#oh the power of symbols! of things to believe in when you are far away and in the dark!

[chaoticbardlady99]

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me

Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader

Chapter One: Music, Regrets, and Party Tricks

 Synopsis: (3 months post Netherbrain) You ask Astarion to take you to see a violinist in a park and end up having a heart to heart. You begin to have very peopley feelings towards Astarion. Someone from Astarion's past makes an unwelcome fourth appearance and you help Astarion get revenge.

CW: Mentions of SA (Astarion), violence, revenge, brief mentions of suicidal ideation, a tad bit fluffy

Note: The first couple chapters will have time skips because it is meant to set up the main plot- more chaos is on it's way!

Disclaimer- I put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. Birdie is a stock image. I will not describe the readers body in detail- she is just merely on the banner for ✨drama✨. I believe the picture of Astarion is from @cheekylittlepupp . And then the symbol of Orcus in the back is a free image off the internet.

Prologue : Chapter Two: AO3

You wait anxiously by the door as Astarion takes his sweet time bathing in the other room. You have both been staying in a room in Elfsong Tavern since the Netherbrain was defeated about 3 months ago.

  You and Astarion usually spend your days in Szarr palace looking for any information on Sunwalking. You’ve found lots of promising leads, but they are all very very far away- the first lead is in some mountain in Amn and you’re excited to see more of the world.

 Tonight is your last night in Baldur’s Gate for a while and you had overheard some tavern goers talking about a Violinist playing in the park tonight. You had felt your entire body perk up at the idea. 

 The only obstacle was getting Astarion to take you. 

  The man pretty much abandons you at nighttime- leaving you alone and lonely. He used to pet you to sleep every night, talk with you and laugh with his companions, and then he lost his ability to walk in the sun. 

 Recently Astarion has been falling into some habits that haven’t been great for his mental health. He’s usually picking you up for a hug after some terrible tryst he had and pretends to joke about the whole thing like it was just a bad fuck, but you knew better.

 You could see the regret in his eyes and the worthless feeling in his soul. It broke your heart to see him go from being on top of the world to rock bottom again. The one time you tried to talk about it with him- he disappeared for a day and you were sure he had abandoned you. 

  Astarion eventually came back and he had actually spent the entire day with you. It was in silence and with many tears, but eventually he told you that he had been pressured into having sex and he felt pathetic. You reassured him a thousand times he’s not and he began bringing them to your room instead so if they are a problem- you would be the solution. You have sent many people screaming out the door with claw marks across their scalps- you even lost a claw in someone’s head! 

 “I can defend myself, Darling,” Astarion said as he cleaned up the mess your broken claw left on your paw, “you don’t need to be my Cat in Shining Armor.” 

 “I know, but isn’t this just so much more entertaining for both of us?”

 Astarion smiled widely, “that is a very good point.” 

  He began spending more time with you at night, but there are still days where he falls into his old habits and is sucked in by his despair. 

 You are really hoping today isn’t one of those days because you really want to go listen to the Violinist. 

 You jolt to life when the door creaks open and Astarion walks out without a shirt while toweling off his hair. He freezes instantly when he sees you sitting there with wide eyes and limbs ready to pounce. 

 “Uh oh, what did I do now?” 

 “It’s about what you are going to do.” 

  Astarion raises an eyebrow at you and you jump up onto the empty desk next to the door so you feel slightly more equal and powerful in the situation.

 “I want to go to the park tonight,” you say, “there is going to be a violinist playing and I want to hear them.” 

 “Oh, so you just need me to leave the window open tonight?” 

  You blink a few times and try to fight the hurt that flits in your chest. Yes, you could go alone and just do that, but you were kind of hoping you could go together as friends and have a normal time together again like you used to. 

 “I was actually hoping you might come with me?” 

   Astarion looks at you like you’ve grown a third head.

 “It’s our last night in Baldur’s Gate and you want me to go with you to listen to a violinist in the park?” 

  His voice is on the border of amusement and irritation. Your heart cracks ever so slightly more. 

 “Yes,” you squeak.

  “That’s ridiculous, Darling,” Astarion says with a dismissive wave, “I would much rather spend my last night in Baldur’s Gate indulging in sinful activities- not some violin concert.” 

 You don’t know why you even try to push it.

 “It shouldn’t be all night,” you say quickly, “you could easil-“

 “No offense,” he interrupts you, “but I would rather spend my night with a person and not my cat.” 

  That shatters something so deep within you that you don’t even know what to do with yourself. You are possessing a cat, but you are still a person and your feelings matter to you. 

  You’ve been nothing but respectful of Astarion and his feelings. You’ve been there for him because that’s what friends do. Obviously- you aren’t his friend, you are just ‘his cat’.

 You aren’t his cat though. You would be able to survive just fine on your own- you will go back to gardening and befowling Donella’s home.

 “I am NOT YOUR CAT!” You scream at the top of your lungs- Astarion takes a step back in surprise, “I am a person! A person with feelings! I am a person first, ghost second, and then cat third! 

“And you know what!? Enjoy your sins and your adventure to find some stupid solution for the sun- I’m done!” 

 You bound out the window in two quick leaps and you can hear Astarion calling from the dark of the room. The fading sunlight warms your fur and is an unwelcome reminder of the wretched form you threw yourself into. You’ve really come to feel terrible for cats- everyone thinks they can just pick you up Willy Nilly or disrespect you as they please. A few children have learned the hard way that you are not to be fucked with.

  Your trek to the park is easy and you get there just in time. Couples stroll around the park and the violinist is tuning up his violin. The moment is so peaceful, but the excitement you had felt previously had disappeared. 

  A couple laughs and another gives each other a lingering kiss. Others are laughing with each other and holding hands. They all look ridiculously in love and so happy- it makes your body hurt and your stomach turn.

  You never had the opportunity to have a partner (which is a sore spot for you) and the moment the violinist strikes the first note of one of your favorite love songs- you find yourself miserably wandering to the only place you could think of, the Rothwell Crypt. 

 You slide through the grates with ease and you jump up onto your mother’s coffin with your head on your paws. Tears fall out of your eyes- a new quirk you didn’t know you could do. 

 You sniff the air tepidly and a choked sob escapes your mouth. Not a single trace of her perfume is around- not that you expected it to be, but you had so hoped. 

  She would have gone with you- cat, person, or ghost. She used to love taking you to see violinists in the park as a child and she would tell you grand love stories that you hoped to one day experience. 

 The worst part? Your mother is long gone. You are no longer the happy-go-lucky 10 year old with the spontaneous, enthusiastic mother who had a sense of adventure. She will never cheer you on at a street corner ever again and you will never smile brightly at her when she put a gold piece in your case- it always made others feel like they should do it too. Your life was happy and warm.

 Now? You are a ghost doomed to be trapped in this form until it dies and then what? Will you even be able to move on? You couldn’t last time so why would it be any different now? It all makes you so angry you could tear your fur out.

 You will never see a violinist with her again. You will never know what it means to truly love someone and to be loved in return. You will never be able to play the Violin again all because Donella thought you were ‘promising’.

  If you hadn’t died, would you have been one of those violinists in the park? Would your parents be there cheering you on? Would you have had full blooded siblings? Gotten married? Become famous? 

 The thoughts cause you to cry harder and you decide you are going to take control of your own fate for once- you will lay here until you eventually starve to death. That seems like a full proof solution. 

  You hear the gate to the crypt open, but you don’t bother to look. Whoever it is better put you out of your misery sooner rather than later. 

 “Gods below, you are much faster than I thought you were,” Astarion exclaims as he practically clammers down the stairs, “come on- that violinist of yours is still playing and - what’s wrong?” 

 “Go away,” you say weakly.

 “But your violinis-“

 “I don’t care anymore.” 

   You expect him to yell at you and to be angry, but instead he walks over and kneels down until he’s at eye level with you.

 “I’m sorry, Darling,” Astarion pleads, “you’re right- you are a per-“ 

 “No,” you choke, “I don’t want your apology. You’re right. I’m just a cat now. So please, leave me alone.” 

 “No.” 

  You finally take the opportunity to look at him and your own misery fades a little when you see his own tear stained face. You both just stare at each other like you so frequently do when you are at a verbal crossroads. 

  Astarion gets up and you expect him to leave, but instead, you are being swung up into his arms and marched out of the crypt. 

  You don’t bother to protest- what does it matter? You’re a lower class citizen in this social situation. Quite literally too- no one will open a bank account for a cat. You and Astarion tried one time and the banker looked like she was going to call the City Watch to detain a lunatic. 

  The last place you expected Astarion to take you was the park. He finds a bench as close to the violinist as he can and puts your defeated form down on the bench. Astarion begins to hesitantly pet you and you can’t help but lean in a bit- your sadness still a weight in your heart. 

 Astarion comments on the music and asks if you have ever played it before. At first your answers are plain and generic, but he somehow pulls the old part of you out from deep within your soul.

  You chatter about what you would do differently, why certain songs aren’t frequently played, etc, etc. and it actually seemed like Astarion was enjoying himself for once.

    The music floats through the air and your heart soars as you hear another song you were extremely familiar with- ‘Meleth’. It’s a slightly darker love song and not one that is popularly played in places where there are a multitude of settled down couples.

  The song itself is about the pining a man has for a woman who is out of his reach at every turn. She isn’t trying to elude him, but the circumstances are just never right. Then, one day, he gets the courage to tell her and she’s been in love with him the entire time as well. It ends with the two of them together- the notes brighter as they flit through the night air. 

  “I always liked that song,” Astarion says absentmindedly. 

 “It’s a pretty one,” you agree, “I wouldn’t personally play this song for the environment, but no one seems too perturbed.” 

  Astarion looks around and notices the couples all enjoying each other’s company. 

 “I guess I didn’t notice.”

 “Really?” You say in surprise, “it’s the first thing I noticed.” 

 “Is that why you didn’t stay?” 

  You freeze and you know for a fact your heart stopped momentarily.

  It’s a fair question to ask, but you try to avoid talking about… you. You will tell him you were just so disgusted by all the love in the air- a lie is better than the truth and he doesn’t need to worry about this. 

 Except, when you finally make eye contact with him, his eyes are soft and inviting. Astarion seems genuinely invested in what you have to say. The look is sweet and it causes a warm feeling to glow in your chest. Maybe it would be safe to divulge this information. 

 “It was,” you say with a sigh, “I dedicated basically my entire life to the violin. It’s insane- looking back on it now. 

“I died never knowing what it felt like to have my hand held or to be kissed. I didn’t even have the chance to fall in love because I didn’t bother to think about it! I was rarely pursued by anyone because I had my head in my music sheets and never made the time to talk to anyone outside of my parents. 

“All of that hard work was gone in less than two minutes and the last thing I remember thinking about was how devastated I was to lose my first consistent gig- as if that was the most important thing I was losing at the time. It’s- it’s dumb that I lost my future because Donella thought I was ‘promising’ and had some sick idea in her head that she would mentor me. Her and her ego- she just had to try to create a fucking vampire spawn with little to no knowledge on the topic. 

“She wanted to mentor young women and try to prove to the higher ups that women were just as capable as men- which is something I strongly believed in! I was all for destroying the patriarchy! Hells- I would have been happy to just have her as a mentor, she was very well known for being a woman of poise, but no! Turns out, Donella was a gods damn Vampire Lord. She wanted a spawn and instead she damned me to a horribly lonely and sad existence in that fucking PALACE! 

“I wish I had been a cat while she was still alive. I would absolutely piss on her head and destroy her curtains. I wonder if pee is considered running water- that would have been very entertaining.” 

 You leer at the tower standing tall in the distance. At least you can destroy the curtains and piss on her grave. Astarion is laughing at your last sentence, but his eyes also tell a different story. He looks sad for you- heartbroken even. 

  Neither one of you speaks for the rest of the violinist’s concert. You’ve watched Astarion’s gears crank away in his head for at least a good hour now and they are still going as the two of you head back to Elfsong Tavern. There is practically smoke pouring out of his ears by the time he sets you down on the bed and lays in his usual spot on the bed. 

