#the rest of the clan just chilling in the background | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justavulcan · 1 year ago

Text

Backgrounds With Class: Dimir Operative

I'll be honest: Ravnica has always fascinated me. I was a high schooler when the first set came out, and I was immediately consumed creating characters for the setting. Now that we've actually received my long-awaited crossover, I thought it would be nice to write a love letter to the setting in the form of another Backgrounds with Class series. After all: some guilds have natural class choices tied in, from a conceptual standpoint. Boros and Fighter, Izzet and Wizard, Selesnya and Druid. But guilds aren’t class-restricted, and so I wonder what it would look like if you paired every class with every guild background, even the ones that seem at odds, like Izzet and Barbarian, or Gruul and Artificer. So I thought about it, and this is what I came up with. Some character concepts for each class, and each Guildmaster's Guide to Ravnica background for each class.

Dimir Operative

The Dimir Operative Artificer tried to play it straight as a member of the Izzet League, he really did. He joined the league to leave his days as a guildless criminal behind him, but the costs of an apprenticeship to one of the League’s metallurgists are not insignificant, so he took his own armor- lightning throwers and sound dampeners and all- and sought work. That he fell in with a House Dimir crew stealing from rival magisters’ labs wasn’t what he thought would happen, but he’s rolled with it so far.

The Dimir Operative Barbarian wishes he was somewhere else than slumming it with the Gruul. Passing himself off as a trog interested in joining their clan had been easy as falling asleep, and the ruse itself takes a bare minimum of effort, but he’s quickly growing tired of the ‘freedom’ of the Clans. Sleeping on the hard earth, scrounging for food, and getting involved in a fistfight every other day wasn’t what he had wanted to do for the House, and despite his best efforts it’s starting to show. His rage isn’t furious and burning like many of his ‘tribe,’ but chill and detached, a thing of winter and cold.

The Dimir Operative Bard came to the House’s notice after exploiting her librarian’s covert liasons for her own career’s advancement. Contacted telepathically and charged with retrieving a major barrister’s court notes, she proved her skill at deception quickly and the House taught her the rest. She’s remained in that place, lying low as a member of the Azorius beaurocracy and feeding confidential records to her masters moonlighting as a pulp horror writer- under a pseudonym, of course. That the stories double as hidden messages is nobody’s business but the House’s.

The Dimir Operative Cleric has been a ‘member’ of the Cult of Rakdos for decades. Gifted with a Silhana’s long lifespan and the matching practice as a party animal, it’s only recently that he’s been called upon to do much more than pass on information about various figures comings and goings. In truth, the change of pace is exciting- if only because it promises access to both deeper secrets and the opportunity to put more of his true guild’s mind-magic to use.

The Dimir Operative Druid has never met another member of House Dimir. Embedded in a Selesnyan vernadi as a healer and prospective evangel, they’ve always received their orders and assignments by dead drop or telepathic message. They’ve done all manner of things in service to the House, and some of them have weighed heavily on their conscience. The lack of contact from their mysterious handler or handlers has exacerbated the guilt, and they’ve started to wonder if they’re just mad.

The Dimir Operative Fighter owes the Dimir much for getting him out from under the threat of the debtor’s pillory. Originally indentured to a powerful oligarch for his family’s debts, the Dimir saw an opportunity and recruited him, using their mental magic to erase the woman’s mind and leave her easy prey for a binding contract of debt-absolution. He’s switched masters a few times, always leaving their service just before their finances or some other secret of their keeping passes cleanly from their heads into the House’s hands. Among the Syndicate he’s starting to be considered bad luck, and his masters are contemplating shuffling him into the Legion- with a new identity, of course.

The Dimir Operative Monk appears on the surface to be just another one of the many knife-wielding toughs aspiring for rank in the Golgari Swarm. Plain and forgettable save for a distinctive scar on the left hand, he’s a talented knife fighter and sneak, and does work for both guilds as a scout, messenger, and spy when asked. His contact has only ever come to him in the garb of a Golgari shaman, but he trusts the woman implicitly even if he doesn’t know what she really looks like.

The Dimir Operative Paladin has a fine grip on the way that people think, and has a manner about them that makes them inclined to talk. Useful as these talents are as a counselor and spiritual consultant for the Selesnya, they’re even more useful for an agent of the Dimir, who serves as a finger on the pulse of their entire vernadi. The oath of redemption they pursue is in service to this goal as well, as they seek to weaponize advanced persuasive speaking alongside their actual training in arms and armor.

The Dimir Operative Ranger roams the Undercity tracking the movements of both prey and hunter alike, disguised as the former. Home in the twisted depths of the undercity’s collapsed buildings, buried streets, and raw cavern complexes, this minotaur has joined hunting party after hunting party. There, he builds his skills and keeps his eyes open for anything the House might find of interest, be it places, things, or secrets his fellow hunters try to hide from their comrades.

The Dimir Operative Rogue learned her crafts from a variety of sources: quiet movement as a small child among the Gruul, backstabbing from a Tin Street tough, and mind-reading and espionage from a Dimir recruiter who ‘heard’ a natural talent. She’s come a long way from her urban-hating roots, now skulking with the best and proudly proclaiming the mind a greater weapon than the blade. This point of view makes her a natural fit among the Orzhov, where she’s been installed as a messenger and euthanist-in-training, set to pass off any useful intelligence to her contact telepathically.

The Dimir Operative Sorcerer was mutated as an infant in the womb from an illegal experiment’s dumped contaminants, she lost her power of speech but gained so much more. Recognized by a Dimir mind-mage as a natural talent with potential, she was inducted into the House’s service and sent to observe the Simic Combine, who find her telepathic talents to be of considerable interest. Part lab assistant and part experimental subject, she’s had ample opportunity to flex her metaphysical muscles in controlled conditions, but she longs for the test only the real world can give her.

The Dimir Operative Warlock has been a spy for the House for most of her life, and through a deal she struck with a mysterious entity on a starless night she’s acquired the tools for psychic trickery. Indeed, she’s acquired them repeatedly- her natural aptitude, shapeshifting familiar, and magical pact mean she’s in high demand on highly confidential missions, and much of her work for the House has been scrubbed from her memory. The gaps didn’t bother her much when she was young, but now that she’s getting older, having nothing to look back on with pride has started to chafe.

The Dimir Operative Wizard knows that power over the mind is a tool to be used for the betterment of those who wield it- whether in her cover as a lawmage of the Azorius Senate or as a mind-mage of House Dimir. Contacted nearly thirty years ago as a youth by a Dimir operator, she’s put her education in enchantment magic to the kind of single-minded focus that few but a vedalken can. While her assignments have been innocuous so far- guiding this arrest, putting a suspect to sleep at an opportune time, and the like- she knows that won’t be the case forever, and awaits greater tests eagerly.

10 notes · View notes

banisheed · 1 year ago

Text

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Siobhan’s house PARTIES: Siobhan (@banisheed) & Manuel, Ángel, Rubi and Yiri of Los Sombras Del Sur (written by @muertarte) CONTENT: Eye trauma tw SUMMARY: Siobhan has some visitors.

“We’re just gonna hit up this bitch’s house and then call it a night. Saw the fucker speed their damn way over here the other night.” Manuel was in charge of the group for the night. He’d hoped it would’ve been Efrain or Aracely, but neither would take the bait. Taking lead was just so much work. Sticking to the background was what he preferred, but Master wouldn’t have it.

With Manuel’s unmatched skill to observe and track, he was one of the first names tossed in for leaders. It was supposed to be an honor. That’s what everyone told him. Having Master see you was the peak of any clan member’s career, but Manuel could care less, honestly. He just wanted to go home and not waste time tracking a nobody. Why the hell was this Metzli important anyway? Why did Master want them returned to him, alive?

Whatever, he thought. At least they were allowed to kill and feed on anyone else in their way. That included the lady that lived in the giant ass home they were standing in front of. After killing her, stealing everything inside was next on Manuel’s to-do list. She had to be loaded. It wasn’t like Master paid them very much even though they did all the work. He’d take what he could get.

Knock, knock, knock. He breathed idly, rolling his weight from front to back as he put on his most charming smile. No need to blow their cover before the big reveal. They just had to lure her out or get themselves invited in. Neither should be too difficult to pull off.

Siobhan groaned, rubbing crust from the corner of her red eyes. Apparently, worrying about her friend didn’t make for a good night’s sleep, and when she tried to remind herself that she was an uncaring instrument of Fate, all she could do was stare up at her ceiling, thinking about nothing. When Metzli told her that they’d be out with a friend today, she thought it was the perfect time to nap on the couch. And then, the knocking. She thought about ignoring it but the dog started up, barking wildly at the door. She groaned again, rolling off the bed and tugging her silk robe tighter around her body. She wanted to keep herself decent, even if she was still largely nude. At least nothing was dangling out.

“Coming,” she called out, shooing the dog away. When she pulled the door open, a sharp chill trickled down her skin and she pulled her body close to the door, making sure none of her was sticking out beyond the threshold of her house. For a moment, Siobhan scowled and then, the expression morphed into a pleasant but thin smile. The only thing that stopped her from popping the undead from where she stood was the thought that this man might have been Chuy; she didn’t ask Metzli what he looked like. But it was within reason that if her friend was being chased by an evil vampire cult and now an undead showed up at her door, it was probably a vampire from said cult.��

“Hello,” Siobhan said, wondering why her religion of Fate didn’t exactly have any iconography. She thought she could remember her mother saying it was improper to apply symbols to Fate, a nebulous force beyond mortal comprehension, but she couldn’t be sure if the sentiment wasn’t one born out of her own musings instead. Anything that might have applied under the concept of religion was lost to her anyway, as she stumbled out of Saol Eile with nothing but tattered clothes. Regardless, she did have some garlic in the kitchen… somewhere. “Did you need something?”

Manuel sent the rest of the posse into their hiding spots. Ángel all but leapt into a bush, Rubi quietly made her way up the side of the house, and Yiri literally just…stepped behind a tree. Manuel rubbed at his face with frustration and slipped a piece of gum into his mouth to give himself something to do to appear normal. The icy sensation filled his mouth, and he chewed annoyingly loud as he grinned when the door finally opened.

Que chido.

The lady was gorgeous. Did beauty have any correlation with how tasty someone is? That was a theory Manuel needed to test out, as soon as possible. “Buenos días, señora.” He said with a notable accent, still chewing loudly with a smug look on his face. “We are looking for our friend. Very tall, very weird.” More chewing, more grinning. “Got an arm missing.” That’s when he chuckled, finding it particularly funny thinking about how stupid a person could be to have their master rip off their arm. How could anyone who had that happen be special? Whatever. He had a job to do and there was no way he’d end up with a similar fate.

“Now, mira, señora,” Leaning onto the doorframe, Manuel’s smile turned wicked and his eyes went dark. “All’s you gotta do is let me and my friends inside.” He whistled, and two vampires joined him from their respective places. Rubi remained in place. A precautionary measure. She’d leap down if they needed her. “We’ll look for them and if we find anything, take them back home. Safe and sound. Well…” Manuel bounced his head side to side, taunting. “Depending on how much they fight. But they’ll be alive!” The rest of the crew laughed and nodded along, red flashing in their eyes.

“Let us in. Or we can wait. You gotta come out sometime, and listen, we’re not the only group. Choose wisely.”

The description sent a shock through Siobhan’s spine, forcing her to straighten herself. Her grip tightened on the doorknob, hidden on the other side of the door. They were looking for Metzli, and they didn’t seem to have a high opinion of them if they were so brazen. Two more vampires joined in and the chill Siobhan had been feeling turned into a freeze. She wanted to yell that she wasn’t letting them anywhere near Metzli, she wasn’t going to let them take her friend; it all felt a little too dramatic for her tastes, and far too heroic. Instead, she settled back into a pleasant smile. Glancing down at her feet, she made sure her body was safe inside her house, all tucked in. “Sorry.” Siobhan looked at the vampire and his friends again. “I’m not entirely sure I know who you’re talking about, but I can let you in for a chat. Just…oh, what are your names? You and your friends? I’m not in the habit of inviting strangers in, but if you told me your names, I could reconsider. I—do you promise you’ll be honest with me? You need to promise you’ll be honest; there’s been a string of men coming to homes saying one thing and then doing another.” Her finger traced the edge of her door.

She had no holy water; it was hubris, she never thought she needed it. Maybe there was a cross somewhere, but that was doubtful. She did have a rather sharp axe that wanted playtime. Siobhan sighed; the first bout of fun she’d have in this cursed town and she wasn’t even prepared for it. She’d have to scream and screaming was just so basic. It didn’t occur to her then that Metzli wasn’t safe here, that if these fools knew where they were, then the rest did. The thing about vampires was that there were always so many of them; more would come. Her mind flashed with images of vampires turning to dust; she’d remember to be concerned about her friend later.

“You want a promise, vieja?” Manuel chuckled, it quickly turning into a collection of laughter as the others joined in. “Esta loca esta.” The group laughed harder, and Rubi had to hold back her laughter with a slap of her hand to her face. “Fine, we promise we’ll be honest with you. Just hurry up and reconsider now.” He waved at the woman, irritation mixing with Manuel’s humor enough to not get the better of him. There were so many things he wanted to do, which included tearing into that beautiful neck of hers and finding every valuable thing in her house.

“So,” Manuel squeezed the trim on the side of the doorframe, splintering it with his strength. “You gonna let us in?” Eyes flashed red, and he whistled sharply to signal to Rubi. She jumped down, landing with a dull thud next to Manuel. Her smile was too wide and crazed, and she snapped her teeth wildly at the woman they were going to eat soon.

“Yeah. Córrale.”

“So, eager.” Siobhan clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth. “I bet you don’t last very long, do you?” The grin that split her face was almost inhumanly wide, curving up her cheeks and pushing at the corners of her clear, brown eyes. The binds of the promise clamped down; the vampire couldn’t make a promise on behalf of someone else, the ‘we’ in his sentence applied to just him, but it applied. “So what’s your name?” She asked. “And what are their names?” The vampires were confident; they weren’t used to losing. She ducked into her house for a moment, leaving the door open in a brazen display of confidence; they couldn’t get in anyway. When she came back, she held the axe firmly in her two hands. “None of you are Chuy, right?” She asked. “I hope you’ve had a fun unlife but that handsome one-armed person you’re looking for is my friend and I’d really like to be their friend for a few hundred years more.”

She stepped past the threshold of her house with one foot, grinning. “You lot better make it fun or I’m asking for a refund.” Siobhan loosened the hinge of her jaw and screamed. Birds flew off from the distant trees and her house shuddered, though, no glass broke. Siobhan had a skill for aiming, she’d always been good at it: screams, knives, axes, insults. She could have popped one of the vampires, brushing dead organs from the inside, and leave the rest intact without ever splitting a single vase or mirror in her house, if she wanted to. She didn’t want to. What she wanted was to play.

Siobhan stepped out, closing the door behind her. She spun the axe around in her hands and stared at the group. “Why don’t you all be good little vampries and start trying to kill me—I want to work for it.”

“¡Cállate, vieja! ¡No me hables aha si!” Anger seethed out of Manuel’s mouth, and Rubi snapped her teeth ferally, like some guard dog. She’d do the same for Master, for any person he deemed worthy to be a leader. That was her place as a pawn, just like everyone else that was his. She looked to Manuel, and then back to the woman, waiting for his response and any orders he’d give. Instead, he just let his anger keep slipping. “You got some fucking nerve.” The trim splintered further, and if he couldn’t go inside, he’d bring the outside world to the puta.

