if you would choose a mate already.”

I couldn’t hide the eye roll. “Why is that?”

He lowered his gaze, making my head bow instinctively. “You know why.” He stepped closer. “The vampires have us outnumbered. If they decide our existence is no longer necessary, then they have a hell of an advantage over us.”

I didn’t speak.

“And you running rogue, refusing to fall in line doesn’t exactly look good for us, does it?” His voice was so deadly, it made my skin crawl.

“No, sir.” I answered obediently.

His hand clapped my shoulder, indicating I was free of my submission.

“Do some research on this. Report back to me by Friday with what you’ve found.” I nodded, turning toward the door for my exit.

“Noah?” I turned my head, hand placed on the doorknob. “Don’t fuck this up.”

-

Her phone was going straight to voicemail for the eighth time, and I snarled, throwing my phone across the room. It landed hard on the floor after bouncing off of the wall. I fell down onto my bed, hands tightening in my hair and pulling.

How could this have happened? We had been so careful. Our meetup spot was far enough out of town that neither her family nor mine would ever stray far enough to pick up on our scent. It didn't make any sense.

She knew better than to tell anyone about our secret meetings, let alone anyone in her family. I never left my scent on her, ensuring to keep my hormones in check while I was with her. I knew her mother could smell a wolf from miles away, but I'd never take that kind of a risk.

I would wait a full forty-eight hours to phase prior to seeing her, that way the lingering smell of my blood would wash away after she fed. We had the perfect system, taking the time to plan it over and over before actually meeting for the first time.

It had been a year that Luna and I had been seeing each other. I knew it wasn't right, going against every force of nature that existed. I couldn't help it. She was different. She wasn't like any other vampire I had ever met.

I let her drink from me only days after we slept together the first time, knowing full well that we would be connected deeply once she had. She was mine, and I would never be able to let her go. She understood me. She didn't see me as the Epsilon leader, or a member of the pack. She saw me for who I was...a man.

Frustrated and wired, I opened my bedroom door, barreling through the house. "Whoa, where's the fire?"

Nick's voice made me stop, my shoulders tensing. I turned to see him at the end of the hallway, staring at me inquisitively. I glared at him, and he narrowed his eyes.

"What's going on?"

Continuing my path toward the door, I heard him following me. I didn't answer his question, choosing to brush past it.

"Noah!" His hand caught my shoulder, and I slapped it away, turning around, getting inches from his face.

"Back off, Nick!" My voice was booming, my chest puffing. Nick didn't back down, one of the few pack members who wasn't afraid of me.

"Fuck that, Noah! Something's going on. You've been in your room pacing for fucking hours!"

I took a step back. "I've got to be somewhere."

He followed after me. "Where could you possibly need to be at midnight? We don't have patrol tonight."

"I need to fucking think, okay?"

I opened the door, but stopped when I heard his voice behind me.

"Are you going to see Luna?"

My blood ran cold, and my pupils blew wide. Without thought, I rushed him, pressing him against the wall with a forearm to his throat.

"What did you say?" Is this how I was found out? Did my brother actually rat on me? To the vampires, no less?

"I know about you two. I have for a while." His hands were clawing at my arm as he struggled under my hold. "I didn't tell Jesse, man. I didn't tell anyone."

Searching his face, I saw his eyes shining. He was being honest.

I dropped him from the wall, and he took a moment to choke out a breath. "How do you know?"

He stared at me, disbelief in his eyes. "Jesse ordered me to follow you. Three weeks ago."

My eyes widened.

"He wanted to know where you would disappear to for days at a time."

I raised my eyebrows. "And?"

He looked at me incredulously, as if I had the nerve. "And..." He scoffed. "I found you and her going into the hollow, at the old Berringer place." My chest heaved, heart threatening to burst out of my chest. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Why?"

He rubbed his neck, moving to sit down on the couch in the living room. "Because you're my brother?"

Taking a breath, exhaling through my nose, I forced myself to calm down.

"Noah, I'd never tell anyone about you two, but you have to know that what you're doing is dangerous." He shook his head. "If the Coven finds out about you two?"

I hissed, turning my head. "I know, Nick."

He sat back, arm falling over the back of the couch. "That's not even mentioning what Jesse would do."

Letting my head fall back, I chuckled. "I don't care about Jesse. So what if he exiles me?"

Nick's face fell, a shocked expression on his face. "Is that what you think?"

I scrubbed a hand over my face. "That's what he did to Folio when he fell in love with that one girl. The one from California?"

Nick stood then, hands balled into fists. "That was a human he mated with, Noah." His hands came up to grab my arms, working to get my full attention. "Luna isn't human, dude. She's a fucking vampire."

He dropped his arms then. "And not just any vampire. She's the Countess' daughter!"

Hearing the words out loud put a new perspective on this.

"You think Jesse would have me killed?" My tone was even.

Nick shrugged. "I don't know, man. But if it meant keeping the peace with the Ladróns? I don't think there's a lot he wouldn't do."

I growled, squeezing my eyes closed. "I need to talk to her. Maybe she'll want to leave with me."

Nick took a few careful steps away from me, bewildered. "What?"

"I've thought it out, and that's the only way. We'd have to go far, as far as we can. Maybe South America, or Asia?"

"Noah," He ran a worried hand through his hair. "you're not actually considering leaving your entire pack for a vampire, are you?"

I grit my teeth, a warning. "She's not just a vampire, Nick." Exhaling a breath, I tried to keep my voice calm. "I love her."

"You can't just leave, Noah! The pack needs you!"

"For what?! To ward off rival packs? To keep the fucking vampires at bay?! Jesse's got you and the rest of his good ol' boys to do that."

I could see the offense on Nick's face, but he ignored it.

"Have you let her drink from you?"

I wasn't expecting that. To be fair, it was a pretty vital question.

"She hasn't bit me."

"So she hasn't tasted your blood?"

I was silent, not able to maintain eye contact with him. I could tell he was pissed off now.

"God damn it, dude! You know what that means!" He shoved a hand into my chest, knocking me a few steps back.

"I do."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Wouldn't have let her if I wasn't."

Sucking his teeth, he moved away from the doorway he had been blocking, waving his arm toward the exit.

"Well, fine then." He turned the knob, opening the door for me to leave. "Go for it, Noah. Abandon everyone who loves and cares about you for a bloodsucking tramp who will probably double-cross you anyway."

Ticking my jaw, I shot daggers at him. "That's enough, Nick."

"No! No it's not! I'm your brother, Noah! I have been since we were five years old! And you're just going to run away with her? You decided to mate with her? You didn't even tell me!"

"I couldn't tell you!"

"Why?! Afraid I'd tell Jesse? Well, I fucking didn't! So what the fuck?!"

He was right. Nick was the closest thing I had ever had to actual blood. I was always alone, from the time I was a child. His family raised me, took care of me since my parents died. I owed him more than this.

"Nick..." I stared up at him. "I love her. I don't know what else to do."

It took a moment, but I saw the rage calming in his eyes. He moved, standing a foot away from the open entryway, and motioned again.

"Then go. But if you do? You can't come back. I hope you know what you're doing, Noah."

-

I ran, full speed, as fast as I could, through the moss and the trees, the only light catching around me was the harsh white moonlight. The ground was wet and soft under my feet, making the worst squelching sound when I finally halted. The scent came strong in my nostrils. I was exactly two miles from the Ladrón estate, the gates less than two hundred feet away.

I padded silently up to the fence, my pitch black fur blending into the forest around me. I could smell her from where I stood, but she wasn't inside. Her scent wasn't close enough, and I didn't know where she was, but I could feel her.

Once mated, Luna and I had formed the kind of bond that didn't require words or regular communication. We could feel each other's souls from sometimes miles away. I needed to find her.

I continued to trek through the woods, heading closer to the town, but keeping far enough from the highway so as not to be spotted. Her scent picked up closer to the hollow, so I followed our usual trail. She took a hard left off of the path, and I tracked her all the way to the lake.

Mostly overgrown and abandoned, I stopped and watched as I saw her sitting on the pier, cross-legged and hunched over staring into the water.

Taking a moment to form back into myself, I slipped the clothes I carried with me on, and walked toward her.

She knew I was there, she had to. Even from several yards away, I could hear her soft cries.

"Luna?"

Her head snapped up, and she looked at me. I caught the sight of her blood covering her right cheek, and broke out in a run, falling to my knees in front of her.

"What happened?" I inspected the large laceration, wincing at the depth of it. Someone had done a number on her.

"My mother-" Her voice cracked, her hands reaching up to hold my arms. "She knew I was hiding something." Her entire body was shaking, and I pulled her close to me.

After a moment, she finally continued. "She had her men..." Her entire body trembled. "Noah, they did such awful things."

I squeezed her tight, my rage hardening inside of me. "They found out I was mated."

"Okay, it's okay."

She pulled back, tears falling, mixing with the blood on her face. "No it's not! She said she wanted a name, or she'd have the entire pack slaughtered!"

"Did you tell her it was me?"

Her eyes pleaded with me. "I had to. I didn't know what to do." She pressed her face into my chest. "Noah, please, I'm so sorry. Please."

Petting her hair, soothing her, I hummed in her ear. "It's okay, baby. I've got you. No one's going to find us."

Her eyes looked up at me, green shining as bright as stone, like the night sky over the water. "They won't?"

Sitting completely, I pulled her into my lap, rocking us gently back and forth. "We'll leave, tonight. We'll get out of here, and they'll never see us again, okay? They won't find us, Luna. I promise."

Her arms pulled around me tight, nearly crushing my rib cage.

"Noah," I looked down at her. "They drained so much from me. I can't run. Not right now. I barely made it here."

I pursed my lips. "What if you fed?"

She shook her head. "It's not enough. I have to rest, or I'll never get anywhere. I'll just slow us down."

Nodding, I held her close.

"Were you followed?"

"I don't think so. I doubt they even realized I'm gone yet."

I moved to stand, pulling her with me. "Alright, we'll wait it out until morning. Then, we're gone."

Luna stared directly up at me, trusting me with every fiber of her being. I guided us up the pier, back into the darkened woods toward our safe haven in the hollow.

-

The sound woke me before her hands on my shoulders did.

"Noah! Someone's here!"

My eyes snapped open, and I sat upright, pulling her protectively toward me. We had fallen asleep only a few hours before, tucked in the bedroom of the condemned house we had learned to call home more than our own. I could feel her shaking in my grasp, my hands doing my best to steady her.

My senses were disillusioned. Someone had blocked the scent outside, which was never a good thing.

"Come on out you two. We don't want to come in after you." A voice called from outside. I recognized it anywhere.

Jesse.

I was frozen, unable to comprehend it. How had he found us? Nick hadn't told them. He wouldn't. Were we followed?

"Noah..." His voice was stern now, stricken with authority. "Now."

My breath shook, and I looked at her. "Noah." Her lip was trembling. "We have to go out there."

Closing my eyes, I gripped her wrists, looking at her dead on. "Stay here."

"What?"

"Luna, stay here. No matter what happens. Just stay inside."

Her tears were forming again. "Noah, you can't. If they hurt you-"

"They will." I swallowed hard. "You have to stay here."

She shook her head, now fully sobbing. "Please, Noah. Don't. Let's just run! I might be strong enough now."

"No. We'll never make it." My eyes scanned the house. "They'll get us before we even make it out of the house."