  You want to ask him what he is thinking about, but you are also afraid to ask and have it be something dismissive so instead you curl up in your usual spot at the top right of the bed, up against the wall like you so adore. Your fluffy pillow is still waiting for you like it had been before you stomped off and you definitely note the closed windows. 

 “I’m sorry,” he finally says.

 “For?” 

 “For forgetting that you were also very much a prisoner there,” Astarion says quietly, “and for not treating you like my equal. I haven’t been a very good companion lately and I’ve…. Admittedly been trying to push you away. I suppose I didn’t realize how much I didn’t want that until you leaped out of the window- which by the way- you could have died so please just ask me to open the door if you intend on storming off next time, Darling.”

 You roll your eyes.

 “I landed on my paws!”

 “You seem to forget the several thousand other times where you have belly flopped into those rose bushes or onto the cobblestone,” Astarion says through narrowed eyes and pouty lips, “you were terrible to live with when your ribs were broken- you sounded like you were about to keel over at a moments notice.”

 “You seem awful hyperfixated on me dying,” you say slowly, “I’ve died before- it’s not like it’s that scary. Well it is, but I would be fine. I would just be… quieter!” 

  Astarion looks at you and his mouth drops into a frown while he shakes his head.

 “I need you,” Astarion says quietly, “more than I care to admit. I enjoy your company- you make me happy and I would even say you are my friend. I don’t want you to ‘just be in the background’ of my life ever again.”

  You’re stunned by his words and he is actively avoiding eye contact with you. He must have fed recently because a nice rosy blush crawls up his neck and paints his cheeks. 

  You’re grateful cats can’t blush because you would be a sputtering mess- you would get red as a tomato when you were embarrassed. 

 You’re his friend! You are really his friend! 

 “I need you too,” you say brightly, “I’m very little, terrible at hunting, and prone to injury, but I also very much enjoy your company too. I share the same sentiment, if that helps. I prefer being on the forefront of your life.” 

 Astarion looks both relieved and elated at the same time. He picks you up into a hug that you gladly sink into. This feels like three months ago and you silently curse your cat body for purring in delight.

  That warm feeling in your chest is back again and you can’t help but feel intoxicated by the way he smells, how beautiful he is, and how complex his mind is. You really do lov-

 Oh no. Those thoughts need to be put away- not that you would know anyway. Love? Naw. That’s impossible. Your heart can’t possibly be so stupid as to fall in love with a man who will only ever see you as his friend trapped in a cat. Your situation doesn’t necessarily scream romance.

  Except it does make sense because it does break your heart to know he’s off with other people and you will never be able to be one of those people. 

 Well, you’d prefer to be a lot more to him than those people, but that’s not in the cards for you. Being a cat is okay- you get all the love in the world from him, even if it’s not the love you would prefer. 

  You push the thought away and reground yourself by listening to the phantom heartbeat that rings through his chest. He must have fed very recently. 

   You remain there for a while until a loud knock on the door gets both of your attention. 

 “Astarion? Are you in there?” A woman with a high pitched, sickly sweet voice calls out, “are we still going to have a drink together?”

  You and Astarion both look at each other then back to the door. She knocks again and calls out louder. You blink at him a few times and he very awkwardly puts you down before giving you a, “Gods, help me please” face, motions for you to hide, and he opens the door. You turn invisible instead- you may need to commit some major inconveniences and you enjoy using the little bits of magic that are accessible to you. Being a cat with ghost powers is pretty freaking phenomenal if you do say so yourself. 

 “Astarion!” 

  The Tiefling woman is very very pretty, but something is off about her and you don’t like it. She smells wrong and from the way Astarion’s posture changes- it’s obvious that your suspicions are correct and something is off. 

“I apologize, um,” Astarion pauses. 

  By the Gods he doesn’t even remember her name. 

 “Morgana,” she says with a slightly annoyed tone,” it’s okay though, you can make it up to me by buying me a drink.” 

  Astarion agrees to this nonsense and follows her down to the bar. It makes you bristle- something really isn’t right so that must be why the door is cracked ever so slightly. 

  You quietly squeeze through the door and stay close to the wall as you watch Astarion and the mysterious woman walk down the steps. You catch Astarion looking behind him at the door with worry. Your heart once again catches in your chest and is filled with that stupid, unfair glow. 

FOCUS BIRDIE!

 You shake your head and rake your own paw over your ear as if to chastise yourself. You put your adorable pink nose in the air and take a big whiff- the putrid odor from the woman is coming from a room down the hall and the closer you get to it, the worse it becomes. The scent has an underlying metallic smell so you are almost positive something is wrong with her blood. 

  You peek under the doorway and use Misty Steps to enter the room- you immediately throw up upon entering. 

  The room is scattered with papers and it looks borderline manic. There is a dead woman laying out on the bed and all of her blood is completely drained. It’s the same woman that Astarion had left with except she smells normal enough. 

  You reluctantly hop up on the bed- finding, to your horror, that the woman has multiple stab wounds in the chest and her eyes are wide in horror. It takes every last bit of your strength to swallow the nausea that threatens to consume you as you cast Speak with the Dead. She regards you, but she’s not nearly as lifeless as you thought she would be. 

  In fact, she screams, “ARAJ NO!” the moment she reanimates which causes you to leap at least 10 feet in the air with your tail puffed up. You clench your teeth and take a deep breath through your mouth before talking- you don’t want to begin cussing the corpse out. That is not a good way to start an interrogation. 

  “Why did you say, ‘Araj, no’?” You ask sheepishly.

   You know Araj- she’s the person you lost a claw to. She had come to your room in the middle of the day and demanded he bite her. She would not stop asking and wouldn’t take no for an answer until you forced her to accept it. 

  “Araj… paralyze… force herself… Astarion.” 

  Oh that woman is dead.

  “Why!?” 

 “Anything… to be… bitten.” 

  You are sprinting towards the door and smack into it from going too fast. You pop back up, your head now throbbing, and use misty steps once again to exit the room. Turning the corner, you see Tavern goers begin to aww at you, but you hiss loudly and scare them off.

  This feels even worse than Cazador for some reason. At least you knew the bastard was a sadistic, evil man, but Araj just seemed like a minor inconvenience. Now she’s a really big inconvenience. 

  You spot them quickly in a secluded corner of the bar and weave through the tavern goers. You can sense Astarion’s anxiety, but you hear him talking as if he has not a single care in the world. She flirts with him, but he deflects it which seems to upset her- you’d be upset too if your piss poor plan was going to the grave. 

  Adrenaline fills your body as you get closer and see the little paralytic bottle peeking out of her pocket. You race forward and skid to a halt underneath the table. Neither one of them has seemed to notice your appearance so you go straight for the bottle in question. 

 “Has anyone ever told you how incredibly handsome you are?” Araj says, “you look like you have walked out of a poem.” 

  Disgusting.

  “I have heard that before, yes.”

 HA! Take that lady! He could not be more interested and her plan really won���t work if he isn’t interested and her bottle of paralytic disappears.

  You put your teeth around the neck of the bottle and slowly pull it out of her pocket. Your teeth are able to get a solid grip in the cork, but it definitely has some residual paralysis potion on it because your body begins to tingle painfully. However, you continue with your mission and you are able to get the bottle out of her pocket; Only for it to crash to the floor when you drop like a dead weight. One thing is for sure- that’s a hell of a paralytic. 

  The sound gets both Araj’s and Astarion’s attention- Astarion is quickly picking you up off the ground.

 “What’s happening?” He asks you in his panic, “are you hurt? Are you dying? What-“ 

  You see how panicked Araj is as she looks from you to the broken bottle on the floor. Astarion is so distracted with you that he doesn’t see her frantic mind trying to piece together a reason for this to be happening. At least she’s smart enough to realize saying, “I made that paralytic to roofie you so I could force you to drink my blood and it looks like your cat ruined my plan” would not end well for her.

 “Oh your poor kitty must have found someone’s bottle of paralytic,” Araj says while feigning innocence, “I have an antidote I can give her- do you want to continue this upstairs.”

  Astarion nods, but mostly because he just wants you to be okay. You are infuriated right now- this woman is taking advantage of the fact that you can’t talk and you doubt she has an antidote. She’s probably going to poison you and then attempt to assault Astarion. 

  She parts ways with you both so that she can grab the antidote. You want to scream- Astarion needs to follow her and see the nightmare that has been created. However, he brings you into your shared room and begins digging through his pack. A sigh of relief leaves his mouth when he finds an antidote bottle. 

 “I don’t trust that woman,” he grumbles, “and I have a feeling you found a lot in your investigation.” 

  You gladly drink the entire bottle as fast as possible before popping up and looking Astarion dead in the eyes with your tail puffy and tall.

 “Thatsarajandsheisgoingtotrytoforceherselfonyou,” you shout all too fast. 

  Astarion looks positively perplexed, “I’m sorry Darling, but I think I may have misheard you- Araj is a Drow woman and this woman is a tiefling.”

 “YES but she killed her friend or assistant- the details are fuzzy, but I cast Speak with the Dead and Araj was going to give you the paralytic so she could force you to bite her,” you pause for a moment, “which now that I think about it- probably isn’t possible for her to do.”

   Astarion appears to go through the five stages of grief almost instantaneously while he thinks. You wonder what’s going on in that beautiful head of his. Is he sad that she isn’t really the person she was pretending to be? Your heart hurts at the thought and you once again bat yourself over the ear- earning a weird look from Astarion before he goes back to contemplating.

  The shit eating grin that threatens to break his face throws out your non-feline and non-ghost thoughts.

 “It appears we have a problem on our hands,” Astarion says with a mischievous grin, “whatever should we do? We don’t want such filth contaminating our space!”

You nod in agreement, flicking your tail back and forth. You think hard and long about the best course of action. There has to be at least a billion things you could- WAIT!

                    *************************************

  You and Astarion snicker as he sets up Godey’s destroyed bones next to Araj who he had put in the cuffs hanging from the wall. She’s fast asleep- Astarion had asked her to go on a walk with him and then casted sleep on her when he was just outside Szarr palace. You served as the distraction so she couldn’t counter it by popping out of the corner and scaring the woman out of her illusion. The look on Araj’s face was priceless when she realized Astarion knew exactly who she was prior to the big reveal. 

  The last part of your masterful plan wasn’t your idea, but Astarion insisted. He dragged Cazador’s disgusting, rotting corpse up from the dungeons and sat it up in a coffin. He had opened the man’s eyes (how they are still intact is beyond you) and maneuvered him so that it looks like Cazador is staring at Araj. 

  A stirring from behind you causes Astarion to pick you up before casting invisibility. You are going to do a quick body jump- as much as it horrifies you. 

  Possessing a dead, rotting person is absolutely disgusting- you think you’ll stick to being a cat until you can find another solution. However, Astarion promised you that he would take you to the beach when you reach Amn and let you teach him how to read music in return for your discomfort. 

  Cazador’s rotting limbs move uncomfortably and Araj begins to scream in terror as you descend upon her. 

 She did say she would do anything to be bitten.

*********************************************************

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @spacebarbarianweird

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[commandershepardvasfuckit]

A rough chapter 2 for my little personal writing project. Chapter 1 can be found in my pinned post.

This is just me trying to get ideas unstuck from my head, so nothing too polished, but I know there’s some people here into dominate monster men so may as well put this here instead of just rotting in my notes

Wild power imbalance, D/s, spanking, and honestly several other things

The Dragon King does not take lightly to his newest treasure not accepting her place.

Unknown hours passed by as you rested and the sun was starting to set when you finally awoke.

You were alone still in his bed chamber, entirely undisturbed and still warmly tucked under the blankets, but you noticed a box sitting on the nightstand next to the bed with a small note.

‘You will put this on for when I return for you’ was written in a tidy cursive on the note.

The box was ornately detailed, gold pressed into the etchings on it and jewels inlaid all over. You opened it up to find an embossed leather strip, studded with gems and delicate carvings reminiscent of scales and what looked like a dragon’s head in profile. It was lined with soft fabric and as you removed it from from the box you noticed a small lock nestled in the bottom.