“You’re gonna—” But before he could throw the wood into the home, Manuel’s lips moved and his tongue danced without his permission. It started out as a small tug. He fought against it, knowing if he spilled any details, he’d be royally fucked, but it happened anyway. “I’m Manuel,” Rubi hit him on the shoulder, along with Ángel and Yiri. “That’s Ángel, that’s Rubi, and that’s Yiri.” He paused, swallowing and slapping his hand to his mouth in hopes of preventing anything else from spilling. His eyes widened as this nobody dared speak of their Master so candidly. Chuy was a nickname, and no one called him that besides his friends, and they were nothing close to that. “None of us are him, and you will not refer to him as that! Master Jesus is above you, you stupid bitch!” Anger tipped over, and Manuel punched the house with enough force to break the siding.

When the woman walked away, the whole group convened, badgering the team leader for what he’d done. Try as he might to explain, they weren’t listening, already making plans to report him to Master, much to Manuel’s chagrin. “You’re not listening! She did some…thing…” He trailed off, seeing their opponent bring back a fucking axe before her face contorted like a demon and a scream bursted everyone’s eardrums.

What the fuck was she?

Fuck…fuck! All sound muffled, a ring piercing through while Manuel’s body went into autopilot. He was the first to spring into action, sprinting toward the woman with his knife. She swung once, then twice, and when she readied her next attack, that’s when Manuel took his chance with a tackle.

Siobhan wasn’t done testing the weight of the axe when her body tumbled down to the ground, the back of her skull knocked against one of the stone steps by her door and a sharp pain lightninged around her head. For a moment her vision popped with black dots and she felt alive; the last forty years had been all empty walls and memories that stacked on top of eachother like wet fish, flopping and slipping away. This was tangible, this was real and it hurt and in that pain, Siobhan felt more like herself than anything else. Pain she knew. Pain she liked. Pain was her kingdom. Her mouth cracked into a grin and she tightened her grip around the axe in one hand and with the other, jabbed the butt of her palm under Manuel’s chin, knocking his teeth together. When his grip slackened for just a moment, she rolled out from under him and pulled her axe up.

“Some poetry,” Siobhan said and brought her axe down. The sharp, heavy metal easily cleaved through Manuel’s arm; bone snapped and a chunk of his humerus jutted out of his severed arm. “Aw, I missed.” She’d been trying to get it just like Metzli’s—an homage she thought the vampire would either appreciate or really hate—but she’d aimed too far up; his new stump was smaller than theirs. She swung the axe over her head to try on the other arm when her body plummeted to the ground again. This time, her axe slipped from her fingers and landed unceremoniously in the soft ground.

“Ow.” She groaned, pins and needles shooting across her arm as she landed. Her shoulder popped—she thought that was funny, there was a literal ‘pop’ sound—and an aching warmth blanketed her. Bone grinded against bone. “You lot really love a tackle. Have you considered rugby?” Her voice was chipper and clear; whatever was happening inside of her body didn’t exist outside of it. Her smile never wavered.

If Manuel had been whatever that crazy woman was, he was sure his scream would’ve blown hers out of the water. He wailed in agony, rolling from side to side and only catching a glimpse of his arm for a brief moment before it turned to dust. Eyes widened in abject horror, death the closest it had been since Manuel was turned. That woman was fucking nuts. What was she? Could she be stopped? Given how she landed with an audible pop with Yiri’s impact, he deduced that, yes, she probably could be. Manuel’s pain was just making him catastrophize any good strategy out of his mind before it could settle.

“Rubi!” He barked, groaning as he let Yiri continue her barrage of blows to the screamer. Ángel joined soon after, crawling for the axe while blood trickled out of his ears. He was shaky and fell over before he could get to it, but given how shaky la gritona was, Manuel was confident his two subordinates could manage. His main concern, for the moment, was Rubi. She hadn’t so much as moved since the shockwave that ravaged their ear drums. “Rubi!” He called out again, her body unmoving. Chest tightened as anxiety coiled around Manuel, and he shuddered at the icy sensation trickling down his spine. Rubi was so eerily still.

“Come on, you idiot.” Shaking her, he forced her body to roll over. That’s when she finally blinked, expression turning into horror. “Manuel! Manuel! No puedo oír! No puedo…!” She screamed, making Manuel’s ears ache and his shoulders drop. The motherfucker had ruptured her eardrums. Fuck! He rose rapidly to his feet, leaving Rubi behind to scream into the void while he made another attack. Grabbing the axe, Manuel swung it up into air and slammed it toward la gritona, not caring if he hurt anyone else on the way.

Siobhan grinned as the flesh of her cheeks pressed into the sharp corners of her teeth and she felt it: the hard ridges of a fist against the bones of her face. She’d always loved the inexplicable and sudden awareness of her inner anatomy. Each strike stirred pain from its long dormant slumber in her body and carried reminders of the pieces of herself that were too often numb; her rows of perfect teeth slicing the pink insides of her cheek with each punch; the muscles of her abdomen that contracted reflexively and all of their silly, Latin names rushing into her mind; the sweet, metallic taste of her blood, which filled her mouth and poured from her nose, otherwise pumping thanklessly through her body. It felt good to be alive.

Her vision, blurred at the edges, wasn’t wholly useless yet. Siobhan saw the glint of her axe’s blade and the reflection of her bruised face with its twisted grin. Metal was a hungry substance; she thought of the standard kitchen knife and how greedily it chopped and how it begged to be sharpened so it could chop again and again. Metal was always like that, it always wanted to be used; when it was spent, dripping with filth, how readily it could be cleaned. She stabbed her good arm forward and shoved her assailant back, feeding her body to the hungry axe that Manuel held. The metal cracked through her vertebrae and pushed her sternum out the other end. It couldn’t pass all the way through the body but Siobhan knew it wanted to, she saw it in the way it pushed Yiri’s body, her sternum hanging out of her like a flip switch. Siobhan rolled out of the way as the vampire crashed down with an unsatisfied axe in her back. Bringing her a leg up to her chest, Siobhan clasped her arms around her knee and pulled back, sliding her bone back into its socket. As she rose, it still dangled limply at her side, and she felt herself missing the acute sense of misalignment, but at least she had two arms--one more than Manuel.

Her body was a series of fires; her face was a burning swell of meat. Giddy, Siobhan skipped over to the wailing woman; a creature after her own heart. “Do you want to see something beautiful?” she asked through swollen lips. She pressed her palms to either side of the woman’s head, curling her fingers into her face. “Mind the ears.” She stabbed the tips of her fingers into the woman’s eyes. Any normal person would have ran now, which is why Siobhan didn’t give her time to: she screamed again.

The pressure of Siobhan’s voice, directly mostly at Rubi, boiled and popped the insides of her body in a rushing chorus like faucet. Her skin bulged and tore open, expelling shards of bone and thick, blackened globs of viscera. Rubi’s head didn’t so much pop off her ruined body as her body just lacked the will to stay together. For a moment--a glorious expanse of time--Siobhan held her decapitated head in her hands, bloated and unrecognizable, and then she was dust. For another moment--a less glorious session--Siobhan considered that it wasn’t very feminist of her to have dealt with the women first. For that, she was sincerely sorry.

What Manuel was witnessing was pure madness. Worse than anything Master Jesus could inflict, worse than anything he’d ever seen Master Eloy execute. He shuddered at the sight of the woman rising despite the very real pain she should’ve been in. She wasn’t human, and she almost certainly wasn’t a vampire. Manuel was inclined to believe that she was something else entirely; maybe even a demon. The way her jaw unhinged and her scream tore apart flesh and eardrums was enough evidence, even if his answer might be wrong. She was dangerous, and they all needed to run.

“Rubi!” He called out, looking every which way to find his partner. Blood was in the air, twisting all thoughts into urges, hunger constricting both stomach and throat. Manuel groaned, searching and searching through the spots of black in his vision, until he landed on a sight he wished he hadn’t. Pangs of hunger ceased, overtaken with nausea.

Rubi was being torn apart, with only the woman’s violent shriek as her weapon. “No! Stop!” But it was too late. The sound ripped through the air, dust swaying in the wind and meeting Manuel’s tongue until he was in a coughing fit. There was nothing left of his Rubi, and Yiri and Ángel were looking to him for direction. They were surprised to be abandoned, quickly following suit and realizing the disadvantage they were in. Even with an axe in the gritona’s back, she proved dangerous, and they weren’t strong enough to handle her.

“Fuck this!” Manuel burst into a sprint, charging away and abandoning his position as the leader. He never wanted the position in the first place, and if the rest wanted to die for a damn traitor, then so fucking be it, but not Manuel. He had some sort of self-preservation left in him, fighting for control from the thrall Master had over him. From the distance they were at, Manuel was confident he could get away and return with an explanation that Master Jesus would accept. Surely death wasn’t the only answer he’d take. At least, that was what he hoped.

They always ran; that was why Siobhan didn’t like revealing the exploding trick too early, it always made people run away. Siobhan sighed, strutting towards the man she hadn’t harmed yet, as he ran--more like a drunk horse galloping across tar--she aimed a short, tight scream at him and watched as he tumbled down into an unconscious heap. She did the same to the woman, though she wasn’t getting far with the axe stamped into her like a flag on a mountain. She let Manuel run across her acres of lush green fields, fantasizing about the speech he’d deliver to his master. What words would he use to describe her? Though it was unlikely, she hoped ‘sexy’ fell somewhere in the mess of adjectives he’d use.

The part of her mind that was critical--smart, intentional and strategic--had taken a long sabbatical with her common sense, her manners and, strangely, her ability to cook an egg. Siobhan missed eggs. Manuel’s body was a dot on the horizon, quickening away like a fly on a mission. He could bring more people; Siobhan thought that would be fun. He could out her as a banshee; and wouldn’t that be interesting? He could hire someone to come into the night and slit her throat and oh, she wanted someone to try it just so she could remind herself of why her strategic mind could afford a vacation.

Instead, she reminded herself with the bodies of Yiri and Ángel, who she chained up and dismembered bone by bone--at least, she got through the phalanges and into the metacarpals and then realized it was boring and with a yawn, popped their bodies into unrecognizable particles that carried across the air and scattered into the fields. Siobhan wished Manuel would come back, preferably with more bodies and ones that didn’t turn into disappointing dust at the end of their pathetic unlife.

Mostly, though, Siobhan couldn’t wait to tell Metzli about all the fun she’d had.

#this was a lot of fun #love 2 be unhinged #writing #s1 #c: metzli #eye trauma tw #let me axe you a question

9 notes · View notes

annashadowstar · 1 year ago

Text

Name: Chris Galeforce

Age: 29

Sexual: Gay

Height: 195cm

Pronoun: He/Him

From: Mix of China and American

Birthday: June 18

Family: Hubert Galeforce(Father), Charles Calvin(Brother), and Lay Copperbottom(Little sibling)

Background

Chris's birth name is actually Daniel Dreamer. However, he disliked it and opted to go by Chris instead. Chris was 20 years old when Lay was born and he adores his younger sibling. Chris is very protective of Lay and won't hesitate to shield them from any harm, even if it means standing up against their own parents. Chris made a scarf for Lay's 4th birthday featuring a combination of blue and purple on the top and yellow and green on the bottom. Chris was kicked out by his parents on the same day, as they consider him a misfit in their family since he was already 24. Another reason is that he’s gay. After his eviction, he struggled to find a decent job. However, after a year, Chris joined the government and was able to lead a prosperous life. He ultimately decided that it was time to bring Lay out of his parent's custody when he was 28. But unfortunately, he got into a car accident and pass out. Chris wakes up on a hospital bed and looks around, seeing his friend, Charles, and Hubert Galeforce sitting next t him. Galeforce told the solution Chris was in and gave him very bad news about his family. They found his family dead and the house was burned down. Chris was shocked at the news and knowing he lost his little sibling and blamed himself for not caring for them. Chris was then adopted by Galeforce and changed his last name. Chris now works with Charles on a mission and sees him as a little brother.

Magic/Power

Chris possesses the abilities of portal magic, height changing, and healing. His left eye turns yellow, but due to his hair covering it, this phenomenon remains unnoticed by others.

Portal

Chris has the ability to use portals to travel anywhere he wants to go. However, he can only use a portal to return to a place he has previously visited. His portals are capable of being as large as a tank or even bigger.

Healing

Chris possesses the power of healing magic, enabling him to mend any harm except for fatal strikes. During the use of this spell, Chris's hand illuminates in a yellow glow.

Height changing

Chris can change his height whenever he want. The bigger is gets, the more energy will drain away. So mostly, he was in his normal height. The maximum height is 10 ft tall. The minimum is around 5 cm.

Bonus Magic

Similar to Lay, Chris possesses the unique ability to borrow magic. By borrowing Lay's magic, Chris's left eye turns yellow while his right eye turns blue. However, due to his hair covering his eyes, this magical transformation remains unnoticed by others. Chris reserves this power solely for emergencies and utilizes it to ensure Lay's wellbeing. However, the usage of this magic drains Chris's energy, and he requires rest or food to regain it. Just like Lay, Chris also loses consciousness and falls asleep, which can cause panic among those around him. Chris could also borrow Kai’s magic and both of his eyes will turn teal green.

Personality

Chris is kind, chill, and very brave. He likes spending time with Charles since he reminds him of Lay. Chris hates liars since his parents lie a lot to him. Chris could tell who was lying and who was not, no matter how hard they try to hide the truth. Chris loves spending time with Charles and Hubert during the day off or taking a break. Chris is good at hand-and-hand battles and also good with aims and guns. Chris has two large scars across his eyes. He usually covers the scar with his hair and didn't want any attention from other people. Chris also has other scars around his body because of his parents while protecting Lay.

Like: Spending some time with his adopted family.

Dislike: The Toppat Clan

Hair Color: Dark chocolate brown

Go Back to the introduction

#the henry stickmin collection #thsc oc #henry stickmim collection #henry stickman fanart #thsc art #Chris Galeforce #thsc bio

9 notes · View notes

s-lily · 2 years ago

Text

Avatar - The Next Shadow

Let's just dust this drawer and take back my obsession of thirteen years back.

I saw Avatar The Way of Water, and of course, I have to consume every piece of media available. So here are my summary, impressions, and comments on Avatar The Next Shadow

..... Spoilers ahead .....

OMG! This has a strong beginning.

The story begins 14 days after the first movie. Jake is dealing with the fact that his human form died. I absolutely loved his internal struggle. We tend to forget how bizarre this “passing through the eye of Eywa” can be.

At the same time, he is dealing with a broken clan, and a broken human base, with different interests, but the same goal of survival.

They reused a character introduced in Tsu’tey’s Path, Ka’ani, and I loved him here. Seeing him grow from an incompetent hunter in training under Tsu’tey wing to the loyal warrior next to Jakesully is beautiful.

I also liked Katherine Hale (even if her part was short), we need more good humans.

What was a surprise here was Arvok, in Tsu’tey’s Path, Tsu’tey mentioned Arvok is just a child. And it’s implied he hasn’t bond with a direhorse yet, however, here, the first time we see him (like 3 months and 14 days after Tsu’tey called him a child) he is a warrior, he is using a cummerbund, implying he has been through the Dream Hunt. Details like this make you wonder how much thought and research are put in this comics.

Anyway, Arvok, is a pure soul and needs protection away from his parents, like seriously, this duo Artsut (mom) and Ateyo (dad) are shady as hell, no to mention they are terrible parents! How Tsu’tey became so noble? (Yes, he was at the beginning cautious about Jakesully, the alien, but after Jake proved his value, he was so loyal to him.) I guess it is because he was constantly under the ward of Eytukan and Mo’at.

I was so sad when Arvok accepted to walk the path his parents set for him. All Tsu’tey effors to protect him where in vain. Also, I didn’t understand why he killed a Ikran, just for the blood? and he wasted the rest, this do not align with the Na’vi ways, or maybe it was HIS ikran? Like he is renouncing what he was before?

A parenthesis here just to tell how much I love Norm for refusing to “blow off some steam” by shooting idiotically at the machinery. I mean, he was just 14 days ago in a big kind of life and death situation between open fire. He understands guns are not to play around with.