Biting my lip, I gripped her face, pressing my forehead to hers.

"I love you, Luna."

She grabbed my hands, breathing heavily. "I love you, Noah."

I stood, then, taking a deep breath and straightening my shoulders. My feet felt loud walking to the door, and I mentally willed myself to open it, peering out into the pitch black woods.

Just below the front porch, Jesse, surrounded by the remainder of the Epsilon stood, a small fire built in front of them. I sighed, dropping down the steps.

"What do you want, Jesse?"

My eyes scanned across the entire pack, noticing Nick standing just to Jesse's left flank. His hands were tucked neatly behind his back, as studious as ever.

"Huh," Jesse looked at me through curious eyes. "is that any way to address your Alpha, Noah?"

Tightening my jaw, I took a step toward him. "You've obviously found me out."

He nodded, moving toward me, hands in his pants pockets. "That, I have."

"How?"

Smirking, he let out a small snicker. "Well, your little girlfriend wasn't hard to follow."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're not supposed to hunt the Coven. It's against the laws."

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, scratching at his beard. "You're right, I'm not. However," His eyes bounced around behind me, looking at something over my shoulder. "I wasn't the one who followed her."

Hearing it before I could turn around, the sound of feet racing into the door caught my attention. My body whipped back toward the house, but before I could run, heavy hands had my arms and shoulders, holding me firmly in place.

I turned to see Jolly and Matt on either side of me, faces unwavering.

"No!" I barked at them. "Don't! Let me go!"

"Noah, you really should just let this happen. You brought it on yourself."

The shrill sound of Luna's screams ripped through the darkness, and I watched as two large, bulky men dragged her forward from the doorway, hands on her arms. She thrashed in their grip.

"Let me go, cabrón!" Her hair whipped around violently as she fought against them. "Te mataré! Mataré a tu familia!" She cursed them, but they were unwavering, pulling her.

"Mija." The ice cold voice made us both stop, and I craned my neck to look behind me.

The tall, slender figure stood, only a foot to the right of Jesse, eyes dark as night, piercing into mine.

"Mama..." Luna's voice faltered, the men throwing her to the ground onto her knees.

"How could you disappoint me this way?" Her mother, the leader of the Coven, shook her head in disapproval. "I knew you were stupid, but I didn't realize you were quite this idiotic."

Her voice held no empathy. No emotion.

"Mama, you have to understand-" She pleaded with her mother, but was silenced when she lifted a hand between them.

"Enough." Her eyes turned to Jesse, then. "Tell me, wolf," She then glared at me, piercing daggers. "give me one good reason why I shouldn't wipe out your entire pack right now?"

He sucked his teeth, sighing heavily. "I won't lie, Señora, this is a shock to us all." He stared back at me. "Noah is one of our best, so it's a shame."

"You know what I demand to make this right."

His eyes fell, his shoulders rounding. "Is there nothing else I can do to atone?"

Answering with her gaze, he nodded. She wanted me dead, I could feel it.

"Mama, no! Don't!" I felt the arms holding me pressing me forward, closer to the fire, and pushing me down onto my knees. "He didn't do anything! He's innocent!"

"Silencio! I will deal with you back at home!"

I was silent, having long accepted this was my fate. As long as Luna survived, that was all I cared about.

"Please!" Her voice was screaming, breaking with each word. "You're wrong! You can't do this!"

Señora Ladrón approached me, skin white as the moon overhead. It wasn't until she was less than a foot away that I saw the shining blade in her hand. Silver.

Closing my eyes, I relaxed, taking a deep breath.

This was okay. I never belonged here, on this Earth. I was put here in a pack that never understood me. Never believed in me. I was an outcast amongst misfits; if only I hadn't been so lucky.

And to make matters worse, the only woman I could connect with, feeling any depth for, was a fucking vampire. A cosmic joke, my life truly was.

Thank goodness it was ending, that way I didn't have to fuck it up anymore.

"Alpha, stop."

The words rang through the impending silence, and my eyes cracked open.

I saw the hand on Jesse's shoulder, and my stomach sank.

"Nick? What is it?"

No. No. No.

"I have to confess." The woods were deadly quiet, all noise ceasing in that second.

"Yes?"

All eyes fell on my brother, and I felt my body beginning to shake.

"Noah is innocent." My jaw fell open, arms pulling against the hands on me. "He was hiding Luna for me."

My eyes flashed to Luna, who looked as stunned as I did, still sat on her knees in the dirt.

"Don't, Nick!" I called, but I was silenced by a harsh slap to the back of my skull, credit of Jolly.

"We're in love. We have been for months."

"Stop!" A fist landed on my jaw, trying to silence me. It wouldn't work. "He's lying!"

"Noah, I won't let you die for me!" He called to me, and I begged him with my eyes. "I asked Noah to get Luna to safety, and I would meet them in the morning. We were going to run away."

The tall, treacherous Countess stared down at me, and then at Luna. "Mija? Is this true?"

I could see the shock in her eyes, incapable of speaking. The tears flowed down her face.

"Luna!" I screeched at her. "Tell them he's lying!"

After a split second, her eyes flashed to me, and I swore I saw an apology.

"No!" I fought against the hands holding me. "No! Nick, no!"

Jesse's head fell, sighing heavily. His hands grabbed Nick's shoulders, gripping them firmly. "You're sure?"

He knew. He had to have. Nick would never...

But he was met with a curt nod, his deep brown eyes landing on the approaching vampires, now circling him.

Jesse just stepped back, shrugging his shoulders, and closed his eyes.

"No!" I pulled and fought, but I was caught in a death grip. "Nick! Please! No!"

I turned to face the Alpha, pleading. "Jesse! You know he didn't do it! Please! Don't let them-"

But before I could finish, I saw the shine of the blade, a stun on Nick's face, and after that all I saw was deep, flowing blood...

The woods were so still, the only movement was his body falling to the ground.

"NO!" My voice crested, chest roaring to life. "Nick!" I finally managed to break loose from the hands that held me, but it was too late.

My hands grabbed his head, cradling him in my lap, his life pouring out over me. His eyes were still open, a cold, dead stare looking back at me.

That's what he was...

My brother was dead.

Hunching over him, my body shook, hard cries ripping through me. My hands stroked his hair, staring into him.

"Please." I pulled at the hair on his scalp. "Please, wake up. Please don't do this to me."

It was useless. He was gone.

"Come. We have other matters to deal with."

My eyes shot up, watching as the men from before grabbed Luna, dragging her into the forest. She screamed and fought, but I wasn't prepared to save her.

Not now...

"Noah?" The voice that called me was foreign to me now, no Alpha of mine.

I only looked at him, not allowing him to meet me face-to-face. I refused to leave my brother on the ground.

"Your involvement in all of this," He gestured to the body in my arms. "for the death of your brother," I snarled, warning. "it's grounds for exile."

Not feeling a response was warranted, I only elected to gather enough blood from my busted lip on my tongue, spitting at his feet.

He cackled, crouching down next to me. "I don't want to see you around here again, got it? If I do, I'll make sure you don't worm your way out of it again."

And before I could spit directly into his face, he was gone. They all were. Just ghosts in the night.

I was left, alone, with what was left of my brother, and the glow of the fire bouncing off of the trees.

The only sound that filled the night then were my harsh, broken screams.

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 21 - Somnophilia

Another hyper fixation I had a fling with has to do with um..a Latino Spider-man. >///> Don't look at me, he's got nice...features....*cough* Enjoy!~

Warning! This work does contain pre-agreed to (although never directly stated) consensual non-consent! If that is not something you're okay with, please do not read! Thank you!

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Never in your life had you seen someone work as hard as Miguel did. You knew, of course, why he did what he did. The multiverse was a serious thing, and despite not being part of the Spider Society, you knew why it needed the protection it had. 

Not that it wasn’t important, you do wish Miguel would give himself a break once in a while. It hurt you to see the man you loved so dear make it back to your shared home looking like he was about to drop to the ground. Yet no matter how much you argued with him about it, he never relented. 

You even consulted Lyla about it one night when Miguel wasn’t in earshot. “You can’t just…lace the Rapture or something?” you asked, voice hushed. “Slip some melatonin in there or something to get him to just…relax for a second?” 

“Sorry hun,” Lyla told you, the AI sighing heavily in her own electronic way. “I wish I could.” You flopped back against your shared bed at that answer.

Upon wandering through the halls of the society that day, you hadn’t expected anything different. You waved and said hello to a variety of different Peter Parkers and Spider-Mans alike. They knew you pretty well by now, seeing how often you brought food by Miguel’s office to be sure he was actually eating. Sometimes they’d keep you company while you waited for him to return.

The door opened slowly, and you expected the pedestal to lower with your super-powered lover atop it. “Miguel, I brought your favorite by,” you called. Yet as the chair he sat at turned around, you caught a sight that was beyond rare. 

Head held up by his fist, Spiderman-2099 was out like an absolute light. You sighed quietly as you set the food down and approached him, doing your best to mute your footsteps. Once you were on the pedestal, you felt it begin to raise and panicked slightly.

Lyla appeared out of thin air, hushing you. You smiled in relief, settling yourself on the metal flooring between Miguel’s legs. “Yeah, you might not want to sit there sweetheart,” the AI told you quietly. When you gave her a questioning look, she points to the area of your lover’s crotch.

Even his spider suit did nothing to conceal the bulge growing beneath the synthetic cloth. You blushed a little, peeking your head around the chair to see if anyone else had entered with you. Upon realizing you were alone, you put your hand gently on the man’s inner thigh.

“You’re so worked up love,” you whispered, caressing the skin their. You watched with a knowing look as pixels slowly dissipated to reveal his prominent erection. You weren’t going to question though, taking your lover’s member in your hand and pumping slowly. “You need to relax more.”

Miguel made a soft noise in his slumbering state, but otherwise showed no signs of waking. Perfect. You did your best to be slow and quiet, licking a line up the shaft before swirling your tongue around the head. With enough saliva built up, you slid your way down, bobbing your head at a snail’s pace. You wanted this to be pleasurable for him, not a rude awakening.

And so far, it was. On the occasion, your love would buck his hips up, especially when your tongue swiped over a few specific veins. You did your best not to gag too harshly, tucking your thumb into your fist and holding it tightly.

Every once in a while you would hear him mumble something in Spanish or even your name, which you took as a good sign. One hand you kept on his thigh, massaging the muscles there. The other took to stroking his shaft where you couldn’t quite reach. You had your lover as covered as the multiverse ever would be.

You knew he was close when the little noises got to be more and more frequent. You focused your attention on the head of his cock, laving your tongue over the slit. “Mi amor,” you heard as cum began to hit your tongue and cheek. Miguel groaned softly as he came, hips rising off his chair.

The sound of the door opening caught your attention, causing you to panic. You’re not too sure what made the pedestal remain so still, but your blood was running cold regardless. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” came Miguel’s voice, sounding as cool and calm as ever. 

You looked up only to be met with those tired ruby eyes you adored so much. Once the door shut, your hero bent forward a bit as he thumbed the cum from your cheek. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before sitting up straight again.

“Thank you for the respite cariño. Now let me get back to work.”