Looking at the piece you realized you knew what it was. ‘A collar for a pet’ you thought to yourself. The ends each finished with a metal ring, clearly intended to have the small lock threaded through it.

You ran your fingers over it, it was lovely, but also a symbol of your captivity here and a clear message from the king about your status.

“Ah, you’re awake” came a voice from the doorway. He was dressed casually this time, simple black pants and a black shirt with the top few buttons undone, even his crown was removed.

You had not even heard him enter the room, despite his great size he moved surprisingly quietly and light on his feet as he closed the distance to sit on the bed next to you.

“And I see you’ve found my gift. It will not be your final one, but something for you to wear in the mean time”. His words were gentle and matter of fact, much like all his actions so far, not that you trusted that he would stay like that. There were to many stories of his temper for you to believe this was how he always was.

“It’s a collar” you said, somewhat uneasy.

“Yes, it is. A pretty collar for a pretty pet. Is that a problem?” the tone of his voice told you that it was not actually a question.

“I did not realize how literally you meant it when you called me that”.

His laugh was a deep rumble in his chest, “Oh quite. While you are my newest treasure, you are much too lovely to just be hoarded away. No, your place will be obediently at my side or anywhere else I decide, and this is just a lovely token to reinforce that”.

Truly nothing more than a pet to him. Not that your life before had been anything special, but you had your home and freedom at least.

“Now, I had been hoping to return and find you collared and waiting for me, but I do suppose I will find joy in collaring you myself. Sit up”.

You shrank down in the bed, your mind free from the haze of the wine and resistant to be being claimed like a animal.

“I will ask nicely one last time as this is all new to you, but do not test my patience. Now once again. Sit. Up” his voice dropped into a snarl this time.

Still you resisted him, more frozen out of fear though than in defiance.

Swiftly he grabbed your arm and yanked you upright before depositing you face down across his lap, brushing the cloak aside and the cool air in the room shocked your skin.

“I find no pleasure in this, and I do not wish to harm you if you can believe that, but you will learn to obey one way or another”.

His hand came down on your bare backside, striking you fairly hard and causing you to let out a yelp. Then a second time he struck you, making you cry out again.

“Shhh,” he murmured, “That is all, little one. Two strikes for two acts of disobedience. Now you will let me collar you and you will thank me for the lesson and for the gift. Do you understand?”

You nod weakly, your backside stinging.

“Answer me with your words, and remember your manners when addressing me”.

“Yes, my king”.

“That’s a good girl. I hope you will not need me to repeat this lesson for you” he said.

You felt his hands brush your hair aside and slip the collar around your neck before the soft click of the lock told you that it was done.

“And now what do you have to say to me?”

“Thank you for this lesson and for the lovely gift” you answer weakly. Between the cold of the room and the pain from being struck you were shaking, and still draped across his lap you knew he must certainly notice.

“You are most welcome my little song bird. It is the first gift of many I have for you. I want you to be adorned with precious stones and metals, clothed in beautiful silks that show off your delicate form because as my little pet you are a reflection of myself. You will be taken care of just as any of my other treasures and I will make sure you want for nothing. I do truly want your life here to be happy, this is your home and you should enjoy it. Just say the word and you will have anything your heart has ever desired, as long as you obey me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my king”.

“Now, let us move on from this topic, I do not wish for you to submit to me out of fear of punishment. Rather out of adoration and a desire to please. It would please me to have you at my feet, your head on my knee while I attend to my duties as king and to see you looking up at me full of adoration and love, as such I want you to view our bond as a positive thing: I will protect you and provide for you, and you will submit completely to my will at all times.”

“If I tell you to climb on my lap and grind on me while I sit on the throne and welcome guests you will without question or hesitation. If I tell you to bend over and present yourself to me so that I may take you as I please, you happily will. If I tell you to suck my cock you will drop to your knees that moment and suck me until I fill your belly with my cum and you will thank me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my king”.

“Good. Now I wish for you to join me in a bath, you need a good washing after your long journey and I could use some time to relax, but first” he gently lifted you into his arms and pulled you tight to his chest, kissing the top of your head softly once he got you situated, “I will relight the fireplace and draw the bath while you wait here. Having you shivering in the cold will do neither of us any good, especially as despite your little act of defiance you did learn quickly to submit to me”.

Before you registered what he meant, he had quickly tucked you back under the covers of the bed and had moved to busy himself with the fireplace.

You watched him in fascination, he was much quicker and more graceful than a human in his movements, even his footfalls were nearly silent despite his size.

In a language you did not understand, he whispered something as he knelt by the fireplace and a shower of sparks emerged from his fingertips, igniting the logs near instantly in a way that a flint and steel would not have been able to.

Magic. With everything else swirling about in your mind the fact that dragons were highly capable of magic had slipped it.

“It will be a bit before the room is warm” he called as he made his way to the bath, “but I trust you’ll be fine in a warm bath until then”.

The sound of running water emanated from the bathroom as the tub filled and several long minutes went by before the king emerged from the room.

“Come here, little one” he scooped you up unceremoniously into his arms, holding you tightly to his chest as he carried you to the bath before depositing you by the tub in the next room.

“Remove the cloak, I grow tired of seeing you wrapped in that ratty thing, it does not become you”.

Obediently you did as you were commanded, slipping the cloak from your shoulders and allowing it to fall to the ground. Once more you were laid bare before him, only it was much worse this time.

In the throne room you were gripped with shock and fear, but the whole process was detached as he inspected you before. This time however he looked over you with great desire, and especially after outlining his expectations for you felt greatly uncomfortable with his searing gaze upon you.

“Undress me” he commanded.

Your hands shook as you reached for the buttons on his shirt, clumsily undoing them until you were able to slip the shirt from his shoulders. He stood before you, lean and well muscled in the candlelight of the room, an otherwise handsome form were it not for his unsettling nature. Scars adorned his chest and arms, something you did not expect to see.

“Continue” his voice interrupted where you had started to become lost in thought.

Your hands returned to him, this time to undo the ties of his pants. You fumbled with the knot and you could hear the same deep, rumbling laugh as before.

“Oh my little pet, how you shake so. Best get used to this” he pressed another kiss to the top of your head.

With some difficulty you finally manage to untie the knot, his pants hung loosely at his hips, revealing a small patch of soft dark hair that trailed down from his navel. You tugged at the edges of his pants, pulling them down past his hips and surprised to find to find a lack of undergarments.

Clearly he sensed your surprise, not that you were particularly good at hiding it. “I do not like clothing, even in this form, let alone superfluous pieces that aren’t even seen. Now continue, unless something has caught your eye”.

Quickly you turned your attention back to removing his pants, trying to ignore his semi erect shaft that was now in your face as you kneeled to fully remove them. The tiled floor was freezing against you bare skin, but you continued on just to get past everything. Once you reached his ankles he lifted a foot, allowing you to slip them off of him one foot at a time, his shoes already removed sometime earlier while he was running the bath.

There he stood, in all his terrible glory. Scars peppered his smooth skin, nearly hairless save for the trail down his navel to his groin and a light dusting of hair on his chest, arms, and legs. He loomed over you, standing roughly two feet taller than you, but feeling especially large as you knelt before him.

“Look up at me” he commanded.

With difficulty you looked up and met his gaze, save for his smirk his expression was unreadable, his eyes betraying nothing.

“So lovely to see you in your place at my feet” he reached down to ruffle your hair. From an outside perspective it might have almost looked affectionate they way he patted you head, but you heard it in his voice, a condescending tone meant to keep you in line.

Wordlessly he reached down and hooked his arms under yours and lifted back into his arms yet again. There was no affection in his actions, just a show of strength of how easy it would be to toss you around should he choose to.

Still, it almost felt nice in a way. Your heart was racing, threatening to beat out of your chest and you were certain he must notice too. But you felt the warmth of his chest against your bare skin, the strength of his arms wrapped around you as he carried you to the tub. Were he anyone else it would have been an intimate moment, your heart racing in excitement instead of fear and anticipation.

Slowly he lowered both of you into the warm waters of the bath, welcome relief from the cool and tile of the rest of the room. He leaned back against the side of the tub and kept you pulled tightly against his chest as you sat on his lap, with his eyes now closed he could have almost be mistaken as human, almost.

“See? Isn’t this nice, my little pet?” he broke the silence.

“Yes, my king”.

“And look, so many nice soaps and oils for your hair and body. Quite nice. Have you known this luxury before?”

“No, my king”.

“Then let me show you” he reached for a bar of soap and after wetting it he ran it along your shoulders and collarbones. It smelled wonderful, strongly of lavender and warm wood. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he worked the soap into skin.

“You do not need to shake so, I have no intention of harming you” he whispered in your ear, but your rear still stung and did not impart much of a feeling of trust in him.

“And for gods’ sake, do not curl up and hide yourself from me” he shifted you roughly in his lap, changing you from sitting sideways curled in his lap just as he carried you to instead turning you so your back reclined against his chest and pressing your thighs down to make you stretch your legs out in front of you.

Now sitting like this you felt his cock press against your backside, very much fully erect this time. From the eyeful you got while undressing him he was already an impressive size when only partially hard, what you were feeling now was significantly more.

With gentle motions he continued to wash whatever of you was above the water, spending an agonizing amount of time on your breasts. He soaped up both of your breasts and quickly moved from washing them to playing with them, alternating squeezing them playing with your nipples, rolling and pinching them between his fingers.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, entirely unintentionally. You did not desire his touch on you, but your body reacted all the same.

“Just let go, little one. Enjoy it, want it” came his voice in a soft whisper in your ear.

You hated how wonderful his hands felt on your skin, how he knew just what to do to elicit more sounds from you.

“There you go, just relax. Be clay in my hands so that I may reshape you into the picture of perfection” his hand drifted lower, tracing circles along your stomach before slipping between your thighs.

You shot up in alarm, splashing water everywhere with your frantic movements, and attempting to climb out of his lap.

His grip on you tightened, clearly he had no intention of letting you leave this position. “Sit. Down.” He snarled in your ear. “You were doing so well letting me play with you like that. I thought you were starting to understand”.

You hugged your legs up to your chest, attempting to shield yourself from his gaze and his touch. Not wanting him to continue and also fearing what he would do next.

“Do not cower like that!” His volume rose, doing nothing to calm your nerves, “I am not a patient man, but I will not force myself on you like a common brute. I wish to explore and feel you, but I will refrain from more than that until you are willing”.

Some of the fear receded, you were still wary of his touch but at least were not in an immediate danger it seemed.

“This attempt at bonding is over. I will wash you so to ensure you are up to my standards. You will stand and allow my touch on all of you so that I may get this done quickly and throughly”.

All of the gentleness was gone from his touch as he wrenched you up by the arm to make you stand. He worked quickly, a slight snarl on his lips the whole time. When he slipped a hand between your thighs this time you did not dare move, though his movements were detached and quick, only scrubbing you down.

“Dry yourself off and wait for me in my bed” he barked at you once he was satisfied with his work. “As you ruined my attempt to relax with you, I will finish this bath without you. I will deal with you once I have calmed down and we will discuss your behavior. Do I make myself clear”.

“Yes, my king”.

“Good. Now hurry along out of my sight before I change my mind. Leave the door open on your way out”.

Quickly you scurried out of the bathroom, drying yourself only enough to not slip on the tile and made your way to the warmth of the fireplace to finished drying off before climbing back under the covers of his bed. You were not about to learn what may happen if you were not waiting where he expected you.

It was not long before you heard the sounds of movement from the bathroom, the sloshing of water and grunting. Even from you spot tucked under the covers you could hear his ragged breathing and moans. You had assumed that he wanted the door left open to keep an eye on you, though now you understood it was because he wanted you to be privy to his little show.

There was clear line of sight from the bed to the tub. You could see his face, his eyes squeezed closed and his head tipped back, his hand moving rhythmically under the surface of the water. He was panting hard, chest heaving and his moans descending into growls, clearly getting close.

“I know you’ve been watching me” he called out.