And back again with Tsu’tey’s terrible parents and a pain in the ass for Jake. He is around trying to do his best, helping in the healing of the CHILDREN affected by the war, feeling the consequence of his decisions, and here comes Artsut to screw him up. How hypocritical of her to say they don’t follow Eywa when she is the one who has plotted to kill the Olo'eyktan - ditching tradition (he was pointed leader by Tsu’tey, the former Olo’eyktan) and Eywa’s will (Eywa has saved Jake so many times, hasn't she seen the signs? NO!). She is full of jealousy toward Mo’at, maybe she is grieving the death of a son, but above all, I think she is power-hungry. She wants his mate to be Olo’eyktan, not his younger son, so she can be Tsahik.

I loved Mo’at here for stand up for his son-in-law (when he is clearly clueless XD)

And cocky Jake Sully in his full glory is back, and I love it. He is struggling with this leadership thing, but one good fight, THAT he can do. It’s also good he has Norm and Ka’ani to keep him focused on the important.

Of course Jake wins (and he mentions his marine background, I love it when people remember it because that’s so Jake, that part of his human side is so engraved in his DNA), and he is so chill that the worst punishment for the kid that he can come with is trash duty. Come on! How can you not love Jake Sully!

In a tantrum and last resource to not disappoint his parents, Arvok throws the dagger, that happens to be poisoned by his parents who did not tell him. Artsut declares Ateyo the new Olo’eyktan, and chaos and confusion breaks loose among the clan. Arvok is thrown under the bus by his parents, blaming him for Jake’s death, so he runs away. Meanwhile Artsut wants to condemn Mo’at for leading the clan to their doom.

Ka’ani interferes, he is the voice of reason and speaks about traditions, but guess what? Now Artsut (when best fit her) says traditions are not laws… but then Jake is breathing! He is not dead, something in his human DNA saves him from Artsut’s poison. So Ka’ami makes a clear stand: meanwhile Jake is still alive, Jake is still Olo’eyktan, and he will protect him.

They need to plug in Jake to Eywa, but Artsut opposes saying the poison will infect everything around it (of course she will know, she brewed it!), and she dares Jake and his supporter that if he is really the chosen one by Eywa, he will save himself.

Now, it happens that Mo’at knows an antidote, but the main ingredient is located in a sacred cave where no adult Na’vi (because of their size) or children (because of the danger) can enter. So they call the humans and Katherine Hale. Artsut loses when the human crew enters the Tree of Souls (you know, that sacred place no outsides were allowed? LOL) and it’s just so funny to watch this awful woman and her husband lose.

Ka’ani acts as deputy Olo'eyktan sending everyone home, Ateyo opposes his orders, but Ka’ani put him in his place. He is SO done with the Rongloa family’s shit.

Artsut finds Arvok and tries to manipulate him to trust her again, but he finally sees beyond that and defends himself. He prefers to live in exile than return with her. Now, Artsut implies heavily that no Na’vi can’t survive alone (I think it’s an interesting statement for future plots in the movies, maybe?), and she mentions a clan in the ashes (like, hello! Movie 3!) that will not judge him, and accept him even with his “crimes”.

Meanwhile, Jake is dreaming vividly, and Eywa reaches her branches to protect him (by the way, he doesn't poison anything around him, so Artsut was wrong).

Guilt for his silence about the RDA’s plan is burning within him. We see him admit to himself he was selfish, he wanted a functional body (even if it wasn’t his, it was Tommy’s avatar in the first place), he wanted a life with Neytiri, and Tsu’tey’s place (I think he means be Neytiri’s mate and be a praised warrior, not literally being Tsu’tey himself). Now there are people, his people, who are paying for his silence, for his decisions. He doesn’t feel worthy to be their leader, he've been gnawed by guilt. He thinks he deserved to die by Quarith’s hand. He feels so defeated, so human, corrupted, and a poison to the Na’vi.

Then Eytukan and Tsu’tey come to his rescue. They literally help him to stand up, and after a heart-to-heart conversation, they help him to accept his worth; what he has won for himself, and that it was not taken; to accept himself as one of the Na'vi people, to see around and see the people who love him.

And it’s beautiful, and I promise you I'm not crying. ;_;

We see a little bit more of Tsu’tey and Jake bonding, and how pure Tsu’tey’s soul is. He believes there is no malice in his parents (protect him Eywa!) and although he knows repercussions have to be made, he reminds Jake that there can also be mercy.

They say their goodbyes and then Jake wakes up in the iconic close-up of his eyes. (I need this sequence on the big screen, or in an animated series, in something!, bring back Tsu’tey!)

With Olo'eyktan safe and sound, the Omaticaya try to bring the Rongloa family (they have found Arvok at this point) to justice and Jake honoring Tsu’tey’s memory tries to act with mercy, but Artsut spits the word “Demon” when addressing to Jake. Arvok states the obvious and exiles himself and his family.

Jakes humbly asks the Omaticaya clan to trust him and teach him. They accept his leadership.

On the other hand, in exile, Artsut thinks the Mangkwan Clan will receive them (I wonder if this is the Ash clan?), but Arvok rejects to follow his parent’s path again and decides to leave on his own. (Good for him!)

Finally, Jakes finds himself under the tree that he was at the beginning, he makes peace with his dead human body, and he embraces his full Na'vi identity.

Wow! What a ride! and I liked it!

At first, I thought Artsut's behavior was so against the Na’vi ways, but now, knowing by James Cameron himself that in Avatar3 we’re going to see the bad side of the Na’vi in the Ash Clan, I think it makes sense. Also, I think they are trying to put the seed for the future plot.

I liked to dislike Artsut. I would like to see her and Arvok again in future comics.

Finally, but not least important, I absolutely loved Jake's journey here.

#avatar #james cameron avatar #avatar1 #avatar2 #atwow #the next shadow #avatar the next shadow #post: mine #Avatar meta #avatar comics

3 notes · View notes

leggerefiore · 2 years ago

Note

Chandelure hybrid Ingo scenario: going on a romantic night time beach side walk with his s/o, the soft eerie glow of his flame lighting the way for you as you stroll down the beach

The sun was slowly setting into a distant ocean wave as you sat beside the Warden. You would have preferred to be a bit closer to the water, but he was afraid to get too close as a partial fire-type hybrid. As it was the summer, there was no chill on the beach, but his heat was comforting. You wondered if he would ever recall who he truly was, and what your relationship had been before this unwanted transportation to Hisui. Telling him would have been easy, but you were not sure that was the best option.

Remembering could hurt him more than forgetting. It was a mercy he did not know all he had left behind. The stress of knowing he left his younger twin behind with seemingly no way to return to him would eat away at his mind. This Ingo was muted, but at least he was calm and found some contentment despite his new situation.

The recollection of his life before then could also bring out the pain he face as a hybrid in Unova. People throwing salt at him, attempting to hose him down, running away in fear as he would totally steal their souls. Ingo did not need to recall all of that. The discrimination he faced in Hisui was more minor than that of Unova. Here he was a respected Warden of the Pearl Clan, and not a spirit who relied on his brother for support due to being unable to work anywhere.

Though, you would not say the tired eyes of the man did not hurt you, nor did you enjoy the slight fuzzy recollections he had and the distress they brought him. He seemed afraid to part from you, too. "I just become so terribly lonely and insecure," he had said once, "If I lose you, I feel as though I will lose so much more." Perhaps that was simply the truth. You were still working on finding a way to get both of you home. That seemed to lie in Arceus, but only Volo seemed to have any idea on how to meet him. The Togekiss hybrid appeared trustworthy enough, but you were unsure for some reason.

Standing up, Ingo moved to join you. His soft purple glow illuminated the darkening beach as you both began a quiet stroll. Your arm snaked around his while you pressed yourself closely to his side. He hummed deeply. Your feet lined the sand behind you as Spheals rolled about playfully before settling down for a slumber. The day's excitement had dribbled off into a peaceful night that would soon be upon you both. He stopped suddenly, and you turned to look at him. Calloused hands cupped your cheeks before lips pressed to yours. Your arms went around his neck while Ingo's own encircled your waist.

His warmth spread throughout you while a smell of ash and fire swirled around your nose. Glowing yellow eyes stare into yours. The background sound was solely the oceans soft noises. His forehead rests to your own. "I missed you," Ingo says softly. You ask since when. He shakes his head. "I can't recall, but before we met… I missed you. My heart yearned for a soul bonded to my own. It only ended after we met in Jublife." You remembered how you sealed your relationship by some strange ritual for ghost types.

Another kiss happens, and he sighs, "I love you, my dear. I beg of you to never leave me again." The again haunts you, but you know he does not actually recall. You shake your head, "I would never of my own will leave you, Ingo. I love you, too much." You watch as his flame glows brighter, illuminating his ghastly form more and more. He is beautiful, truly. Haunting, yet luring, his gentle melody dances against your ears and lulls you deeper into his arms.

You would return him home, without a doubt.

#ingo x reader #ingo/reader #ingo.ima #pokehybrid au

82 notes · View notes

lexicorp · 2 years ago

Text

Background: Before Lemmy was abducted and turtified, he lived in a big, constantly busy family where he often tried to stand out by being his own version of wacky. He definitely has the little sibling energy and isn’t afraid to show it. After getting involved with the Koopa Clan family, he assumed much of the same role he had in his previous one as a way to cope and to try to solidify who he is as a person even after all the weirdness that’d happened. Truth be told, he likes his new family more because he feels like he’s more successful at butting in and being a nuisance and likes their chaotic energy. Still misses his old fam sometimes though and hopes sometime to let them know that, at the very least, he’s all right. He has an obsession with mexican cuisine and loves quesadillas in particular because that’s what he’d usually get when his family would go out for dinner together once a week. Often gives his controversial opinion that pizza is a poor man’s quesadilla because they’re both bread with cheese but the toppings actually stay inside a quesadilla.

Generally, Lemmy prefers to come across as unpredictable and a bit of a dangerous type. He likes to be spontaneous and hates solid schedules because they remind him of how it felt to be in an uptight family and to be under the thumb of the Kraang. He is totally the type to just take a look at a wall or sidewalk and say “yup, good place for some art” and just do it out of nowhere. Building off of this is the mood he likes to have around himself where he’s that unpredictable kind of dude, where he also does magician tricks and never reveals his secrets. In fact, being so closed off is why most people think he’s just kind of a wild and crazy dude, which he prefers. He and Iggy hit it off because Iggy feels a little more normal with Lemmy around and Lemmy likes how Iggy just goes with whatever the hell. Surprisingly Lemmy’s pretty chill with the rest of the crew, even when they get onto em, cause he can’t be bothered to give a damn, but still doesn’t like when one of them tries to act like some kind of leader and will tell em off cause he thinks they’re all just the same: fucked up kids who screw around and find out.

First post

#tmnt #mario bros tmnt #lemmy #lemmy koopa #gremlin vibes #magic kid #spontaneousness is his jam #mario bros

16 notes · View notes

cerastes · 4 years ago

Note

May I request a review of general coolness and awesome of the horses we saw during the event?

Right, Maria Nearl event!

I liked the event quite a lot, though I do feel like it dropped the ball at the end. That aside, I had a lot of fun the entire time!

First of all, the cast was wonderful. Maria is explicitly not a powerful or skilled fighter to any degree that matters in the frame of strength the story takes place in, being definitely more skilled than the average person and even the average nameless knight, but being woefully outclassed by practically anyone that has a name in the Major. A humble mechanic with a heart drenched in justice, Maria doesn’t even like to fight, and adheres to a knightly ideal and a duty she must fulfill instead to justify her participation in these commercialized bloodsports, which carries the narrative. She is joined by a lovable cast of rambunctious family and family friends, who serve as her mentors and support: Her aunt, who is more akin to an older sister-slash-maternal figure, Zofia, who we are immediately shown is so close to Maria that the moment Maria made a big decision (the participation in the Major) without confirming with Zofia first, she immediately chastised her, wondering why she did not consult with her beforehand. Aunt Zofia is her aunt only due to technicality, as she’s a lady-in-waiting (or, in other words, belongs to a branch family of the Nearl clan, and is actually only 5 years older than Maria) and, more importantly, a decorated, retired competition knight who earned enough in her career that she can live comfortably for the rest of her life, ironically far outstripping the main Nearl house in terms of wealth. There’s also Kowal, an old Ursus mechanic, engineer and smith who mentors Maria in the ways of the wrench, willing to pass his workshop to Maria with her as his successor any day of the week, who himself also used to be a squire to V, an old, retired knight of old who served as Grandpa Nearl’s peerless sharpshooter and who trained Zofia back in the day. Finally, we have Old Marcin, owner of the cast’s favorite hangout, a little bar where he and Maria mediate the infinite squabbles, fights, and arguments that Kowal, V, and occasionally Zofia spark between one another. The event does a great work of introducing the dynamic between these five characters as something extremely domestic and comfortable: You can tell these five are tight and that they have spent a long time together. It’s just another day in their low profile lives when, suddenly, Maria dons Margaret’s old armor and decides to take arms for the main Nearl house, which is currently on the brink of ruin and about to lose its knighthood and nobility titles.

And this decision, and everything this decision means, informs everything that happens afterwards: Zofia tells Maria that if she’s worried about being left homeless, then that’s just foolishness, since Zofia is absolutely 100% ok with Maria moving in with her. She’s loaded. They can live comfortably for the rest of their lives without a concern. Kowal, likewise, insists that Maria is a good enough mechanic that she can earn a living by doing that. But, see, it’s not about a livelihood for Maria, it’s about preserving that for which Margaret and Grandpa Nearl fought and stood for, it’s never about the wealth, it’s about the name, the principle, not the glory, the weight of ideals that blood was shed to nourish and maintain. Maria is not even sure if she’s doing the right thing, but she’s got to do something. Why? Look no further than Uncle Mlynar. A bitter man, a corporate slave, spitting bile at her niece and apologies at his bosses. And the fact that it is very clear that this guy can kick some serious ass -- we never see him without his trusty blade hanging on his hip and, at the end, tells Margaret to square the hell up -- makes it all the sadder: In any other context, Mlynar might be a knight’s knight, hell, Margaret herself says she respects him still, but the Mlynar we see now is an unimportant cog in the capitalist system, just another grunt apologizing to his phone every time his lips part, who gets in hot water just by making small talk because, whoops, your workload accumulated again, better get chop chopping. Mlynar is a very telling character, because he represents everything Maria resents about the current state of the Nearl family: Disgraced, meaningless, existing as an extension of other bigger conglomerates. He is what she wishes to never become, and what the Nearl house cannot be any longer, if she has any saying on the matter.

Maria is not a good fighter. This is important and delightful, because she wins not due to aptitude, strength, or experience, she instead uses her knowledge as a mechanic, her “pegasian sight” (what Grandpa uses to refer to Maria’s incredibly powerful investigative faculties, being able to analyze situations and catch even the smallest details quickly) and the sheer heft of her brass pair of metaphorical horse balls to pull through with clutch victory after clutch victory. Zofia trying to cram as much fundamentals as she can on Maria in as little time as possible so she can survive also helps a lot.

Maria’s victories earn her the possibility of sponsorships, which would, superficially, fix her problems: The main Nearl house would retain status, she’d get a Title, and she would not have to fight anymore. But, see, this is not the point of Maria’s fight. One might say “Maria should’ve just taken the sponsorships”, but that’s not the point of Maria’s fight. She is pushing back against this highly commercialized view on “knighthood”, just like Margaret before her did. Margaret had a clear intent and her passions made her act mostly in anger, as she makes no secret: She hates Kazimierz for what it has become. Maria’s intent is less clear, even to herself, but she’s very much aiming for the same thing, but instead of Margaret’s anger, Maria has her determination. To have taken any sponsorship would have superficially kept the Nearl house afloat, but Maria is not looking to keep the house alone afloat, she’s looking to keep the house and the ideals in which it was built afloat. It goes beyond mere status.

