#tw: divine right of kings

[a-painful-ordeal]

5. Satanic and Chained Up

Cw: Slavery, slapping, extremist ideology in a fantasy setting, whumper believes in the Divine Right Of Kings, religious justification of torture, stress position, threats of a flogging, description of a flogging that hasn’t occurred.

Note: whumper and whumpee’s religious stances do NOT reflect my own. This is an exploration of ‘The Divine Right of Kings’ and general extremist bullshit. Evan’s views also are me playing with how atheism can manifest in a world where the gods frequently interact with mortals. Lord Maynard is a paladin and this is a subversion of the usual stereotypes.

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Evan’s heart races as he stands in a huge bedroom with a four-poster bed. The beauty and size dwarves him in comparison. Beautiful curtains hang from the wooden frame above the bed. To one corner of the room is an ornately painted screen to change behind. The screen stands next to a well-decorated wardrobe. In the other corner, sits a wooden table with a bowl of exotic fruits that Evan has never seen before. A fire sits not too far from the bed, glowing gently in the absence of its master.

Evan moves around the room, checking and double checking the windows for an exit. They are locked. Fuck. They are locked.

His anger and fear blend together. Why couldn’t he have just gone along with those guards and pretended. Maybe no one would have noticed. At least that way, he wouldn’t have gotten a thrashing and- whatever this is…

Deep breath in. And out. Calm. He tries to relax as an eternity passes. Waiting. Focus on something else. Anything else. What would he be doing now…? If he hadn’t been so stupid to think someone would genuinely try to help a street kid. He’d be… bickering with Meg maybe. Arguing about her dumb fictional crushes which he had never been able to relate to. Or maybe he’d be telling her to put another flea-ridden cat she found back where she found it, or so help him… it was always an empty threat. Meg enjoyed the bickering. And in all honesty, so did he. Or, maybe he’d be trying to wash her smelly unicorn toy. That thing was disgusting. M, would probably be hanging around watching, or taking Meg’s side. M had always been soft when it came to the little ones, letting things slide that she’d chastise him for with a grin now. She’d looked out for him like that once, too. A long time ago. But now she counts on him being able to help her look after all three of them. Counted. But she counted on him helping her look after all three of them of them. What would she do now?

Evan rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. No. He will see them again. This is not the end. He’ll get out of here…. Somehow…and move his way back to…. Wherever they were before. It’ll be fine. Or maybe they will rescue him? Find out what’s happened and come to save him.

The doors swing open, cutting off his train of thought, as the large, well-dressed figure of Lord Maynard enters. Evan finally gets a good look at him as the man strides into his chambers. He’s a human man, with well-kept black hair. He has large, broad shoulders and styled black hair. If Evan had seen him around the town, he might have assumed he was a merchant.

Maynard moves towards Evan, like a lion assessing an antelope. Evan swallows, exhaustion from earlier being chased away with a fresh bout of fear. He fights the urge to move back, instead, standing his ground. He raises his chin and puffs his chest out, swallowing back the pain from his beating.

“So. You must be the little slave who stole food and tried to escape?” the Lord asks. His tone is light, with a hint of danger to it.

Evan stays silent. His mouth begins to dry and the urge to back up begins to scream at him.

Maynard steps close. “Answer me when I’m talking to you.” His demands echoes around the room.

Evan feels his legs beginning to shake. Answer or not… this is a trap. Anything he says… he’s fucked.

Maynard walks forwards and strikes Evan. The rings on his hand scour two bloody lines across the cheek. The lines cut into the already yellow and blue cheek, which hasn’t fully recovered from earlier. “You will give me a response or I will have a finger taken off for your insolence.”

Evan’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels his throat begin to constrict. He feels all bravery leave him. “Y-” he coughs “Yes. I am.”

“You will address me as Sir or Master. Understood?”

“Yes… Sir…”

Maynard smiles “That was easy, wasn’t it?”

Evan stays quiet. Unsure what he could say in response.

“Now. Let’s get one thing clear. I will not tolerate disobedience from scum. The gods have placed me on this world to protect the good people from devils like you. And if that causes me to have to whip the evil out of you, then so be it. I will be doing my duty.” Maynard says this with pride in his voice, like man who has achieved something grand.

“You will obey me. And you will learn the place that the gods have allocated to you. Understood?”

Evan blinks. He fights the urge to call this man absolutely fucking nuts. Best not to do that when trapped in a room with him. “Yes…Sir.”

“Good. Now. You will kneel when I enter a room. Understood?”

Evan blinks, taking a small step backwards. His body shouts to run whilst his brain pushes him to fight. A surge of resilient pride runs through him for a moment, just long enough for all sense to be lost. “No-”

What he said suddenly registers, and he wants to kick himself.

“No?” There is a quiet rage in Maynard’s voice.

“Wait, I mean-” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Fear shoots through him. Just comply. Stay alive and live to fight another day.

Evan drops to his knees with a thud that causes him to wince. He stares at the ground. Let that be enough. Please.

“Don’t you dare say no to me.” The Lord growls “But no. By all means. If you don’t want to kneel. Don’t.”

He grabs Evan’s thin wrists in one hand, roughly pulling Evan to his feet and dragging the boy across the room to the four-poster bed. Evan’s wrists are shifted from Maynard’s left hand to his right hand as he grabs some cord that holds the bed-curtain together. He throws it over the wood at the top of the bed, before wrapping the other end, tightly around Evan’s wrists. Maynard then begins to wrench Evan’s weight up, until the boy is on his tiptoes.

“There. Now you don’t have to kneel. How does that feel? Boy? Better. I hope so.” Maynard spits, his voice full of righteous anger.

Evan’s wrists scream at him as the cord tightens, digging into his wrists. His jaw trembles slightly from the pain as the skin on his hip is stretched out. He lets out a small whine.

“I asked you a question. Does that feel better?”

Evan’s mind races. Yes? Or no? What does the man want to hear? Anything. Say what he wants. Fuck bravery and resilience. He wants to make it out of this in tact. Evan makes a split second decision. “No... Master.” His skin crawls at the word. The word fills him with a strange repulsive nausea but he continues. “I would… prefer to kneel…” There is a foul taste on his tongue as he finishes the sentence. He wants to swear and spit and shout… but so far, that had just gotten him hurt. Maybe this will work better? Do what Trygve said… keep his head down?

“That is a shame… you can kneel in the morning. Before I have you flogged for your little scene earlier.”

Evan blinks. That… didn’t work… wait. Flogging. What?

The boy’s shock is clearly evident on his face as Lord Maynard looks at him “You didn’t think that you wouldn’t be punished for your act of dissidence did you?” He shakes his head as he causally begins to the screen to undress for bed. There is the click as he undoes his belt. The sounds of fabric rubbing together.

Evan can see an arm stretch to grab a night shirt.

“You stole from me and injured my employee. Clearly, you deserve some punishment. Otherwise the gods wouldn’t have brought you into my hands. No. But don’t fear. I’m not unjust. The punishment will fit the crime. You stole from around twenty meals. And injured a guard. I’d say thirty lashes should suffice.”

Evan’s stomach drops. And heart races in his throat.

Maynard reappears. “You can stay there till the morning, I think. Until you realize that kneeling for me really isn’t that bad.” He moves a candle to his bedside table. And spends a couple of moments pulling the bed’s covers back, causally. As if there wasn’t someone else in the room. He then climbs into bed. “Thirty lashes. Unless you wake me up. If you make a sound I will make sure that they flay the skin from your back. Understood?”

Evan nods quickly, blinking back tears.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Y-yes… Sir…”

Evan’s face has gone pale during this speech. As the realization begins to set in. He’d seen floggings before. Thieves who’d gotten caught, or someone who’d started a fight. He’d seen ten lashes bring a grown man to tears as his skin was abused by knotted leather. Evan’s whole body trembles.

“Good. Much better.” With that, the Lord blows out the candle and nestles down in his bed. Curling up to sleep off the feast.

Evan stands there, hanging silently. His elven blood allows him perfect sight of the dark, grey room and the glowing embers from the fire. Despite the darkness that covers the room. His calves hurt as cramp sets in.

He blinks and hangs there. His wrists hurt as his hand’s circulation begins to go and the cord bites into his flesh.

Big tears begin to well in Evan’s eyes as he just wants to curl up and go home. Fuck why couldn’t he have stayed with Meg? Life had sucked in places before but this… this was worse. Why couldn’t he have decided not to meet those fucking men? Why can’t he just keep his fucking mouth shut?

The prospect of a flogging makes his chest heave deeply in a sob. He wants to sniff. To shakily cry and scream openly but he doesn’t. He uses all his willpower to keep himself from sobbing. He will not dig himself a deeper hole. A deeper grave to lie in.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His knees hurt. Fuck. He tries to stretch out one leg to disperse the cramp, but that makes the other hurt more.

He wishes the morning would come sooner. And then wishes that this would last longer. Before his back gets torn open. Skin ripped from flesh. What kind of whip would be used? A bullwhip looks lethal, but what if this man preferred to use a sailor’s whip? Or maybe he would use one which is metal-tipped. Fuck fuck shitting fuck. Evan’s throat contracts slightly as his breathing increases.

Evan had seen the scars before. Of course he had. The only way to avoid a flogging if you were caught stealing or some other crime, was to pay. Gold will get you anywhere. The scars were ugly, and humiliating. They told the world what you have done and there was almost nothing that could undo that.