A flush of red overtook you face, you quickly rolled over and yanked the blankets over your head.

“Shy little thing, why don’t you roll back over and keep watching? It seemed like you may have even been enjoying it”.

Enjoying it was not the correct words, but you had been almost fascinated seeing him in what was a nearly human moment.

“You’re still in trouble from earlier, but I can be convinced to forgive you this time if you’ll roll back over for me”.

The pros and cons rolled through your mind. Avoiding his ire was high on your priority list as you did not think your raw backside could handle another spanking, but the thought of facing him while he stroked himself was too much to bear.

“Make your choice, I’m not going to wait around for you” he sounded so close.

You shoved down your embarrassment and rolled back to face him, only this time he was watching you back. His eyes were only barely open but even from across the room you were again reminded that no matter how human he may look at a distance, he most certainly was not.

“Good girl” his voice was a ragged moan, his breath coming much faster. “You got me so hard, your hands on me when you undressed me, sitting in my lap and letting me feel you, and now I’m thinking about how good it would have felt if you would have let me continue earlier. I would have taken my time to warm you up, make sure you could handle me, then lower you down on my cock and taken you so slowly- fuck”

he hissed, “Now that I crave you so much I cannot guarantee I will be able to hold back when I do have you”.

A string of harsh Draconic fell from his lips, common tongue entirely leaving his mind.

More of his mask was slipping, his inhumanity ever more noticeable and it sent a chill down your spine.

His whole body lurched at his release, a growl leaving his mouth like you had never heard before. “Fuck” he panted, “For your sake, you’d better come around to me sooner rather than later, because the longer I have to wait for you the much less gentle I’m going to be”.

Water and more dripped down him as he emerged from bath, his breath still heaving, though he only chose to towel dry himself despite the mess.

“I see you kept the damned cloak off at least” he said as he gestured to the discarded cloak you had left in the bathroom in a hurry. “A good choice my pet. You’re such a lovely sight collared and tucked into my bed, such a wonderful thought knowing your waiting naked for me”.

In a few long strides he was there with you laying in bed.

“Let me see you” he said as he peeled the blanket off of you. “An incredible sight, laid bare before me except for this” he tugged on the lock of your collar.

“But I need you closer, come here” in another show of strength he pulled you on top of him as he laid on his back. “Now isn’t that better? The intimacy of skin on skin”.

For the first time you saw a true softness in his expression, a gentleness in his smile and behind his eyes.

“Isn’t this better? To be held and treasured? I will give you everything you could desire, treasure and protect you, as long as you submit to me. I promise you will have a happy life at my side, much better than anything ever possible before, as long as you obey me without question”.

You had not said a single word since he dismissed you from the bath, every possible word caught in your throat, your mind racing and unable to form a sentence.

“Does that not sound pleasant? So simple. To be a pampered pet on my lap, no worries of your own ever again. All I require is your obedience and for you to desire me. Surely that is not such a high price for what I’m promising you?”

A life free of struggle, free of worry, living in luxury known only to royals, and it would only cost your free will and dignity you mused. Though what was the alternative? The dragon king was not a man who was know to just let his possessions go, your options were either to warm his bed and sit at his feet, or find out what happened to treasure that did not fit into his hoard.

With you face against his chest you noticed a scent, under the smell of the soaps there was something else: his scent. He smelled like wildfire and musk, a pleasant and warm smell. In your first decisive move you buried you face into his neck and snuggled more into his arms.

“Oh, my pet?” surprise tinged his voice, “Does this mean you’ve accepted your place with me?”

Your words were stuck in your throat, you did not want to truly submit to him or anyone else, but you knew any choice here was merely an illusion. “Yes, my king” your words barely a whisper on his neck.

He clutched you to him tighter, “I did not expect for you to accept it so readily. Such a smart little thing to understand how good this will be for you” he turned to kiss your forehead, “Though I wish you made this decision earlier, I have nothing left to give to you right now. But tomorrow morning, I promise to be gentle. Your sudden change of heart brings me such joy, how could I possibly be rough with you after the great gift of your acceptance that you’ve given me. I will make sure you know such pleasure that after you will crave me. Maybe I will even stay with you in my chambers all day so that you may experience all the ways I desire to have you”.

“If you so desire, my king” your voice still quiet against his neck.

“Kiss my neck, I wish to feel your lips on me”.

Wordlessly you complied, trailing soft kissed from his shoulder up to his ear. It was so much easier to follow his commands now that you resigned yourself to him.

“Good girl. Tonight I hope you rest easy in my arms. You must be tired still from traveling here and everything today. Tomorrow we will start settling you into your place here, but tonight I just want you to rest well”.

You felt him raise an arm and mutter a few words in Draconic, which caused the fire to flicker out, plunging you both into darkness. He shifted under you, pulling the blanket over you both.

“Good night my pet, may you find comfort and safety in my arms and in submission to me”.

“Good night, my king”.

[thekingofwinterblog]

So the newest Napoleon movie was shit, but it did highlight one aspect of Napoleon's character that doeant get enough love.

Which was that the man knew how to dress.

In an age where the damn black and white penguin dress is what western men are stuck with as the only acceptable proper kind of clothing(thanks prince of Wales) its sometimes hard to believe there was a time when respected, malr western fashion could be colorful, snazzy and visually appealing.

And Napoleon certainly knew how to dress to inspire his troops, generally withouth going so far into bling that he made it look gaudy, like a lot of his contemporaries.

Which brings us to his biggest fashion disaster. His coeonation outfits.

Like... Why? He usually dressed great, but then for your coronation, arguably the most important symbolic moment of his life, Napoleon threw away absolutely everything he knew about making himself look good, abandoning the French fashion, he himself had played a huge role in making, in favor of trying to dress like europe's kings had dressed a century or two before.

Like, imagine you're napoleon, and in an ultimate power statement, during your own coronation, rather than be crowned by the pope, you took it from his hands and crowned yourself... And you did it, dressed like this.

No wonder even his own troops, who loved him thought he looked absolutely ridiculous and out of touch.

Oh, and speaking of his crown, look at this thing! It looks spindly, and overly detailed, yet withouth anything that makes it look regal.

THIS was the crown Napoleon envisioned to represent the French Empire, the masters of europe. This dinky little thing.

It honestly looks like a budget crown, where he needed a crown asap with a limited budget and material, and so this thing was slapped together for his coronation.

Just compare it to the british crown of the time, which yes, has it's own problems(that arc could easily have been trimmed down so it looked much better) but it has an identity, regalness, and looks like it belongs on the head of a mighty, and prestigious monarch, as opposed to Napoleon's crown.

#napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #fashion #crowns #emperor #france #french empire

[yonemurishiroku]

Oh, Nico, my dandelion…

I don’t know if anyone has talked about this before, but I just looked up meanings and symbolism of the dandelion flower and I’m… stunned, to say the least.

There’re reasons why Rick made Persephone turn Nico into a dandelion, of all things, yall, and why am I just now figuring it out? And now I’m screaming into my pillows so yall will suffer with me, too.

- First, let’s just start with how dandelions didn’t get a meaning at first, because they’re so common and they’re everywhere so the Victorian didn’t think of it deserving a symbolism nor simply attention. It’s such a relief that Medieval peasants disagreed and came up with many deep messages anyway.

And this is where I started seeing Nico - because he, too, was constantly looked away or frowned upon at sight. People hardly pay attention to him, and when they do they pretend he isn’t there. It took a two wars for him to finally gain acceptance. It hurts.

- The Dandelion represent resilience - specifically, one’s ability to overcome hardships and challenges. Because it thrives so strong, yall. That little, fragile, flimsy flower can exist practically everywhere with barely a pinch of soil or a crack in between two tiles, drinking rain to grow and clinging to the winds to keep going without any help at all. It flourishes and it blooms all the same no matter how barren that land is.

It’s Nico. Small, young, lonely Nico, who has gone through so much without giving up and loves deeply despite the excruciating pain and thrives in death itself the way nobody else can. He looks at Tartarus’ raw being and survives. The Twins suffocated him for days and he just went no-breathing to keep living. He didn’t stop loving in spite of all that self-loathing. He’s given power over death - one that scares and upsets most - yet Nico takes it like a crown, prideful and unafraid. Persevering. Unrelenting. Resolute.

Nico who is praised by Apollo himself for his resilience, which precedes even Stygian iron. No matter how much he’s twisted, he won’t be broken.

- This is just me over-thinking, but I can’t help but notice how young Nico was like a dandelion seed, too.

A tiny, little seed that was dropped off heartlessly by the winds, young and naive, alone in a new land far, far away from home with no mother and siblings gone, struggling to learn how to survive by its own. That, right there, is ten-year-old Nico for you.

From here on is what I’ve been able to gather from flowermeaning.com. And this is why, although it’s just wistful think, I’m a little skeptical Rick did some researches to come up with Dandelion as the result of Persephone’s curse.

According to the site, the Dandelion mean:

Healing from emotional pain and physical injury alike

Look me in the eye and tell me Nico has never suffered from agonizing emotional traumas and critical physical injuries. I dare you.

And now he’s doing better! He receives therapy, he has a loving sister and an attentive father and a caring boyfriend and other friends! He’s doing better. He’s healing. And as much as I love to throw pains at him over and over again in my fics, Nico is getting happier in canon. Rick didn’t abandon him.

Intelligence, especially in an emotional and spiritual sense

Nico talks to ghosts. And forgotten goddess. And makes friend with an amnesia Titan. He’s sensitive. He reaches out. He knows so much and he cares so much more.

His emotional world is an unlimited dreamscape.

And last but not least: The warmth and power of the rising sun

And who’s the sun, you might ask?

…

…All that time. So many books. And Rick had been hinting at Solangelo. all. that. time.

I can’t believe this. What am I supposed to react to this?

Of course, it could mean that Nico would finally find solace at the end of his painful journey, but I cannot help but focus too much on the fact that Will Solace is akchwkhdsjhs literally a ball of sunshine and they do end up together I don’t make the rule——??!!

Furthermore, the Dandelion does delivers positive message such as long lasting happiness and youthful joy or getting your wish fulfilled. I don’t know whether Rick really did mean it when he came up with the dandelion but, well, it’s nice to think that as a promise he gives to Nico, whom he makes such a great effort to torture.

And if I’d prefer to think that it’s Persephone’s subtle blessing then it’s my business.

In conclusion, it most likely wasn’t a careless choice when Rick went with a dandelion as one of those… physical literature metaphor (?) Nico has been. Maybe I over-analyze some (I always do anyway), but it’s still nice to find out that it’s such a fitting and beautiful thing to associate with my beloved angel.

(And it doesn’t help either when I headcanon Persephone has a sort-of tolerable stepmother-son relationship with Nico. I mean she could have chosen a dandelion as it’s such a trivia plant, yet still holds positive symbolism like Persephone tolerates Nico enough to wish him happiness, after all)

#nico di angelo #dandelion nico #persephone (pjo) #yone rambling #yone headcanon #nico headcanon #nico healing #will solace #solangelo #solangelo headcanon #ghost king nico #nico and persephone #pjo #hoo #toa #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #flower language #canon solangelo #riordanverse

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Ruki [VAMPIRE ENDING]

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

ー The scene starts in the Big Hall at Eden

Shuu: ーー What’s the situation on the battlefield? 

Ruki: The enemy troops have been expelled in the North, West and South. Things are going well in the East as well with Yuma and Sakamaki Ayato handling the front lines. 

Shuu: ...I just hope those two don’t overdo it.

Ruki: Do not worry about that. I made sure to send Kou and Sakamaki Reiji with them to keep them in check.

Azusa and Sakamaki Subaru are in charge of taking care of our injured soldiers. Yui is with them as well, so that should be fine. 

I asked Sakamaki Kanato and Laito to track down the Vibora who ran away, just in case. Of course, I told them not to take action unless necessary. 

Shuu: ...Why am I still here, I wonder? You’re much better suited to be the King than me. 

Ruki: Hah, talk about irony. You should know better than anyone else that I am not fit for that title. 