In a world as bleak as Arknights’ and specially Kazimierz, Maria is no doubt naive to the point of frustration... But it is that which we call naive that makes a knight’s knight: Chivalry forged from ideals, sacrifice’s blunt borne from beliefs. The easy way out would’ve ultimately doomed her story, hence why she did not just move in with Zofia, hence why she did not just succeed Kowal and accept his workshop, hence why did not accept a sponsorship: It never was about that.

The very first event of the game, Grani’s Treasure, takes place in Kazimierz as well, but in the isolated outskirts, and we see hard-working, honest people, inhabitants of a nice little scenic hamlet. Now, we see what Kazimierz really looks like: A sprawling megalopolis of neon and concrete where the system shamelessly feeds on whoever sticks out their neck. The contrast couldn’t be harsher, and any hell is upheld by its demons: Czarny was a fascinating character, in that he very clearly held a lot of influence and power... And was extremely replaceable. The moment he messed up badly enough, he was instantly replaced by just whoever the hell picked up the phone next. It’s chilling. One puppet performed poorly? Irrelevant, there’s an endless supply who’ll take his place, provided enough fear and funds. Fear and money. The two currencies of Kazimierz. When a shadow council can just appoint you as the next Spokesman just on basis of you having picked up a phone without any real background check beyond “the previous Spokesman likely intended for this next sack of meat to pick up his phone in case he messed up”, well, congratulations, you’ve crafted a terrifying capitalist hellscape. No wonder Margaret hates Kazimierz so much, given the rot brewing in its underbelly and upper echelons.

And to all this, I have to say: It’s lovely. I loved the world building, implicit and explicit, I loved the cast, I love the themes explored and how characters were used to juxtapose these.

I feel it kinda drops the ball at the end by just... Not having a conclusion? It just sort of ends, which is very weird because events tend to be good at concluding themselves. I assumed we’d get some post-Challenge stages cutscenes to tie everything up like in the past but... No, not really, it didn’t happen. Margaret swoops in, the sisters perform the Ultimate Kamehameha on the Sarkazian Knights, and then it sort of ends one brief talk later. It needed a bigger epilogue, for sure. But this doesn’t ruin the event or anything, just a bit of a weak ending, everything else is still delightful and I loved it very much.

So yeah! The horses sure were wonderful!

#whiskas does stuff #arknights #maria nearl #arknights lore post

184 notes · View notes

seelestia · 2 years ago

Note

my day was great!! it’s the weekendddddd~ hru lia?? have you eaten and drank your water??

to stand by the pillar of fortitude himself you must persevere and remain steadfast through the trials, little one- lmao it's ok we'll nurse them back to health!!! ( ayato fully knows he can heal himself with magic but since you're panicking and fussing over him he decides to not tell you ;) )

ikr prefect!ayato is such a good concept slkdjflskdjf

LMAO I TOTALLY AGREE HE WOULD BLACKMAIL ME THE MOMENT HE SAW ME SWOONING OVER ZHONGLI

o h ? hehehe i feel like ayato would totally go :0 when he sees your protective instinct flaring up. kinda backfires for you tho, cause he probably finds if even more endearing and he just falls for you even more <3

ye!!! he has the potential and background to become a villain but he’s not!! i think that’s even more impressive ✨ pff imagine him and professor yae’s “banter” in class…. all the chilling smiles and the tension in the air as they throw veiled passive-aggressive comments back and forth… all the students are like “o archons please get me out of here-“

i-it is…. gosh…. he’s so….. hhhhhhhh i love love love his jp voice. so much. ohhh i like that take!! slytherin al haitham <3

awee that’s a very cute imagination - us just picking up these smol little chibi characters by the scruff of their night and plopping them down to the appropriate miniature hogwarts houses' common rooms hehehe

giant rock frog bahahahhah omg- if you want a full shield bot i think you can probably have more? otherwise that should be enough?? if you want a 50:50 my brother said 30-40k should be good, and for the rest just focus on geo dmg + crits… but dps zhongli on the other hand... lemme see if i can get his build-

(jesus christ that crit dmg lmao)

GLADLY i mean you would be invited to the wedding either way so ikr??? he would look so good aldkjaksjdlajsdkakljd i’m frot hignlkjd

ohoho. hmmm. for fluff, definitely “childhood sweethearts”, “soulmates”, and “reincarnation au” <3 for angst, whatever trope my request was (is that even a trope lmao), and i totally agree - “right person, wrong time” is so </3 “terminal illness” probably? or stuff like “amnesia” or “accident/surgery/being in a coma” is also very very nice….. ooooooh this is giving me request ideas ✨✨✨✨

WAIT REALLY??? awh that’s too bad… ok have this then - if you ever try to see the chasm from sumeru, it looks like the great wall of china or something, it's amazing:

(ignore the charred grass klee was having a little too much fun there lmao)

^ additionally, zhongli, babysitting klee. run, hilichurl, run for your life-

oh, poor poor gimel. i created a teleport waypoint just for farming zhongli’s pillars. literally went there every day just to beat them up 🤕

awh dw about it!! you were on vacation and all!! <3 and i see you hehehe

rin jieeee, i'm super sorry for the late reply but i am here !! >:) NAURRRR, has your hubby's ancient fossil soul possessed your body??? snap out of it 🤨 (/j) seeing the word, persevere reminds me of the ayato angst drabble i wrote and now, i'm writing another angst fic about him for your collab <//3 aaaaa, i really wanna ramble about my vaporize wip to you but that might ruin the surprise, so maybe i should keep it hush-hush??? fjejkskdwk

IKR??? ayato is a character whose personality would flourish as a villain like if he weren't the son of a noble clan in inazuma, imagine his potential... as a fatui harbinger. albeit, i think both him and pantalone share those rich, classy vibes so they gotta fight for that spot in the ranks (/j) BUT AYATO AS A FATUI HARBINGER?? GOODBYE 🏃🏃🏃

i swear, he'd no longer need a bodyguard if he has me <//3 if i hear anyone say anything less than likable about him in the streets, it's on sight (/j) as a samoyed puppy in human form, i shall protect him !! tho, i can't help but think about what animal would suit him... i wanna say fox, but that'd somewhat make ayato a blue version of miko AND I LAUGH AT THAT 😭

your love for alhaitham really did grow immensely, it seems... has he dethroned kazuha??? *gasp* 👀 (/j) rip, @/meizuha, it is now time for @/meitham to shine <3 speaking of, have you finished the sumeru archon quest??? i just got around to finishing it a few days ago but it sure was memorable when alhaitham appeared fkekwdk ty for the tips~ my zhongli has about 46k HP now, and he's a shielder who gives occasional burst DMG (around 30k) since he has the catch r1 with accidentally 250% energy recharge 🫣 your crit DMG is smth else, you are spoiling him, helpppp. (/lh) i can understand because that shall be me when ayato rerun arrives <//3

awww, i can see the link between your fav fluff tropes here 👀 like the sense of being connected thru time and just an intuition of knowing that you're simply meant to be together :( this suddenly makes me think of a reincarnation au with zhongli, oml. there is something about you. something familiar but he can't place his hands on it like searching for a way out amidst a hazy fog. he has never met you before, or has he? your name is lost at the tip of his tongue — but as he looks into your eyes — memories surge forward and the disbelief in his voice echoes, "y/n?" weird, you've never told him your name.

AND THE ANGST TROPES, SO TRUE. smth about external obstacles that hold back a character just hurts because it feels like they can't do anything about whatever that fate has thrown at them, aaaaa. <//3 amnesia trope, in particular, has sm potential imo because the sheer devastation when you realize that all those memories of you loving that person are now lost? just like that? and when your own beloved stares at you so blankly as if you're a mere stranger, your heart can't help but shatter.

oooo, it does look like the great wall of china from that angle! hoyoverse really said irl inspiration, huh 🤧 BUT THE WAY THE HILICHURL GAVE UP??? it saw babysitter zhongli and fled. (/j) and as someone who also has klee, the charred grass is a familiar sight~ at least, she's not fish blasting this time but idk if sumerians care that much about their grass... klee gets banned from sumeru city era??? 😭 also, i don't remember if i've asked this before but what five stars do you have in your acc rn, rin jie??? i know that you have zhongli, itto, kazuha, xiao, and jean — is there anyone else i'm missing??? 👀

#when you said it felt like a month last time you heard from me I LAUGHED BECAUSE I SWEAR IT'S ONLY BEEN LIKE A WEEK OR TWO 😭#or did you miss me that much 🫣 (/lh)#ngl i keep wanting to drink strawberry tea lately because of your tea adventures 😭 maybe i should go buy some online??? fruit tea <3 #ask box! 📬#visitor: dearest rin! 💠

2 notes · View notes

felassan · 4 years ago

Text

Thoughts on Dark Fortress #3

(This post is under a cut due to spoilers.)

There’s a lot I thought/wanna say about this final issue, to the point that it’s hard to know where to start!

The cover art is.. beautiful. The symbolic allusion between Shirallas and the dragon (his draconic-y claws, the semblance of a broken collar falling off in the same way, the fire) 👌 On the whole, lined up side-by-side the three covers of Dark Fortress feel really thematically cohesive. Shirallas’ and the dragon’s claws echo Tractus’ sharp metal gauntlet, and as well as the similarities between the dragon and Shirallas, both Tractus and the dragon have a circle of weapons, and the patterning encircles Tractus’ neck and wrists like the collars and shackles. Y’know, like you can just really tell the cover artist planned ahead and put a lot of thought into how the 3 cover arts would ‘flow’ from one to the other, blending elements between them.

I posted some of my fav panels here.

I knew he was my boy but Shirallas’ backstory broke my heart ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` ) the first panel is so bleak and heart-wrenching. the burning aravel parts.. another Dalish clan met a terrible fate.

I wonder if his clan wandered Tevinter like Clan Oranavra? it makes me wonder if Shirallas and Fenris met in Tevinter. It’s nice to see that another clan took him in. And if Shirallas is a name he took, not his original name, I assume it has a special meaning, maybe to do with his quest for justice/vengeance. Shiral means journey, “allas” is found in vallas, which means set, as in the sun. The “vallas” in vallasdahlen (life-trees, planted in remembrance of those who dedicated their lives to the Dales) means life. in many ways the sun and life are the same thing, and there’s the obvious connection to Elgar’nan, eldest of the sun. So journey/quest - sun/life? Like since the loss of his clan he’s on a journey/quest for the rest of his life to get justice/vengeance, which are attributes of the sun god Elgar’nan? that became his life’s purpose and his direction of ‘travel’ ever since his loss, what he dedicated his life to since then. :’(

Elgara vallas, da'len. ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

This is our first look at the vallaslin application process, no? what Shirallas is saying in this panel is the Song to Elgar’nan. it’s interesting, in that that prayer kind of resembles what happened, or almost happened, in this issue. a fortress shaken, fire, winged death (a dragon), pretenders to power, “strike the usurpers” (“Red Wraith, dispose of my enemies, kill the traitorous mage”). pretty cool right?

⬇️ me two months ago, look at the tags in red brackets.

oh my son.. Dalish father roams, and the Dalish son won’t survive the fight ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

the panel where Fenris and Shirallas shake hands ;; to which experience is Fenris speaking of, I wonder? once upon a time he saw Anders almost lose himself in his own quest for Justice/Vengeance for the mages.

Parallels between Shirallas succeeding in proving himself to Nenealeus and when Fenris succeeded in proving himself to Danarius all those years ago - compare. ;__; an elf surrounded by bodies of people he’d killed to prove himself, and a horrible Magister telling him “well done”.

I love the design of the sword and its use as a ‘divider’ on the first page splitting up the panels is both smart and beautiful. even here there’s pink light around it, the dragon’s fire

overall I wasn’t expecting this issue to begin with flashbacks to Shirallas’ past and backstory, so this whole page caught me off-guard

omg look at the red lyrium ‘veins’ under Shirallas’ skin. when he emerges from the sarcophagus that is a very cool picture of his face

Nenealeus has been taking beard-styling advice/trends from the dwarves

check out the sword crackling and reforming as Shirallas makes contact with it. is the red lyrium under his skin moving in this scene?

in the panel of Vaea running away from the dragon, it’s nice that as she runs Fenris is still behind facing the dragon, to protect her

gorgeous background in the panel with Marquette, and his expression is one of Regret for what he just did and for his part in all this. the dawning realization that I’ve Fucked Up Big Time

as Nenealeus’ weapon is a sword, does he have some Knight Enchanter-adjacent skills (I don’t expect the actual KE artform is exclusive to southern Circles only)? it’s a physical item ofc, not a summoned one. staffs are infused with lyrium to provide a conduit for a mage’s power. so then, mages can channel power through other [presumably similarly-infused] weapons too, not just mage staves/staff-like magic implements or their bare hands

given the color of Nenealeus’ magic and the fact that the dragon was under the control of his magic, it now makes sense to me why the dragon’s fire is that color! o:

Marius is badass (nice touch that his shoulder is smoking pink with the effects of one of Nenealeus’ magic attacks here) and the four panels where everyone’s grim and determined, facing off against each other and Venatori goons made me feel quite emotional. Aaron is Team Dad.. it’s nice to see him having a friendship / paternal moment with Francesca both acknowledging her pain and power while also giving her a pep talk. You can tell when he says too “We all need to do whatever we can in this moment” that he’s talking about himself too and may already be thinking one or some of them aren’t going to make it out of there

Francesca GO OFF!! she’s so powerful, and it’s really cool every time seeing her plant magic in action. it puts in perspective how powerful Velanna would have been with her similar skills (skills like Thornblades), and I enjoy the contrast of the fire in the background and the blue/green of Fran’s magic in action

Fenris is so cool-headed in high-octane combat situations, quickly taking stock, assessing and realizing the odds then coming up with a plan. the look on Vaea’s face when she’s like >:( wtf u can’t just leave is cute

cool pulled-back bird’s eye shot of the Fortress

Karasten continuing with the sass about Tevinter even during a siege

Fenris speaking Qunlat! I love that they brought this lore fact into play and had him make use of this skill, it’s a neat reminder of Fenris’ exchange with the Arishok if you take him into the compound in DA2. in the opening-up the gates scene, Vaea’s worried about letting the Qunari in and going to the Qunari (from her expression), but she trusts Fenris and his judgement enough to open the gate and see what happens

I like that Tessa’s bolts are fletched the blue of her accent color

chills at the panel where Shirallas is walking out of the flames advancing on Aaron. Ser Aaron, who never retreats, not at Ostagar, not now ;__;

the battle-scenes are beautiful, fast-paced and gory, chaotic and colorful, like it would feel to be there

Fenris then puts himself between Aaron and Shirallas. I could hear “I will deal with this Red Wraith” in my head

Autumn can look so scary. a true mabari warrior! when she leapt towards Shirallas I was Stressed for her safety despite knowing rationally that they wouldn’t kill their dog!

the horizontal combat splash page is awesome

CLEVER GIRL Autumn. she and Fenris are in sync in this sequence.