[zeddpool]

Superbat Week 2024 - Day 3

Xenobio Extravaganza

A/B/O | Alien Biology | Kryptonian Diet

(I am a massive xenobiology nerd, you have no idea the monster you've unleashed)

So I’m perpetually annoyed by the fact that Kryptonians look exactly like humans, have the same blood colour as humans, are reproductively compatible with humans, etc. despite being from completely unrelated planets

So I thought, what if Kryptonians developed a very mild form of shapeshifting as some kind of survival mechanism

So Kryptonian children slowly but surely grow to almost exactly mimic the dominant species of whatever place they grew up, or, like, the species they were raised by

So a Kryptonian raised by Skrull or Vulcans or wtvr would grow up to look like those species instead

It’s not a perfect explanation but it’s the first one that’s made any sense to me

Anyway, the illustration is just more of my headcanons on what remaining Kryptonian traits Supes might have, written in the style of Anatomy of a Metahuman, ie I tried to write it like these were Bruce's notes

Text from the image under the cut

Kryptonians produce far more varied pigments than Humans, and as such have a wider variety of hair, eye, and even skin colours: Kal has blue-pigmented eyes and hair a similar iridescent black as ravens and crows

Vestigial pointed ears, though what the ancestral purpose was, I can only guess

Kryptonians seem to have some similar membrane to the Tapetum Lucidum, giving Kal far superior night vision, though it must make it difficult for Clark to have his picture taken with flash

Very prominent canine teeth, Kryptonian ancestors were definitely meat-eaters, and his teeth seem to be actual bone, unlike humans

As muscle mass can only increase through repeated micro-tearing and healing during regular and strenuous exercise, Kal doesn't actually have that much bulk since he'd have to bench press an aircraft carrier every other day to "get big"

Lack of nipples would indicate non-mammalian ancestry, but the presence of a belly-button suggests Kryptonians were a placental species. The only alternative would be that Kryptonians lay eggs, which is...

...I have seen this man knowingly and willingly consume metal multiple times. I have no idea what is going on in here, but I fear asking him if I could get in his guts could be misconstrued. (Here's what inspired this point!)

From my translations of some Kryptonian texts, their society had wildly different concepts of gender than Humans, as well as indications that there was a wide array of how their biological sex presented. Perhaps my theory about egg-laying isn't so far-fetched...

[cumaeansibyl]

okay this is my biggest conspiracy theory except it's not really a Conspiracy Theory because I am not actually positing a shadowy prime mover who planned the whole thing from the start. that always ends up in wildly antisemitic places where I do not go, and also I don't think anyone in history has had their shit together enough to mastermind Schemes of this type. my theories are always more like "this happened serendipitously and at some point maybe someone noticed and took advantage but there's certainly no central figure in charge."

so we start with the normalization of overwork in our society, since roughly forever. in modern times this led to abuse of medical and recreational stimulants -- everyone was on speed in the 50s and coke in the 80s -- but we all kind of figured out that was a bad idea, for the most part. what we still had after the white powder settled, though, was caffeine. totally legal, totally normalized.

but people were still overworked, and they also still wanted to have energy after work, to do fun things with the little free time left to them.

enter energy drinks.

unlike coffee, which still has the feeling of a daytime beverage and also to some extent a workplace beverage, energy drinks are an anytime food! you can even get them in mixed drinks for a night out. they're for work AND play. they come in a wide range of dose strengths, including a shooter for when you're in really dire straits. after all, taking caffeine pills feels like "pill-popping," but having a little beverage is fine, right?

at the same time, there is increasing interest in remedies for a variety of unspecific ailments caused by "toxins," the new buzzword in a very old industry of patent nostrums and dubious cure-alls. the theory is that some sort of unspecified substance has entered your body, and in order to feel well again you need to detox and cleanse -- which in practice involves a lot of induced defecation. And this is supposed to be good for feelings of fatigue, muscle soreness, anxiety, stomach upset, and difficulty sleeping.

See where I'm going with this?

The "toxins" that make you feel terrible all the time are caffeine. Not heavy metals, or refined sugar, or vaccines, or yeast. It's just fucking caffeine.

Well, caffeine and chronic overwork/sleep deprivation, which is not entirely a direct result of the caffeine but is certainly enabled/exacerbated by it. Everyone is working too much and taking stimulants to get through the day and in fact experiencing mild overdose symptoms on a fairly regular basis (irritable? jittery? that's caffeine toxicity) and it's no wonder we all feel like shit.

And then! When you come home from your day of pushing your mind and body too hard! It is ALSO normalized to take downers to level out! Alcohol is also a toxin, and it takes a lot less of it to start doing systemic damage than most people realize. When you wake up in the morning feeling foggy and achy, it may not be enough to register as a proper hangover, but it's almost certainly the combined effect of alcohol and caffeine withdrawal. Both mild! Both nearly harmless and easily recovered from! If you're not doing it on a regular basis and if you're getting enough rest, which you're not, as we previously established.

It's the chronicity that's the issue, the neverending grind of it all. You can't recover from chronic sleep deprivation or overwork with an extra few hours of rest on the weekends. You can't recover from long-term chemical dependence with a 24-hour tolerance break. If you're a wage earner in late-stage capitalism your options for reversing the damage are pretty limited and they all look like deprivation: prioritizing an unbroken 8-9 hours of sleep per night may well mean giving up most if not all of your social life and leisure activities. Fuck that.

And to be clear, I don't consider choosing to stay out late with a vodka Red Bull to be a personal failure of any kind, just like I don't think poor people should never buy themselves anything nice. If work keeps trying to take more and more of your time, you gotta carve out time for yourself somewhere. But... y'all know me. I want people to know the risks.

I think a lot of people don't realize that their bodies are under this much strain. They don't know that we are better suited for a 4-6 hour work day, that 6-7 hours of sleep is genuinely not enough for most people, that as little as 2 cups of coffee might be enough to put them over the recommended maximum caffeine intake. They don't know that they're drinking enough alcohol to cause health problems.

If you know and you decide to do it anyway that's fine, it's your right. I do inadvisable shit all the time. But people don't know, they're not being told, because they can't be allowed to question the material conditions they're being forced to endure -- and then they're being sold a bunch of useless or even harmful bullshit to "cure" the inevitable consequences of those conditions.

[zaebeecee]

To Sever a Loveless Bond

••RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 21/?

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Read on AO3

•••

I know it’s been over a month but to make up for it this chapter is nearly 10k words and a whole lot of stuff happens. Like… a whole lot of stuff. Thank you again for sticking with me, y’all, you mean the world to me.

I headcanon Alastor as having had hEDS in life. Also, in our house we call Vox’s assistant Blink in fanfic because we need to call him something

CW for violence, non-consensual/forced nudity, various forms of torture, slut shaming, Vox being a creepy fuck, blood ritual stuff, electricity super fucking Alastor up in the short term

•••

Alastor and pain were not, nor had they ever been, strangers to one another.

It was true, of course, that he quite enjoyed causing harm of both the physical and the emotional variety to those around him… and the psychological, when opportunity knocked. However, he knew pain much too intimately for such knowledge to come from base violence and chaos; it was a gift that life had begun to give him at a young age, his body plagued with a strange malady that neither his maman nor the few doctors they could afford were able to identify. It caused him pain most every moment of every day, and that, in turn, transformed the pain into something… else, something almost familiar and comfortable.

There even came a time that Alastor had convinced himself that pain was no longer a hindrance for him. Of course, there were different kinds of pain, but when one could never escape from it, embracing it became second nature.

The pain that jarred Alastor out of the nothingness of unconsciousness and into the wakeful dark was nothing like the pain of his life, nor like any other pain he had felt in the time since. An odd sort of tingling sensation lay across every inch of his skin, pervasive and just irritating enough to be impossible to ignore; it persisted until he tried to make any movement at all, at which point the fuzzy, staticky sensation spiked quite immediately into the pain of a thousand hot needles piercing through skin and muscle and deep into bone. His breath came in a sharp and ragged gasp as his eyes flew open, focusing on a neon-edged black abyss that stretched endlessly above him before he was forced to screw them shut again.

“You’re getting soft, Alastor.”

That voice, always an unpleasant intruder in his everyday life when simply heard through a television speaker, was more biting than the hurt that wracked his body as it seemed to slice into his eardrums with its brusque, smug self-satisfaction. Alastor gritted his teeth, lip curling as he forced one eye open again, attempting to look around through the red lens of his monocle only to find that it had been taken off of him.

“Not very hospitable surroundings, old pal,” Alastor hissed with all the venomous sarcasm he could muster in the moment. “Losing your touch at playing host?”

“Perhaps not hospitable, but certainly appropriate.” Vox wasn’t in his line of sight, and Alastor took a moment to try and figure out where the fuck, exactly, he was. He was lying flat on his back on a hard, unyielding surface, metal fastened about his wrists, his legs, and the middle of his abdomen. His clothing had been removed, and he could feel that something thin and sharp had been pushed into his flesh along most of his major muscle groups down his arms, legs, and abdomen, but he couldn’t tell what it was. And his strength… it felt like every ounce of his control over his body and his power had been siphoned from him. “Are you feeling proud of yourself?” Vox asked.

“Usually,” Alastor said, keeping his voice flippant as his grin tightened. “About what, specifically?”

Alastor heard Vox’s footsteps before he saw him. The other overlord stepped up to the slab he was lashed down to—bolted to, really—and stared down at him with that… look that he got when he was (as Alastor had always put it back in the day) ‘thinking like a capitalist’. It was something that was trying for cold and appraising, but was full of too much… greed? Hunger? Alastor didn’t know what to call it, but whatever it was, there was too much for his gaze to truly be called dispassionate.

Vox was maintaining his calm, a fairly impressive feat these days. “You actually allowed yourself to be baited. By Valentino,” the television overlord said with what sounded like every ounce of derision he possessed. “And you always fancied yourself above such base behavior.”

Alastor giggled as a pain stabbed his chest from the inside, like a knife shoving up through his sternum. “Says the one who’s simply let Valentino use him as a meal ticket for the past forty years.”

“I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you,” Vox snarled, a crack in that carefully-constructed image he so dutifully maintained. One of his hands hit the table beside Alastor’s head and he leaned forward to loom over the Radio Demon as Alastor turned his face away, still snickering. “You aren’t exactly in an advantageous position here, Alastor. Do you really want to push me right now?”

“Of course not,” Alastor said with a false contrition, his eyes cutting over to Vox while his face remained turned away. “These newfangled flatscreens topple so easily. I would be absolutely mortified if I broke your face again.”

Fury passed across Vox’s screen for a moment… but only a moment. It calmed, quite suddenly, as he raised his other hand and extended his index finger. Alastor had only a moment to wonder what the actual fuck was happening before Vox touched one of the somethings buried in his arm.

“FUCK!!” Alastor screamed, the word torn from his lips unbidden, as a horrific jolt of unadulterated and pure agony shot through his arm, down into his fingers and up into his shoulder and neck. His hand spasmed, joints cracking and claws gouging the metal table, as his head snapped to nearly lean his ear against his shoulder. The next moment, the overwhelming sensation of active torture vanished, leaving behind a throbbing hurt and the occasional uncontrolled twitch of his fingers and shoulder.

Alastor gasped for breath against the feeling of a heavy weight on his chest, his smile widening as he focused on Vox’s face, studying him as though he were a mildly interesting test audience for a new pilot. “What…” Alastor’s voice gave out, and his head twitched, before he managed to focus again. “…the fuck… did you do…?”