His legs tremble. He feels sick. Tears won’t stop falling. He silently inhales, allowing the shaky sobs to be as silent as possible. He hangs there, exhausted and terrified. Silently waiting and dreading the dawn.

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AN: Hopefully that was alright!! I decided to not put it through grammarly this time so hopefully the grammar and spelling isn't Wattpad levels of bad 🤣🤣

Again please do not mistake any of the characters beliefs for my own. I'm mostly just playing around in a DND setting. Lord Maynard would be a Paladin of Conquest and I'm playing with subverting paladins as a 'noble' class. If you want, feel free to guess Evan's class!

Masterlist Next

Taglist:

@sunshiline-writes @kixngiggles @pumpkin-spice-whump @ivycloak

[zorawitch]

FYI, emperor Elagabalus was a sadist. He made women by stripping them naked and then use them to pull his chariot, set loose poisonous snakes the audience attended the colosseum, and brutally and mercilessly tortured his female servants by whipping them, stuck them with pins and sharp objects he could find, and then poured boiling melted wax on them till they died.

I’m gonna need sources on that because I have done some research on her, and no credible source I’ve seen has any reference to this.

The issue with her contemporary Roman chroniclers is many of them were active in the political scene at the time and because Elagabalus was an extremely ineffective and incompetent emperor, they have a lot of reason to slander her, and there wasn’t exactly a peer-review system at the time. The trick with her is to find where the stories match up. If they don’t, it’s probably a lie.

Who she was is hard to pin down as a result. Historians disagree on how many times she was married, so minutiae like how she treated her servants is probably lost to time, because these weren’t the people the Roman elite cared about unless they were being weaponized against Elagabalus. The only people I’ve seen claiming this are TikTok “historians” who also say that she was worse than Caligula.

TLDR: the Roman elite were in the practice of slandering Elagabalus both during and after her lifetime, which means that everything we know about her is ancient gossip. Was she an extremely fucked up person who sucked ass at her job? Probably, but we don’t know for sure and get in the habit of checking your sources before you come on my blog lecturing me. Seriously, everything you just said sounds like it’s from Game of Thrones.

[betterthanyalls]

Can u do a Reader x epic various where y/n is apart of Ody's crew and during the end of thunder bringer Zeus kidnaps y/n and takes them to Olympus instead of letting them either drown or get washed up onto Calypso's island?🥰🥰🤩🤩 It'd be cool if during God games or something Athena finds out what Zeus did and now instead of the games being just to free Ody from Calypso's island, it's ALSO about freeing y/n from Olympus and reuniting them with Odysseus?? Sorry if this doesn't make sense or if it's too much work lol, just write this however you want if you even wanna write it at all teehee ^^"

blinks i think i went through 37 different emotions while writing this, most of them were bad. Ok so, I'm not sure how good this is but please don't kill me😇 TW: Zeus gives reader Ganymede treatment

Masterlist

Stolen Soldier

Various (kind of) x Reader

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Angst

Words: 1.6K

Published: 11-4-2024

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Thunder roared, winds whipped, and waves rocked the lone ship back and forth. Standing on the bow of the ship was a figure of divine power and presence, waiting with a wicked grin. “Choose,” the king of the gods demanded harshly.

“Choose?” Odysseus muttered, looking at Zeus in fear. “Someone’s got to die today, and you have got the final say. You,” he pointed to Odysseus before gesturing to the rest of the crew, “or your crew.”

The captain looked to his crew, locking eyes with Y/n—his best friend, his rock, his shelter. He took a shaky breath, looking back to Zeus in desperation.

“Please don’t make me do this; don’t make me do this,” Odysseus begged. His mind seemed to be playing tricks on him. Looking back at his crew, he saw a range of emotions: anger, hurt, terror, grief, and more. Taking a daring glance at his closest friend, the soldier felt his heart shatter. Holding back tears, Y/n gave him a hesitant nod to show it was ok.

Then, a new voice tore his gaze away from his crew. Looking out over the sea and to the clouds, a figure of familiarity seemed to take place within the clouds. Illusion or not, that was his wife.

Penelope. Odysseus took staggering steps across the shaking boat and to the edge. Both of his hands latched to the wooden railing, his eyes never moving from the clouded position of his partner. Memories flooded his judgment, from his crew and Y/n, to his family waiting for him. “Captain?” A voice of uncertainty spoke up. Eurylochus. The said captain couldn’t even dare face his right-hand man as the sky darkened and Penelope faded back to the clouds.

“I have to see her," Odysseus whispered, tears brimming in his eyes as he finally looked back at his crew. The general saw all of the hurt and betrayal in his men’s expressions. The fear hurt the most to see. “But we’ll die,” Eurylochus pleaded. Odysseus knew he would regret this option until his final breath. Once he got home, how would he tell Ctimene he was the cause of her husband's death? “I know,” Odysseus’ voice broke, a few stray droplets not belonging to the storm washed down his cheeks. 

At the end of those words, the thunder roared, and Zeus grinned evilly. Zeus rose above the clouds, lightning moving to gather in his raised hand.

“Thunder, bring her through the wringer.” The crew drew their weapons in defense, charging towards Odysseus with murderous intent. Y/n stood away from the fight, not daring to lift any sort of weapon against her best friend.

“Show her I'm the judgment call. The one who makes her kingdom fall. Lightning, wield her, use and yield her.” 

As the crew closed in on their captain, the air started to become tense and electrified. Y/n took a step back from the chaos, looking up to see a phenomenon of heavenly power. “Show her what she can’t conceal; her true nature will be revealed.”

A bright light enclosed the surrounding sky, ripping down to the center of the ship. In an instant, a deafening crack sounded, and all light faded to black. Y/n felt like her soul was being ripped apart as she opened her mouth to scream her pain, but no noise came out. Then she felt a drop, only to be brought into a suffocating embrace of cold. Finally, her mind cut out. ~~~~~ Y/n felt different. She didn’t sense the shivering water anymore, but instead a subtle warmth. It took a few minutes, but eventually she managed to peek open her eyes. Y/n wasn’t on a ship in the middle of the sea with the night sky above anymore, but instead there was a grand painting on the ceiling of white marble overhead. Looking around slowly, the young woman saw an unfamiliar scene.

A lavish bedroom surrounded her, furnishings a king could only dream of sitting like average decor in each nook and cranny. Moving her hands, Y/n felt the silk sheets of a glorious bed below her. Ivory blankets fell from her body as she slowly rose up from her position. Placing her feet on the cold marble flooring, the mortal stepped through the room. It wasn’t long before she found herself in front of a floor-length mirror. 

White and gold fabric draped down on her body—a dress fit for a goddess of divine origin. Confusion clouded her eyes as she scanned her new attire. That puzzlement was quickly replaced with fear as two wooden doors opened, revealing an even more confusing sight.

A tall man wearing a white toga entered the room without a care of knocking. Striding to where Y/n stood, she instinctively took steps back from him. “My dear, why do you back away?” The smile on his face was unnerving, especially with the nickname. Y/n recognized that voice immediately, terror coursing through her veins as her lips parted to let out a gasp.

“Zeus.”