Shirallas serving super saiyan vibes with the bulk, strength, hair

Fenris bargaining for Fran’s life and then trusting her to use her magic as part of the attack on the Red Wraith

lmao Ser Aaron

smart thinking Fran

Aaron praising her ;__;

Marius was straight-up prepared to die to stop Nenealeus ;__; poor Tessa in this exchange

the face-melting scene 👌

“Ah, Marius... I knew it would come down to the two of us”: this panel is just really cool? Nenealeus looks almost congenial here, which makes him seem all the more colder and more dangerous. and the burning bodies strongly remind me of the bodies at the start of Inquisition which are at the ‘blast point’ of the Breach at the Conclave

when Marius and Vaea’s eyes meet and they formulate the backup plan 👌

nice to see ‘staff’-less magic in action. Nenealeus is clearly a very powerful mage. when he’s frying Marius he has Star Wars Palpatine and force lightning vibes

OH VAEA... you did it, but my heart hurts that she had to kill someone for the first time, even though it was foreshadowed by her discussion with Marius in a earlier issue. & Nenealeus’ look of surprise as he dies says it all

it’s a serious moment but Marius now looks like a cat that stuck its paw in a socket hh

when Nenealeus is doubled over dead, it’s a great panel- the white background taking us out of the chaos that’s going on all-around for just a moment, showing the seriousness of what’s just transpired for Vaea and the realization of it setting in. a pause, the shock. & it’s nice to see Marius being soft with someone other than Calpernia or Tessa

but despite what’s just happened Vaea is still Vaea, she’s concerned about life and immediately wants to save the dragon. I like the part where panels of Vaea and Fran ‘face’ each other as they have this discussion, a lot.

in the moment that it takes off, does the dragon realize Vaea is responsible for saving its life? the ‘eye’ panel feels like an acknowledgement from it, or between the two

Fran’s magic destroying and sinking the sarcophagus into the ground reminds me of what in-world lore says happened to Arlathan, in a way

omg they have to stop Shirallas before he gets over 9000

do you think when Aaron says “We cannot retreat” he’s thinking of Loghain’s retreat at Ostagar?

at this point btw I’m pleasantly surprised that Marius survives, I had sort of expected him to die in this issue

oh Marquette, curiosity killed the cat dontcha know

new lore just dropped: the Red Wraith is able to heal from any wound, which is notable, and he and the sword have a.. symbiotic relationship? with each other. “He feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins. And in turn, the sword heals his wounds.” What are the lore implications of this? Just what is red lyrium capable of?

Paragon Branka reference! and later on a Black Marsh reference

:’( As soon as Aaron launched into his story at this point my stress levels went through the roof and I knew it was Time. and then - well. you know :’((( Aaron had death flags in previous issues, so I was logically prepared and not surprised by the occurrence (this isn’t a bad thing btw), but I still wasn’t EMOTIONALLY PREPARED

mfw

nooooooooo.... It was at this point everyone that I burst into tears.. i have never Ugly Cried at a comic before so that was a new experience.. It’s hard to put my feelings about this into words bc rly it just straight-up destroyed me, u know.. Vaea’s “Don’t leave me”, Aaron’s tears when he knows the deed is done, his pendant.. surely the resemblance between the way he looks on this cover and the way he looks in the panel when he’s falling and Vaea is shouting “Aaron!” is intentional. i’m just destroyed okay

On the next page, holes in Shirallas’ shirt where his wounds were before they healed is a nice touch. Autumn’s bite here must surely be shattering the bone in his lower leg. then as if i wasn’t in enough pain already - being separated from the weapon, did that bring Shirallas back to himself for a while? His “Friend?” and the look in his eyes when he looks up at Fenris is so pitiful :’( for a moment just before the end he’s the boy in the wood surrounded by his burning clan again. RIP Shirallas son, we barely knew ye but I loved u :’(((

Having Marquette escape is a smart choice, it means there’s someone still kicking around Thedas who knows what happened here and what went down. maybe we seek him out in the next game when trying to follow up on the plot-thread of the idol/red lyrium/its capabilities/Venatori/Qunari? anyway, can’t help but admire, in a fashion anyway, someone who dips out to save their own skin, and his attempted grift when he’s talking to Tractus x)

we hadn’t seen the last of Tractus indeed. there he is! “This is me, crying over our loss” - he’s such an edgy boi

THE IDOL

“Oh, you mean this idol?” feels like they’re breaking the fourth wall and deliberately teasing us x)

when Fenris says “[stay clear of it] Red lyrium can do things with your mind” I wonder if he’s thinking of his experiences with things like Bartrand and Meredith

started to cry again at the final Aaron scenes ok.. when it pans back to Vaea and Autumn on the shore with the dying Aaron, they look so small and lonely set against the backdrop of the gray rock, windy shore, jagged outcrops. it’s a beautifully poignant and incredibly forlorn backdrop for this scene. Autumn in these panels, and again the parallel between Aaron lying here and him on that cover page.. ;; the whole scene is raw and gutwrenching. even in death Aaron was thinking about Vaea, apologizing that she had to take a life, outlining his hopes that she continues to have a positive future and doesn’t descend into any kind of darkness. the fact that all this time he’s carried around a letter addressed to King Alistair in his pocket, to recommend that Vaea be knighted, the fact that he’s crying too, the pendant, the tenderness between them, how proud Aaron is of Vaea, the fact that he goes out telling a story and smiling because he’s so proud of her, here at the end Aaron is filled with pride and looks at peace.. i can’t ( ok i cried again on this re-read when writing this post, Dad Stuff is the ultimate way to get me ok.. don’t look at me _(°:з」∠)_ )

Vaea IS more than worthy. I’m so glad someone recognizes that and sees it in her. King Alistair WOULD knight her, and there’s a beautiful poetry in that fact as the son of an elf. there’s also something poetic in that, if Vaea becomes the first elven knight of Ferelden, well it echoes the Emerald Knights of old in a way. that’s beautiful. I’m very proud of Vaea.

Here we see another parallel - when Francesca is comforting a crying Vaea as her father figure passes away, it directly echoes when Vaea comforted Francesca when she was crying after her own father died.

Aaron’s hometown of Portsmouth is a real place in England

I’m happy to see Fran and Autumn continuing to travel with Vaea, and Fenris continuing to keep his promise to Aaron to keep Vaea safe, and that Cassé is now Fran’s horse (that’s a lovely touch considering she healed him in Blue Wraith, a full-circle moment)

Fenris is right, they were family. soft supportive Fenris, with emotional intelligence ;; (and he of all people knows about Found Family)

the last panel of Vaea crying is beautiful too, the sun is rising in the east after the terrible night they’ve had, and the ‘faded’ rectangles is a great style/composition choice

even Cassé the horse looks sad

the scene of Fran and Vaea riding double with Fenris smiling in the background is super cute, and I love that the last we see of the party is them honoring Ser Aaron by telling stories like he did, of his exploits. I hope they always tell stories of Ser Aaron ;;

I’m glad Tessa made it out okay, she’ll be able to return to Charter. 💜 I was a bit worried this wouldn’t be the case

the last page DBKGRRGRKRKGREKF

Pour one out for Ser Aaron Hawthorne of Portsmouth, Knight of Ferelden.

---

A recap on wider plot-points

The Qunari Antaam have taken control of Castellum Tenebris, and Neromenian has fallen to their advance.

The sarcophagus is broken and has been buried deep in the ground. Francesca asserts that it won’t be found.

The Inquisition agents retrieved the broken shards of the weapon, and are going to take its remains to the shadow Inquisition.

Tractus Danarius is alive and in possession of the idol, or was at the timepoint of this comic. He wants to use it to impress the Venatori remnants so that he can rejoin them. Marquette thinks, or said that he thinks (could easily be a bluff or his lack of knowledge about it compared to someone like Solas), that it doesn’t work anymore. (I’m leaning towards it does still work, otherwise why would Solas be interested in it?)

Solas, in what looks kinda like his most recent DA4 trailer gear, was watching the events of this series/arc the whole time and knows what happened. He knows Tractus has the idol. None of the people in this comic plot are “People Solas doesn’t know”. And it seems that he is able to use eluvians to watch people.

There’s a chance that Tractus Danarius is the mage in Tevinter Nights, from Dread Wolf Take You - the mage from House Danarius who went with some slaves to Nevarra to use the idol to perform a ritual with the Mortalitasi. That mage wanted to change the world to help fight the Antaam’s invasion. In the tale at least, he used the idol, a rift opened, the Dread Wolf popped out and killed him. At the time of that ritual the idol was still working.

+ some new lore -

the Red Wraith was able to heal from any wound, which is notable, and he and the sword the idol created had a.. symbiotic relationship? with each other. “He feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins. And in turn, the sword heals his wounds.” What are the lore implications of this? Just what is red lyrium capable of?

eluvians can be used to watch people. not just to communicate over long distances or as portals between places

Lastly I don’t know what to do with myself anymore as this is the end of a long-running DA arc and was the final piece of [currently-known about] new canon Dragon Age content that we’ll get.

#dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dark fortress spoilers #dark fortress spoiler #dragon age #bioware #fenris #spoilers #spoiler #dragon age: dark fortress spoilers #dragon age: dark fortress spoiler #the Fenaissance #feels #gpoy

58 notes · View notes

mirobami · 4 years ago

Note

Super natural oh death Jen Titus

The whole bamis like there backstory type of vibe

━ BEFORE

CHARACTER(S): The Bami Clan

SONG: Oh Death Jen Titus

A/N: omg I watched supernatural but I never heard of this song so this was so exciting !!! I was just like o_o when I saw it, it gives me chills. This one isn’t much of a self-insert with a specific person more than it is generally. It’s also a little long because I have so much to say to the Elders so let’s get to it!

The Momobami clan, all of them ruled under one person who had won her title by being the cream of the crop, or in their case, the best of them all. Even her older sister couldn’t compare to her. But the rest of them made up for being lethal and manipulative, grown up with only rules rather than rewards.

Family reunions involved more gambling than anything and the ones most impacted by the childhood gambles were Terano, Yumi, Miroslava and especially Rin. Kirari and Ririka tricked them so often into guessing who was who and the end result would be the Momobami chair or something else. But the others had logic and they decided not to do it because of the grave consequences it could come with.

However, the one thing all of them had in common, even if they didn’t want to say so, was the wish of having a normal childhood. Maybe if they had had a normal childhood, everything would’ve been better. Everything would’ve gone a different way and they’d probably have a good amount of friends that weren’t scared of them. Maybe they’d even be able to count on one another for cousin like things.

Kirari and Ririka were the head of the clan therefore automatically, they were supposed to be formal and proper. Already having learned so many things by the age of six, they knew that they’d never be normal girls, in a bad way. They wouldn’t be able to get teddy bears as presents, they only got presents that were more for their parents than for them. Build A Bears? Out of the question.

Miyo and Miri had grown up in the pharmaceutical field, in which they learned poisons at a young age. By the time they were seven, they knew 157 different ways on how to poison a grown man. They quietly went through with it because they wanted to see each other after being forced apart. That knowledge was stored in their heads because the Elders expected them to have it. It still hurt them to know that instead of making real poisons, they could’ve been like everyone else and made plant water.

Yumi and Terano were part of the Totobami family and since Terano was a child, she could only remember repressing her emotions and compensating for being a child by reading obscure books that no seven year old should have to read. Yumi was the complete opposite of her, but even she knew that Terano would’ve been different if it wasn’t for the impact the Elders had on her.

Ibara and Rin were the only boys in the next generation, giving them so much more pressure because of the ridiculous standards the Elders had for them. Besides that, the area they were in was worse than everyone else’s and they had to deal with the retorts that they were nothing compared to the rest of the clan. They never got to be normal brothers.

Nozomi was practically hidden in the background because no one believed she could be as good as everyone else. Erimi was a child, the most anyone could take from her was that she came from the torture field but that was it. Miroslava was good enough to be used, according to the Elders, but even she didn’t want to do anything they said because of her morals. Sumika was thrown into the entertainment industry from a young age and she had to live with an alter ego. Her closest friend was Rin, probably because the Elders thought they could actually do something big. Rei? Rei was at the bottom of the chain. Since she was little, she never got any respect and wasn’t even treated as an actual human. She couldn’t blame her cousins either because of how they were raised and they were even forbidden from talking to her.

The Momobami clan was made up of different branches and all of them wished they had had a normal childhood instead of seeing people handle life or death right in front of them. Mistakes were never made for fear of being tossed aside. None of them got what any child should have wanted and even to their waking hours, they thought of ways they were already disappointing the Elders.

“Wow.” Y/N said, blinking as she stared at the clan before her, avoiding her eyes. “You guys need serious help.”

Ibara laughed, shaking his head. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”

“I want to throw the Elders into a commoner nursing home. All right, we’re going to Build A Bear and have you have a normal childhood in one day because you deserve it.” Y/N crossed her arms, staring at all of their faces. Those years had given them masks and different coping mechanisms. “So tomorrow, set aside your plans or whatever you have, you’re coming with me.”

Miroslava was the one to smile at her. No one knew how they ended up in the position where the clan was all in one room with this girl but once they had spilled everything, Y/N immediately resolved to giving them what they never had. They all had a fondness for this girl and now she was resorting to making sure they had happiness, at least for one day.

“Okay, nerds, go home, I’ll text you all tonight.” Y/N waited until they left but instead they all took turns hugging her tightly. She had no idea how much she was helping them but through the hugs, she had some idea. Their childhoods were rough and here they were, being helped by a complete stranger. It was great.

#$...verona milestone #kakegurui x reader #kakegurui x y/n #kakegurui x you

68 notes · View notes

myriadxofxmuses · 2 years ago

Note

[ FIVE CALLS ] for Ethan

The phone bounced against the palm of his hand as he paced through his living room. The tv droned on softly in the background. His siblings' laughs could be heard along with their friends' drifted through the air as they swam in their pool. Everyone was out enjoying the sunshine while Ethan was cooped up inside, ready to explode from anger over the recent lull in acceptable prey.

He needed a fix and he needed it fast. His mind raced through a myriad of women who would be a close second to his chosen type, but would ultimately be an allowable substitute, thus sufficing his need until one could be found.

His thumb scrolled through his phonebook until slowing down when his eyes caught sight of Rose's name. A smirk tugged at his lips. She was quite a contender when it came to the finalists in his game. She knew more about him than anyone else - having seen his most sacred secret with her own eyes. She knew enough to end him should her little black heart ever desire and that was mrore terrifying than his actual, inevitable death.

He clicked into her contact info and pulled up the number, ready to touch call, when Kelly's name overtook the screen.

"Kelly!," he said with expertly feigned joy when he answered. "I was just thinking about you," he seductively lied. "That offer for Netflix and chill still stand?" An evil smirk overtook his lips when she expectedly said yes, offering a time to meet. "Sounds good. See you then," he said hanging up the phone. "Guess fate has decided to save you my little raven," he mused at Rose's name when it returned to the screen before clicking it off and getting ready for his night.

-----

His entire family sat at the dinner table, a rare occassion, discussing the upcoming familial event of the year - the grand Harrison family reunion. A get together Ethan despised since he was a child. It was a bunch of nobodies with the same last name that he had to pretend to care about. He didn't even know most of their names and yet his parents insisted on the whole lot of them going and participating in such an antiqudated tradition. Why coudn't they just all admit they cared even less than he did about this bullshit?

To save face, that's why.

"I don't see why I have to bring anybody," he countered his mother's request, picking at the food on his plate.

"So people don't think you're some weird homo," his sister teased, Ethan glaring her way. "Although I'm pretty sure you're too weird even for them," she added with a smirk carryign devilish undertones.

"Fuck you nerd," he countered feebly.

"Ethan, language," his mother tried correcting him.

"Oooo ouch," his sister said feigning offense. "Take you long to come up with that?" she asked rhetorically.

He simply rolled his eyes and continued trying to ignore her. "I'm not bringing anyone to witness this disaster of a family," he insulted, motioning to not only them, but the rest of the clan. "It's bad enough I have to show up. We don't know any of those people. Why does it matter?"

"You know why it matters," his brother chimed in, focusing more on his food than them.

"Yea, yea, reputation, tradition, blah, blah, blah. Well, I don't care about any of that. Just leave me here."

"You know we can't do that," his father started. "We are a family and I expect us to act like one. One weekend with us won't kill you Ethan."

"It just might," he grumbled.

"Stop being so dramatic and buck up," his dad ordered. "We all have to deal with this and so do you. So if your mother wants you to have a guest like your siblings, you'll find one. End of story."

And that was that.

Ethan angrily pushed away from the table and stormed off to the guesthouse he'd claimed ownership of - or rather the space his parents allowed him to use. He yelled out in frustration when the front door slammed shut. He was fuming.