Vox raised an eyebrow. “You’re providing me with intensely useful metrics,” he said. “I had an idea for a new game show, but I hadn’t had the chance to actually perform any meaningful tests to determine what, precisely, would be an appropriate range. After all, it has to be painful enough to be entertaining, but not so painful that the contestants will either pass out or explode too quickly.”

Alastor curled his lip. “I am not your test subject.”

“You… are, actually.” Vox smiled at him, a smile that was nasty and cold and nothing like what he let most other people see. “Listen. Alastor. You are the one who elected to enter into my domain. You nearly tore the damn building down. If I let you go, you’d just proceed to destroy everything you could get your hands on.”

“Obviously,” Alastor hissed.

Vox ignored the interjection. “So, clearly, I can’t release you; it’s not in the company’s best interest. And, if I have you here anyway, I may as well make use of you.”

The word brought the taste of bile into Alastor’s mouth, and he jerked against his bindings, but his body felt… weak. It was as though it didn’t want to obey the commands of his brain. “I am going to free myself from this little contraption of yours, and the moment I do, I am going to fucking kill you.”

“I’m sure you’ll try,” Vox allowed. “But we both know that if you could kill me, you would have already done it.” He turned away, going back to whatever he had been doing out of Alastor’s line of sight. “To answer your question, I’ve inserted silver-plated wires into your muscles. Silver is the most conductive metal, so it will be the most efficient in transferring electricity directly into your flesh. I’m going to gauge your responses to different levels of electrical shock in different places. And you can try to break out all you like, but your nervous system and your brain aren’t communicating right now, and probably won’t be until long after I’m done here.”

Alastor found himself laughing, the sound high and weak as he struggled to breathe, as though the electric shock had flattened his lungs. “And you say I’m sick.”

“You are,” Vox said. “But I really do have to ask. How, exactly, was it that Val got you to come here?”

Alastor snorted. “Why so curious?”

“Because Val is an idiot. But you were so very upset when you arrived.” Vox returned to the table and leaned his hip against it, folding his arms as he looked down at Alastor once more. “I’m sure it will interest you to know that Angel Dust is with him again.”

Alastor wasn’t sure what, precisely, his face did when Vox said that. Whatever it was, though, it was clear that Vox wasn’t expecting it. The television overlord’s eyes widened for a moment before narrowing, his teeth gritting visibly and his left eye spasming briefly. Alastor kept his own voice as steady as he could. “You can’t keep me here forever, Vox,” he said, his voice low. “When I am done with you, and when I am done with Valentino, there will not be enough of you left to even whimper in the radio chorus.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing all of…” Vox’s screen glitched, and he shook it a little, clearing the image. “You’re endangering yourself, debasing yourself, degrading yourself, and for what? A common whore?”

Alastor’s smile sharpened. “The fact that you think he’s common shows how incomparably myopic you are, Vox.”

Years ago, Alastor had realized that he had never truly understood Vox’s mind or how it worked. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking at any given moment, and his motivations (particularly where Alastor himself was concerned) had always been downright unfathomable. That was why, Alastor supposed, he couldn’t predict Vox’s movements when he suddenly held up another silver-plated wire in his clenched fist and slammed it down into Alastor’s arm, piercing straight through the little spider in the crook of his elbow.

Alastor’s scream morphed into laughter that sounded unhinged even to himself, punctuating continued shrieks of agony as electricity shuddered into his soulmate mark. Eventually, it didn’t even sound like it was coming from his own mouth, his consciousness disconnecting and reconnecting as though trying to find a particularly weak station signal on an old radio.

You can’t keep me here forever, Vox.

He knew that more he repeated it, the easier it would become to believe.

•••

Angel stumbled across the bare tile floor and slammed into the wall across from the doorway, unable to catch himself to cushion the blow to his shoulder and the side of his head. His teeth ground together as his socked feet slowly slid across the cold ceramic, his body slipping down the wall in what felt like slow motion until he landed on his hip in an inelegant, uncomfortable slump.

He could still see the agony on Alastor’s face as he collapsed, hear the soft buzz of electricity as he twitched involuntarily, like the moment now seared into his memory had happened moments ago when, at this point, it had to have been more than four hours. When Valentino had dragged him from the studio and into the nearest room with a surface flat enough to pretend to be a bed, he had proceeded to treat Angel like a rag doll, beating him and touching him, taking out what seemed to be every frustration he had built up since the 70s on Angel’s defenseless flesh. He had once thought he could never feel more worthless and disgusting, but Valentino had proven him wrong. Angel hadn’t even been aware of leaving the room, only vaguely registering that he was being dragged down the hallway before Valentino opened a nondescript door and threw him inside.

“I have given you everything you have.”

He tried not to let his pain show on his face. He really did. Even so, Angel could feel the corners of his eyes pinching with pain as he slowly opened them and looked up at Valentino, the overlord standing in the doorway, blocking it with his arms and the cape-like wings that twitched, threatening to open. Valentino would have almost looked dispassionate, were it not for the blood on his claws and spattering the front of his shirt.

Angel’s blood.

The same blood now smeared on the wall behind him, marking the path of his descent like the trail of a large and dying snail.

Angel didn’t answer, and Valentino took his silence as response enough, baring his teeth and digging gouges in the doorframe. “You were nothing before I found you,” he hissed. “Nothing. And without me, you would always be nothing. After everything I have given you, this is how you repay me?”

Angel had never felt so tired in his entire life. Something deep in his mind told him that this, right here, was it. This was going to be the rest of his life. Valentino was stupid, sure, but he wasn’t a complete idiot, and he must have grown his extra hands to make it easier to hold a grudge because the porn overlord had never and would never forgive what he determined to be a true betrayal. In Valentino’s eyes, Angel had betrayed him; no amount of apologizing or flattery or cocksucking would ever be enough to lift him out of the hole he had dug himself into. It wouldn’t be enough for Valentino to turn him out, of course—no, Valentino would much rather make Angel Dust’s life an active Hell for the rest of eternity—but it would be hanging over him for the rest of time, unless he threw himself on an exorcist’s spear during the next extermination.

Angel’s voice was flat in his own ears when he spoke. “Fuck you, Val.”

Valentino’s eye twitched behind his sunglasses. “You will eat those words, Angel Dust,” he said. Angel thought he might leave then, but instead, he said, “He will never love you.”

I know that.

Still, hearing it out loud, and from Valentino of all people, cut through Angel’s haze of numbness with a hot blade that seemed to slice into his core. He flinched, but he didn’t say anything, and because Valentino’s vision sucked, he didn’t notice.

He also didn’t stop.

“You’re more brainless than I thought, amorcito,” Valentino said with a remarkable level of control. “To believe that someone like you could be enough to sway the Radio Demon? You’re gutter trash, a filthy crack whore who would sell out his own family for a dime bag. He won’t look twice at the best this shithole has to offer. What makes you think something like you could change that?”

It would have been easier to take if Valentino had been yelling, but he wasn’t. No, it was that soft, mocking tone he took when he knew he’d found one of the flaws that made a crack in Angel’s psyche big enough for him to dig his claws into and pour his words in like poisonous smoke. Angel wanted to tell him to go fuck himself again, but he was so… tired.

Angel lowered his head. Valentino said something about not trusting him on his own while he checked on the status of the building, and then he left, closing the door behind him. Angel heard the click of the lock, the slow retreat of footsteps… and then nothing.

Slowly, Angel raised his head again, glancing around at where he had been left now that Valentino wasn’t around to observe his mild curiosity and trepidation. It looked like one of the many, many storage rooms VoxTek had scattered around the building; very few of them had a dedicated purpose, instead serving as a place to put furniture or equipment when rooms on the floor were being cleaned or the tech was being updated or any number of other reasons you might want bulky items neatly stacked somewhere out of the way.

This particular storage room appeared to be currently in disuse, the only other thing inside (besides Angel himself) being a bare, stark white lightbulb set high in the ceiling with no visible switches to turn it off. Outside of that, he saw nothing but bare off-white walls and bare white tile, both only marred by Angel’s blood where he had smeared it along the wall and let it drip onto the floor. It was almost blinding, and Angel screwed his eyes shut, letting his head fall back with a soft thud of impact that shouldn’t have hurt but sent pain shuddering all along his spine.

Now that he was alone, Angel felt nothing but pain. Cold seeped into his skin through his socks, the only clothing he had been allowed—and only because Valentino hadn’t bothered to rip them off—and he shivered, wrapping his arms around his bent legs and burying his face in his knees. The mark on his leg pulsed softly, like a heartbeat, and he realized he was crying.

This is so fucking pathetic, he thought, even though he was well aware that berating himself wouldn’t do shit for him or anyone else. All he wanted to do was get out of this room, find Alastor, and get both of them out of there. He’d happily break Vox’s screen if that was what it took.

No matter how badly he wanted to do something, to do anything at all besides sit uselessly in a closet trying to stop crying, he knew it was useless because even if he did manage to find Alastor and free him and even actually stand up to Vox, Valentino could use that fucking chain to stop him. It would be trivial. It wouldn’t help. It might even make Alastor’s situation worse.

Then again, you’re making a lot of assumptions. Alastor might not even still be here. How could Vox keep him? Why would he stay?

Why did he come here in the first place?

Angel sniffled, raising his head just enough to rub his eyes and listening to any sounds he could pick up coming from anywhere else in the building. Even though the power had come back on, it sounded like most of the systems weren’t currently running; more than likely, a ton of fuses had blown, and it would probably take a while to fix them. Since he couldn’t hear the omnipresent and overbearing electric hum that usually followed him whenever he was in this damn place, he was able to pick up the distant and muffled sound of voices somewhere below him, even more distant equipment banging and crashing as employees dealt with the aftermath of Alastor’s rampage, and a hollow sort of nothingness that came with the knowledge that he was alone and no one would be coming for him until Valentino decided to let him out.

Angel’s breath hitched in a sob and he cursed himself, pressing the heels of two hands into his eyes. “Stop it,” he muttered to himself, but it did nothing to stem the burgeoning tide of tears burning as they leaked out through tightly-clamped eyelids and soaked his palms. A third hand balled into a fist and struck the wall behind him, a sensation that did nothing but increase his frustration and make him wish he had something considerably more fleshy to rip apart. “Stupid,” he hissed, not even certain who he was saying it to anymore. He needed to think of something, but his mind was so—

A cold hand wrapped around Angel’s wrist and he screamed, jerking away and striking out at the sudden intruder. His hand hit nothing but air until his knuckles collided with the wall in a sharp snap that made him gasp with pain, yanking it back and cradling it to his chest. Nothing else touched him.

“What the fuck?” Angel whispered, rubbing tears from his eyes to clear his vision. There was nothing else in the room, just him, that blinding lightbulb, his blood, and his shadow.

No. Not his shadow.

Angel’s eyes widened as his vision adjusted and he could actually tell what he was looking at. Alastor’s shadow was on the wall beside him, back a couple of feet as though giving him room. There was something almost apologetic in the way the dark, angular, contorted figure held its hands and the way its mouth twisted into the sort of deep and worried frown Alastor’s own face seemed incapable of wearing. As Angel lowered his arm, raised on instinct to guard his face, the shadow seemed to relax minutely and return to a shape more familiar but no less off-putting.