Shuu: I just spoke my mind, that’s all.

Ruki: ...A King is the symbol of its clan. In which case, I do believe you are the best candidate, Sakamaki Shuu. 

Shuu: ...An eye for an eye?

Ruki: I just spoke my mind, that’s all?

Shuu: ...Haah. You’re not as nosy as Reiji is, but you’re kind of a pain in the ass. I feel for that woman.

Ruki: Unfortunately for you, it appears she happens to enjoy that side of me.

Shuu: ...Save that sappy bullshit for another day.

???: Exactly.

ー Somebody approaches them

Shuu: ...Who’s there? 

Ruki: You...! Why are you here!? 

Kino: What’s so strange about that? I’m a Vampire too, remember?

I came here because I want to have a little chat with Mr. King over here. Do you have time right now?

Shuu: I don’t see why I would talk with some guy I don’t even know?

Kino: Oh come on, don’t say that! I’ve come with a tempting offer.

You might not expect it, but I’m actually the leader of a certain organization. So here’s my suggestion...

I’ll offer you my underlings as soldiers for your troops, so why don’t we join forces? 

Shuu: Excuse me...?

Kino: We actually planned to take out the Vibora and the Wolves by ourselves, but that’s proving to be a little tricky. 

We’re both Vampires, so why not? Let’s work together, okay?

Shuu: ...

...Very well.

Ruki: Oi...Are you sure?

Shuu: It’s not like I’ll lose anything from it. Having more soldiers to rely on never hurts, does it?

Ruki: ...

Kino: Fufu, I knew you’d understand. I expected no less from the guy who inherited Karlheinz’ powers. 

Right! Why don’t we make a toast on our alliance? I’ll prepare some drinks right away! Yuuri!

ー Yuuri walks up to them

Yuuri: Here you go.

Kino: Ah, this is my aide, Yuuri! While he might not be as impressive as yours, he’s nothing to scoff at either!

Well then, here we go! Cheers!

*Cling cling* 

Shuu: ...

Ruki: ...Haah.

*Smack*

*Shatter* 

Kino: ...! What are you doing!?

Shuu: ...What are you playing at, Ruki?

Kino: Oh come on! What’s the intention here? Way to waste the drinks I prepared!

Ruki: Drinks, you say? ...Shouldn’t you say ‘poison’, instead? 

Kino: !!

Ruki: Then there’s you, Sakamaki Shuu. Stop fooling around.

Shuu: Not really...I just didn’t mind if I died, that’s all.

Ruki: You really lack even the slightest shred of motivation, don’t you?

Kino: ...Hold up. Don’t tell me, both of you saw right through me? 

Ruki: Why else do you think we agreed to your conditions? We were just baiting you to see when you’d show your true colors.

While this guy has the energy level of a sloth, he is far from an idiot. You should remember that.

Kino: ...Excuse me...? So you were making a fool out of me!?

Ruki: That’s our line. You must truly underestimate us if you thought you could deceive us with such an obvious scheme. 

Shuu: So, what are you two after? My life? My powers? 

Kino: ...Look at you acting all calm!

Yes, exactly! I want those powers of yours!

In this case, I’ll just have to take them by force! Yuuri! Back me up!!

Yuuri: Roger. 

Shuu: ...Just when I thought I was lucky for not having to directly fight those Vibora, here I am facing a Vampire instead. 

Ruki: Need some help?

Shuu: Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to. ーー No thank you.

Ruki: ( ...You truly are the rightful King, Sakamaki Shuu. )

( I cannot survive without having someone lend me a hand. ...However, that is fine. )

( I am powerless and weak. That is why I live together with my family. )

Monologue

ーー Three days later.

The Vibora troops had completely withdrawn, 

from both Eden,

as well as the Vampire’s territory. 

Ruki-kun told me,

that if Shuu-san as the current King,

were to continue showing his commanding power,

the ongoing chaos should gradually come to an end as well. 

As he spoke those words,

all distress he showed in the past had completely faded away,

and I could tell,

that he had acknowledged Shuu-san from the bottom of his heart.

ーー However, even with the war coming to an end,

and the situation at the Demon World stabilizing. 

Eden did not return,

to its former magnificent state. 

Even so, Ruki-kun told Shuu-san,

that he wanted to continue watching over the castle,

which he always wanted to protect for its many memories it holds,

until the day it crumbles apart.

Shuu-san gave him permission to do so,

and I ーー without a moment of hesitation,

decided to stay behind here together with Ruki-kun.

ー The scene shifts to the World Tree

Ruki: ...

ー Yui walks up to him

Yui: Ruki-kun. You’re here again? You could always read inside as well...

Ruki: It’s most pleasant to read over here. I’m sure you’ll understand what I mean if you join me. Now, come over here.

On certain CGs, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“I didn’t think we’d get to spend time together in peace like this again. ...I am eternally grateful for the fact that I was able to overcome that obstacle and once again live happily with you and my brothers.”

“When I look at this picture, it’s almost like I can hear their voices.”

Yui: Guess what? We got a letter from the other guys. Look, it even came with a picture. 

Ruki: ...Seems like they’re doing well. Are they managing by themselves?

Yui: Seems like Kou-kun is busy with his job as an idol again.

That’s why Yuma-kun is trying his best to cook, while Azusa-kun takes care of the laundry. 

Apparently they take turns to do the cleaning...

Ruki: They suck at both cooking and cleaning after all. I guess they haven’t changed in that regard.

Yui: We received a letter from Reiji-san as well. Here you go.

*Flip* 

Ruki: ...Seems like there’s some developments in the case I told you about.

Yui: The one about the Ghouls? 

Ruki: Yes. Seems like everything is finally ready to have them move to a new home. 

Monologue

Ruki-kun actually made one more request,

to Shuu-san. 

This being for the Ghouls,

to get the chance to move away from Rotigenberg,

and allow them to live,

on the Vampire’s territory.

While things seemed rather chaotic on their part,

now that Kino-kun and Yuuri-san are no longer around,

that only lasted temporarily. 

While Ruki-kun claimed,

that he did not do this as some kind of atonement...

I do believe that deep down,

he is kind of worried about his biological dad as well. 

To Ruki-kun,

that man is just as much real family.

Yui: Want to go meet him...once things have calmed down? 

Ruki: ...No, I don’t intend to. Right now, I’m a Vampire, not a human nor a Ghoul. 

As a Vampire, Karlheinz is my one and only Father.

It’s just...I do wish for him to be able to live in peace. In this World, at least.

Yui: ...I see.

Ruki: I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time. While I did consider that man to be my Father, I also viewed him as some sort of deity. 

I believe the more I thought that way, the more I made a God out of him. 

That’s when I realized. While our situations were completely different, I believe that man had plenty of struggles of his own. 

Just like how I always tried to reach the ideal my brothers had set up for me...I believe he also tried to live up to the expectations of me and his other faithful followers. 

Right now, I truly believe he suffered.

Yui: ...Perhaps, yeah. That’s just far too heavy of a burden to carry by yourself after all.

Ruki: Yeah, it was for me, at the very least. I suppose that man was the only person actually capable of doing so.

I already had my hands full protecting my family. 

However, perhaps it’s the fact that we live while supporting each other which makes us a family.

Yui. Will you continue to be there for me?

Yui: Of course. We’re family after all. 

Ruki: ...I think you might be thinking of the wrong interpretation of ‘family’?

Yui: Eh? 

Ruki: While you are family, we’re not siblings. ...Do you understand what that implies? 

I want you to support me as my wife. That’s what I’m trying to say. 

Yui: Wife...Nn...!? 

*Rustle* 

Ruki: ...Nn....

*Smooch*

Yui: I-I...haven’t given my answer yet...

Ruki: We’re family, aren’t we? Then I don’t need to hear your answer. 

I wouldn’t go as far as to call myself indebted but...You’ve always been the one saving me up to this point. 

That’s why from here on out, I want to protect and support you instead.

Yui: ...I feel the same way. I want to protect you, and be there for you. 

Ruki: We’re as similar as ever, aren’t we? ...However, that’s exactly why I like you. 

I love you, Yui. Let’s live together...as a family. 

ーー THE END ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ruki mukami #lost eden #diabolik lovers translation #lerukiending1

[thearchmanofgreenfield]

As late evening fell upon Hatlynshire. Henry found himself both annoyed and exhausted. He hadn’t gone home since their ‘meeting’ with Mayor Del Mir. Instead he had gone to his work place, The Hatlynshire Steel Company, there he had spent hours in his office writing what seemed like endless letters and notes to every Circulion official under him while his brother David ran things around the factory while only ever visiting him in order to enquire about things that Henry often times did not know. And Henry often found these visits from his younger brother more annoying than genuinely helpful.

“Its fine, it will all be over soon” Henry told himself as he sat in the backseat of his car with his brother beside. “Just one more meeting. Then off to home”

The car sped through the now busy streets of Hatlynshire as people flocked to the roads in order to get home. Henry envied some of these ordinary people as he stared out the window, watching various men and women run around them like scurrying mice. The air was filed with obnoxious noises like the horns of the few cars that were on the road and the combined force of the chatter of people. Henry was quite bored since he knew his destination was still quite far away. And he could tell his brother David, a well-made man with a short beard and brown suit, felt the same.

“It appears that we’ll be trapped here for quite a while, no?” he asked while looking out the window.

“It appears so. But the driver will find a way” said Henry. David then turned to him.

“So, now that we’re moving at a snail’s pace. Would you please tell me why we’re going to this gathering? You’ve ignored my questions thus far”

“Yes, brother. And I will continue to ignore them” said Henry. Ulysses had told him not to tell many people about what they knew until the gathering. But David was his brother, he could trust him. Right?

David then grabbed Henry’s shoulder and gave him a guilt inducing gaze that he had perfected in their childhood. “Why are you hiding this from ME? I know you went to Great Borough this morning to talk to that pile of rotting scum they call their mayor. Did he say something to you? Are we in any sort of danger? Because if so I think I should know about such things!”

Henry tried to look away but he had never quite mastered the ability to ignore his younger brother. “I…The…There is no danger, David. Our…uh…interaction with the Mayor just went um…poorly”

David took his hand off of Henry’s shoulder and his gaze was replaced by a suspicious stare. Henry knew that David did not believe him in the slightest.

“Oh don’t worry brother!” he said enthusiastically, “All will be revealed when we get to the gathering”

“Hopefully” said David.

The car drove further and further away from the center of the city. Henry could already see the frequency of structures diminish the further they went. They had long agreed that it was best to hold official Circulion Gatherings as far away from Great Borough as possible. It was safer that way.

After another fifteen minutes they finally arrived at a four way roundabout. And on the other end of this roundabout, between two roads, was a large stone building shaped like rhombus. Its architectural style, for confidentiality purposes, was very similar to City Hall. But it was smaller and more…ordinary. No banners hung from its walls, no familiar statues guarded its door and there were no recognizable symbols carved into it. It had a large flat entrance with the familiar staircase leading up to a large almost medieval looking double door under a triangular overhanging roof held by four pillars. The roof was a reddish orange.  And it too had a domed roof, but it’s one made of glass accented by gold. It was only three stories tall on the outside but Henry knew not to judge it by outward appearances. For he knew he was about to step into his people’s sanctuary, their seat of power, their pantheon of might from which they held their part of this grim city.

He was about to enter the Great Hall of the Circle.

The car came and parked directly in front of the stairs in the designated lane. Henry immediately noticed that several other cars similar to him had already arrived. He and David did not wait for the diver to open their door for them. They instead got out themselves and made their way up the regal stairs. Henry managed to catch a glimpse of some of the license plates of the cars as they walked up the stairs. One read as STAR-001 while another read CROSS-001. Henry and David walked up to the pillars where he and David was immediately met with a small crowd of people. All neatly dressed and regal. Each wore a top hat with a small golden, feather like, pin sticking out of them. Henry immediately spotted Ulysses amongst the crowd since he was the oldest. The others were all in their thirties or forties. Henry smiled as he and David walked into the crowd in order to meet their peers.