Here he was, a grown ass man, still relying on mommy and daddy and forced to obey their rules. If it hadn't been for their substantial bank account he would have walked away from all of this years ago. His financial dependance sickened him, but it was the one and only sacrifice he beleived in making.

"You want me to bring a date mommie dearest?" he asked the air as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts to Rose's name. "Then a date you'll get, but I don't think you'll be very happy with my choice of mate," he said through grit teeth as his thumb hovered over the number.

A fleeting thought passing through his mind made him hesitate hitting call however. He was trying to ruin the reuninon by bringing the loudest outcast he knew, but what if it made Rose think there was more between them? What if there was? After all, she was his first choice when the demand for him to have a plus one was given. Did that mean she was actually important to him?

No. It couldn't.

He shook the pondering thoughts away and scrolled back through his phone book and dialed a for sure, no strings attached, wham bam thank you of a maam date - "Kenzie, my favorite girl," he lied with convincing desire when she answered. "Free for some fun this weeknd?"

-----

His head rolled back against the couch. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. His hands heavily found their way to his face and drug themselves across it, letting out a small groan. His world was reeling - alcohol and barbituates his poison of choice for the evening, feeding his recycled need to end his existence.

He forced himself to sit forward and stared at the blank television attempting to steady his double vision, the room around him buzzing in and out of focus. It wasn't that he felt any kind of remorse or regret for his actions. Nor was it any sort of depressive feelings that drove his suicidal tendencies. It was the heavy realization of life's mediocrity.

Money, girls, friends, cars, clothes. He was free to come and go as he pleased, never having to worry about the consequences. For all intents and purposes he had it all. But he wanted more than easy nights and lazy days.

He wanted a challenge.

And life was pointess witht one. Cheating death had just about the highest odds of failure, winning allowing for the satisfaction of his needs. But it never lasted.

Sloppily he grabbed his phone from the coffee table and blinking his eyes clear he dropped his gaze to the screen.

Usually when he was deep within a therapy session he just waited for the darkness to swallow him whole, only worried whether or not this would be his first loss. Tonight however was different. Tonight a million thoughts ran through his mind. Tonight a million things he wanted to say just in case came rushing to the forefornt. Tonight he worried about losing.

He unlocked it and pulled up her name. His eyes began to flutter, weighed heavily with sleep as his toxic cocktail began seeping through his veins. He opened her contact info, a momentary half smirk trying to lift his lips at the irony of Ethan finally feeling like he had a heart when he was trying to stop it. A slow chuckle escaped him as he fell sideways onto the couch, his phone dropping to the floor before he could hit call and tell her what she'd done to him.

-----

"Aarrggghh!" he roared, roughly tossing the woman's body into the chair and hurriedly strapping her in. Searing pain shot through his side with every movement. Once she was secured he finally looked down at its source. Two long prongs of a sefl protection keychain stuck out of his side, buried six inches deep. He angrily yanked it free with a gutteral growl, keeping it securely in his hand once removed.

He harshly grabbed the woman's face and forced her back awake. "Look what you did bitch!" he snarled, forcing her to look at the heavily bleedin wound before forcing her attention back to him. "This could have been so easy for you, Kenzie," he said through grit teeth. "All you had to do was put out and you'd be sound asleep in your cozy little bed, home, right now. But noooo. You had to be a fucking cocktease WHO ATTACKED ME WHEN I GAVE YOU WHAT YOU WERE ASKING FOR!!"

He grimaced, shifting to stand and gare down at her. His hand instinctively went to cover his wound, the metal of her weapon cold against the hot blood seeping through his shirt.

"You know, it's not every day someone such as youself is graced with the presence of a Harrison. Let alone all of us. A nothing fuck was the least you could have done for such an opportunity. Why else do you think I invited you in the first place?" he grumbled rhetorically, his chest heaving from both fury and pain as he glared at her.

Her whimpers turned to sobs as he stood before her, covered in blood and terrifyingly manic. His body quivered from adrenaline as it electrfied his veins. His blood boiled as he glanced once more at his side.

"Should just gave it up," he said with a eeriely calm huff of a chuckle as his eyes watched the blood pour from his side. "You should have been the good little slut that you are," he growled bringing his attention her way before jamming her own protection through her throat.

He stumbled away toward his table of tools and fished his phone out of his pocket. it took three tries to unlock the screen, his blood covered fingers' touch unregistering. His eyes quickly looked to his side as his thumb instinctively pulled up his recent call list, a choked back grimace of pain falling from him as her turned to lean against the table.

His sight began to blur and his head felt as if it was swimming. He needed help. And fast.

He couldn't focus on the names scrolling past, passing Rose's name more than once as he searched for it. Tossing the phone on the table he forced his feet to shuffle across the room to a second, much smaller table, almost hidden in the corner - dropping to its chair and opting to stitch himself up instead of waiting.

------

He dropped onto his couch with a sigh and turned on the t.v.

Talk show.

Judge show.

Talk show.

News.

Kid shit.

Each channel was worse than the last. He switched over to Netflix and began scrolling through his list of movies, all just as unsatisfying, not a single title catching his interest.

Hulu was a bust.

And Tubi was just as useless.

He settled on a documentary he'd seen a million times, tossign the remote next to him on the couch. He pulled his phone out and began scrolling mindlessly throgh his socials as he ate his takeout, the t.v. softly droning on in the background.

He needed stimulation. The thought drove his thumb to back out of TikTok and pull up his phonebook, silently deciding which girl to offer the chance to do so. Ashley? No, too clingly. Erin maybe? Eh, too basic. Mary? Too stupid. Susie? Too innocent.

None of the names flying by his gaze did nothing for his temptations. He ate another bite of food, going back to the beginning with the thought over that new girl. The weird gothy bitch as Cole had so eloquently called her. Ethan hadn't shared his setiment, but she was new so it was his duty to get her number before anyone else. And that he did.

He found the newest addition to his list possible booty calls and hovered over her name. Taking another bite of food he pondered whether he really wanted to take that step with her. To invite her into his life and onto the waiting list for a tour of his inner sactum down by the lake. She did seem like she'd be fun to say the least. Something tugged weakly at him when the image of their bodies tangled under the sheets flashed through his mind. Something miniscule that would, unknowingly to Ethan, grow to a nearly overwhelming weight. That something was true desire, though he ignored it, unconvinced the newbie was worth the wait or the effort of finding out.

Deciding against calling her, he shut off the screen to his phone and tossed his food onto the coffee table. He changed the t.v. to his favorite skin-o-max channel and just took care of himself, going right back to being useless and bored once finished.

------

"We really do have our pick tonight, huh?" Taner half shouted over the music.

Ethan leaned on his elbow against the bar as eyes scanned the club before them - one group of girls after another empowering themselves by proving dressing like a slut doesn't make you one. And one group after another being infiltrated by males intent on proving them wrong.

He smirked and lightly chuckled to himself. "We sure do," he said just before drinking.

"Mm mm mm," Tanner added, lustfully sizing up his options.

"You look like a dickhead," Ethan teased when he saw the look on his friend's face. "But you are one, so I guess it works," he poked further, taking another drink.

"Yea and you're a douche," he countered.

"Can't argue with that," Ethan feigned agreement, laghing. "You find her yet?"

"Yea. I think so," he replied, his gaze locked on a blonde he motioned at not far ahead. "Wish me luck asshole."

"There's not enough in the world for you to score her, but have fun trying," he half lied, tipping his glass his way.

He finished off his drink and ordered another, leaning on the bar as he waited. He pulled his phone from his pocket and began mindlessly swiping left and right, bored out of his mind. He thanked the bartender for his drink with a small nod and turned to leave when he was stopped by a bruntte.

"Not going to buy me one?"

"Buy you what? A drink? Now why would I want to go and do that?"

"You swiped right," she said wiggling her phone and motioning to his with her eyes.

He looked down and saw that he, in fact had done so. "It's the least you can do before you try and get in my pants don't you think?"

A smirk tugged at his lips and he quickly closed out of the app, unknowingly dialing Rose in the process. "Yes I do," he drawled out slightly as a plan for the evening began to form.

Perhaps this night wasn't as shot as he thought.

He flagged the bartender down. "I gotta say, for someone as beautiful as you," he started flirtatiously. "You sure are a cheap date if only one drink is all it takes to get a taste," he added as he closed the gap between them. "Must not be very good if you give it up that easily," he added challenging her initial confidence with him.

He gave her his most convincing, non threatening smile. His hand found its way to her face and cupped her cheek, her hand covering his instinctively. His aura forced her eyes to remain locked with hishe newly served drink ignored. He bit back at his bottom lip as his eyes danced to hers.

"How about a preview?" he asked rhetorically, bringing his eyes back to hers.

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she let out a shuddered breath, nodding slightly. He let his smile widen before pressing a kiss to her lips. Her tossed a twenty on the bar and grabbed hold of her hand, leading her out to his car - unbeknownst to him that his phone was recording his hungry, passionate fuck session the entire time.

#tw suicide #savagecuhnt #[bring my demons to their knees: ethan & rosalyn]#[comfortably numb: ethan]

2 notes · View notes

minniepetals · 5 years ago

Text

Rose & Thorns: 04

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: dragon!jungkook x reader x dragon!seokjin / future!bts x reader

— genre: angst / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 5.5k

— warnings: orphan reader, high fever, insecurities, hurt and comfort

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

"Hey, everything will be alright."

Jimin's voice was so soft. So, so soft. And the way he held your face, gentle and sweet, almost a little too kind to be true but as your time in the dungeon began to expand, you came to know that Jimin wasn't really all that rude and arrogant. He was sweet and caring, that warm light you always wanted to be there for you in the dark dungeon.

Upon checking up on you during his rounds as the head guard, he found you laid on the cold hard floor, shivering, weaker than usual. When you gave him no answer to his calls, he was quick to unlock the door of the cell and walk up to you, crouching down as he helped you sit up. His hands were so warm as he allowed you to lean against him, checking your temperature and realizing how high it had gotten. Under the dim light of two candles that lit up the room, he saw how dry your lips were and how much more pale you had gotten.

"Jin hyung will be here soon, and so will Jungkookie."

Little clusters of footsteps could be heard but you were too tuned out to realize.

"No, it's alright," you told Jimin otherwise, trying to lean away from you so that you could sit up on your own yet failing a quick few seconds later. "I don't want to bother them, please," you begged a little, tears welling up in your eyes yet you tried to blink them away, not wanting to cry. "I'm already being a bother by being here in this clan, I don't want to entice more problems. I'll be alright."

"You're burning up, Y/N, you need-"

"Burning up?" The two of you looked up at the familiar concerning voice of the young dragon who was quick to take advantage of the unlocked door of the cell. "What's wrong?" Jungkook asked, eyes filled with worry as he knelt down to your eye level, reaching out to touch your forehead. His eyes widened. "Y/N."

"I'm fine," you told him, flagging away his hand from your head.

"I'll be the judge of that."

Chills ran down your body and suddenly, you teared up a little more. Maybe it was from your sickness making you a little weaker, or due to the realizing that all of the princes were in one room, or perhaps both. Either way, you felt scared and met the eyes of Jungkook's with a bit of panic.

He who understood that sign maneuvered his hand downwards to hold yours with a light squeeze, trying to assure you that you were going to be okay.

But the hold of his hand only made you worry further, not wanting to upset the older princes any more than you already were.

Seokjin sat in front of you, ignoring Jungkook's stubborn hand still holding yours while you tried to force it away but with how weak you were compared to him, he naturally won the little fight. The healer's hand reached out to check your temperature and his brows furrowed with how hot your temperature was.

"What are you feeling right now? Any pain? Wanting to vomit? A severe headache?"

But your weak voice just spoke out "I'm fine," a lie that any of them could tell right away and Seokjin let out a soft sigh, knowing that you had still yet to leave that phase of not wanting to be a bother. But then again, he couldn't really blame you for that. It was their fault you felt that way.

Under the dim light of the dungeon, Jungkook could see how pale you had gotten, more weaker than the last time he saw you, that bit of light you had gain now completely gone. He wished he was Jimin, holding you safely, wished that he could ease your pain if even a little or to completely take it all away and be in your place if it was possible. But he couldn't do much except for holding your hand to try and assure you that you weren't a burden but even that wasn't much of a help.

"Don't look like that," Hoseok said as he placed a hand on top of Jungkook's shoulder. "Why do you look like you're blaming yourself? None of this was your doing."

"Back then, she'd always ease the pain away for me," Jungkook mumbled under his breath almost inaudibly, the guilt eating him up as his stomach churned, "Yet I become so useless when the table turns around." He met your eyes again when he said that and although you wanted to protest, you couldn't. You could only groan a little, the light of the candles suddenly becoming too much as you closed your eyes shut, your hand that was wrapped by Jungkook's just sat sprawled there with the loss of strength.

The silence laid there for a long moment until Seokjin spoke up. "Stop worrying too much, I'll take care of her in your stead."

Jungkook's head was quick to perk up and the eldest's heart ached at the sight of his eyes all teared up due to the shame and guilt he was weighing himself. "You will?" He asked, hope in his eyes, eyes that were finally giving them some sort of attention and light they hadn't seen in a long while after treating you not so greatly.

You were someone special to Jungkook and they couldn't deny that. No matter how much they disliked it, it was the truth.

Seokjin met the eyes of the leader and when he said no opposing words, the healer nodded. "I will."

Hoseok gave the maknae a light squeeze while he sat there, eyes not wanting to stray away from your face.

"Come on, Kook," Seokjin said as he began standing up after having Jimin transport you into his arms, "we have to move her back into the medicine nests. I can't do my job in this environment."

For a long moment, Jungkook just stood there as his hyungs began walking away, following Seokjin out of the dungeons. All but one whose second home was the dungeons itself.

"Y/N," Jimin began softly, catching back the attention of Jungkook, "she's a rose who still has yet to bud properly, a rose who's thorns have overgrown as the walls that traps her from within. One day she'll get there, bloom a thousand petals and become a beautiful rose. And one day," he looked at Jungkook, a hand on his shoulder with a small smile, "one day we'll see why she means so much to you. And perhaps I'll get there sooner than them."

With that, he walked away, light footsteps echoing into the background.

"Kook, go home before you fall asleep in here."

"What's so bad about falling asleep here? You own these nests, I'm safe here," Jungkook mumbled through his pouts, his eyes never straying away from you while he sat beside your bed, hand held tight around yours with no intentions of letting go. He had to see you when you wake up, had to see you getting all better so that his worries could ease away.

Seokjin who's been rearranging some of his remedies heaved out a soft sigh. "It's not about safety, Kooks, it's about you needing your rest and you have to go back to the castle for that."

"I'm not sleeping anytime soon," the little dragon refused stubbornly though Seokjin could clearly see how droopy his lids have gotten since trying to keep awake to watch over you.

"Come on, little one," he urged, softly patting him on the head to encourage him to leave, "you've been busy all day long with the hunting patrols, you can't expect to keep awake all night just to watch over her, alright? You're in charge of the hunts, Kooks, you have to rest and awaken when dawn arrives."

"But hyung," Jungkook whined, "just let Hoseokie hyung be in charge for the time being. I can't leave Y/N's side. She's never left mine whenever I was sad and needed comforting so why should I? It's only fair I start paying back her kindness."

"She really matters that much, huh?"

He was a little hesitant, not because he wasn't sure of the answer but because of the fact that he was aware of the subtle jealous tone in Seokjin's voice. It wasn't hard to tell that his mates have come to envy his relationship with you, he just hoped that they could come to a bit of understanding after what he had told them right before they were alerted about your illness.

But even though he cared about you, he knew that another part was wrong to feel such way for someone else. He had six mates to love and that loved him with all his heart. He didn't love them any less even though you got into the picture but he knew that it was still wrong, hating to hurt his mates.

"I'm sorry," he whispered breathlessly.

Seokjin couldn't give him an answer back, he could only look away with an inaudible sigh and returned to his work, trying his best to not pay any mind to you and Jungkook.