“…Alastor…” Angel felt as though his heart was breaking at the same moment as the very sight of that shadow caused it to swell, two of his hands moving to the floor between his knees so he could lean forward and reach out a third hand. Angel rubbed his eyes with his fourth hand, sniffling wetly and clearing his throat. “Hey, Big Guy, come back, it’s okay,” he said, the words coming out as a rough murmur.

The shadow tilted its head, in a sense, before drifting across the wall back towards Angel. It reached out towards him, then stopped, twitching sharply like it was in pain.

“…!” Angel slid back over to the wall, placing his hands against the surface; as his fingers touched the blackness that formed the shadow, he felt that depthless cold again, the same that he felt every time Alastor had swept him into his own personal darkness. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pushing past the hurt of his ruined throat. “Are you— is he—…” He wasn’t sure how to ask what he meant.

The shadow’s twitching stilled, its form shifting in minute ways like it was actually catching its breath. Its face tilted down towards Angel’s hands before it moved its own arms, and as it did, Angel watched its shadowy fingers cascade across the backs of his own hands, like it was entwining their hands. The cold made him shiver, but he didn’t move away; even if his fingers had gone numb, he would have stayed right where he was.

“I’m so sorry,” Angel murmured. He reached up a third hand, but didn’t touch the wall. Instead, he watched his own shadow move closer until it touched Alastor’s. Instantly, as though it could feel his shadow hand like a real touch, it tilted into the touch and began practically nuzzling his shadow palm with the top of its head. Even though Angel wasn’t touching the wall, he could have sworn he felt the ruffle of hair, the hard ridge of an antler, and even the soft fur of an ear against his palm and fingers. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed, watching as the shadow kept pressing its head against the silhouette of his hand. “Val locked me in here and won’t let me out until he comes back.” The shadow’s mouth twisted into a snarl, as if the very mention of Valentino had triggered some sort of rage within it. “And even if I…” Angel shook his head, moving his fingers to make his shadow scritch the manifestation’s ear. “…he won’t let me out of his sight. I know he won’t.”

At those words, Alastor’s shadow straightened, and as it removed its hands from Angel’s, it felt like he had suddenly dipped his fingers into hot water, so sudden was the return of warmth to his skin. The shadow hesitated at Angel’s surprised gasp, but it swept along the walls until it reached the door, and within moments, it had vanished through the crack at the base.

“Wait…!” Angel called, but the shadow was out of sight before he even thought of getting the word out. Slowly deflating, Angel had less than a breath to wonder what he was going to do now when he heard a tiny click from the door. Angel gasped, backing away, but it didn’t open. It didn’t sound like anyone was out there at all, least of all Valentino and his unbridled rage.

When he heard nothing else, Angel slowly got to his feet, placing his hand on the handle and pressing down. With another little click, the door creaked open, and Angel carefully peered out into the dim hallway. There was no one else, not even the terrifying and comforting shape of Alastor’s shadow lurking in the dark. The rooms sounded completely empty, everyone who normally would have been on the floor doubtless busy with the destruction happening far below him.

Angel glanced back at the closet, then made his decision and closed it behind him, twisting the lock with his thumb. He then ran down the hall, heading for the stairwell that would take him to a back hall he could use to reach his dressing room. Valentino wouldn’t check there first, second, or even third, and he had clothes in there that he could change into while he was thinking. He didn’t have a lot of time and he needed to make the most of the little he did have.

Alastor was somewhere in the building, after all, and Angel wasn’t going to leave him, soul contract be damned.

•••

It had been a long time since the vibe (that was the right word, right?) of the hotel had felt this… off. The Hazbin Hotel had its problems, just like any business, and the residents sometimes had their problems, but the atmosphere wasn’t usually this heavy. In fact, this was as bad as it had gotten since the evening after the last extermination.

Charlie had been yelled at for pacing, which meant she was now standing behind the front desk, watching everyone else. Niffty was still hanging out with Husk, who was doing his best to keep her occupied while they waited for any kind of news, silently validating Charlie’s own opinion that he really was a sweetheart under all of his grumpiness. Cherri was sitting with the guy apparently named Arackniss, who was also apparently Angel Dust’s brother, and Charlie would have eaten a whole pinecone for the chance to ask him just… so many questions if it wasn’t for the fact that this was definitely not the time. Moxxie, Millie, and Loona were only a short distance from them; occasionally, it looked like the five of them were interacting a little, but for the most part were just waiting for news (and, in I.M.P.’s case, for their boss to come back).

Charlie knew how they felt. She was certain everything was fine and there was no question that contract things could take a long time, but she couldn’t stand not knowing where Vaggie was. She pulled out her phone, but her girlfriend still hadn’t sent her anything since the text saying Prince Stolas was looking the contract over, and that had been forever ago.

The wait was driving her insane, and Charlie was trying to come up with something that she could do to pass the time (that wouldn’t end with Husk yelling at her to sit down) when the front door opened with an abrupt jerk.

Immediately, Charlie was alert, and she saw that awareness spread through the rest of the room as everyone diverted their attention to Vaggie and Blitzø as they came in, the imp shutting the door behind him. He pointed at Charlie as they approached, Charlie herself hopping over the desk and hurrying over to meet them halfway. “Your girlfriend flies like a fucking maniac,” Blitzø said, his voice winded.

Vaggie looked entirely unapologetic, and didn’t even look at him as she pulled the folded contract from her pocket. Charlie clasped her hands together in front of her chest as everyone else began gathering, some at more of a distance than others. “So? How did it go?”

“He found a loophole,” Vaggie said, offering the contract out for Charlie to take, which she did almost on reflex. “We just have to figure out how to get it to work.”

“How to—?” Charlie blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to pretend I perfectly understood everything he said,” Vaggie said, glancing at Blitzø; he shrugged at her, and she turned back to Charlie. “But in a nutshell, the contract is still active because Valentino keeps increasing the value of his soul. Because of the wording in the contract, since he’s lived here for six months, you now have the power to do that. If you change the value to less than he’s made for VoxTek, the contract will end. But I don’t know how you’re supposed to do that.”

“He didn’t say?” Charlie asked.

Blitzø shook his head. “If he’d known, he would have told us. Soul contracts aren’t his bag, he’s not that kind of Goetia. Moxxie,” he added a little sharply.

Immediately, the other imp straightened. “Sir?”

“You’re good with contracts,” Blitzø said. “Go over it with the princess, see if you can’t help her figure out how it works.”

“Wha— um, yeah, sure.” Moxxie cast Blitzø an almost suspicious look, but broke away from Millie, crossing to Charlie. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Oh, yeah, please,” Charlie said. “We don’t deal with a lot of contracts here, and when we do— well. Alastor usually handles that,” she said a little sheepishly. It felt like every time something new cropped up this past month, she was faced with yet another thing she didn’t know how to do. Shaking off the feeling, she said, “Come on, let’s go back here.”

She led Moxxie through a hallway back behind the front desk to the management office, a place that she herself rarely used; though it was officially her office, Alastor and Vaggie got a lot more use out of it than she did, tending to paperwork or restocking orders and other more tedious work while she handled the face-to-face, public relations sort of duties. Charlie hesitated, then sat at the chair behind the desk, inviting Moxxie to pull a chair over and— “Oh!” Charlie blinked. “I didn’t hear you follow us.”

“That’s my M.O.” Arackniss leaned against the closed door, one set of arms folded across his chest. He had the same expression on that he’d had ever since Charlie first saw him, one that she had a Heaven of a time trying to read. “I thought you could use someone who’s got experience with Sinner contracts. Crimson don’t usually work with those, right?”

Charlie didn’t know what he meant, but apparently Moxxie did, because he stood up straighter. “How do you know him?” he asked, his voice immediately guarded and almost hostile.

Arackniss raised an unimpressed eyebrow, holding up one hand. “Cool your jets, kid,” he said. “I ain’t had the dubious honor of his acquaintance, but he has… entered my sphere of awareness, you might say. He don’t interest me, in any case.”

Moxxie was incredibly tense as he stood, watching Arackniss like he was thinking of… well, from what Charlie had learned after getting in on the ground level (as it were) in Hell society, it looked like Moxxie was thinking about shooting him. Instead, he said, “I didn’t really deal with Sinners there, no. And the contracts we do make with Sinners these days are a lot different and don’t have anything to do with souls.”

Arackniss walked over and placed two of his hands on the desk, looking at Charlie as she sat down in the office chair. “Right. So, let’s look at that contract and see exactly what it says.”

“Ah— right,” Charlie said, opening it up and smoothing over it with her hand to keep it flat against the desktop. The paper had that smooth, almost glass-like quality that paper tended to get when it was really aged; according to the date, it was more than fifty years old, by Sinner reckoning. She scanned over the words, looking for relevant passages, before her eyes lit on something likely. “Ah, here we go, maybe,” she said. “It says… The Contractee—” she glanced at the beginning of the text “—which is Angel Dust, hereby agrees to relinquish ownership of their quintessence to the Aheydrun, which I’m guessing is Valentino, for the purposes of manifest energy transference, defeasance of volition and percopacity and the supersedence thereof, and engagement in the vocation of indecorous dramatization in accordance with paragraph four until such time as the Contractee has repaid their determined value, the appreciation of which is subject to the Aheydrun’s discretion.” She hesitated, then looked up. “What’s an Aheydrun?”

Arackniss shrugged at her. Moxxie frowned. “It’s a Goetian word. It sounds archaic. I don’t know it, but I’m guessing that’s what Vaggie and Blitzø were referring to.”

Charlie nodded. “…so… Angel signed his soul over to Valentino and gave him the promise to perform in any film asked of him, all of the power his soul acquired during the span of the contract, and signed over his free will? …why?”

“Because he either didn’t read it or didn’t understand it,” Arackniss said. “Doubt most any Sinners would understand that shit, it’s intentionally worded to be confusing.”

Charlie nodded and looked down again. “The Aheydrun can determine the value… and Vaggie said that I can do that now, because he’s lived here for six months?”

Moxxie shrugged. “If that’s what Prince Stolas said, it’s probably right.”

“Okay,” Charlie said. “How, though?”

“That’s the question. May I?” Arackniss asked, holding his hand out. Charlie nodded and passed it to him, and he took it, looking it over quickly. “Sinner contracts ain’t as ritualistic as Hellborn contracts. You know, we took the concept and… capitalized it, you might say. Assumin’ Valentino followed those rules, it’ll be something kinda ritualistic, but more like a password of sorts.” He waved one hand, thinking, and Charlie was suddenly reminded of the way Angel flailed his arms when he was trying to process his thoughts. “…say if, when Valentino first set the price, he took a piece of paper and drew some kinda symbol on it, then spoke the new value and burned the paper. From then on, he’d hafta draw the same symbol on the same kinda paper and burn it in the same kinda fire every time he reevaluates Tony’s soul.”

Moxxie nodded. “…I guess that would explain why he doesn’t do it very often.” He took the contract from Arackniss and started looking not at the text, but rather at the front, back, and sides of the paper itself. “I only observed Valentino twice, but that’s all I need to know that he’s the kind to simplify things wherever possible.”

Charlie looked between them. “…blood?” she suggested.

Arackniss thought for a moment. “…it would be the most cliche, so… it’d make sense if he thought’a that first.”