“I see that we are the last to arrive” he said after tipping his hat to the crowd. The crowd responded by tipping their hats at him. Then a lady wearing a red dress over a black coat stepped forward from the crowd. Henry recognized her to be Mrs. Meredith Morning. She approached Henry and David with a smile.

“Well we can’t have a gathering without all our members, now can we?”

Henry then smiled and nodded politely and so did David. Then he heard another voice. “Morrow said you’d be late, Demon. And she insisted we wait out here in this damned wind!”

Henry looked past Meredith and saw the man who just said that. He was a thin but tall man in a navy blue suit. His name was Harold Venshire. Henry smiled at Harold and Harold smiled back as both men understood it was a mere joke.

“Well, Harold. The Ironworks is quite a distance from Hatles Borough!” he said is a cheerful voice.

Then another lady came forward and pointed to the door. Apparently impatient and fed up with how much time they had spent outside.

“I suggest we go in now. We have matters to discuss”

Henry recognized that lady, who wore a crimson dress over a black coat as Marilyn Morrow. And with her was another man who wore the same basic colors. He was her brother, Eustace Morrow. Henry knew that no one here was more eager to know what had happened between them and the Mayor more than the Morrows. Of course, that was only assuming that they hadn’t already foreseen the results beforehand as they often do.

Eustace pushed open the big wooden doors of the Great Hall and Henry followed the group as they walked inside. Inside the hall was quite the sight, something Henry never got tired of seeing. The Hall expanded beyond the walls of its exterior to form a space so large that it was impossible to capture it all from a single view point. Henry knew that the exterior building was just a mere shell, a façade to hide the true proportions of the Circle. He knew that door was portal, an old portal that led to a place far different from reality.

The first area of this near infinite expanse was the main square. Where the floor was decorated with an intricate mosaic of the Circle’s symbol. To his left, Henry knew lied the Court of Nobles. A large circular room where all the leaders of the Hamlets met. To his right, he knew was the Order of the Intellegencia. A rectangular room that housed the most complete collection of books and records in Hatlynshire. All studied by the most elite of the Scribes who then passed their knowledge off to the public in the form of the College, the institution of learning. Next to the door that led to the Order of the Intellegencia was the Court of Justice, the Institution of Law. And next to that was another door, and another and another. Henry often got confused at the sheer number of Orders and Councils there were. But what he knew was that it didn’t concern him all that much. He had but one council to answer to, and that council was called the Table of Great Houses.

Marilyn led the group to the end of Great Hall, to a door even bigger than the front door. This door was adorned with a gold accents. The door was also engraved with various scenes from the Circle’s history. One engraving at the bottom of the door showed their ancient ancestors fleeing from the humans. Another engraving above it showed them hiding among their enemies. Yet another showed a few Circulions rising above the others and another showed them creating the Circle as they knew it. The door also had eight flat, empty circular areas. Henry, approached the Circle in the corner while Eustace, Ulysses, Harold and all the other heads of the houses approached their Circles. Henry always felt nervous during this part. He reached into his head and took off his hat. He then grabbed the golden pin which turned out to be an inch long needle. The others did the same with their pins. Henry then took the needle and pricked in thumb with before letting it bleed. He then used that bleeding finger to paint the symbol of the House of Demon on the flat circular area. Doing so was slightly painful but Henry had learned not to mind it. After he painted their symbol of a trident surrounded by an eight toothed circle he tapped the door with his bloody hand. The blood on the wood then erupted into bright blue fire before disappearing completely. One by one the others tapped their circles and their symbols too disappeared. Eustace, who was in the center, then pushed open the door which had been closed earlier.

Henry put his hat back on. He and the rest of the group then walked into what Henry considered the most beautiful room in Hatlynshire. It was a massive circular room with a roof that went on to what looked like infinity. It was lit by floating chandeliers and decorated with Circulion banners and various other artworks that flew around in floated randomly. The floor too was made up of floating pieces and below it was an endless abyss. The only still part of the room was a rectangular table that floated in one place in the middle of the room like an island. Marilyn extended her hand out but before she could do anything David made it to the front of the group and held his hand out. He gestured to Marilyn and she willingly stepped aside as David waved in hands and flicked his wrist and all at once hundreds of floating pieces came together in front of him to form the floor of the roof. David waved his hand again and a large carpet also descended from the sky and fell on the floor in front of them. David then gestured to Marilyn again and with a smile she, followed by the rest of the group, made it across the floor and to the table. Henry raised his eyebrow at David before he crossed and David gave him a smug grin

The group each took their seats on the table. The seats were embroidered with gold and silver and even the cushions were of the highest quality. Henry sat next to David. In front of all their chairs were white wooden masks. Each with a completely smooth face and only two black holes to represent the eye sockets. Each mask had a set of branch like antlers. Henry knew this was a reference to the old ways of their woodland ancestors who, according to the Scribes, had worn the faces of the mystic creatures of the old Arylmoor. Henry and the rest of the members put on their masks. Henry always thought of how odd the Great House meetings looked. With all the members in their masks while sitting in this room. It almost felt surreal. But Henry had been coming to these meeting for years. After some time the initial wonder tended to fade away a bit.

Ulysses then stood up from his place at the front of the table. He hand and opened his palm. Henry saw a book float into his grip from a bookcase floating above them. With the book came a quill. Ulysses then let go of the book and made it float a foot away from him while the quill automatically wrote down everything he said. A feat Henry considered impressive.

“I must ask him how he concentrates like that” he told himself. He then sat straight and faced the table as Ulysses started the gathering.

“I, Baron Ulysses Everton, hereby proclaim that here, on the 282nd Day of the year 634 in the After Flight Era. In the presence of all the Barons of the Circle, meeting of the Great Houses has officially commenced”

The quill moved swiftly on the page of the floating book as Ulysses talked clearly out of his mask. He then placed both of his hands on the table and looked at all the members with stern glare.

“As you all know. Henry and I went to meet our old friend the Mayor earlier this morning. We tried our original plan of bribing that wretch” he said. He then stared at Henry. But henry wasn’t sure what he was feeling since he couldn’t see through his mask. “It failed” said Ulysses in a serious voice.

The sound of chatter went across the table along with a sense of tension. “What do you mean failed? That fool didn’t take the money?” asked Harold.

“We offered him one million Sorasy, as planned. But Mr. Del Mir thought he was more valuable than that. He said that he would require one million a year to keep his ravenous hunters where they belong” said Ulysses.

“Well then, what do you propose we do?” asked a man in the corner of the table. Henry knew him to be Leonard Bernstein. “Do we default to your original plan?”

“It appears so” said Ulysses. “I do not think that swine would take ten million if we offered it to him. It seems that Morrow’s earlier prediction was…misjudged. But now that peace is no longer an option we can move onto our original course of action”

“The original plan carries far too much of risk” argued David. And Henry agreed with him. “If it were to fail we could lose everything!”

“But if it were to succeed we could be rid of both the Mayor and Montgomery” argued Leonard. David looked Leonard. No appreciating his stance on the matter. Then Meredith chimed in.

“Well if we do not do something. The Mayor’s actions will only get more brazen. He will start torching entire Hamlets if we do not stop him!”

Henry sensed a whisper going around the room. “True…Yes indeed…”

The tension in the room continued. It was clear that the table was divided on which course of action it should take. Even Ulysses went silent and thought about. Then suddenly the man sitting next to David, Carlyle Hatly, stood up from his chair.

“Well, I do not understand why we’re bickering over this. We have a surefire of knowing the outcome of our plan. Just ask Morrow here!” he said while pointing at Eustace and Marilyn. Ulysses gestured to Eustace who then stood up and took a deep breath.

“Both Marilyn I have seen the same thing. If we were to continue with our original course of action we have a good chance of succeeding. Del Mir will be dead and Montgomery along with him. But like Mr. Demon said. If we were to fail. It would lead to great destruction. The certainty of this cannot stated at this point as it is too early for that”

Ulysses pointed his hand at Eustace and put it down again. “See my fellow barons? This plan can succeed if we play our cards right. And by the end of it we will be rid of our most annoying enemies!”

Henry frowned under his mask. He knew what Ulysses’ plan entailed. And he for one wasn’t very enthusiastic about. He could tell that some of the other members of the Circle felt the same. He saw the others glancing at each.

“What do you think? Has old Uly finally gone daft?” David whispered to Henry.

“I don’t know. Besides, you know we cannot object if the table votes in favor of him” Henry whispered back.

“I do know that. Hence why I suggest we have a safety precaution in case this plan goes off the rails”

“We already do. All the houses do. It was one of the first things we thought about”

Just then Harold turned to Ulysses. Apparently with doubts in his mind. “And what about the casualties? We cannot expect the common people to endure this such suffering. If the Hunters get the upper hand they will commit atrocities! Genocide! Is your revenge worth that much to you, Ulysses?”

Ulysses paused for a moment. It was clear that he didn’t like being confronted about his need for revenge. But still he remained firm. “If all goes well most of the suffering will be contained in my own Borough. We have already dispatched letters to the Nobles instructing them to prepare from what’s coming”

“What about the costs then?” asked Carlyle. Who Henry knew to be the man who ran the Hatlynshire Bank. “Can the Circulion Treasury sustain this conflict with the finances it already has?”

“Finance is not a problem, Hatly. For if need be, we can always dip into our private coffers. But I know the Treasurer Caleb. He is a smart one. Hence why he was elected. You should know that, since like most Treasurers he is from the Bankers Guild.”

Carlyle stayed silent. And the rest of Circle started nodding in agreement. But Henry knew there were still some doubts in the minds of the members. And Henry knew Ulysses knew that.

“It is futile to worry, my dear barons. For by the time this conflict begins your families will be safe and secure. The Mornings and I have arranged that. So do not worry”

The table went silent. Even Henry dared not speak. Then suddenly Marilyn stood up from her chair and all eyes turned to her.

“So, should we vote?” she asked. Ulysses nodded. “All in favor?”

Everyone in the table raised their hand. Including Henry and David. Henry still trusted Ulysses. He knew he was older and wiser than any other member of the Circle. He knew if Ulysses was confident then it was bound to succeed. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“It is unanimous!” said Ulysses cheerfully. “And so, with that decision. I call this meeting adjourned!”

The book and quill next to him disappeared back into the floating bookcase. Ulysses then made a bottle of wine as well as a bunch of glasses float down from above. Henry and David both filled their glasses before joining in the toast.

“To the Circle!” said Ulysses bringing his glass forward.

“To the Circle!” said everyone else as they brought their glasses forward to meet his.

After that, the group slowly made their way out of the room and out of the building. Henry felt the cold air on his face as he walked through the door of the building and appeared once again in reality and under their overhanging roof.

“Well, it appears that this will be the most dangerous ploy we’ve devised in some time” said David. But Henry wasn’t listening all that much. Rather he was looking at the Morrows. Wondering whether they were hiding something. He had long since known that they were often not completely honest with their foresight. He saw Eustace talking to Marilyn but he didn’t hear what they were saying. He then saw them turn back and go back into the Great Hall. Henry tried to stay optimistic. Maybe they were informing the Nobles, or the Boroughman. Maybe they were appealing to the Treasury about something. But while he was thinking both Meredith and Leonard came over to him.

“I see that you’re lost in thought” said Leonard. Henry took his attention away from the Morrows and turned to Leonard. “What? No! I was merely thinking about our safety precautions. The nervousness is getting to me!” he said with a smile.

“Well not to worry. Our trains will be at the station ready to leave at a moment’s notice” said Meredith before changing the subject. “And let me take this moment to congratulate you on your son’s initiation! Considering that I may not have the time to tell you there”

Her words seemed to awake what seemed like a distant memory in Henry’s mind. He realized he hadn’t had time to think about his son Lucian’s initiation ceremony. But while he was thing his gaze was taken away again as he saw Ulysses, who was the last one to exit the building, walk down the steps to his car while waving at the rest of the members.

“Well… I hope to you see you there” he told Meredith while fixating on Ulysses. David apparently sense that his attention was no longer in the conversation.