The god in question continued to walk towards her with that two-faced smile until he backed the mortal into a wall. “Mmm, you’re as smart as you are beautiful,” he took her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. Y/n shuddered in disgust and fear; her heart raced faster than a chariot racer's steeds. She wanted to push him away, but her body felt locked in place. Y/n tried to speak, but her lips were closed tightly like a stone wall. “Hm, dear, I think I know a dress that’d fit your body much better. Let me help.”

~~~~~

Within only the second morning of the Heavenly Palace, Y/n had the overwhelming urge to jump off. But she wouldn’t be allowed such a pleasure with the god at her side. Zeus had taken it upon himself to guide the mortal on a tour through Olympus, which only influenced her thoughts. 

Y/n kept her eyes on Zeus every second. Not out of intrigue or anything of that sort, but of apprehension. Each movement of his that was near her direction, the mortal would tense up and pause everything. Soon enough, the king of Olypmus noticed and grinned with faux comfort. “Dear, you seem tense. Allow me to ease you.” ~~~~~ Day after day. Weeks after week. Zeus never let Y/n leave his side, threatening any god or goddess who even dared to give her a sympathetic glance. The woman was a shell of who she once was. Her eyes sunk and her soul depleted; she felt her life draining by the day. Not in mortality-wise, no Zeus would never let her perish. But in consideration of her spirit.

Each night she would cry until no more salt would leave, leaving only choking sobs. Each night she was infiltrated by the king of Olympus. Y/n would stare at herself in the mirror, vomit building in her throat as her eyes trailed down to every mark on her body. No spot was untouched. No matter how hard she tried, Y/n could never wash off the sin. The mortal would scrub her skin until she was raw and bleeding, but the phantom touches remained.

Each night she missed her home and friends more and more. Where was Odysseus now? Did he forget all about her when he returned to Ithaca? What about Penelope? Would she miss her best friend? 

Seven years. Seven years of misery, force, and agony. Seven years of physical and mental torture she endured to no fault.

But soon, like all stories, her savior arrived. ~~~~~

Athena stood in front of her father, spear and shield in hand, while staring into the king’s eyes murderously.

“I’ve played your game and won. Release them,” the goddess of wisdom demanded, shifting her gaze to where Y/n stood anxiously beside Zeus’ throne. The mortal had gone through so much, and Athena was determined to save her. 

Zeus glowered down at his daughter, rage covering his expression. “You dare to defy me? To make me feel shame?” He growled, his fists clenching so tight that his knuckles turned a bright alabaster. “No one beats me; no one wins my game!”

The lightning god stood up threateningly, his hands glowing a static yellow. “Thunder, bring her through the wringer!” The air was caught in Y/n’s throat at the familiar words, her eyes wide in horror. Zeus rose up, the electricity in his hands growing as the woman noticed the alarmed looks on the other god’s expressions. “Show her I’m the judgment call, the one who makes her kingdom FALL!” With a vociferous burst, he threw the lightning at his daughter, forcing her back onto the floor. Once the light faded, everyone looked to see the warrior lying face down, her body still as ice. “Is she dead?” the voice of her brother Ares asked hesitantly. Y/n thought back to every moment her and Odysseus had been with Athena. They were an unstoppable force together. Now though, Y/n only wanted to rush to the goddess side.  Before anyone could do anything, Athena struggled to her feet, holding her aegis in defense while pointing the spear tip to her father.

Zeus’ look of utter shock soon turned to rage at her defiance. In response, he sent a barrage of bolts towards his favorite child. Against this attack, the war patroness held her shield strong and pushed against the force, making her way to her father.

Finally, at the feet of the king, she grabbed his arm and fell to her knees.

“Let them go, please. Let them go.” Her plea was finished as the goddess collapsed, her breath slowing to a stop.

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and the Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader]

It's time for the wedding - and the wedding night. Emperor is going to make sure you will bear his offsprings by the end of the night. Tags and TW: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, loss of virginity, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator AO3

You weren’t saved from the humiliation of a public wedding. 

You weren’t saved the torture of picking the flowers as you were choosing the attire to your own funeral – and you weren’t saved your innocence by allowing yourself to ignore all the handmaidens and their horrible, disgusting picture books about penetration, pools of blood and hell that is saved between the legs of a man. 

“My condolences, dear princess. For your parents. And congratulations on your wedding. Our deepest hopes go to your coronation, Empress.” “From the king of South, we send our sheerest condolences. And congratulations on the wedding.” “May your parents rest in peace. And glory to the Emperor.” “Grief surely suits you, Dear Empress. As well as the crown.”

You think you might puke right in your royal garments, looking at all of the royal visitors. 

King Price of Southern Kingdom, with all of his knights – you do not know if you can find solace in the girl clinging to the hand of his masked knight, the stench of death filling you with calmness that you don’t know how to deal with. The girl is terrified, just like you – if you may, you’re probably the same age, that years of servitude grazing in the hands that are covered by the sheerest amounts of gloves. 

The lady – you don’t know her name, and you doubt that any woman in this hall is even allowed to have one other than her husband’s – is looking at you with understanding. You think you might actually die. 

— Lady Ryley? 

She smiles, and before you can go to her – hold her hands, ask her to disappear with you, maybe run away somewhere, you don’t even know where – the masked knight already drags her away, a firm hand on her shoulder. You’re alone, the weight of the royal robe is pinning you to the floor. 

You are dressed in black as the only form of rebellion – guests must assume you’re still mourning your parents, the grief in their eyes is mixed with congratulations on the Empire finally getting prospects of offspring – you hope you’d tore your womb from your body before König could lay his hands on you. Guests may assume that the wedding is a tab bit strange, maybe somewhat unusual for the emperor to marry someone of your status – tiny kingdom, no worthwhile resources, and almost zero prospects for trade. Maybe, you were the only treasure this kingdom ever had to sell so eagerly. 

König holds your hands because you know that you would try to run the second he is letting you go. You know he knows this, too. Guests may assume that he is being protective of his young wife – assassins aren’t unheard of in these places, after all, you were the empress now. The much smarter guests knew what kind of looks you gave him – perhaps, you had the best options at killing the notorious emperor right after he robbed you of the last remains of your dignity. 

You smile and wave like a damned pampered pigeon, pretty and useless, all dressed up in bows and black pearls, dark stones illuminating the depths of your despair – only the monster you had for a husband would even consider ordering a mourning dress this beautiful. You’re almost ashamed of wanting to paint it red – you almost feel bad while holding the butter knife and thinking about plunging it into your chest, ripping away all the delicate laces and ornaments that cut through your skin each time you breathe a bit too freely. 

— You look divine in this dress, meine Liebe. 

He smiles, you know he is – he didn’t forget about his damn hood even on his own wedding, but he holds you dearly, but he smiles with his eyes, an eerie sense of happiness that makes every guest shake in their seats. The Ruler of the Empire doesn’t smile. Not at his wife, who looks like she would rather kill herself, for sure – but he smiles as you say your wows, knowing full well you are not going to fulfill them, but he laughs when the priest stutters once you refused to say you do the first time – König has to squeeze your hands, reminding you of your place. Even your stubbornness has a limit, apparently. 

His lips are dry and chastity. 

König knows he can’t kiss you like he wants to – too many guests, too many pricks, thinking they have a look on his wife. If it weren’t for the admirers and desperate rulers of foreign lands, trying to force their songs and daughters to marry him out of a pathetic attempt at saving their countries, he wouldn’t even think about a public wedding. If it weren’t for the annoyance of constantly swatting the offers away, he would never allow the world to see you. Not how beautiful you look, not how pretty your eyes are, glistening with tears, not how much he just wanted to smother you with affection like there isn’t anyone around. 

Hells, if he knew so many people would accept the short notice for an invitation, he would invade their kingdoms while they were away at his wedding. 

König holds your face in his hands, the contrast between soft skin and his gloves is making you shiver – he pushes his hood up, even just for a little bit, and the only thing that is ever revealed to the audience is the scars on his chin and sudden dryness of his lips. He thought he overcame his childish anxiety when he was still a tiny bird stuck in his adolescence – but he looks at you, his pretty little princess, and his hands are shaking from the anticipation of a kiss. 

The guests will assume you’re crying because you love him so, so much. 

The Emperor knows better, kissing the tears from your lips like it was the sweetest treat around. 

*** You thought you were smart.

You really did. 

Such a slick motion, such an easy task – the girl coming with Knight Riley, the weak one, with trembling hands and face that spoke of innocence of lambs and with calloused hands of a fellow worker, took your hand as you were leaving. The veil of laughs and jokes about finally conceiving a worthy heir for the empire made you shiver from horror – and the girl swatted you to her side, a single sleight of hand putting…something in your palms. 

Some sort of plant – dried, smelling of something sweet and edible, flowers that would feel crispy on your tongue. She smiles softly, her hands are gentle on yours – she whispers in your ear before your respective monsters can catch you and throw you in their layers again. 

She said, it was mercy. 

She said, it would make -it- feel quick and easy. 

You hoped, it was a poison. 

It had to be, you wouldn’t accept anything else – the desire to die and fulfill the destiny of a loyal servant, the whispers of the god of dignified death – you may not see the sweetness of the afterlife with your Princess, but killing oneself to save their bodies from being violated is a worthy fate for any. You pushed the plant in your mouth as swiftly as possible, chewing on the dried grass and crispy flowers, hoping the effect would be immediate. 