“Sinners really are obsessed with the idea of blood sacrifice,” Moxxie sighed. “But it’s the easiest way to transfer energy, so that makes sense.” He tilted the contract again. “The back of the paper is discolored, like something spilled on it. But he clearly takes good care of it. If the paper itself is enchanted, maybe he just cut himself open and bled on the contract itself.”

“What if we’re wrong?” Charlie asked with a frown.

“Then the contract will have blood on it. That’s about it.”

“…right. That makes sense.” She opened the drawer and pulled out the letter opener Alastor had insisted that they have for their office (which was funny because he always just opened envelopes with his claw anyway), a thin and curved knife with a simple dark wood handle and an ebony blade. Moxxie put the contract down, and Charlie placed the blade against her palm, lightly closing her fingers around it. She took a breath, and— “Wait, how much am I supposed to say his soul is worth?”

Moxxie and Arackniss exchanged looks. “…how much has Angel Dust made in his career at VoxTek?” Moxxie asked. “Less than that.”

Charlie understood—she really did!—but she felt her eyes misting up anyway. “But that seems so mean,” she complained. “I don’t think Angel could be bought with any amount of money, he’s priceless!”

Arackniss made a sound like he was surprised. “Sweet as that is, Princess, it—”

“Charlie,” she interjected.

“Okay, sweet as that is, Charlie, him being considered priceless the problem we’re dealin’ with,” he said. “It don’t matter what you say. It ain’t what you really think and it’s just breakin’ the contract. And if you lowball it, he’s gonna think it’s real fuckin’ funny.”

“Yeah?” Charlie asked, then, “…yeah, that’s… that’s true. Okay.” She knew how sex jokes worked. Nodding once, she almost cut her hand open, before Arackniss held his hand out again. “Ow! What?” Charlie asked, quickly moving her hand away as the knick on the side of her palm, which the knife split when she jumped, oozed a drop of blood that only fell on her pants because she moved back.

“It has to be as close to what he did as possible,” Arackniss said. “That means we need his… blood, or his DNA, or something, in addition to yours. If this is how he did it, he imbued it into the contract every time.”

Charlie’s nose wrinkled. “Ew.”

Moxxie threw his hands up. “How are we supposed to get that? We don’t have time!”

Fighting past the thoughts that the phrase Valentino’s DNA conjured in her head, Charlie sat up. “Oh! Oh, wait, no, I know!” She scrambled up and ran to the door, opening it and calling out. “Niffty! Niffty, I need you!”

Both of the men behind her made confused mutters, but Charlie ignored them as Niffty came scampering down the hallway and slammed into Charlie’s legs. The little maid wrapped her arms around one of the princess’s calfs, staring up at her with an excited smile. “I love to be needed,” she said throatily.

Charlie chose to ignore that. “Do you want to help save Angel?”

Somehow, Niffty’s eye grew wider. “YES.”

“Then I need a little bit of your collection,” Charlie said. “Specifically, I need just a bit of the specimen you gathered at Consent.”

Niffty blinked once, twice, and then gasped before she started giggling. “Be right back!” she trilled, running off.

Charlie returned to her seat, Moxxie and Arackniss still staring at the door. “Her collection,” Moxxie echoed flatly. “Do I want to know what she collects?”

“Bugs.”

“…uh-huh.”

Niffty was nothing if not efficient, running back into the office and hopping onto the desk to offer Charlie a little tuft of white and black fur. “Is this good?”

“It’s perfect. It’s okay if I destroy it, right?”

“Sure,” Niffty said. “It’s only a little bit of my sample, and besides, if nothing else…” Her face turned downright terrifying. “I can always get more.”

“Thank you, Niffty,” Charlie said, thinking again how glad she was that she had so much time to adjust to the force of personality that was Niffty.

“Uh-huh!” Still looking genuinely thrilled to have been helpful, Niffty hopped down, running out of the room again.

Arackniss watched her go. “…bugs,” he said, not looking away from the door. “So then, what’s that fur?”

“She stole part of Valentino’s ruff,” Charlie said. “It’s apparently part of his body.”

“…she did that at Consent?” Arackniss asked, something that sounded almost like respect entering his voice. “…she really is some woman, ain’t she?”

“She’s great,” Charlie said, squinting at the back of Arackniss’s head. She didn’t have time to unpack that. Instead, she checked between them for any more interruptions, then sliced her palm open, gathering the blood in her hand and dropping the fur into it. She thought for a second, and then said, “I, Charlotte Morningstar, current Aheydrun of the Contractee named herein, have reassessed the value of the Contractee’s soul and have determined its worth to be sixty-nine cents.” She tilted her hand, the blood trickling onto the contract before the fur tuft landed with a small, wet splat. There was a strange, undefinable sound, and then the blood began to vanish into the words of the contract themselves, even dragging the blood-soaked fur along with it. When she looked up, she noticed the other two staring at her. “…what?”

Moxxie blinked once, slowly. “…sixty…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“I do understand sex jokes, y’know, I’m not exactly single, and I wasn’t wasting his opportunity to get that printed on a shirt,” Charlie said. “So… how do we know whether or not it worked?”

“It looks like it did something, at least.” Arackniss took off his hat, then ran his hand back through the fur that made up his hair. “Guess we’ll have to wait an’ see.”

“Right.” Charlie closed her hand around the cut in her palm, staring at the contract again. She was getting so tired of waiting. “Can you two do me a favor?”

The response was hesitant. “I… guess…?” Moxxie frowned. “Will this get me beaten up?”

“No!” Charlie said, hopping up. “Noooo no no no, it’ll be fine. Just tell people I had to step out for a minute but I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Arackniss said. “You didn’t tell us where you’re goin’, and we ain’t gonna stop nobody who tries to follow you.”

“That’s totally fair. Thank you,” Charlie said. “And… thank you, both of you. Seriously.” They both looked surprised, but she just grinned, offering them a wave before hurrying out of the office and down another hall to the service door.

I’m so tired of waiting. I’m not going to do that anymore. If you care about something, you fight for it, right? Right.

So that’s what I’ll do.

•••

It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. Angel didn’t keep a lot of normal clothing in his dressing room, but shorts and a tank top were better than nothing, and he pulled them on (skipping shoes, as they would be too loud) as he thought.

Vox had Alastor. Alastor was clearly in some kind of pain, judging by his shadow’s strange behavior and its disappearance. That meant Vox was probably doing something, and he wouldn’t be doing something just anywhere; he had an image to maintain, after all, and the only way he would publicly torture the Radio Demon would be if he was doing it for a television show.

I know Vox better than that. He wants this to be private. Personal. Intimate, even.

Angel snuck back out of his dressing room and took off, heading for the wall and quickly scaling it to disappear into the vents. He didn’t get to do this much, since he usually had eyes on him at all times, but one of the ways he’d become friends with Rocky over the years was finding opportunities to drop on the big lug out of nowhere. Angel had the building memorized, and he quickly traversed the vent system, heading up to the floor where the Vees kept their own private suites. He was familiar with Valentino’s, but he had never been in Vox’s, and when he pivoted direction he got his very first glimpse of the place.

“Okay, just— just stay here,” a voice said below Angel. God dammit. Vox’s assistant. Angel seriously couldn’t stand the guy and his sycophantic bullshit, and he barely even remembered his name even after knowing him for thirty years. Blink? Was it Blink?

Angel peeked in to see who he was talking to, and froze, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. Blink was holding his hands out placatingly and talking about how dangerous things were, while across from him sat… Vark. Enormous, sharp-toothed, wide-eyed Vark, Vox’s pet land hammerhead shark that had once gone everywhere at his heel until the creature grew too large to easily traverse the corridors. Now, Angel rarely thought about Vark—out of sight, out of mind, and all that—but of course he would be in Vox’s suite if he wasn’t swimming around in the giant fish tanks that seemed to stretch the height of several floors.

Vark made a noise somewhere between a dog’s yap and the sound a shark might make if sharks made noise, and Blink backed up sharply. “No,” Blink said firmly. “Sit. Mr. Vox wants you to stay here. He’ll be back. Okay?”

Vark tilted his head, and Angel smirked. It was the same look Fat Nuggets gave when he didn’t understand something, which was all the time.

Blink, like he was just satisfied that Vark was seated now, quickly hurried out of the room and locked the door behind him. Immediately, Vark stood up, then wandered to the door in a mild confusion before wandering back and then starting to meander around the room with no real destination in mind.

Angel took his eyes off the shark to, instead, look around the room as best he could from his vantage point. Vox’s room was exactly what Angel expected, all the same sorts of sleek style and dark colors accented with electric blue and red. It was clean and sterile in a way that put Angel on edge, and he knew beyond a doubt that this was not somewhere he wanted to be.

He was about to move away when something else caught his eye: a glimpse of red, so different from Vox’s that he couldn’t help stopping and taking a second look.

Alastor’s coat.

Not just his coat, either, but that was the first thing he noticed: Alastor’s coat, laid out on the corner of Vox’s bed near the foot, with such care that it looked like it had been smoothed over with hands. Next to it, his shirt and pants were folded with his standing collar, bow tie, and monocle, his shoes set on the floor nearby.

It was… almost reverent, and that made it fucking creepy.

Angel hadn’t found Alastor, but he had found his clothes, and he would think about how skeevy that was when he had even two spare minutes. There was no vent near the bed, which meant he was going to have to play this as carefully as possible, because otherwise he was losing an arm.

Carefully, Angel began unfastening the vent cover, but even with as quiet as he was being he attracted Vark’s attention. The shark swiveled and stared up at him with wide eyes, and Angel froze, staring back. There was no barking frenzy or any other noise; Vark just stared, his tail wagging back and forth slowly, looking for all the world like he was confused about how this visitor had come visiting but wasn’t too fussed about it.

“…you are, without a doubt, the best Vee,” Angel whispered. Vark wagged a little faster when he was spoken at.

Since there was no frenzy and it wasn’t like he could just hide again and make Vark forget he was there, Angel finished and pulled the vent cover into the vent itself before leaning out. Still, Vark watched him with concentrated interest, and Angel slowly lowered himself onto a round metal table and crouching before his socks could slip.

Angel looked around quickly, his eyes falling on a bag of treats. Picking them up, he showed them to Vark. “These yours, sweetie?” Vark perked up immediately. “Then I’ll tell you what,” he continued, keeping his voice as friendly and gentle as he could. He pointed at Alastor’s clothes. “I need those. You lemme get ‘em, and this whole bag’s yours. Deal?”

Vark blinked, following the line of his hand, then walked over to Alastor’s clothes. He sniffed the coat and then sneezed immediately, and Angel had to suppress a laugh; he knew he had gotten used to the Radio Demon’s intentional ‘stay away from me’ odor, but he couldn’t imagine how it would smell to something so hypersensitive.

Vark cast Angel a look that was almost plaintive. Angel snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, I need all that.” He would have sworn Vark sighed before he leaned forward and, to Angel’s shock, grabbed the sleeve of Alastor’s coat between his teeth. Angel almost told him to stop, but Vark wasn’t paying attention; he tugged it off the bed, then dragged it to the table, dropping the sleeve on the surface in front of Angel and wagging.

Angel stared at him. “…you’re a lot smarter than you look,” he said, pulling out a squishy meat treat that smelled like fish and tossing it gently. Vark immediately wiggled with excitement and snapped it out of the air, revealing his massive teeth and an incredibly terrifying snap of his jaw. Angel’s laugh was more nervous this time. “Oh my god you got a lot of… mouth… dontcha?” He cleared his throat. “Wanna get me the rest?”