“We shall definitely see you there!” he said taking over the conversation. “Considering it would be near suicidal not to be there. I’m sure Lucian would love to see little Evelyn and Arthur again It has been an awfully long time. Same goes for your children, Leonard”

Both Leonard and Mabel laughed. Henry paid them no attention while he watched Ulysses get in his car. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it.

Just then, as Meredith and Leonard were about to say something they were completely taken aback by the sound of a sudden explosion. Ulysses’ car blew up just as he closed his car door. The explosion happened so fast that Henry didn’t have time to react. The light of the flames blinded him temporarily while sound made his ears ring. The force of the blast pushed him and the others down onto the ground as he was engulfed in smoke.

Henry opened his eyes with difficulty. He tried to stand up but couldn’t. All the other members of the Circle was scattered around. They were all alive but on the floor. Henry’s ear rung like a siren. His breath was filled with thick and foul smoke. All he could see was the destroyed remains of the cars at the bottom of the stairs as a bright fire roared out of the car Ulysses had been in. Henry’s mind was racing. He was in shock as tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

Ulysses Everton was…dead.

To Contents- HERE

#writing #writers #writerscommunity #archman archives #writers on tumblr #tumblr writers #tumblr writing community #tumblr writing society #writing community #writer things #writeblr #authors #fiction #lore #writer #creative writing #writing memes #writer memes #memes #author meme #my wrtitng #my wriitng #my writing #original story #original writing #original content #original post #artists on tumblr #art #worldbuilding

[wri0thesley]

Thinking. Thinking about being the object of desire of Childe and Pantalone at the same time. And they do not like sharing. Childe who is so eager and competitive and will immedtiely conquer you and take what he wants and Pantalone who is much more subtle but no less greedy or demanding. WAH i love jealousy so much. I need the extreme tension between them as they keep trying to steal you away and have you, and you’re simply overwhelmed by these two powerful and greedy men that stop at nothing to get what they want. Being Pantalone’s lover but Childe wants you and pursues you without remorse. Or being Childe’s and how Pantalone covets you. please it’s been in my head for too long I love it hdjxjs

Any kind of jealousy or love triangle or whatever just has me VIBRATING and frothing at the mouth tbh

ah, but let's also consider; being attached to neither of them. merely being a member of the fatui; not even one particularly highly ranked, but perhaps one who has wrangled their way into an advantageous position wherein you serve the harbingers in their 'office hours' as opposed to being out on the field. simply . . . catching their eye. you're pretty. you have a little spark of something buried inside of you that has them interested, a sweet smile, interesting things to say when they do deign to talk to you (and you look at them with wide eyes because you cannot believe that it is you who has captured their attention).

childe pursues more relentlessly; cornering you in hallways and flirting, leaning over you with one arm on the wall and a cocky grin on his face, being all-too-eager to touch you and wink at you and ask you if you'll assist him in a little sparring practise - you might have a nice soft job here, but you should always be prepared in case there's an emergency where you need to fight!

childe kisses first. and pantalone sees it when he's looking for you to do some menial task and irritation flares in his chest when he sees the look you give childe afterwards - wide-eyed and wondering, your lips swollen from childe's excited attentions.

oh, dear. childe has to leave snezhnaya far more often than pantalone. pantalone, after all, is a banker and a businessman first and foremost - he's capable in battle, tactical . . . but he prefers to do said battle a different way. without childe there, though, there's all the more chances for him to sweet-talk you into kisses and touches and gentle gropes, reassure you of how he could take care of you . . .

you're being pulled from place to place constantly. when childe is back, he hunts you down with frightening efficiency, kisses you like you're going to be pulled away from him at any moment. you - poor you, toy of the harbingers, who cannot choose one over the other for fear of your position, who is forced to simply accept being this chew toy and show of dominance between them - give him what he wants. but you give pantalone what he wants, too - silken whispers and expensive lingerie and hours and hours spent wrapped around his bejewelled fingers until he asks you if you love him and you're so fucked out that all you can do is slur out 'yes'.

ah. the PETTINESS. pantalone sending you back to your duties with a necklace with his symbol on; childe sending you to pantalone's office with your clothes ripped and red rings of his bitemarks decorating your neck. childe having a pair of your ripped underwear just peeking out of his pocket when the harbingers all meet at once - pantalone calling to have you bring in a refreshment and squeezing your ass as you hand him a mug of something hot. . .

some of the other harbingers are deeply amused. some of them think that the two of them are being horribly unprofessional. some of them, perhaps, even think about taking you for themselves just to see what seeds of dissent they can sow--

#nat.txt #not sfw text #genshin impact posting #dub con for ts #power imbalance for ts #long post

[fem-blade-adept]

Seasonal short story for Sera’s adventures. Season of the Witch has fed my Warlock’s soul and story so this is the culmination of her journeyings so far. @ebevkisk

Facade and Cruelty

Eris was finally worn out.

Sera had seen many hive gods and slayed just as many but Eris had done what many thought to be impossible. Not only had she outsmarted Savathûn, the Hive Queen of Trickery and Deception, but she had also been the first to defeat her in a VERY long time. Accumulating more power than any hive had ever held at one time, Eris severed Xivu Arath’s connection to her own throne world, leaving both Savathûn and Xivu without any connections to resurrections and leverage if they ever attempted to strike back against the Last city.

Sera had sealed Immaru in a soundproof transmat-proof box. The annoying little twit had spoken his peace and hell if she was going to ever let him drift back to his master. Ikora had taken him away and Eris, after a long hug with Sera and a cry, had left to go relax with some tea and silence, both well and truly deserved.

As Sera hung back and admired the corpse of the Leviathan-Eater she had just killed, a very familiar voice drifted throughout the corridors of the throne world.

“My, my, I thought they would never leave.”

Sera’s anger flared and ice crawled across her fingertips and gnawed at her senses as the tempting yet ever condescending voice of Savathûn manifested from somewhere in the room.

“Ever one to talk, moth. How does it feel to be beaten?” Sera yelled, trying to pinpoint where she was.

“Oh, darling, it wasn’t the first time. My brother and sister show love by besting each other in combat. I’ve died about as many times as you, lightbearer. I also count your shrewd perception as a loss, my dear. Don’t think I didn’t know that you had me pinned back when I borrowed that old warlock’s body. I’m just surprised you didn’t rat me out.”

Sera seethed as the hive rune on her wrist burned with a white heat in the presence of its maker. “Information is power. We both know that. I learned a lot about your tells, your flaws, and your missteps. Even an avatar of deception isn’t perfect. Plus, while I don’t believe in fate, I do know that someone with a plan such as you had a reason and the intelligence to follow through.”

Savathûn’s voice chuckled. “Clever girl. You remind me of my brother. He was just as shrewd if more arrogant and driven by emotion. He didn’t like you killing his son even if it did get you a shiny new tool that he could take from you.”

To Sera, this was all small talk. A meeting of the minds. Sera had outmatched the goddess of trickery before and none of this was anything new. Sera demanded answers.

“What is this marking and why did you give it to me? And, keep in mind, I know when you’re lying.” She said, revealing the glowing symbol that was still burning like coal on flesh.

Savathûn cackled again. “A mystery that the great Pale Shade can’t solve. Now I’ve seen everything.”

The voice then turned deadly serious. “To keep you on a leash. A tight one. You’re very dangerous and I don’t like unpredictable variables. You’re the first person to outsmart me and I don’t like when people can repel my chaos with logic. You’re also useful. Infusing you with hive magic gives you a deeper potential. Especially with ice in your veins and on your fingers.”

Sera looked at her hand to find it covered in frost. Savathûn continued. “Eris was a proof of concept, though an unexpected one due to me underestimating her capabilities. Humans can wield devastating hive magic and the mere fact that you can handle that rune tells me you could do it too if you applied yourself. You’re an experiment and a rival. And since you killed my brother and me, I just happened to be in the market for such a thing. We could be a wonderful duo albeit a very spiteful one. Neither of us die, so we’re doomed to do this forever.”

Sera snarled. “One toe out of line and I’ll make sure this throne world becomes rubble and ash.”

Savathûn cackled one last time, louder than she’d ever heard. “Poor wayward light. Honey, you don’t even realize how much you need me yet. Your title, your respect from the Eliksni, even your queen. All are important for you. But so am I. You crave a rival. An equal. Someone who will make you better. You don’t even know yet, but sword logic runs through your very body. But, you’ll understand in time. If you survive the Witness, who knows? As someone used to say, Pain is your oldest friend.”

As her voice disappeared, Sera’s blood ran chill. Sera had said that back when she had survived Crota’s Oversoul. As Sera left to return to the tower, she felt a deep uncertainty wash over her as she feared that not only had the Witch Queen gotten in her head, but that she was also right.

#destiny oc #destiny 2 #season of the witch #seraphina

[hlootooart]

You know what’s kinda f***ed? How the sun is always associated with good and the moon evil. Even with the gift of modern knowledge and technology, we still do the moon dirty. Sun-based characters are symbols of goodness and positivity and all that jazz while moon/night characters are moody/depressing at best and evil at worst. Yes, the sun gives us light which without we’d be a giant ice ball, and it helps us tell time and provides photosynthesis. It also gives out solar system its orbit and us our seasons.

BUUUUUUT

It’s still a giant ball of swirling gas and flame that it occasionally shoots out randomly. The planets are the remains of its dead family members that it killed as it grew powerful. It puts out death rays that severely affect our health when exposed to them too long, despite being so far away that miles are no sufficient to illustrate that concept. You can’t even look at the dang thing without going blind AND if we were just even a little bit closer to it there’d be untold consequences across the entire globe.

Oh, and when it dies it turns a massive vortex of death so strong that not even light can escape.

(Tell this doesn’t look like an evil eye)

It also roars. Don’t believe me? Listen:

Pretty sure that’d kill us too if it was close enough.

So yeah, the sun is a confirmed Eldritch Horror (someone find that link to that other post too plz). If it were alive, it wouldn’t even be aware of our existence much less care.

(Earth who?)

But you know what’s even scarier?

It’s still very

very

VERY

SMALL (Antares is only the 15th biggest star in the sky.)

The moon on the other hand:

It’s not all that special on its own, as it’s just (possibly) a piece of the Earth that broke off during its formation and just stuck around. No solar winds, gasses, or atmosphere to speak of, even the terms “moonlight” and “moon phases” are misleading as it’s merely reflecting the light of the sun. It doesn’t even have a magnetic field anymore, as its core cooled down a loooong time ago. It’s relatively harmless-- provided it doesn’t crash into the Earth of course.

It’s also ridiculously tiny compared to us

(pictured: babby)

BUUUUUUT

It: protected the planet when it was younger from solar winds with its own magnetic field when it did have one, keeps our rotation from speeding up which also stabilizes our climates and seasons, and creates time as we know it; affects our tides, which plays a major role in ocean life in many ways; gives us light at night which helps all nocturnal life, helped us get our first leg into space with the moon landing,

gave us MOON ROCKS in the form of meteorites,

continues to help us learn about space, and protects the Earth from stray satellites that may otherwise strike it (hence all the craters on its surface).

(battle scars <3)

TL;DR The Sun can f*ck us up without even touching us. Meanwhile The Moon out here taking bullets for us, and how do we repay it? By making Saturday Morning villains based on it.

SMFH.

I LOVE YOU MOON <3

#rant #we do the moon so dirty #the moon is my homie #the sun #the moon

[radarrider87]

The Seven Year Sleep (Chapter 4)

It takes a good college try to rouse Ingo from his stupor, but soaking his head in a fairy fountain eventually does the trick.

The conman comes up like a flash, pushing my hand away and spitting the life-giving waters all over the floor. He shudders something fierce over the fountain, his mustache limp, his greasy hair plastered against his head as he cries out. “Enough! Enough, I say!”

We sit him down at one of the tables, his hands bound behind his back. His head lolls to the side, so I snap a finger under his nose and demand answers.

“I swear, Silent, I don’t know a thing. I swear on my niece’s life!”