You’re bathed and oiled like a pig for devour, short for the apple stuffed in your mouth – instead, you have forced a mouthful of wine, goblets after goblets. To ease the tension of the first night, the servants said, smiling understandably. You feel warm, you feel dizzy, you feel hellishly feverish, and it couldn’t be just from the alcohol – you close your eyes and hope that the plant took its way finally, releasing you from the shell of the mortal life. You’re dressed up in pretty garments, skimpy as something that the empress should never wear – you feel like a cheap whore when your skin is glossy with oils and decorated with flowers. 

Just before you started chewing on them too, your husband finally arrived. 

You hoped you’d be dead before ever seeing him naked again – but you’re forced to watch his muscles tense as the only thing saving his lack of dignity is the smallest ever piece of undergarments. It doesn’t help in hiding his arousal, the monstrosity between his legs. You knew you would have to die before he is ever putting anything in you – but you see the outline of his manhood, poking from the side of a simple cloth, and somehow, you feel hotter than before. 

You blame it on the wine, you blame it on the poison you took. The warmness is spreading in your tummy to your lower areas, forcing its way to moisture your garments, a wet spot, embarrassingly big for an Empress, is slowly spreading between your oiled, scented legs. You’re nothing but a feast for him, a pretty little snack – you knew how much he liked to eat, after all. What great talent he had in forcing your legs apart and showing his head between them, that sinful tongue of his speaking of prayers and soft little blasphemies in the sweetness of your maidenhood. 

— You’re burning, little princess. 

You hoped it’s the poison working. 

For a second, he placed his hand on your forehead and caressed it softly, accessing your temperature. For a second, the cold of his hands made you nuzzle into his palm like a cat that was fed nothing but the finest pieces of meat by the hand that was ready to skin it for its skin. For a second, you hoped that his embrace alone would be enough to kill you. 

If you die, which you must do, you wish it would be with his hands holding you softly. 

— A virgin fewer? I thought you’d know what we’re going to do by now, little prin…

— Don’t stop be from dying. 

You let go of those words before you could claim your silence. 

König’s hands are grasping you immediately, a finger lays in your mouth, making you gag – you open your lips from instinct, no matter how much you want to stop him from ever entering your mouth. He is weirdly smooth with you, the other hand going to grab your waist and press you on the bed – like you ever had a chance to stand against him and run away. Like he didn’t have a row of guards just outside the door. 

— Dying? Scheisse, dumme What did you do? 

He quickly grasped your tongue, the traces of the flower still lingered on your teeth, on the further corners of your mouth – you didn’t know if you had to spit it out or eat it whole, and you didn’t want to guess in the matters of death and loss of dignity. You gag on his fingers as he laughs – an unusual sound. First, the smiles and happiness in his voice, the rings and chains he put you in, and now laugh? Perhaps you died already, and this is your eternal damnation. 

— Let go of me! You have no…

— Were you still so scared, Liebling? 

— I wasn’t…what do you mean, Your Highness? 

The title is good, the title puts some distance between you and him. Only imaginary – he is still as close as possible, hands on your body, wiping the traces of the flowers on the silk sheets and holding you in his embrace again, as tight as he possibly can. You feel ill, you feel hot, every time he puts his hands on you, you can feel your core throbbing, the poison making you dizzy and dumb. 

You almost feel like begging him to touch you again – and again, and again. König, for one, can’t wait to watch. 

— I wonder where you got it. Such a clever Katzen, ja? Eating aphrodisiacs before her wedding night, like I would just mount you like an animal without preparing my wife? 

He laughs and laughs, hand in your hair, petting you gently like you truly were a cat. You’re dumbfounded, the fewer makes everything make less and less sense. You close your eyes, you open your eyes – you feel him on you. Looking, watching, observing, you want him to stop, and you want him to rip away those stupid garments and touch you, as he did in that dim hallway, to push his masterful, sinful tongue down your folds and treat you like a…

You whimper as you fell on the sheets, truly embracing the cat in-heat stance you were for the last few minutes. You roll on the sheets, smooth silk makes your core cool just a bit, the pressure only building with each time you try to hump the sheets, not caring anymore if you were behaving like an animal. 

Perhaps, the Knight’s maiden really wanted to make everything easier for you – just in her own way. 

— Wh…what have you done to me? 

He is bracing his hands between your legs, lingering touches on the wetness of your garments, making you both shiver in anticipation. He is forcing his tongue on you, the immediate pressure making you meow from the sensation. You hate it, you hate it, you have to hate it because if you don’t, then what the hell are you even doing. It’s too much and too little, it does nothing to relief the warmth between your legs, only making you wetter with each stroke of his wide, warm tongue. — I haven’t done anything, little princess. You just want me. 

— I would never want you. 

— I can stop. 

You snap your legs around his neck before he can withdraw his face. 

König is laughing, the sheer adorableness of your expression making him want you even more. You look perfect, so lost in desire for him – gods, he just wanted to devour you, to strip you of all you worth and make you his just as much as he is yours. But simply pleasing you with his tongue won’t ever be enough for this night – he had waited for so long, too long, disgustingly long, he had to have you in every way possible. If he won’t consummate the marriage today, he might as well just die. 

Other night, he will make you beg – plead for him to give you his cock, push the throbbing member in your trembling folds, snap the pleasure from your hands and force you to accept being his wife. The other night, he could wait and tease you for as long as possible. The other night…

He doesn’t have the patience for this night – he can’t even kiss you now, the mere feeling of your trembling lips would snap him beyond repair. It’s unfair to you, little princess, his desire is too much for someone like you to take – alas, he has to have you. Alas, he will have you, one way or the other, even if he’d have to push your pretty head into the pillows and force his manhood between your folds. 

But you plead for him, the desire in your eyes, mixed with fear and anticipation, is enough for him to laugh again, his hand squeezing your chest. You look divine, absolutely – you would look even better when properly bred, tits full of milk, and belly swollen with his little soldiers. Emperor never thought of getting an offspring, always knew his fate was to fall into obscurity with the country he created, but you have wide hips, a soft belly, and warm hands – all the requirements of a mother. But you have the submissiveness of a pet and the wit of a wife. 

But he can’t wait to push his seed into you – with a groan, before you could even lay your eyes on his cock, he is already forcing it in, ravaging all the resistance you once had. 

The plant made you warm, aroused, and wet enough to be dripping when he first pushed his cockhead between your glistening folds. You cry, the feeling of being intruded, ravaged, bot entirely painful, but now very pleasant either, is nothing you were expecting of the first night with your husband. You were expecting screaming, pools of blood, half of your organs falling out from the newly made hole between your legs. 

You just feel…intruded. The knot in your stomach is as tight as ever, even as König gives you a few minutes to adjust, the outline of his manhood throbbing in your tummy. You don’t even want to look at him, and he allows you to drift into a trance, the aphrodisiac you took doing all the job of preparation for him. 

He is feeling you, raw and sensitive, your maidenhood is dripping down your thighs and his cock as he wasn’t exactly gentle – he will be the next night, and the night after, and after, he will promise to take care of you, little princess, but this night is about taking what belongs to him – and he will never allow you to keep your dignity when you can simply be his dumb, adorable wife. 

— You’re so…heavens, princess, you’re strangling me. 

He laughs, struggling to push in and out, his hand finding its place on your folds, playing and tugging with your swollen little clit. The bud is wet, no matter the pain you’re experiencing – the drug won’t allow you to stop wanting it, wanting him, König knows it’s not genuine, he has to work to make you this aroused, but for now, it will work. He doesn’t want you to feel pain – and he will make sure you’re able to take him. 

— Too much, it’s…stop, wait, I am…

— You can take it, Schatzi. 

— I can’t! — You will. 

You whimper under him, you cry under him, he only continues to move, tearing your loyalty to your kingdom with each harsh thrust. You came to this room wanting to die, but now you feel your hands wrapping around his neck, your hips buckling to meet his, to bring the overcoming pleasure like König isn’t the one to tear you apart – you feel raw, you feel tainted, the pleasure in your folds is nothing what you ever had before. 

You’re betraying yourself with each moan and each whimper – you find yourself begging for him, the tears of yours is not just from pain anymore. He kisses you, rough lips on your mouth, making sure you’re as prepared for him as he is, you want for him to stop, but you plead with him to continue. 

— Stop already…I…

— I only came twice, little princess. And you – trice. Doesn’t feel fair, ja? — ‘s not, I can’t take it anymore…

— I will breed you, Schatzen. Until you’re swollen with my sons. — It w…won’t be royal children…

— Ach, my blood is enough to make a dog royal. — But…

— I will breed you, little princess. You can stop pretending you don’t want it.

You’re not even sure at what orgasm you are already – you feel like he came already, the wetness in your cunt should be evident of his already breeding you quite a few times, but the time is a blur when every time you cum, your vision blurs and your brain becomes foggier and foggier. 

König knows you will look perfect, all thoughtless and swollen with his children – not now, maybe, with a few elixirs to enhance your ability to bear children, but he can’t wait till you’re done. You might not like it at first, princesses do tend to be just a bit dumb when it comes to their duties, but there is something in your eyes that is telling him you’re going to bring him sons just like a good girl you are. Just like he expects you to do, your pretty tummy all swollen, and your body is barely handling the passion of his lovemaking. Gods, he knew you would be worth it. Even if, to his knowledge, you’re not a princess at all.

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #10

(#) = Notes at end of post

TW: mentions of human experimentation and blood

✦

The Sapphire Stone Sits Highest on the Throne