It took longer than Angel would have liked, but it kept Vark happy and calm, so he stayed crouched while Vark brought him each part of Alastor’s attire in exchange for a treat until Angel had all of it gathered up and held against his torso in his third set of arms.

“Thanks, Vark. You’re a good boy,” Angel said. Vark leaned towards him, and Angel hesitated before carefully reaching out and rubbing him on the front of his head between his eyes. Vark purred, then wandered off, like he was happy to have done a good job and had officially lost interest now that he had been praised. Angel couldn’t be mad about it, and he climbed back into the vent, putting the cover back in place before anyone came in.

At least something went right.

It was harder getting around with his arms full, but Angel took his time to make sure he didn’t drop anything, carefully searching floors where he knew Vox did most of his work. His lack of direction and his desperation were just driving him into frustration when Angel didn’t see anything or hear anything, but he felt something… like the air itself was being disturbed by some kind of interference.

That, he thought. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. He was sure of it.

Angel followed that strange feeling as it grew heavier, leading him to a strange room that seemed really big but only had an illuminated table and computer console right in the center. Angel assumed there was other equipment in the dark, but he couldn’t see a damn thing. It didn’t matter, anyway, because the interference had turned into the low sound of radio static that followed Alastor everywhere but was normally so quiet it couldn’t be heard over the other ambient noises. If it wasn’t for the fact that VoxTek was so silent right now, Angel never would have heard it.

Alastor was lying on his back in the center of that table, fastened down with metal shackles and either asleep or unconscious. Angel let himself out of the vent and, after ensuring there was no one around, hurried to the side of the table and assessed the situation. Alastor was bleeding from a series of thin metal rods that had been slipped into his body through incision that had been made in his muscles, the ends of those rods rigged up to wires that ran along the floor and into the console.

“Alastor…” Angel breathed, but the Radio Demon didn’t stir. He hadn’t really expected him to. He didn’t want to leave, but there didn’t seem to be a way to force the shackles open, since they were actually a part of the table.

Angel started moving to the console, but stopped, one wire in particular catching his eye. The skin around it was bloodier than the others, and it looked like it hadn’t been slid into an incision, but had instead been stabbed straight down into… into Alastor’s soul mark.

I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, Vox.

Grinding his teeth, Angel went to the console and racked his brain with everything he knew about passwords around the company, and namely, the ones he knew Vox had used in the past. It took a few tries, but Angel finally got the proper combination of symbols Vox favored, a couple of sets of numbers that seemed to have some meaning, and the name Clifford that popped up in Vox’s security shit a lot (whatever that meant). With a beep, he got the controls loaded, and carefully combed the menus until he found the option to release the shackles with a metallic snap and the hiss of hydraulics.

Abandoning the console, Angel ran over to the table, carefully dropping the clothes next to Alastor’s legs and leaning over the other demon. “Alastor,” he whispered urgently, reaching out and gently stroking the deer’s hair. “Alastor. C’mon, Smiles, wake up.”

Alastor’s face twitched with pain, his smile strained even while unconscious, and it took him a moment to start opening his eyes. He jerked when he saw Angel over him, probably only registering a shape, and Angel moved back a few inches and waited. Alastor looked mildly unseeing for a few moments before his eyes slowly focused. “…am I asleep?”

“Why, y’feel like you’re dreaming?”

“…no,” Alastor said. He meant something else. Angel didn’t have time to ask.

“We gotta go, Smiles,” Angel whispered. “I gotta get these wires outta you. It’s gonna hurt and you need to not make noise. Okay?”

“Oh, goodie,” Alastor said weakly, immediately slipping into flippant business mode when he saw that Angel seemed to be focused and hurrying. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. “Quiet… as a church mouse, sha… I promise.”

“You ain’t never been in a church,” Angel accused, leaning down to slowly begin working the wires out of his arm.

Alastor hissed. “Well, they seemed very… quiet from… the other side of… town, in my… defense.”

“Pretty sure all mice squeak.”

“I… do not squeak.”

Angel threw down a second wire. “I got evidence that says otherwise.”

Alastor glared down at him. “You have no such thing.

Angel smiled at him, then went back to what he was doing. “I won’t tell. It’s my special knowledge, nobody else gets that.”

As another wire slipped out, Alastor drew a breath, then started speaking in a voice that was almost hesitant. “…Angel—”

“Don’t,” Angel cut him off, speaking as gently as he could but not looking at his face. “Don’t. Not right now. I know, we gotta— we’ll talk. I promise. But not now. Okay?”

Without looking at him, Angel couldn’t know what Alastor might be thinking. But, eventually, he just said, “…of course. You’re right.”

To Alastor’s credit, he did little more than hiss or grunt at the stabs of pain, and soon Angel had every wire removed except the one that had been stabbed into him. Angel moved up and laid one hand on Alastor’s chest, a second on his bicep, and a third on his wrist. “This is gonna hurt,” he warned.

Alastor turned his head enough to look him in the eye. “…I know.”

That sounded loaded.

Angel wrapped his fourth had around the wire and waited for Alastor’s nod before he pulled straight up, pushing down with his other hands to both hold Alastor still and leverage himself up. Alastor’s face contorted in pain, and Angel moved his hand from the Radio Demon’s chest to his mouth, clamping down over his lips to muffle his cry. As another hand wrapped around the bleeding soul mark, Angel leaned down, pressing their foreheads together. “Shh, Smiles, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Alastor’s breathing was labored and stuttering, and Angel could feel the hot moisture of each exhale, the scrape of Alastor’s teeth, the occasional touch of his tongue…

“Come on,” Angel whispered before he could get any bright ideas. He had never seen Alastor so vulnerable, and this was absolutely not the time for anything but business. “I got your clothes. We gotta get you outta here. Can you walk?”

“Of course,” Alastor grunted, though he still needed Angel to leverage him into a sitting position. He then helped Alastor into his clothing as best he could, which ended up being slacks, shirt, suspenders, shoes, and monocle. Angel left the top two buttons of the shirt undone, and with Alastor’s current state, the collar, tie, and coat were out of the question. Alastor seemed to think the same thing, because he took them in his hands and hesitated before his face contorted in pain and they vanished into shadow.

“Okay. Come on, up,” Angel said, holding his hands out to Alastor. Slowly, the Radio Demon took them, clearly hyping himself up to stand.

“Where the fuck do you two think you’re going?”

Fear shot through Angel, and he felt Alastor stiffen. Angel looked up, and just at the periphery of the ring of illumination around them, he saw—

“Val,” Angel whispered.

He didn’t know how to describe the look on Valentino’s face. Angel had never seen it before. Slowly, he began to advance, his eyes on Angel. “You really have learned how to be slippery, haven’t you, amorcito? Can you imagine my surprise when I came back to your little holding cell and found you gone?”

“Val, I—”

“And then,” he interrupted, “I hear that someone broke into Vox’s room and removed a few… items. Did you think you were being slick, Angel Dust? Did you really think you would get away with it?”

Angel held his hands up, not looking at Alastor and silently begging him to run. “Val, don’t…!”

“Do not tell me what to do!” Valentino shouted. He reached one hand out, clenched his fist, yanked…

…and nothing happened.

Angel stared at Valentino, waiting for the feeling of a chain around his throat that would drag him to the ground… but it never came. It took a moment for Valentino to come to the same conclusion, and he murmured, “…the fuck…?” before repeating the motion.

Still, nothing happened.

Valentino was in shock. Angel was in shock. What happened? Where was his chain? Where had it gone? Why couldn’t he feel it?

After a breath, Angel decided it didn’t matter. Instead, he put his hands on the metal table, scrambled up onto its surface, and launched himself at Valentino. He heard Alastor shout something, but he didn’t look, and soon all he heard was an enraged scream as Angel dragged his claws through Valentino’s face.

•••

[apiswitchcraft]

working with pendulums

now, theoretically pendulums could be anything, however I recommend something uniform (ish) in shape and fairly weighty. you need to be able to discern when your pendulum is just moving because of the wind, and when it's moving to tell you something. some good examples are crystals, raw or cut, and metal. look out for resin and glass dupes as these do not work as well

i've seen a few theories on how pendulums work, whether they have their own spiritual energy to move themselves or if they can stimulate your muscles just subtly enough to move them in the right directions. either way, don't worry too much about your own interference here. more often than not, you'll be able to tell when they're moving on their own and when it's just shaky hands/wind

HOW TO START

first of all, find a pendulum that speaks to you. then ask it if it's willing to work with you

second, i usually like to cleanse my pendulums, but not too hardcore. just some salt, selenite or herbs will do the trick here, we're looking to wash other people's hands off here, not the actual spirit of the thing

then, when you first start speaking with your pendulum, you want to tackle the conversations with something in between a "you work for me" and "you work with me" vibe. still ask permission before someone else touches it, before you take pictures, etc. i've even known people to ask before using them at all. whatever you think is right

it's also important to get to know your pendulum. what direction is yes? what direction is no? not all pendulums swing the same way. additionally, most pendulums i've met have name and pronoun preferences, so suggest whatever calls to you and then ask if they like it

DECIDE THEIR PURPOSE

i've known people to use pendulums for a variety of things. some examples include:

-assistance with tarot

-regular divination (answering the yes/no questions you ask)

-connection to a god (this is what I do)

-talking with spirits (see image below for an alphabet chart)

-and in the darkest of times, it's nice to just to have a friend

again, it's very important you talk to your pendulums before you decide because sometimes they don't wanna be tied down

HOW TO INCORPORATE A PENDULUM INTO YOUR PRACTICE

in tarot:

1) after shuffling, separate your deck into a number of piles, have your pendulum choose which pile you should read from (this is especially useful for very broad or general readings)

2) after shuffling, lay out a series of individual cards that you feel drawn to. then have your pendulum choose individual cards (this is especially useful if you're doing a reading for someone else, since you can have the recipient hold the pendulum that chooses the cards)

with deity work:

1) have them represent an altar or space dedicated to your deity. this might not serve any practical use, but a guardian for an altar is never a bad thing

2) dedicate it to a deity and attempt communication with them. this can be iffy for some people, depending on your beliefs. in my eyes, a god does not have to be one corporeal being, having to dedicate their singular consciousness to a singular task as a human does. gods are multifaceted, primordial beings that have fingers in many different pots, so to speak. therefore, it is not outside the realm of possibility to communicate with a deity in this way, since moving a pendulum to say yes or no isn't all that deeply personal. REMEMBER, if you do this, the pendulum's spirit is still there, and you are more than capable of separating a pendulum from a deity or communicating with the two separately OR harming the pendulum while trying some risky business with a deity

WHAT TO DO WITH THEM IN THE MEAN TIME

when i'm not using them, i like to keep my pendulums hung up on my altar space, overlooking my room. however, i DO NOT keep them in direct sun because the crystals will fade with exposure to UV. sometimes i'll bring them out to the window during a full moon though

some other ideas would be:

-in a window that doesn't receive much direct sunlight

-in mesh baggies (so they don't get tangled or lost) on your altar

-hung on a wall, thumbtacks are useful for this

-if you only have one or two, it's not outside of the realm of possibility to carry them around with you. some pendulums really enjoy this too

-with your other crystals, as long as they're separated enough so that they won't get tangled or lost

happy witching!