He was indeed jealous, who wouldn't be if they ever found out someone they loved cared for another? He couldn't understand Jungkook's feelings just yet but he silently vowed to himself that he'd start by not hating you so much. After all, you brought their Jungkook back to them. He couldn't hate you for that.

It was only a few minutes later when he heard the soft little snores coming out from the young dragon and when he looked up, Jungkook's head had rest on your bed, next to your arm while his hand still held yours without any desire of letting go.

Seokjin stopped working to just stare at the two of you and for some reason, a feeling of nostalgia rushed down upon him. You laid on the bed without any movements, fever still high, while Jungkook sat beside you, wanting to watch over you through the whole night but only able to keep his eyes open for so long before he had dozed off completely.

It reminded him of the days when Jungkook had gotten sick. He was a dragon who was sensitive to smell, who got sick often, and made his hyungs worry each and every day. They always felt the need to protect over the young prince, watch him at every moment they could find time to spare, pat his head and praised him when he did well, made sure he was well fed and smiling at all times.

Everyone else in the clan saw him as this mighty dragon who needed no protection and was the strongest of them all and while none of that was false, to them, Jungkook was just a young dragon who was still that innocent kid they took in after finding him lost in the woods one day. Namjoon found him and took him in and because Seokjin was a healer in training at the time, the three of them often spent time together and the eldest would always take care of the sick young boy.

When words came back to warn them about how Jungkook had never came back from his hunting and how no one saw him leave or knew where he went, that set panic within the guys in an instant. They sent search parties all around but with the fact that no one knew which direction the youngest went towards, it was impossible to search the grounds.

None of them could find themselves sleeping at night and it became more often when tears would fall upon them because a part of them felt as if Jungkook would never come back. They thought they'd lost him for good. It had been months since his disappearance after all.

But when Jungkook came back again, he held a human in his hands, refusing to let anyone hurt you and regarded you as someone very special to him.

They couldn't understand it, even as he stated that the human freed him, because they could see the way he held you, how he smiled and spoke to you in such a gentle way, in the ways they had done to him. They'd never seen Jungkook so soft, it was always the other way around where he was the one receiving the soft coos and smiles.

Jungkook grew more sensitive than ever and for the first time, their little maknae had someone he wanted to protect in the ways that his hyungs have regarded him. And that someone wasn't them.

Yet the more Seokjin watched you and Jungkook on that bed, the more he could see how soft Jungkook had gotten.

He changed.

He found someone he wanted to protect.

In certain aspects, Seokjin could understand a little because he could see it, he could see them in Jungkook with the way he regarded you in the way they regarded him.

And perhaps that wasn't all too bad. You looked like someone who needed all the love and protection after all.

He didn't like it, didn't like that he was being forced away from watching over you in order to head out on the patrol for hunting. But as Hoseok stated, he was the prince of hunts, he had to maintain order and not get away for another long period since he had been gone for nine weeks, captured by the humans, once. They couldn't waste more time not being able to feed the clan and he knew he didn't want to fail anyone.

Yet being away from you, you who grew even more sick throughout the night with a high fever, Jungkook wasn't in the right headspace for hunting so they decided to take a little break and there he was, sat on one of the highest hills of the valley with a mind filled with thoughts of you. Concerned for your well being.

A part of him knew he could trust his hyung. After all, Seokjin had never turn his back away from a patient. His job as a healer was far more important than any of his resentments. But still, he couldn't help but worry. Was that how his hyungs felt whenever he was sick? Because when he was younger, he got sick so easily the medicine nests became a second home to him. It worried his hyungs a lot.

As he sat there staring down at the meadows, Hoseok watched him with a bit of concern. "Can I ask you a question about Y/N?" The older dragon asked as he settled himself next to Jungkook.

"Sure."

For the past six weeks since you had been in the dungeon, he was angry at his hyungs for locking you up in the first place. A part of him would rather freeing you and letting you leave the clan if it meant you weren't going to be locked in but then again, where would you go? You had no home and someone like you couldn't survive out in the wilderness alone. Yet again, perhaps it was also due to his selfishness on wanting you to stay, so that he didn't have to fear you leaving, so that he could come to dislike his hyungs a little less.

Yet Jungkook knew that no matter what happened, he'd never be able to hate his hyungs. They were his mates. Mates for life. And that was another thing that made his heart waver a little. Because what about you?

"Why doesn't Y/N ever blame anyone?" Hoseok asked, the question stuck in his head from the first moment you were casted into the dungeons and especially in that moment when he walked into the cells for the first time, finding you at your weakest point, ready to collapse at any moment. Perhaps they had been too cruel to the poor human. Still, despite the situation you were in, he wondered sincerely about the fact that you were so selfless even towards the ones whom you should have hated the most.

In a small whisper, Jungkook simply stated, "Because she's Y/N."

Hoseok tilted his head to the side. "What does that mean?"

"Y/N never blames anyone and she doesn't like telling anyone about her own problems and situations because she always feels as if she is a bother." Growing up with a village that always deemed you as the outsider, as the one who didn't belonged, their harsh words drilled into your mind and although you always hid the pain behind a sweet smile, Jungkook had come to realize how sad those smiles were.

"She hides behind a mask yet her sweet kindness is always sincere. Always." His eyes fell, a little broken, filled with a bit of regret. "Maybe she does it because she knows how it feels to be inferior, or maybe she does it because she's gotten used to it. Gotten used to the pains that she forgets that it's okay to cry, that she deserves happiness of her own."

Hoseok had never meant to resent you, he shouldn't have. But to be able to hear a part of your story broke him a little more than he'd ever come to think. Yet it was wrong. He knew it was wrong. He shouldn't have to hear a story in order to be kinder, because now all he was feeling was the guilt eating him up for even wanting you gone the moment Jungkook brought you to the clan. They should have been happy at the fact that you brought their little prince back home, but all they had in their heads was the fact that Jungkook had saw something within you as a mate.

And now you had to suffer the consequences of their actions, something you never deserved in the first place.

They couldn't change the past but perhaps they could change the future.

"The bed's comfy isn't it?" Jimin guessed, a small smile plastered on his lips as he found himself happy at the fact that you upgraded from that cold hard floor to Seokjin's much more comfortable bed.

"I shouldn't get used to it," you said, a little sigh leaving your lips.

"Why not?" Jungkook frowned.

"Because I'll be back in that cell after prince Seokjin deems I'm all healed."

They sat there still for a moment, silence surpassing the group of four as Seokjin's hands stopped in midair while in the process of making thyme tea for you.

"Get used to it," the eldest claimed after the moment of silence as he resumed his work.

You looked up at him, just as confused as the other two dragons. "What?"

The healer faced forward again, a cup of tea in hand as he walked over to hand it to you. "Sick patients shouldn't go back to the same dirty cell. You caught a fever, you might catch something even worse and being in there only makes things worse. You're not in a good condition, little human, whether that's physically, mentally, or both."

"So you're saying you'll talk to Namjoon and Yoongi about this?" Jungkook asked, suddenly excited with hope filled in his eyes. Yoongi, who was in charge of crimes and punishments, and Namjoon, leader of them all, who'd make the final decisions. Was Seokjin really going to try and talk to them?

The healer cleared his throat as he turned his back on the three of you again, not wanting to see the hope in all three of your eyes because a part of him was worried the two weren't going to come to a compromise.

"Yes, but I make no promises to the outcomes."

"Thank you, hyung!"

It was the first time in forever had they ever heard such excitement in Jungkook's voice. For the past long weeks, he'd been upset and lost much of his smile ever since he returned to the clan with you in hand. And to be able to understand that Jungkook had come to dwell himself in excitement only for your case, the love and care for you in their maknae's heart was only growing more and more.

"You'll catch a cold."

Under the moonlight and stars where you stood leaning against the balcony, wrapped up in a blanket, Seokjin almost thought that you looked...cute.

The paleness of your skin had already mostly gone by since the past few days you've been treated under his care and you've gained a bit of light again.

He had only meant to drop by one of his medicine nests to pick something up, not realizing you would still be up as the moon was high in the sky. "Sleep is an important factor to healing properly, you know," the healer reminded with a light scold, "you shouldn't be up this late."

"Sorry," you pursed your lips, " I couldn't sleep."

His brows furrowed with a bit of worry. "Are you in pain? Has your temperature gone up again?"

Suddenly he took a few steps forward to feel your forehead. He was close, so close. And at that point, you were sure that your face had begun to heat up. A part of you was thankful for the night sky while another part of you prayed the moon wasn't too bright for him to see your blush. It'd be too risky. You had already sort of stolen Jungkook away, grew feelings for the dragon. You couldn't risk falling for another even though Jimin was sort of already closely behind.

You silently scolded yourself, upset at how easy it was to fall for someone's kindness and mistake it for something else. You knew they had each other, loved one another, something you always hoped for once in your lifetime, so you also knew that you couldn't be the reason to break that bond away. Even if it meant giving up Jungkook. You were prepared for that, to just have his friendship. It would be better than nothing.

"J-just," you cleared your throat as you took a few steps back, away from Seokjin, "the late night thoughts keeps me awake."

It was quiet for a short few seconds before Seokjin let out a sigh. "Thinking too much isn't good," he scolded once again, tapping lightly on your head before turning around to walk over to his cabinets and picking something out of it. "They moon is in full view and so are the stars, you have nothing to worry about. It isn't completely dark for you to be afraid of sleeping."

You blinked. "How'd you know I couldn't sleep without some sort of light?"

"Jimin told me."

A glow of light passed by as he jumped off the balcony, transforming into the dragon he was. "Goodnight, Y/N."

Y/N.

He called you your name for the first time that night.

"Goodnight, prince Seokjin."

That night, you went to sleep feeling the most calm and content since forever.

"Have you ever seen the world in a dragon's viewpoint?"

"You mean...from the sky?"

Seokjin nodded. "Precisely."

You shook your head at his question. "When Jungkook brought me here, I was unconscious."

"Right." Seokjin nodded again and his gaze fell outside of the nest, towards the horizon above the mountains that kept the dragon's clan hidden. You wondered what he was thinking about when suddenly, the man turned around with a small smile. "Want to experience it?"

You blinked at the request, surprised and caught off guard. "Out...there?" You asked, pointing outside. "Am I allowed?"

"I'm one of the princes, Y/N, and as your healer, I'd say that you're in a much better health than the past few days."

You've always wondered how the world looked like from high above, always wondered how it felt to have wings only because you wanted to get away from looking at the world as a human. But then again, the high grounds scared you. "I'm afraid of heights."

Seokjin found himself letting out a soft chuckle. Another fear. "That's okay, Taehyung was scared too."

"Prince Taehyung?"

"Crazy, right? How can a dragon be afraid of heights?" The male recalled, laughing a bit to himself. "But once he got over it and saw how beautiful the world was from above, his fears were quick to leave."

"Really?" You asked, a little hopeful but still doubted the whole thing. Was the world that beautiful to be able to distract you from your fear?

"You'll be alright, I'll be there with you." He held your hand for a moment, squeezing it as a way of assurance before realizing what he had just done and was quick to let your hand go. A few coughs left his lips awkwardly. "Anyways, uh..." He took off, falling off the balcony only to reappear as a dragon, "climb on."

It was scary even just looking down as one of his wings extended out to invite you on. But his eyes, contrasting from those once dark orbs as a human, are now colored with the bright full moon, silver orbs that almost made you forget about leaving the grounds and falling onto his back to let him carry you. "Promise me you won't let me fall?" You worried, already feeling dizzy from just the fact that his medicine nest was already far from the ground.

The dragon chuckled. "Of course, little human. No need to be afraid."

"You have to take responsibility for my life if I fall off."

"I will."

"But you really can't let me fall."

"I won't. I'll hear an earful from Jungkook if I ever let that happen."

"Promise?"

He sent you a nod accompanied with a smile. "I promise, Y/N."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, and then, slowly, you climbed on top of the balcony. Where his wings extended out, a small squeak left your lips as you slid down from it where he adjusted himself so that you'd be securely sat on his back.

"Good?" The dragon asked, not wanting to take off unless you felt safe.

"Y-yeah," you stuttered, holding onto him tightly with eyes that kept shut.

And then, Seokjin flapped his wings and the two of you were off riding the wind, a process you couldn't quite see due to your fear of height which restricted you from opening your eyes.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

"You can open your eyes now."

It took a moment, but with one little peek and the sudden courage, you allowed your eyes to slowly blink open and then, your mouth gaped at the beautiful scene in front of you.

On the back of Seokjin, you could see almost everything. Below you laid a vibrant green forest that stretched out into the horizon. The trees stood standing tall, each of them reaching out for the brightest star as if they were in a race to see who'd become the strongest and tallest trees of them all. You saw a jewel-blue stream diverging into different paths at different directions curving gently through the forest. Behind you stood the majestic pointed rocks that was what you came to realize was where the clan laid. It loomed in the distance, fogs dancing around towards the sky while spikes of thin light, illuminated from the sun's rays, impaled the snow that sat near the top of the mountain.

If there was any moment where you felt the most free at any point in your lifetime, you'd say that it was in that moment right there.

The sky, the mountains, the earth, and the water stood like a beautiful painting you'd only see in markets drawn by incredible artists who's visit the village once in a while. The stories you've once told Jungkook long ago was nothing compared to what you were witnessing. Conquering the lands? Now it felt as if the world belonged to you.

And as you let your arms extend outward to feel the rushing wind that flowed at every direction of your body, for the first time in forever, you felt alive. A rose that was ready to reach out for the sun above her, reaching out despite the thorns that held her back from the light. But then again, were you really ready?

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Seokjin's voice came back into the picture and for a moment, you had almost forgotten you were riding a dragon, the only reason why you were even able to see the world in such an incredible way.

"It's so beautiful I want to cry," you admitted and he laughed.

"There is lots to see, little human, the Earth is a vast place and we have all the time in the world to explore it."

We.

"We?"

"Namjoon will come around, he isn't all that cruel."

Had Seokjin accepted you into the clan? Had he accepted you?

Yet the question could never be voiced out when suddenly, a loud roar from behind was heard and Seokjin was quick to swerve his head around as alarm rushed through your body. You gasped at the sight of a dragon, two dragons that didn't look like any of his kinds. Ones that were much bigger and more deadly looking with a large scar on one of the dragon's eyes.

Seokjin's speed increased by the second and the wind began to circle at different motions as he began to fly about, away from the two dragons.

"Who are they?!" You asked, holding on more tightly than ever before, the fear rushing through your body.

"An enemy clan," was all the prince had to shout back before he fell into a silence, concentrating on where he was going while the adrenaline kept him going.

The wind was harsh, growing icy cold by the minute and you began to fear whether you could hold on for much longer. The rough speed made it hard to hold on and you begin to feel your fingers slipping, something that made you pray silently, hoping someone would come to the rescue.

Loud roars echoed into the air and Seokjin roared back, more so as a way to alert any of his warriors that he was in danger.

"Seokjin!" You squeaked, breathing shortening as if you were the one on the run.

"Just a little longer, Y/N. Hold on a little longer."

You couldn't be a burden, couldn't have him worrying about you steadying yourself when he had to worry about escaping the two dragons that were on his tail.

But as Seokjin led the two dragons towards the forest where he swerved about to avoid the trees, you screamed a little louder, worried you'd fall right down.

"Jin!"

Another dragon's voice, something that sounded familiar. Like an angel that came to answer your prayers.

Seokjin rushed towards the sky again where Namjoon stood. The leader's eyes stared at you in pure confusion, a silent questioning gaze of what the heck you were doing outside of the clan before returning to Seokjin, eyes a piercing gaze.

"Head east, I'll take care of them," he demanded.

"Joon-"

"Now!"

Seokjin rushed away and your body lunged back for a moment at the sudden speed. You looked back from where you sat and saw Namjoon high and mighty, a loud roar leaving him as he demanded a challenge out of the two dragons.