The GIW have done the unthinkable. They've captured Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms and ruler of all who reside within it. The government organization tortured and experimented on Danny so much and for so long that Danny was forced to recede into his core. While a ghost's core is relatively strong by itself --only another ghost of similar strength could shatter it-- it's also extremely vulnerable to misuse if left in the wrong hands.

The GIW use the King's core to ravage Amity Park --uncaring if human citizens got in their way-- as well as the Ghost Zone itself. The Ancients combine their efforts to search for the lost, little king, desperately trying to find Danny's core and take it back from the blood and ectoplasm stained hands of the agents. As a result of their dogged search, the Ancients bring worldwide destruction down upon the Earth in their hunt for every single white suit agent remaining, scurrying from one hiding place to another like rats in the walls of a dilapidated house.

One by one, almost every agent was hunted down and bound in unbreakable chains of ice, awaiting their trials for the atrocities they committed against the Infinite Realms and its King. The only one left is the leader of the organization itself, the one who holds Danny's core. The leader, however, is extremely slippery and has managed to evade capture for months now, going so far as to throw their own men to the wolves if it meant an easy escape with the jewel-blue heart of a scared, grieving, and injured child.

At this point though, the Ancients have caused so much destruction and natural disasters, that the Justice League has no choice but to step in. At first, the JL actively try to fight the Ancients, not fully understanding the situation but having little luck in actually hitting any of them regardless. It isn't until John Constantine runs onto the battlefield like a bat out of hell and skids to a stop right smack dab in the middle of the fight that things change. He's out of breath, his hair is in disarray, he smells heavily of smoke and alcohol, and that's definitely a still fresh coffee stain on his weather beaten trenchcoat along with red blood painting his knuckles.

Normally, one small human wouldn't be able to stop the wrath of the Ancients when they've set their sights on something. This instance, however, was very different. As Constantine raised his hands up towards the rampaging Ancients about to unleash their fury on the JL, one thing managed to capture every single one of their attention.

That being the weakly glowing, sapphire-like core held in one of Constantine's outstretched hands(1 & 2) and the faint, echoing cries of a child begging the Ancients to put an end to the carnage they've unleashed upon the world.

✦

Notes:

(1) Constantine gives little explanation on how he got his hands on Danny's core. Little do the JL know, it was just pure, dumb luck. He ran into the leader of the GIW right as the bastard was leaving a coffee shop. Coffee got spilled all over Constantine and, being slightly drunk off his ass, he decides to deck the person in the pretentious white suit and knocks him out in one shot. Constantine's about to walk away when he hears a child crying. He finds Danny's core in one of the downed guy's pockets and has a panic attack when he immediately realizes what it is. Danny explains what's going on and Constantine books it towards where he can sense a large amount of necrotic energy gathering. The rest is history.

(2) ALSO, sapphire is a pretty significant gem. According to the internet, the sapphire symbolizes wisdom, royalty, prophecy and divine favour. It's a symbol of power and strength, but also of kindness and wise judgement. Which just fits Danny PERFECTLY in this prompt, imo.

[sweet-caress-of-twilight]

Disney Animated Canon Dashboard Simulator

🦁 a-mighty-king Follow

How do I look?

🦌 a-life-in-the-woods Follow

mid

🦁 a-mighty-king Follow

That's why your mom is dead

🦌 a-life-in-the-woods Follow

ik you're not talking when your uncle killed your dad 💀be so fr rn

🦁 a-mighty-king Follow

moots you have 24 hours to unfollow a-l*fe-in-t*e-w**ds

🧞‍♂️ phenomenal-cosmic-power Follow

geez, wanna buy some vowels?

🦁 a-mighty-king Follow

how dare you say we piss on the poor

#classism tw

🧞‍♂️ phenomenal-cosmic-power Follow

I'm not classist, my best pal is a street rat

🐭 rescue-aid-society-official Follow

Actually, we prefer the term "mouse" - Bernard

🧞‍♂️ phenomenal-cosmic-power Follow

I don't believe it, another "piss on the poor" moment? I'm not even talking about you dawg 💀

⚡️ b01t Follow

...

🥖 one-jump-ahead Follow

actually I wouldn't mind being pissed on

🌺 jasmine-like-the-flower Follow

AYO?

📖 milo-thatch Follow

#aladdin horny heritage posts

💛 more-than-this-provincial-life Follow

h

💪 roughly-the-size-of-a-barge Follow

I SHOWED YOU MY COCK IN DMS PLEASE RESPOND

💪 roughly-the-size-of-a-barge Follow

I CAN'T BELIEVE I'VE BEEN BLOCKED BY BELLE ANYWAYS DNI IF YOU STAN THE BEAST

🕯 b3-0ur-gu3st Follow

#THE BEAST SWEEP

💪 roughly-the-size-of-a-barge Follow

shut your goofy ass up before I melt you

😜 yaa-hoo-hoo-hooey Follow

Gawrsh, did someone mention me?

🐤 d0n4ld-duck Follow

hes not talking about you you big palooka

😜 yaa-hoo-hoo-hooey Follow

Actually, you're supposed to put an apostrophe in the word "he's"

🐤 d0n4ld-duck Follow

GAHHHHHHH WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA?

💚 theboywhowouldntgrowup Follow

adults are so annoying like go pay your taxes grandpa 🙄

🏴‍☠️ theworldsmostfamouscrook Follow

You are a minor who knows nothing about the world. You are the ugly one here. I can make YOU shut up but I suggest you one thing. You don't want to deal with a devil like me.

🐊 tiktokcrok Follow

Hi

🏴‍☠️ theworldsmostfamouscrook Follow

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

🏴‍☠️ theworldsmostfamouscrook Follow

moots please tw crocodiles

💎 m4d4m-m3dus4 Follow

BOO

🏴‍☠️ theworldsmostfamouscrook Follow

THIS IS THE LAST STRAW MEDUSA!!!!!11 I'M BREAKING THE MUTUAL!!1111!!

🐚 p00r-unf0rtun4t3-s0u1s Follow

And this, my darlings, is why we don't put our triggers out in public

💜 m3g4r4 Follow

Hercules save me

💜 m3g4r4 Follow

Hercules

💜 m3g4r4 Follow

save me Hercules

💪 zer02hero Follow

Never fear, I'm on my way!

💪 roughly-the-size-of-a-barge Follow

Nice pfp bro

💪 zer02hero Follow

254.421.81.132

🛐 a-righteous-man Follow

uhm,,,,this entire dashboard is rife with sin and degeneracy. Do you all have no shame?

🐐 esme-and-djali Follow

fiwruehfiuerhgiuerhughgeuyrhg

🐐 esme-and-djali Follow

Sorry that was Djali typing anyway OP literally tried to burn me at the stake for being Romani????

🛐 a-righteous-man Follow

And I would do it again to cleanse the world of your wickedness! You flaunt your heresy and expect us to applaud?

🐐 esme-and-djali Follow

how about you keep that energy when you look in the mirror? cause last i checked, your obsession with me wasn’t exactly “holy”

🛐 a-righteous-man Follow

You dare speak to me of obsession? I shall have you blocked and reported from this webbed site!

🐐 esme-and-djali Follow

lol ok

🛐 a-righteous-man Follow

DO NOT SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY! YOU SHALL ANSWER TO DIVINE JUDGMENT!

🐐 esme-and-djali Follow

frollo got termed lmao sucks to suck

🔥 officialhades Follow

that sucks, i was gonna invite him to my place for a BBQ

🔮 th3-gre4t-and-powerful Follow Why do I always wake up to the chaos of this dashboard? I need coffee and Kuzco's head on a platter.

🦙 realemperorkuzco Follow

tf is u doing ur really killing my groove here :(

🔮 th3-gre4t-and-powerful Follow

Get off of my dash.

🦙 realemperorkuzco Follow

u havent blocked me tho

🎢 pull-teh-lever Follow Uh, Yzma, are we still making spinach puffs for dinner? Asking for a friend.

🩶 bear-nessities Follow

Hi guys, this is my first post here! Good vibes only!

📖 milo-thatch Follow

Unfortunately, there appears to be a spelling error in your username. It is supposed to be "necessities."

🩶 bear-nessities Follow

🤓🤓🤓🤓

🏄🏾‍♀️ 0hana-means-family Follow

Guys, I have a theory: I think Baloo and Little John are the same person. I mean, have we ever seen them online at the same time?

🦊 stealfr0mtehrich Follow

You know, Little John did get termed recently....

🦊 g00dby3-may-seem-4ever Follow

Nice pfp

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Thanks, I stole it from you

#oodelally

😴 br1arr0se Follow

🦁 a-mighty-king Follow

Um this is extremely offensive to people who have been put under sleeping spells??????

🍎 myprincecame Follow

Excuse me, Simba, but Aurora has been putting under a sleeping spell, as have I. Please don't spread negativity here :(

🍎 myprincecame Follow

plsushthepostistreu - Sleepy

🦁 a-mighty-king Follow

you know that by being sleepy, you're appropriating the culture of those who have been put under sleeping spells?????

🥖 one-jump-ahead Follow

so...just fuck being tired, I guess?

🍎 myprincecame Follow

Please no profanity on my posts, Aladdin :(

🎩 un81rthd4y Follow

anyone in this thread smoke weed

[eldritch-spouse]

I'm leaning shakily against my weapon. I'm bruised, bloodied, and my clothes are in shambles. The once disgraced King of Wrath is cackling at his victory, he steps towards me.

“Go fuck yourself” is the last the last thing I say before I collapse.

TW: Mild gore; Implied noncon.

He's in his own Heaven.

A disgustingly depraved Eden painted in tones of coppery crimson and the distinct stench of viscera. His "angels" swarm the arena, loyalists roaring for the valiant comeback of their righteous King, and the fools who had been swayed aside get torn asunder, as they should be.

The screaming, animal-like wailing, the zip of claws on flesh and splatter of guts on the ground and the woosh of weapons swinging- This is music. A symphony, Kalymir's flawless melody filling the skies of Wrath as things are set right anew. Even so, even so empowered by the rage and adrenaline permeating the air like a thick coat- All Kaly really listens to is your erratic, bubbling breaths. The way your throat wheezes and scratches in a desperate attempt to let your compressed lungs work. The whimpers you try so hard to mask.

You're a divine vision like this, mangled and undone on the ground, limbs twisted like a child's broken doll, caked in your own gore, broken. Completely and utterly physically broken. Keyword being physically. Even at death's doors, your spirit still rages on like the wildfire the demonlord has always known it to be. And at the same time some part of him is angry that you do not publically beg for his mercy, another one is much happier that Kalymir will get all the time in the world to find out what really makes you scream in terror.

The thought of it. Ohhh just the thought of dragging your worthless husk of a body to his mansion, your trail of blood painting the streets with his victory... Doing whatever he wants to your defeated self, healing you just enough for you to put up a mockery of a fight so he can prolong your punishment- Because you deserve it, you've been a bad little whore and you've caused him a lot of trouble...

Fuck, he's so hard he could cum with a mere brush.

Kalymir leans down to your level, a ruthless rictus upon his garish visage mocking you further as he listens to your pitiful attempt at upsetting him.

" AND WHY WOULD I DO THAT- " He starts, drooling as you start to pass out. " WHEN I CAN FUCK YOU NOW? YOU'LL MAKE A GREAT COCKSOCK. "

[stay-midnight]