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Wildflower pt 4

Pairing: Unrequited!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Fiance!Reader

Words: 2,279

You overhear some gossip. An ask is made and a direction is followed.

Tags: Mild age difference, fem!reader, heavy exposition, non-canon politics, original characters

<Previous - Next>

It had been both a hot morning and one full of action. Already, sore muscles grew sorer.

Shoes glanced against the grass, tiny bits of dew clinging to your ankles.

You marched easily, slowly as you made your way through the fields. Past long fronds and heavy rustling, you heard the raspy, muted tones of invested conversation. 

Besides you was a large cart with wooden wheels nearly the height of the place just above your hip, chalk-full of bales and barrels of both the dusty and fishy variety, respectively.

“Y’hear? With old man Harald and Frode?” There was an interested lilt to his voice that had you tilting your head ever-so-slightly away. You had no time for mingling or gossip. The clear words made their way over to you anyhow.

“‘ckh, how couldn’ I? They were shouting louder than Heaven in Hell.” 

You grimaced, pausing for a moment as a particularly tough breeze ran over you, brushing down fields like a hand down one side of a gorgeous fur coat, bowing and coming back up smoothly. In a much similar fashion, in that moment, some small, wet patches were rendered nothing more than crusted patches of sweat.

 It seemed that Duckmaw and Bjorner hadn’t been the only ones locked in battles of words.

Exhaling deeply for a moment, raking in the fresher air, past dusty yellow and drying greens twitching and shifting under the breeze, your eyes grazed over Saint Livary, with his hunched back and downy gray hair. He was skinny for a fisherman but very, very tall with quite the exotic name.

You weren’t particularly sure where it had come from, but it was probably Christian.

“You saw it happen, then!” You didn’t know the other one. You didn’t spend much time looking at him, his likeness only half-caught as you glanced away. 

He was tall and large enough to nearly dwarf the both of you though not as much of an intimidating presence as the Chief. His voice was nearly obscured not just by the sounds of distantly bleating sheep but also the sound of heavy chewing, the slight cracking of wood against teeth as they were picked at.

“Saw it happen? They were right up in my ear! It was my fish baskets they were arguin’ over- Who had the right to ‘em.” He shook his head out, long hairs twirling in the wind, “Well, I wasn’t sellin’!”

He barked out a laugh, “Those clansmen, I tell yeh.”

Your shoulder blades ached slightly, head tilted forwards at an awkward angle as your upper back was pressed flat against wood.

Yearningly, you thought of wide wooden basins and warm, slightly murky waters. You thought of freshly-washed skin and the feel of all the day’s hardships being washed away- unfortunately, you’d only your rags to look forward to tonight. Two rags and a bucket of cold water.

It was nothing a quick trip into the woods wouldn’t fix, though it seemed that the majority of Berk’s woodstockers were growing quite lazy. 

“You’ll be whistlin’ by a different tune once they start houndin’ you for yer woods.” He paused for a moment, “Woods and coals.” 

The shade felt like cool ambrosia soothing your skin. The break in your journey upwards was enough for your twinging lower back to deflate, the muscles loosening enough that you knew you would have some trouble getting started up again. 

You leaned closer. 

And, well, trouble was a long way off, you were sure… but, if there was anything to know, you would surely rather know it.

“Was the Jorgensons and the Thorstons before, wasn’ it?“

“Get off it- Harald’s an Ingerman.” Livary rasped, something smacking against what must have been the large, hollow horns of his metal helmet.

 You didn’t know of anything else that could make that sound, contracting sharply against the one that marked the shifting wiry shoulders and bag-like clothing. “That whole bit’s done and over with. Couldn’t find the papers.”

You leaned back, drooping down your ax with a heavy thunk.

 It stood on the ends of its blades for a moment before following you and leaning against the cart, wood clashing against wood,

It was only the expression of suspicion by the suspicious that would be able to raise the hairs on the necks of the suspect, so you didn’t bother to hide. While gossip was by nature secretive, the subjects of gossip were no secret and the Vikings of Berk were both bold and brash. It wasn’t worth the effort, anyhow; even if they knew you were there, they wouldn’t care much, and their chattering was nothing a pint at the Hall couldn’t earn you less than a coin.

“Pity. Made ‘emselves a whole show- was a mite interested. ‘Specially with ‘ol Gorm… That Gorm Halfdan knew how to make business interesting...”

“Gorm was a drunk. A waste of clean air.” Saint Livary barked out. “But- Ah, don’t look so disappointed yet, son. You ever know a Jorgenson who stayed out of it?”

You rolled your eyes, picking dirt out from under your nail with one hand, the other draped over the crook of your elbow, your ankles crossed.

The Jorgenson clan was a full one fueled mostly by ego and pride. They boasted of more of their accomplishments in war and coin than any other family. If you thought right, they might have already come.

It was nearing noon when you finally made your way back up to the house, past shoulder-height stone Vikings and up uneven rock-and-dirt paths. 

It felt later than noon, cool as it was, with shadows and strips of light stretching and marking the flooring, setting the stage for small, glowy bits of dust, which had somehow kicked up in the stillness of the room, now slowly settling down under intense beams of warm light.

Cloth caught over cloth as you brushed against the slightly splintered wooden door frame of the Haddock house. 

You could feel threads pulling against each other, sensation pulling at your arms the same way it did running your hands against raw, matted sheep’s wool, listening to the sound of a hard nail dragging against dusty stone.

A measly loaf of bread, not even enough to dwarf the width of your own hand, lay discarded on a small, cracked plate by the side of one large, hairy, freckled elbow.

 It was a poor excuse for a snack and an even poorer excuse for a meal, but Berkian society was one fueled by war rations. As of late, the meals had been sparser and the stews thinner than you’d ever seen them.

Once, a long time ago, you had a measly cookbook. It had been lost alongside your first pot and a plate you’d hidden away in the fields to make and hoard your own food. You’d already known how to cook some small things by the time you’d arrived. Unfortunately, the knowledge you’d had had been sparse and much of it had been lost to time. 

Still, you were sure your cooking skills were still much better than anyone else on the island.

“Chief,” You greeted, waiting still and patiently.

Dwarfing the chair to his back the same way the hoof of a sheep looked to an ant, the Chief leaned over a small table, his head in his hands, bear fur spilling through crooks of his arms and over wooden top, mingling with the seams of his clothing and twining itself in with foreign threads in a way that made it look nearly sewn-in.

The room immediately felt fuller and the rest of the world much, much smaller.

His hands were large enough to fully grasp your skull, calluses rough enough to slice papercuts into the softest part of your arms, his forehead hidden by a wide-horned helmet and a generations-old thick, furred coat donning his back in a way that made his giant self all the more imposing.

A few, measly scattered scrolls lay by his elbows, slightly worn and yellowed, pages crumbling and delicate like the ends of a daisy flower you'd once held between small fingers. 

You’d much rather be messing with your notebook, relishing in the feel of old leather and twine, feeling nearly spellbound, flipping pages with casual abandon. 

 Onto the Chief’s papers, in clear, old handwriting, were runes, clearly inscribed using a mix of the liquids and pastes found in the intestines and guts of dragons, killed, turned inside out and disposed of.

 It left a very specific sheen- for many years, so long it was practically tradition, dragons have been used by the higher clans to make their inks and seal their woods, mixed with dyes and blood and plants and plastered onto paper.

It was a luxury for some. 

There wasn’t enough wealth on Berk for there to be anything like Jarls- they lacked the excessive gold and silk clothes, crowns and castles and whatever else might dictate such a fancy name, rules born from tales from distant lands… Or, perhaps, that had just never been the way the people on Berk did things. Even still, there lay many discrepancies between the people. In most cases, status was marked by smaller things, such as this. 

You stilled for a long moment, waiting. 

It wasn’t so often you saw the Chief in such a state, light and shadow casting over him, washing away his color, making the thick lines over his face look nearly skeletal.

“‘Been a long night, lass,” He grumbled deeply.

You hummed something terse, face blank as he sat up, pushing back his chair with his back as if he hardly noticed it, moving back with a thick, wooden scrape against the hut’s floor. 

You were an easy ear to rant at, your silence taken as permission, your person first in line to fall victim to loose words and heavy hearts.

You weren’t surprised by his answer. In fact, you felt somewhat eager.

“The Jorgensons-” His words spoke nothing of your intrepid fiance nor any of his unVikingly obsessions, his head full of odd wheels and cogs- Your fiance was quite noteworthy, though only because of his failures. It was a feat for anyone to outstrip him in that manner, but if it had to be anyone, it would have been Jorgenson. 

You cleared your throat awkwardly, still standing at full attention. You kept your eyes focused on him still, a beast named ‘Curiosity’ glowering from a place far behind them. 

You might have been silent, tamed, but you were no less hungry for it.

“They’re land-hungry. That lot knows better than to get ahead of themselves.” He went on, large arms stilling, boxed fingers coming up to brush against his large mustache. “...They’ll stop the trouble, one of these days.”

“I’ll hit the books,” You offered. The library was always open in time like this. Abhorrently, peacefully quiet. Always empty. Things to read, to learn, full enough to keep you occupied for hours.

He looked at you appreciatively, appraisingly. He’d never found a reason not to. 

You took to hard work with ease and did not complain if you’d even bothered to speak a word. 

 Of course, he’d only taken you in as a favor, a response to a plea from a stranger. He’d probably never expected so much of you. He probably didn’t expect anything from you now, though it was a rare occasion in which you offered to help with any politicking.

His words were gruff, “You’re good help, lass.”

You nodded, something in your chest feeling- it wasn’t necessarily good or bad, pride or pleasure. Still, it was bright, and the feeling was a very, very rare thing, slightly dampened. Under normal circumstances, you’d never allow it, though even the most hardy plants needed rain. 

As you turned to leave, you hid your grimace.

You crumpled new paper between shaky and to let it fall to the floor, knowing more than ever what it felt like to pull in the heavy weights of dewey tears- Of course, the boy- you’d rather not be his carer, so it was just fine. You hardly liked him at all.

You'd always known you could do things- you just hadn't always known how to go about them. But…

You stared at the crumpled piece of paper on the floor, small fists clenched around the body of your skirt, dark shadow of your small, curtain-sectioned-off sleeping place under the stairs making egg-ey white look that much more gray.

Messy scribbles and your neater, still clumsy handwriting, some small correction, a small, hesitant smile, a bold rebuke, a broken bond, made not by either small hand but one large voice- It hurt.

You had hardly a clue in the world how to go about things here, where everything was so harsh and bleak and cruel. Maybe it was better if you washed your hands of him.

“Lass… better not,” He said, voice nothing like it had been before, sounding tough and displeased. It was stiff, threatening flat tones, awkward, far from the comforting baritone he’d most probably intended.

You did your best to keep your mouth still even as your hands threatened to shake, looking over at him with watery, ornery eyes.

You stared at his large hands, pressed aside worn, dirty green-gray cloth, his crouched knees, his shoulders that barely fit halfway through your makeshift ‘doorway.’

He scared you twice as much as he’d ever been able to ease your spirits.

You kicked the small, crumpled paper aside with the toe of your boot as if you might be able to hide it. You knew you couldn’t.

It was fine.

You’d only just been trying to help.