"What's gonna happen to him?"

Seokjin's eyes fell into hesitation, a bit of worry, a bit of frustration, and a bit of guilt. He wanted to turn around and face the other dragons but with you on his back, he knew he couldn't. "H-he's gonna be alright. It'll be alright."

"But Jin-"

Before your eyes could even blink, another dragon, huge and full of strength, crashed upon Seokjin, head butting him and allowing the dragon you were on to let out a loud cry as he fell back though he tried his best to not let his wings fail him.

Seokjin was able to regain his strength again but in that moment of the harsh impact, your fingers slipped away from Seokjin and down you went from the sky.

You scream was quick to alert the male but just as he was about to rush towards you, the dragon in front of him cut off his path.

Namjoon, who had been a few yards away was quick on his wings to fly down where you fell near a cliff that's made your fall even worse.

He caught you in his arms but the second he was about to fly up again, caught off guard, the dragon with a scar on one of his eyes jabbed at him with his head, a harsh push that caused one of Namjoon's wings to hit a hard rock. Blood gushed out and Namjoon gave out a loud cry as he fell, one of his hands that held you almost had you slipping, causing your shoulder to get hurt by the impact as he fell, hitting stones after stones.

Yet as he fell, his other wing curled up against him as he held you close towards his body, refusing to let you get hurt any further and protecting you from the pains he had to face.

Down and down the two of you went and Seokjin could only cry aloud, his eyes bloodshot red with tears streaming down as he could do nothing but watch.

2K notes · View notes

thebountyfucker · 3 years ago

Text

The Royal Affair - Cad

Don't read this without reading the first part!!

Part 1

18+ ONLY - NSFW

Cad Bane x AFAB!Reader (gender-neutral, though reader does wear a skirt.) Tags/CW: power imbalance, claiming, dirty talk, sex as payment, collaring, everything is consensual but Cad is a bit forceful

Here's a link to my masterpost Want to be tagged in upcoming fics like this? Here's the link to my taglist application!

Your gaze followed Prince Cad for most of the rest of the night. He wandered around the venue, making small talk with Lady Sing or Lord Jango. He seemed less inclined to stay with his family unit than some, you noted, and appeared to be most comfortable when conversing with others. He nursed a few glasses of whiskey, but never pushed too far into drunkenness. Though you were sure he’d deny it, he was a royal, and as such, he had appearances to maintain.

Your gazes met many times during the night; at first, his gaze was strictly chaste, but as the night continued on, his gaze became more and more licentious, as if he couldn’t wait to get you alone. A chill ran down your spine, and you couldn’t quite tell if you were nervous or aroused by the prospect.

Toward the end of your shift, you made your way toward him; Cad was leaned against the wall, joking with Lord Jango about something. His gaze met yours and a wide, fanged grin spread across his face.

“Well, well, well… look who it is.” He pushed off the wall to stand straight. “Made up yer mind?”

“Yeah… I want to come with you.” You answered, and he hooked his thumbs into the pockets on his suit coat.

“Good choice. Ya would’ve regretted goin’ wit’ Em.” He replied, glancing up toward the departing Kyuzan clan. Prince Embo offered you a small nod, as if honoring the decision you made. You turned back toward Cad, who had fished around in his coat pocket for a cig. “Come wit’ me.”

There were no other pleasantries as he led you out of the meeting hall toward the adjacent Azvergin Hotel; the hotel, which catered exclusively to billionaires and royalty, was largely a mystery to you. You either had to be staff to said clientele, or a member of these groups in order to be let inside. Rumor had it that one could rent an entire floor, long term, for fifty million credits! You’d never see that kind of money in your life, but you supposed that it was like spare change to the Prince at your side.

He led you inside, through the rigorous security detail which awaited you. The guards hardly regarded you, and you figured that this may be a common occurrence with the Prince. They took your fingerprints and ran a background check - when it came up clean, they allowed you through. Then, Cad led you into the lift and up 15 floors to what you assumed was his family’s floor.

The entire ride was silent, but he kept looking at you, as if he couldn’t figure out what he was going to do with you. This made you a bit nervous, only because you weren’t entirely sure if he was to be trusted. Some girls from your work told you that the Prince would lay claim to his favorite servants and mark them with collars. You briefly wondered if this would be your future too.

Cad offered you a smirk as the doors parted and he led you out into the hallway. The walls were white, with intricate gold crown mouldings; doors lined the hallway, each with carved tags denoting who stayed where. Two guards stood at attention at each door, and servants - mostly women, of varying species - bustled about. Each and every person you passed bowed for their prince, and Cad ate it up. He gripped the chin of one of the servant girls, and leaned down to kiss her straight on the lips. She swooned.

Cad turned back toward you, and gestured toward a nearby door with his head. “Dis is my room. You can stay wit’ me. Dat is, unless you want to sleep in de servants’ quarters.”

“I suppose I can stay with you… if that’s alright.”

“Sure, sure.” He nodded, and the guards pushed open the door for you both; Cad stepped in first, and you followed closely behind.

The room was cavernous - larger than your entire apartment, you wagered - and designed with royalty in mind. The walls were pristine white with gold filigree, and spanned higher than you thought possible. He had chairs gathered in one corner, near a small bookcase. Not far from that was a fireplace, which had seemed to burn real wood, which was hard to find on Coruscant.

On the other side of the door was a wardrobe - it was a modest size for a prince, which was about twice as large as your own closet. And near that was his bed. It was massive, with bedposts at each corner and silver silk sheets. His comforter was pulled back, and you swore you could see restraints bolted to the frame.

Perhaps the rumors about him weren’t exaggerated…

“Should I… leave and get my stuff?” You inquired, standing in the middle of the room awkwardly. Cad glanced over at you as he pulled his suit coat off.

“Whaddya need?”

“Clothes, toiletries.. You know, the basics.” You watched as he tossed the coat on the floor haphazardly, before he went about unbuttoning his black shirt.

“I’ll call de servants fer ya. Dey’ll fetch your things.” He replied, nonchalant. He tossed his shirt atop his suit coat, and sat on the edge of his bed to pull off his shoes. He glanced over at you. “You got a starin’ problem?”

“N-no!” You replied, casting your glance to the floor. He chuckled and sauntered over to where you stood. He took a step toward you, pushing up against you; you took a step back, not sure if this was intentional. He took another step toward you, and then another, until you were trapped up against the wall. He reached out, cupping your chin and tilting it up so you could look him in the eyes.

“Dere ain’t no need to be shy, doll. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

“How can I be so sure?” You replied, your voice shaking. Heat pooled in your core, and his ravenous gaze only intensified the sensation.

“If I wanted t’ hurt ya… I would have done it already.” He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, and it trembled in response. His gaze trailed toward your tantalizing tits. “I think I found yer ‘price’.”

“Oh?” You squeaked, surprised by how easily he could sway you.

“Why don’ we getchu out of dese clothes, and you can show me why it was worth it t’ take ya in?”

“I-.” Your body screamed ‘yes’, but your sensibilities told you that this all seemed to be happening so quickly. But you weren’t sure he’d care if you told him this. He was a Prince, after all. You were sure he was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted. “S-something tells me you really weren’t trying to save me from the King.”

“Yer a smart one.” He drawled, a dark, hungry look in his eyes. You could smell the whiskey and tabac on his breath as he pressed closer to you. “How else would I get you to come with me?”

That tracked, you noted with a frown. Your life was ostensibly in danger, and this spoiled, entitled Prince used that to get you in his bed. You pushed him off and walked away, but he was not so easily deterred.

“Yer safe, ain’tcha?” He wasn’t wrong. Being with him meant you were safe from the King… but were you safe with Prince Cad? You crossed your arms over your chest and sat down in one of the chairs in the room. Cad followed you over to the chair, but he did not sit beside you. “Don’t be a brat.”

“I’ll be what I want.” You replied, your pussy pulsing to remind you that you were still aroused. You cursed under your breath, but figured that maybe you could make a game of this. You were scorned, sure, but you wouldn’t pass up a chance to sleep with the Prince.

“Is dat so? Do ya need to be tamed? Is dat it?” He crossed his arms over his chest and quirked a browridge. “I’ve dealth wit’ many brats. Ya ain’t special.”

“I don’t like being lied to.” You explained to him, and his expression soured. “If you just wanted to fuck me, you could have told me that.”

“Yeah. Like dat would’ve worked.” He rolled his eyes.

“It would have! I was having a shit day and I would have loved to let off some steam!” You told him, and Cad sat on the arm of the chair next to yours. A small smirk grew on your face as you held his gaze. “You want to fuck me? Hm? You can start by telling me you’re sorry.”

He pursed his lips and turned his head. “Ain’t happenin’.”

“That’s a shame. I guess this cunt of mine is off-limits.” You pointedly closed your legs, and anger flashed in his eyes. You could practically see him trying to work his way out of this and still get what he wanted. But you wouldn’t budge and you could tell that he knew this. It took him twenty minutes before he was able to form the words.

“I… I’m sorry.” He growled through gritted teeth.

“Good. You should be.”

There was silence for a moment, and you figured Cad was sulking because of the apology. Before you could react, he got up and thrust his knee between your legs. You gasped softly as he pressed his thigh to your aching cunt.

“Now listen here… I don’ like dat attitude of yers. Yer in my home - ya don’t get to order me around. Got it?” He leaned forward, boxing you in against the chair. You tried to fight it, but you found yourself grinding your cunt against his leg. He hissed in response. “No sass now? Nexxu got yer tongue?”

“I got… I got what I wanted already.” You told him.

“Words are cheap, doll. You know I didn’t mean it.” He grabbed your chin and tipped your head back, before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. It was forceful and needy, and you had to fight against pushing him away and digging in deeper. Your cunt throbbed again, and wetness seeped into your panties. You whimpered, and Cad chuckled. “Yer a little whore, ain’t ya? Despite all yer whining, ya still want me.”

He eased away, moving to finish undressing. “Get up and get naked. I wanna see dis cunt of yers.”

“M-make me.” You replied, your voice wavering with lust. He cocked a browridge and pulled you up to stand; he ripped your shirt off, and rucked the skirt down over your ass. You were nearly bare in front of him, and his ravenous gaze on your body made warmth well in your belly. He pulled down your panties, watching with interest as webs of slick stretched between your cunt and the cloth.

“Yer droolin’ fer me, doll. Filthy whore. Do ya want my cock?” He inquired, and you slowly nodded at this. He dragged you to his bed and tossed you onto it. “Show me yer cunt, doll.”

He took a step back, watching as you casually spread your legs open and then parted your labia with your fingers; Cad watched, his hungry gaze scouring over your soaked cunt. He drew in close, his knobby finger slipping inside of you. “Yer wet fer me, ain’tcha? Mmm… so wet and tight.”

You moaned, your head lolling back onto his impossibly soft comforter; your legs spread wider of their own accord, as if anticipating that he would insert his body between them sooner rather than later. You rocked your hips, aiming to drive his finger deeper within. He chuckled.

“Yer just beggin’ fer my cock at dis point… all I need is t’ hear it. Beg fer me.” “Oh Prince…. Oh Prince!” You whined, gripping his sheets tightly. He retracted his finger and drew aimlessly on your stomach with your slick. “Please, I need your cock! Please!”

“I wanna hear my name on yer lips. You know it, don’tcha?”

“Cad… Please….” You begged, lifting your hips to present your cunt to him, trying to tell him that you so desperately needed him to fill the void. He smirked at this presentation, and drew two fingers between your folds.

“Yer cute… I’ll give ya dat.” His fingers danced up and down the slit of your cunt teasingly. You whimpered, wriggling your hips closer. First, he was bitching at you about not giving in, and now he was the one dragging his feet? Entitled prick! “Most of my lays would offer t’ sell me deir families at dis point… just to get my cock.”

“Stupid.” You muttered, and he pressed a thumb to your clit.

“My favorites get special treatment. T’ dem, it’s a good trade.” He smirked as he slowly rubbed circles on your clit. Your body tensed, and your vision went spotty. “Besides, what use is a family t’ dem if dey’re here with me?”

Your toes curled as he dipped his finger into your cunt, only going in to the first knuckle. He rubbed around the entrance as he played with your clit. Stupid, entitled Prince! Fuck, you wanted him so bad...

“Now… what would you offer t’ me t’ get my cock? Hm?” He inquired as he eased his finger in a little further. “Do ya even have anythin’ of worth? You peasants usually don’t.”

“Hey!” You squeaked as he shoved the rest of his finger into you. Another slipped in soon after, and your whole body began to shake.

“Tell me, doll… what would you give to have my cock?”

“Nothing.” You replied as he thrust his fingers in and out of you. You whimpered, grinding your hips against his hand. The heat in your belly threatened to spill over, and your cunt tightened around his fingers. He was quick to remove his fingers from you.

“Ya don’t get t’ cum until ya tell me what you’d give me.”

You panicked, trying to find something, anything, of worth to give him. He wasn’t wrong about you not having much of worth; you worked a mediocre job making decent pay. You didn’t have much in the way of family, and even if you did, you would never offer them to him. This was ridiculous but you were also desperate. In the moment, all you could say was:

“Me! You can have me!”

Cad paused, quirking a browridge at this; a slow, devious smirk spread across his face and he leaned down.

“Is dat so?” He was mere inches away as his slick-covered hand slid down your stomach. “You want to be mine?”

“If - if that means you’ll fuck me… yes!” You cried out, aching and yearning. Satisfied with your answer, he angled his hips and pressed his cock into your cunt. His cock was searingly hot inside you, and filled you up sufficiently; every inch he plunged into you drove you closer and closer to an orgasm. The moment he bottomed out, you came, your body shaking as sparks of electric pleasure shot through you. Your back arched toward him, and Cad wrapped an arm around you, holding you to his chest.

He slowly rocked into your spasming pussy, moaning at the way you desperately milked him for his cum. He would not give so easily, however. He picked up his pace, a high-pitched whine escaping your lips; the ridges of his cock massaged all the sensitive parts of your cunt, and you had to stop yourself from begging for more.

“Ya feel good, doll.” Cad grunted as he thrusted harder into you. You could only whimper in response, your hands gripping your breasts tightly. “My cock feels good, don’t it?”

“Yessss.” You cried out, your toes curling as your orgasm loomed once more. You laid your head back on his bed, closing your eyes to bask in the sensations. He raked his fingers up and down your thighs, which quivered at the touch. There was only so much more you could take before the building tension snapped and you came again.

“Say my name.”

“Cad!”

“Say it louder! Let de whole place know who ya belong t’!” He roared, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs to the point where you were certain they would bruise. A wail rose from deep in your chest.

“CAD!” You yelled out, arching your back and thrashing about as the sensations became unbearable. You were so close! So close! Your cunt tightened around Cad’s cock and he let out a groan at the sensation.

“Ya gonna cum fer me again? Ya gonna cum, lil’ slut?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cried, bucking your hips up against his, grasping at any additional pleasure you could get. Cad’s pace was growing erratic, and you knew that he wouldn’t be too far behind you.

“Cum fer me! Cum!” Cad commanded, pressing his thumb to your clit. Your vision went dark as your body when stiff; fluids shot out of you, soaking Cad, as waves of euphoria washed over your body. Through the haze of pleasure, you could feel Cad biting down on your shoulder, puncturing your skin, as he shot his cum deep inside you. Your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

When you came back to your head, Cad was lapping at the blood which leaked from your wound. He pulled out when he realized that you had come to, and went to find a rag so you could clean up. He returned with a towel, and gestured to your throbbing cunt.

“Go on.”

You cleaned up, as you were directed, while Cad strutted around his room. He returned to you with a collar in hand, and you quirked a brow. “For me?”

“Yeah. Ya did give yerself t’ me.” He reminded you.

“I did, didn’t I?” You managed a smile and leaned forward, presenting your neck to him. He clasped the collar around it, and stroked your cheek.

“Dere you are. All pretty.”

23 notes · View notes