Unreleased Draft #3 • Heart to Heart

King of Hearts! Felix x Royal Gardener! Reader

Synopsis from what I can remember • The king is quite angry because of a certain someone, but noticed an unfamiliar worker in the garden and therefore demands the guard to bring him here to sate his curiosity.

A/N • This is in the bottom of my drafts, constructed sometime in Feb of 2021 which I was in like 4 months of writing I think? 😭 This was my planned valentine special but I had a hard time during that time to make world build this cuz I'm only slightly familiar with Alice in Wonderland but extremely fascinated by so I tried making an AiW inspired fic but genderbent, as you can see instead of Alice, the name said was Alister! TWs - mention of execution and oh its really short again 😭

Author Ratings:

Plot/Creativity - 8.5/10, higher than Divine Amusement cuz I actually wanna see how it unfolds in a way and Felix being a dictator seems like an interesting idea for some reason?!?!?! I can imagine him saying "Off with their head" in his deep voice also I just love Alice in wonderland themes so yeah! Writing Skill / Style: Despite being the oldest draft it's surprisingly good 5.5/10 (honestly much better than Snowswept Tails imo but st has a better thought of plot overall though). Writeability - 8/10 would defo want to write this and my imagination could handle it ig! Just needs a little bit research on Alice in Wonderland.

Your body shook in shock as you almost dropped the glass watering can due to the king’s angry roar being heard around the castle, “Just another normal day...” you murmur, continuing watering the plants and the dandelions.

While inside the castle’s meeting room:

“For fuck’s sake! All I ask is that stupid Alister’s head served in a silver platter!” he shouted angrily as the knight’s lips quivered, trying to find the right words to say. “If he is not fucking here tied up and ready to be executed by next Saturday then one of you will take his place you hear me?!” Felix warned dangerously in his deep voice

The knights all fixed their posture and bowed. “Yes, your majesty!” they said in unison, leaving as they were dismissed by a seething king.

Back in the royal garden:

You wonder what got the king so heated up this early morning, you said humming in curiousity as you finished watering the last batch. You sighed, slowly walking towards the gardening shed and as you were looking around, you noticed someone standing on the east balcony of the castle. You took a closer look and squint your eyes hoping to see the silhouette properly.

White hair with a faintly red streaks and royal robes could it be—

You blink twice and saw that it was indeed King Lee Felix, you flinched as you saw him stare back at you, at this you bowed and instantly run to the shed, spouting curses because that was dangerous.

It was dangerous enough to be at the presence of him, but locking eyes with him? Bad luck will run around you since that was what the King is, dangerous and powerful, a living source of bad luck due to a snap of his fingers will get you sent straight to the guillotine.

You grumbled hopelessly, a bit scared, hopefully he forgot...

.

At the sight of the man running, Felix scrunched his eyebrows,

‘‘Who was that?’’

He commanded a guard to bring him who’s in charge of taking care of the garden today. The guard instantly fixed his slouched posture and nodded repeatedly, “O-Of course, your Majesty..” he bowed before running somewhere.

He deemed the male quite interesting.

.

[vintagetvstars]

Carol Cleveland Vs. Nichelle Nichols

Propaganda

Carol Cleveland - (Monty Python's Flying Circus) - another hilarious comedy lady without whom python would 100% not have worked

Nichelle Nichols - (Star Trek) - She speaks for herself. Legendary, iconic, at the forefront of feminism and civil rights in the 60s, she is a triple threat who did so much more. She volunteered from 1977 to promote recruitment diversity within NASA, including some of the first female and ethnic minority astronauts. Martin Luther King Jr. compared her work on Star Trek as a 'vital role model' to the civil rights marches. She refused to be dismissed, fought for visibility and shone whilst doing so. As a woman in stem, and simply a woman she means the world and stars above to me.

Master Poll List of the Hot Vintage TV Ladies Bracket

Additional propaganda below the cut

Carol Cleveland:

TW: 3rd pic is a little NSFW probably don't view this at work

Nichelle Nichols:

She is the original badass babe. She was a black woman in a leading role on TV in the 60s, a trailblazer for black actresses for years to come. She is so beautiful and so awesome.

she's fantastic. have you seen her? paved the way for black actresses on TV even while her lines and scenes were being cut and improvised the most iconic uhura line in the series. (sulu: "I'll save you, fair maiden!" uhura, pushing him away: "sorry, neither!") she's incredibly talented and it's a crime the show didn't give her more screen time (or make her sing more often because she also has a beautiful voice!)

“Sorry, neither” in response to “fair maiden” was ad libbed by her. There’s a lot more I could say but what else do you need??

A sci-fi icon!

She was such a trailblazer, and Uhura was such an important character for so many people to be able to see on TV. Apparently Mae Jemison (the first African American woman to go into space) cited her as a reason she wanted to become an astronaut. She was just an absolute legend!

The story of Martin Luther King telling her not to quit Star Trek gives me chills. Representation matters. “Thank you so much, Dr. King. I’m really going to miss my co-stars.” Dr. King's smile, Nichols recalled, vanished from his face. "He said, 'What are you talking about?'" the actress explained. "I told him. He said, 'You cannot,' and so help me, this man practically repeated verbatim what Gene said. He said, 'Don’t you see what this man is doing, who has written this? This is the future. He has established us as we should be seen. 300 years from now, we are here. We are marching. And this is the first step. When we see you, we see ourselves, and we see ourselves as intelligent and beautiful and proud.' He goes on and I’m looking at him and my knees are buckling. I said, 'I…, I…' And he said, 'You turn on your television and the news comes on and you see us marching and peaceful, you see the peaceful civil disobedience, and you see the dogs and see the fire hoses, and we all know they cannot destroy us because we are there in the 23rd Century.'"

She shared the first interracial kiss on Star Trek, helped propel real life African American women into space-related careers, and looks divine in a mini skirt.

HOW DID UHURA WALK BACKWARDS SO FAR??? WOW!

[ofallthingsnasty]

tw excessive violence, reader is gn but kinda masc coded

When it turns out you're Doflamingo's soulmate, he is beyond angry. Not someone equal to his standing, not a lesser noble, not someone with even a smidge of power - no. Just you, a peasant. With an unassuming face, hands that have seen many a day of hard work but never blood, you’re entirely useless to him. Oh, he wants to strangle you with that red string that connects you, wants to kill you for the audacity of being born into nothing but dreck (and he could, he thinks, he could. Not with the red but the gossamer one that springs from each fingertip). He feels like he needs to watch the blood pearl through the skin of your throat just to spite fate who brought a pig to his altar instead of another king.

But he doesn’t. For some strange reason, he doesn’t. Maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s the way you take his kicks so well when he shoves you to the floor and crushes your windpipe with a lacquered shoe, it doesn’t matter. He spares your life and simply takes you with him, not able to look at you for weeks after. Now he can see how foolish he was back then, now he knows what a blessing you actually are, how he let his emotions cloud his judgment.

You were made for him. The only thing in this world that is truly and entirely bound to him - blood can betray him, chosen family can run far and wide and return with sharpened knives to thank him for his years of help, but you - you can’t even lift a finger to paw at the hand that chokes you. You can only take, take, take - take the hits, the beatings, the violence, the frustration. You’re so utterly and devastatingly perfect for him that he wouldn’t be surprised if you grew back a limb he cut off in another fit rage. His loyal dog, cowering by his side, his whipping boy, shouldering all of his frustrations, you’re everything all at once.

Fate has been brutal to him, more so than to anyone else - to fall from living godhood right into obscurity, into the dust he had to rise from again, all because of the stupidity of his own father. But it also gave him a piece of divinity back, made him the only god you’ll ever know in your life, a cruel roundelay you’ll have to dance, dance, dance until the day you drop dead.

[sadly-in-active]

Can you write some hcs of Affogato Cookie x Clotted Cream Cookie?

Ofc honey (I’m so tired and I need this boost of creativity and confidence)

AffoClotted hcs

Summary: After making a secret alliance with the Créme Republic’s very own Consul, he now stays within Clotted Cream Cookie’s mansion. The two get a bit closer then expected. Hell, Affogato Cookie thought that this would give him an advantage to have a personal relationship with the Consul…but then he got attached as well and shit took a turn.

TW: Why is all of this just bickering, these idiots need to get a room and make out, too much tension for their own good, swearing, failed manipulation because Affogato is actually pathetic now, Clotted Cream gets internalized homophobia and hates it, Dark Cacao tries to abuse both (and fails)

Also personal hc that Affogato is pansexual and transmasc, and Clotted Cream is bi but fails to hide it

Whores istg /j (This was the thing I use to start all my drafts)

—

So, after Clotted Cream finds a completely vulnerable and pathetic ex-royal advisor, he knew that one, Affogato could be using this little alliance as a way to regain power, or two, he was actually really interested in living with the Consul and actually having a house again. Yeah, Clotted Cream realized that it was both.

During the meeting when Clotted Cream was first introduced to the Ancients, Affogato was with him, yet…preferred to stay on the airship for a bit longer. He actually had to be pried off of it by Financier because he was still genuinely nervous about seeing Dark Cacao and getting even more of a punishment because he showed his face to the King.

Luckily, when Dark Cacao saw Affogato, the oh-so heroic Consul shielded Affogato (begrudgingly, but he couldn’t show that) from any threats that the King of the Black Citadel wanted to enact on the ex-advisor. And don’t worry, Clotted Cream also defended Affogato’s sorry ass! Y’know the drill, saying that he was “reformed” and trying to become better under the eyes of the Divines! (Yeah, like Affogato believed in that dumb light stuff. Clotted Cream was also kinda coming up with stuff on the spot, but he managed to maintain that cool and composed demeanor for most of the time.)

I kinda forgot what else happened in the Cookie Odyssey so let’s actually get onto the silly ship part of it!

—

Clotted Cream practically begged Affogato to sleep in the guest room, but our dear little ex-advisor merely shook his head and had that bastard grin of his. So yeah, they were sharing a bed the entire time. Totally normal, I know. They were roommates after all… 😘

They bicker…a lot. Usually, Clotted is tryna settle the situation down, but as soon as Affogato says some kind of petty insult and has that TOTALLY charming rolled eyes, expect the ex-advisor to be picked up by Clotted Cream’s coat belts and practically thrown onto the guest bed. Awh, so sad… 😞 But don’t worry, because Affo sneaks back into the Consul’s room anyways and snuggles up to him. After all, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer~ (they HAVE to make out)

Clotted Cream is probably good at flirting (probably.) but when he’s around Affogato and the teasing cocky bitch whispers some kind of flirty joke, he can’t help but feel REALLY flustered, even though he tries his best not to show it, he’s really a nervous wreck.

The Consul gets a bunch of internalized homophobia, probably due to Elder Custard being a bitch and super toxic. Especially with the idea that an esteemed politician like him would be following all the rules and stuff about this kind of thing…

Affogato already saw the look on his face. Ah yes, that look of “Wait, is this right or am I just a fool?” kind of look. During one time when Clotted Cream had that look again while filling out paperwork on his desk, Affogato creeped up behind, took the Consul’s chin, and gently but teasingly pressed his lips against Clotted’s for a second, before smirking proudly.

“Well? Are you still getting those…frankly boring and negative thoughts, or are you too shocked by me?”

Clotted never said anything in that moment, his eyes wide and a deep blush appearing on his face. In that moment…well, I think he probably forgot, since it all happened so quick. But Affogato definitely remembered it. Of course he could recall the way the Consul pulled him closer, tugging on his hair and letting out a few breathy sighs as he did so.

…well, they certainly got a room, didn’t they?

[james-vi-stan-blog]

to your knowledge, did King James ever abuse George in some way? I’ve seen people throw that word around

tw abuse, child abuse, coercion, violence against animals and stuff

It depends on what you mean by abuse. If you consider a severely power-differentiated relationship abuse, then the whole thing is abusive, but also every interpersonal relationship in the 17th century is abusive.

I don’t know of any reported instance of James hitting George, nor of overt sexual coercion (though we know very little about their bedroom life, such as it is possible for historians to argue that they never had sex, although this is a minority view now). James was VERY into marrying off his courtiers, including his favorites, and when George married Katherine, while James still expected George to be constantly at his side, he encouraged them to go at it and make babies. Most of James’s favorites seem to have transitioned out of sleeping with him, and he remained very affectionate with them. Also, remember how James called Carr not wanting to sleep with him “a mere unkindness”? He was hurt, and I read those words as being whiny and guilt trip-y, but it’s not like he was demanding constant service. (Also, many historians think George was probably not having sex with James towards the end of James’s reign simply because James was very sick. Yet this is the period of James’s most intensely romantic letters.)

James, we should remember, hated violence (at least between humans) and had trauma over being shouted at. This doesn’t mean he would never perpetuate it. He did have a temper (nothing like Henry VIII levels though). He led armies, personally oversaw torture, sentenced people to brutal death, etc. — although in this period these would be seen as just actions that a moral king should do, protecting his people against criminals and outlaws. James was popularly criticized for being too soft.

There is an oft-repeated story about him trying to strike a teenage Henry Frederick with his cane during a hunt. This would have been considered acceptable discipline for a father to mete on his son, if “justified” by bad behavior. However, Henry Frederick simply rode off and most of the hunting party went with him, signaling that the prince was more popular than the king and James was not considered justified in this case. (Though, I heard this story told once where HENRY FREDERICK is the one who tried to hit JAMES.)

James and George did argue with raised voices, James publically snubbed George during problem periods of their relationship, but I don’t know that these would really be “abuse” rather than conflict. There is the aspect of the power differential, where George has to grovel and apologize to get James to forgive him, because James was the king. However, James very readily gave his forgiveness (and not just to George, he was generally very eager to forgive any of his friends or favorites for anything if they promised him their love).

Robert Carr DID yell at James, and the main thrust of James’s extremely long feelingsdump letter to him was that he felt hurt and betrayed that Carr wanted to “hold him by awe” (fear) “rather than by love”. So James felt Carr was controlling him by threats and angry outbursts, which James resented, saying that he would do anything for Carr for love, but if he felt he was being taken for granted and Carr was bullying him, that that love would swiftly turn to hate.

(Of course, we must remember that James was a divine right king, so we should be suspicious of his characterization of Carr’s behavior. When James is this massively entitled, such that he genuinely thinks it is a religious sin to resist his will, is he correctly perceiving this situation? Is he overreacting to a relatively modest drawing of boundaries by Carr? I’m inclined to think James genuinely felt betrayed and Carr really was yelling at him and scaring him, but we can’t fully trust James’s perspective.)

So, the short answer is, I don’t know of any instance between James and George that is unambiguously abuse, although of course their whole relationship is colored by power and manipulation. But I’m not a historian or biographer or anything. I’m just a James enjoyer, constantly learning new things, so there could have been an instance somewhere, I simply haven’t learned of it yet.

In the Mary & George trailer, there’s an instance of James wiping George’s face with blood, but this is not from violence against humans; this is a ritual of the deer hunt, where the leader of the hunt (James) marks his companions with the fresh blood of the kill. So this is an act of favor and weird homoerotic intimacy rather than violence towards George.

[corvuschriisti]

into a white & soundless place.

!!! (tw for bone breaking, mutilation) !!!

You would have thought death would feel different.

Technically speaking, it's not your body that's dying, is it? You've established that this realm is not yours, correct? If Reyson was not real, if Python and Diarmuid and Harken were not real -- then you surely cannot be either. Then why does everything feel so...

It starts off as a game. Forsyth looks filled with rage and you can tell that he knows; somehow, the green knight has divined that you were indeed the one to smother Python in his sleep. To be there with his last breath.

Yarne looks between you and you also know that he's trying. He's just a boy -- and you wonder: did you look like that when you were just a nestling, too?

Through doors and crooked alleyways you all cram your bodies against stone and rot and vines and shadows. You hold onto Byleth's hand and find a familiar warmth, it comes not from the professor but from that which radiates above you.

He glows. He is cold indifference, the way a god might look down upon its worshippers. You do not know if you have even knelt at Reyson's alter, but you do know that you have found salvation between the strands of gold, the spaces between fingers. It is not yours to keep -- fleeting creature that you are: your place of worship is wrought with lies and filth and betrayal.

( It is not the memories of Harken's murder. Of Diarmuid's beheading. It's the memory of turning to Reyson, eyes wet with something that's not-quite tears, a desperate reaching out -- the words "I love you" spoken for the first time ever... that is what distracts you. )

And it snaps. Snap, crunch, break. There is a space on a bird's bones that hinges right near the fold, where the humerus meets the radius and ulna, that crushes.

You're usually so much more careful. Oh, stupid, stupid, hated thing.

It sets off a ripple effect, cracking to the first digit. The pain you feel in your body is more than anything you've ever experienced. And still:

"Reyson..."

It's aimless. You've lost Forsyth and Yarne, and you are slowed through thin, suffocating tunnels. You cannot fly with a broken wing. So, you reach.

( Because he is a bright light. He is everything you wish you could be. He is a home, even if he lost his own. He is where you want to settle your weary head. )

If you cannot be like the hawk king, then you cannot be worthy of a heron. And you will never, ever be like the hawk king.

You reach, and suddenly you are him. You are something divine and holy once again, much like you were in the fight. You can feel his hatred burn you from the inside out, and you wonder if this is your punishment.

If anyone should get to close your eyes forever, it should be Reyson. And thusly: he does.

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

2, 3, and 23 for Tansy!

Hehehe thank you for giving me a chance to talk about my most troubled daughter. TW for discussions of cannibalism, suicide, and religious trauma.

2. What’s something about your OC that people wouldn’t expect just from looking at them?

Well, for Tansy, the immediate and obvious answer is “she’s a necromancer” haha.

I’m still hammering out the exact lore on necromancy for Unquiet Bones, but so far: it’s a power bestowed on Tansy (so those in the know believe) by Ysa-Munda, the Goddess of Death. Mother Josefina, the head priestess of Ysa-Munda, initially thought it more likely it was a gift from Xenith, the God of Life, on the basis that Ysa-Munda would be shooting Herself in the foot a bit giving someone the power to bring people back from the dead. But… she got shouted down. Because, hey, what would she know?

Some followers of Ysa-Munda have a very mild form of Tansy’s powers: they can search the afterlife for souls and occasionally perform seances to bring the soul briefly back to speak with loved ones. Even this, however, is seen as stepping of Ysa-Munda’s toes and only done in special circumstances -- e.g., if someone died in a sudden accident, then with a sufficient ‘donation’ to the temple, it might be allowed for the deceased’s family to contact their soul to say goodbye. This may or may not also be used to figure out inheritances.

(Sidebar: Ysa-Munda is also an unofficial patron goddess of lawyers/accountants, because nothing in life is certain except death and taxes.)

Tansy, however, can go much further than this: she can bring souls all the way back from the dead and place them back in their bodies. This is how she resurrected King Damian when he was dying as a child (and has done so multiple times since).

The downside to this is that Tansy is explicitly a necromancer, not a healer. The soul gets put back in the body in… exactly the state the body is in. So if, say, she resurrected someone who died of a virulent flesh-eating plague -- well, that would probably be quite traumatising for the soul in question.

The other downside is that Tansy requires a physical connection to the person she is resurrecting. For anyone not related to her by blood, this is satisfied by drinking their blood or, for a full resurrection, eating their flesh.

(Damian, oddly, is exempt from this; his father, King Theodoric, claimed it must be due to Damian’s royal blood: he is, via the divine right of kings, connected to all of his subjects. Nobody in the intervening years has seen a good reason to disclaim this, or an alternate explanation.)

Very few people, even within the cult of Ysa-Munda, are aware of the extent of Tansy’s powers, as Mother Josefina feared that widespread knowledge of a true necromancer would cause either a) mass hysteria and danger of violence towards Tansy, and/or b) that Tansy would be petitioned to resurrect multitudes of people. Mother Josefina , especially given her doubt even now that Tansy’s gift truly does come from Ysa-Munda, fears that Tansy using her powers any more than absolutely necessary would bring Mother Death’s rage down upon them all.

3. What is your OC’s fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

This is SUCH a good question because I was honestly stumped for a little while!

After mulling it over, I think Tansy’s fatal flaw is ultimately her inability to see situations from the perspective of other people.

For example, when Damian tells her again and again that he doesn’t want her to continue resurrecting him, Tansy assumes he’s just attempting to shirk his responsibilities as king and not realising how grateful he should be for a miracle (possibly because she heard this expressed as a child by other people).

Or when she asks Lucia to leave Varnius’s commune and come back to Haelgavaard, not understanding why Lucia would turn down someone who cares for her and is willing to provide for her material needs and why that wouldn’t be enough to erase her mental health issues.

Tansy isn’t malicious (although she definitely does some awful things), but she is someone who has rigid beliefs that are extremely difficult to change. She considers herself to be logical and is inclined to think people who disagree with her without (in Tansy’s opinion) a good reason are being controlled by their emotions. The solution, then, is to talk the person down until they realise how irrational they are and come around to Tansy’s way of thinking.

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

I think both of these ultimately come back to fear.

Tansy was deeply terrified and traumatised as a child when her first attempt to resurrect her foster mother who died of the plague turned out horribly. Her foster mother suffered immensely until she was killed again to put her out of her misery, the rest of her foster family turned against her and denounced her as a monster, and she was then ripped away from the only family she had ever known and taken to do that exact awful thing again to a boy her own age.

She was then told that the fate of the entire kingdom rested on her doing that awful thing again, and again, and again, as often as needed. Even as the boy she grew to care about grew, in his turn, to hate her for being his tormentor. Even when she fled the kingdom, she was eventually dragged back and the metaphorical shackles put on again. There is no escape from her life except escaping her life, and the thing she is most afraid of in the world is facing Ysa-Munda when she dies.

Tansy has been afraid of so much, for so long, that she’s grown almost numb to it: the fear has been so consistent that it’s become her baseline and she can no longer really tell when she’s feeling it. Tangled up in this is the thread she clings to that as long as she does what she’s told and fulfils her given role then everything will be okay and she’ll be okay and so she just has to keep treading the same path and -- yeah. She’s a mess.

[thefanfictiontaria]

Timeless

Fandom: The Song of Achilles/Greek mythology

Genre: comfort, melancholy

TW: I mean they're dead?

Characters: Patroclus, Achilles

It was undeniable the two will be in love forever. No matter how much time passes.

================

Patroclus.

The name had always felt oh so wrong.

It was ironic how it meant "glory of the father", and yet I could never make him proud.

Patroclus.

Everyone always said it in passing. Always a command or a laugh, sometimes mocking, usually either anger or complete indifference.

Never with care.

That was until you came along.

"Patroclus."

My name on your lips only ever sounded right. The tone you use, calm, comforting, loving. Despite any contradictions of fate we often found ourselves in, you always said my name as if you were kissing a rose, delicate and caring.

And when the war was over we stayed. On the hill where we were buried where there wasn't so much to do, but you've always been able to make me smile.

We were offered a place on Olympus. We agreed to visit there from time to time, wanting to stay with mortals. We used our divine powers childishly. We were both deprived from it, ten years of war completely draining our adolescent enthusiasm.

Years passed. We saw the city of Troy thrive again. Fall and build up again. Then, it was abandoned completely. For centuries it was covered with more and more dust and sand.

We ran in the sand. Rolled in it like stupid. Laughed. Achilles looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes and we kissed again and again. We could do that here.

"Patroclus."

I smiled.

Then, men came again.

Their clothes were peculiar. Some of them wore pristine, black and white clothes whereas others had more simple shirts and brown pants. They brought along many things, some of them so similar to ours we wondered how long passed. Their language was very different though.

Then, they began digging. Yells of what we could only assume was wonder rang out as they discovered the ruins of Troy. They discovered all of the things from the past that were so normal for us and always reacted with amazement. Do they not have vases? Cups? Coins?

A few of the men dug up our grave, at last. They yelled in their language so loudly and so excitedly it was amazing they didn't scare off birds. We were also excited. We exchanged glances and then hugged each other tightly. Our story will live on.

"Oh, I love you, Patroclus!" You said with a laugh. I laughed back.

After that much more people came. Much, much more. We slowly learned to distinguish different languages. Suddenly, the income of people stopped.

Then s few people came back.

Then it was silent again.

We knew what it meant: war.

After a few springs people returned. They looked completely different. Some still wore the ridiculous suits, but after some time it passed.

Now, much more common folk came. Instead of measuring and researching they just looked and did things with weird devices.

Our tombstone was fenced off, so nobody could touch it. Then a sign was made next to the fence.

We were both ecstatic to find out it had greek among the different languages. Even though it was very simplified, we managed to read it.

"This is the tombstone of the legendary pair Achilles and Patroclus. Discovered in 1875 it is dated to be about 3000 years old.

Achilles and Patroclus were very important figures in Greek mythology and history. The two had died during the Trojan war where the Greeks attacked the city for capturing Helen, one of the Greek king's wives. Despite Achilles' god-like powers he chose Patroclus, an exiled son, to be his companion, which ultimately lead to both of their deaths. Patroclus was killed by Hector, a Trojan Prince who thought it was Achilles himself due to the armour. Achilles took gruesome revenge and refused to give back Hector's body, for which he was later punished by the gods.

Their relationship is very controversial. Many sources say they were lovers, others insist they were best friends due to the amount of female slaves Achilles allegedly took.

No matter what though, it's safe to say their story is timeless, surviving through so many centuries."

Whoever wrote it was right.

We are timeless.

Our souls are bound together through our ashes and through our love.

Flowers wilt. Trees die, cities crumble, civilizations fall, stone turns into dust.

But not us.

We will remain together, as one.

Patroclus and Achilles.

Forever.

[monochromefilms]

Some beta writings for the Creepypasta!Yuus

go ahead and guess the characters.

Only TW is blood. You can guess who belongs with who. Go on and vote for which one I should write first.

Strokes of lifeless.

The mixture of coffee sets into the canvas. Each stroke beautifully painting and layering to create one sere image. The image of beauty and divinity. The image of…

Vil sits still as he realized he was being painted as did Rook. Both pose in a way that Yuu could paint.

Curiously, he wasn’t using any common mediums though. He was using things that he could just find off just about anywhere. Coffee, crushed berries, and some juice.

Once he was finished he had a rococo style painting of the two third years. He looked up from the canvas with his surprised resting face. His blue tinted (e/c) eyes shining in the sunlight.

He flips the canvas and shows the two.

“It’s done.”

______________________________________

Is it cold outside?

It happened when he was in his room. Just searching around when he saw it. A limited edition game. Life of Harp. The game known to be full of adventure just with the sound of music. The one game he could never find. Yet here it is. Right in front of him.

Idia was ecstatic as he got the cartridge delivered, Even if it was second hand. Ortho was happy for his brother… it was the only time he left his room… for two minutes.

As he opens the case he finds a note.

‘Good bye Yuu.’ Was written on it. Probably from the last user.

He kept it in the box and placed the cartridge in.

There were already one saved game. It was titled: YUU.

‘Creepy…’ Idia thought to himself.

________________________________________

Four cards.

Four cards laid splayed at the table. Five of the heartsylbul members look at each other with mixed emotions.

A Diamond: Cater, the spades:Deuce, the clover: Trey, and finally the trump of cards: Ace. Yet there wasn’t one for riddle… only a bloodied Osiris rose. And a singular note.

‘The first Alice walked into the wonderland.’

It was written by hand. There was also a dagger in the letter.

Riddle was enraged at such a prank done.

____________________________________

The mother’s obsession. A/N: A platonic!Relationship, this is not meant to glorify toxic familial relationships.

Another letter came in today. Lilia should really tell Malleus. But he just couldn’t. The shorter of the two looked towards the now 13 (in dragon years). He smiles with the bowl of I cream in hand. A sweet child.

The king and queen already know of this. They didn’t tell his grandmother until later, and now Lilia is here.

He makes the hard choice of walking to Malleus, letter in hand. He let’s Malleus read it.

“Lilia…” Malleus looks up quizzically, “What does it mean by my REAL mother?”

————————————————————

Go INSIDE!

It was complete static. That’s what Yuu was watching. Absolute STATIC. Grim is confused by his human. Why is he watching static?

“Henchman! Are you stupid? That’s just static!” He tries to yell but Yuu shushes him,

“Be quiet. Candle Cove is on.”

————————————————————

Sorry that it’s a bit much and placed in one post.