Malon crosses her arms and thrusts out her hip. “Like we’d ever believe that, uncle. Now talk. You’re always listening in on the big bosses, using the fountains to gather your secrets, so you answer Silent and you answer him proper. What do the triangles mean?”

Ingo gives her one nasty scowl, but she doesn’t have to ask twice. “The triangles… It’s a symbol. You see it in all their letters, like some sorta code. It’s his warning to all of them, and… and it’s him, so they take it serious. They’re always telling the next guy to respect the three sides of power.”

Just like my uncle said. Three sides to his power. Now we’re getting somewhere. I ask Ingo what each side represents.

“You think I’d be spying on the bosses through a damn fairy fountain if I was in that deep?”

I grab his shoulder and squeeze.

“AHH!! Alright, alright! I don’t know nothing ’bout two of the sides, but he’s got the chief of police in his pocket. Makes it easier to sweep things under the rug, if ya get my drift. I’d bet anything the cops are on his side, lock, stock, and barrel. If you want answers, go ask them!”

Malon shakes her head. “The cops are a buncha crooks. Everyone knows they can’t be trusted.”

A mean-spirited chuckle escapes the old man. “You ain’t far off, sweetheart, but there’s still one good apple in that bunch. Name’s Darunia. He’s a lieutenant. Goron. Hard to ignore his kind. They take up half the freaking room. The chief wants him gone yesterday. Always trying to come up with ways to get him dismissed or killed in a raid.”

No answers. Just another lead, taking me further down the rabbit hole. I’m not leaving this place empty-handed. I press my foot down on Ingo’s weak ankles and ask about the Sheik.

“T-the Sh… Oh for the love of—I don’t know!” screams Ingo, and he looks like he’s on the verge of tears. I almost feel bad for the scumbag. Almost. “No one knows who he is! He’s not on Ganon’s payroll, I can tell you that much. He ain’t never done me a bad turn, but the big bosses hate his guts. He’s always prowling the streets at night, beating up thugs. The gangs call him a shadow. He’s the only thing that scares them right now, besides Ganon.”

No point in pressing any more. He’s telling the honest truth, for all the good it does me.

I step away from Ingo, asking Malon what she plans on doing with him.

“Don’t worry. I know how to take out the trash,” she says, turning to the stage and calling out. “Cremia, you can come out now! It’s safe.”

Slowly, the waitress peers out from behind the curtains, taking in the aftermath of that nasty brawl with cautious eyes. When she sees Ingo trussed up like a carnival goose, she’s still shaking, but that smile of hers sure can light up a room.

She walks over to Malon, who hands a key to the poor girl.

“I want you to take the Red Stallion out back. It’s got plenty of gas. We’re gonna load Mr. Ingo into the back… or do you think the trunk would work better?”

Cremia’s eyes go wide. “You want me to get rid of Mr. Ingo? I’m no killer, miss!”

Malon laughs. Goddess, how I missed that laugh. “Nothing as sordid as that, I assure you. I just need you to drive him to the police station. Ask for Darunia when you drop him off. Oh, and you’ll want to give him this.”

She heads over to the office, coming back with a large book wrapped in her pale arms. “This is the ledger—the real ledger—that my uncle uses to keep track of his winnings. I’m sure a bunch of those cops will be very interested to see how he cooks the numbers, especially the ones who gamble with us every now and then.”

Ingo starts spitting like an angry cat, but he gives that up pretty quickly when I stuff a cloth napkin into his mouth.

Malon smiles, hugging the waitress. “I promise, things are going to be a sight better around here. I’m taking over control of the Ranch, once and for all.”

Cremia’s eyes sparkle with relief and something very close to sweet revenge. She accepts the ledger from Malon, along with the job.

We drag out the sleeping goons, which is no small feat when you’ve got a Lynel bouncer on your hands. They’ll get the message after waking up in the back alleys, unemployed. 

Next up is Ingo, a broken twig of a man. He slides into the backseat of the Stallion without much fuss. I check the ropes tied around his hands and feet, but there doesn’t seem to be any need. The game’s over, as far as he’s concerned. The con artist has played his last trick, for now. 

And so Cremia drives off into the night, delivering her former boss up to the last good cop in town, Darunia. Better burn that name into the old memory, seeing as I’ll be having a talk with that badge shiner real soon.

Right now, though, I’ve got someone else on my mind. Malon turns to face me. We stare into each other’s eyes for the space of a moment, but that moment was never gonna last very long. She grabs hold of my shirt and pulls me in for a real humdinger of a kiss.

Before I can really return the favor, we’re making our way back into the club, tripping all the way up the stairs, and practically falling into her bedroom. Our bodies press together, colliding with the door as we make ourselves cozy in her private chambers. She breaks away from the kiss, but only because she has something more compelling in mind.

I feel the fedora rising off my head as she tosses it aside. I feel her hands grabbing hold of my suspenders, fumbling with excitement as she pulls them down my shoulders. That excitement boils over as she slips out of her gloves, unbuttoning my shirt with her bare hands, slipping her fingers down the muscles and scars of my bare chest.

She’s not the only one who’s caught the fever. With a wolfish growl, I spin this gorgeous woman around. She writhes with pleasure as my hands travel down her waist, then back up to search for whatever hooks and fasteners are keeping this damn dress in place. It only takes a few seconds to find the zipper and draw it downward, following the curves of her body, but a few seconds can feel like an eternity with heaven right around the corner.

At long last, her sequin dress falls to the floor, glittering like a country sky. 

She moves away from me, and those swaying hips of hers are driving me crazy. Her black lingerie hugs the voluptuous curves of her chest, her thighs, her stunning legs adorned in sheer stockings. She climbs into bed and slides across the covers, turning to face me once again. 

She walks her fingers down the length of her legs, removing her stockings inch by inch. She knows what she’s doing, the redheaded tease, and she’s enjoying every minute of it. This little show of hers already has me thinking long and hard about my life choices, when she suddenly decides to unbuckle her violet brassiere and toss it aside. And to make matters even better, she runs her hands through her hair, removing a pin along the way and letting those dazzling auburn locks rain down upon her chest.

Malon hums a note of pleasure. “Come here, my fair boy.”

I come closer. She reaches out for me, touching me, running her hand over the clear signs of desire. Breathing hard, she unbuckles my belt, urgently.

Nothing stands between us now. Our bodies are ready and so are we, completely and utterly honest in our affections. I lower myself over Malon, running my lips over her neck, biting her skin softly. Her moan is deep and filled with enchantment.

The wind rushes by, blowing the thoughts from our minds, moving through the city streets outside. Somewhere, off in the distance, you can hear the distant sound of thunder, like horses galloping across an open field.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39944304/

#legend of zelda #zelda #noir #crime noir #fan fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #link #malon #night club #love scene #sexy #noir au #radio drama

[halloweennut]

Once Shattered, Now Whole: Chapter 3

oh heck, new chapter. Skeleton King is a jerk, mysteries are rampant, Chiro gives a gift to Jinmay. Starts with drama, ends with sweet. 

The Skeleton King's excursion to Verron had left him with more questions than answers, and another ring to burn his hand. The two silver and jade bands were perfectly matched, and stacked together they fit perfectly. The Verron Mystic symbolism at its peak. It disgusted him. And yet, he was intrigued- not the symbolic nature, but the little mystery around them with his General and his former self. 

He had, in fact, retained his memories of before. But the less the Skeleton King remembered, the better. He couldn't allow any of that old and dead man he came from to allow passage through. Regardless, there were no memories of receiving the rings, none of his General...but there was a space of time at Verron where things became unclear. Of course, the Mystics were clueless and useless for something so long ago now that the Power Primate was rejecting them and their archives said nothing other than the brief receipt of the Alchemist being the ring's owner, and the disappearance of the other from the vaults. 

As soon as he landed back at the Black Spire, under the cover of night, he was quick to brush away Skelemandarin's prostration and inquiries. The only thing he cared about was his report on the brief breaks in the blockade, but the Skeleton King knew it would happen at some point. Some little flaw- but the blockade had done more than enough damage to make up for it. 

Before anymore could come from him, the Skeleton King dismissed him. "I am not to be disturbed. Understood?" 

"Yes, my King," Skelemandarin bowed his head before disappearing into the castle. The Skeleton King continued on to his personal chambers. He had no need to sleep or rest; he was dead after all and dead twice over. It felt more like a formality to have one, but it did allow him privacy when he wanted it. The rooms were bare, save a few archaic tomes, a table, and the few items taken from the Hero and General's old home. No light permeated the space, but with a practiced wave of his hand, candles were lit, placed all around the room and floor, wax and flames deep black as if to cast shadows instead of light. 

He kneeled onto the ground and took the facsimile of a breath. Old habits really did die hard. With practiced concentration, he slipped into meditation. One moment he was in his chambers...then with another false breath, he was in Purgatory. It was as it had always been. The Alchemist stood in front of him, his living mirror image. 

"Alchemist," the Skeleton King said. The man scowled. 

"Brave of you to come here. It's been a long time since we spoke last," he said sourly. "I felt you looking at my memories." 

"There's no way for you to return," the Skeleton King replied. "Unlike my General, you no longer have a body to return to. Our connection is one way."

"Why are you here? To torment me?" the Alchemist replied. "Is this my punishment for helping Mara?"

"I am curious as to how she managed to escape and return to her body," he said. "I believe she wasn't as dead as my soldiers thought, her will too strong. She didn't receive the same treatment you did."

"And she never will. I destroyed that portal, destroyed the notes and everything," the Alchemist said defiantly. "Even if that is what you were trying to remember, it won't work. You know as well as I do about the immemores incantation from the Verron Mystics."

"Why would I need a portal when I already walk this plane?" the Skeleton King laughed. "But...I am here regarding them."

He held his hand aloft, the two rings floating just above his palm. Even then he felt the warmth in his bones. The Alchemist looked at the rings, confused. Not even out of a reaction that they shouldn't be with the Skeleton King, far from the safety of Verron, but something just below the surface that he couldn't place. The Skeleton King read it clearly on his face and eyes. "So, you do recognize them."

"They're ceremonial rings from Verron, only used in certain rituals," the Alchemist said, trying to sound plain. "They shouldn't be here." 

The Skeleton King ignored that. "You know, one of them belonged to you. The other disappeared when you received it."

"Well, yes but...," the Alchemist trailed off. "Why did they give it to me..."

"And the oddest thing occurred - the missing one reappeared on Shuggazoom in the home of my General. My scouts found it a few weeks ago," he continued, letting that one float closer to the Alchemist. "According to my resources, she's only owned it for 17 years or so. That is the first time it had been seen since it went missing. She knows that it's important, but not why..."

The Alchemist grabbed for the ring, and it flew from his reach and back into the harsh grip of his former body. 

"So tell me, how are you two connected?"

"I...I don't know - I died before she was ever born, Mara and I-," the Alchemist tried to reach for an explanation. "We aren't in each other's memories. We were able to interact because of how close her body and you were."

The Skeleton King scoffed. "Then, by all means, she should have disappeared from you when I sent her away for off-planet tasks."

"But that doesn't make sense," he snapped. "I'm here because I died and my soul was trapped here by you and the Dark Ones. You sent her here to puppeteer her as you've done me...but she wasn't dead...I had to be in her memories, and her in mine..." 

"You said so yourself, you died before she was born," the Skeleton King taunted. "How did you know my General?"

"Her name is Mara and she is no longer yours!" the Alchemist shouted. There was a weak flicker of blue and red magic at his fingertips. "You have no right to her or those rings! They're ours!" 

"Yours?" the Skeleton King said incredulously, staring at the swell of magic in his former soul. He had been there too long. "Well then...I think it's time I left."

"No you don't!" was the last thing he heard before the Skeleton King found himself back in his chambers. He could feel, still, the weak brush of magic against his chest from the Alchemist's attempt to hold him there. He would have to fight the living soul back, probably, in the next few weeks until it was subdued, emboldened by fresh anger and confusion. The two were warranted. The Skeleton King held the rings aloft in his hands again. 

The recognition, the odd lack of clarity in his memories, the random appearance of a valuable artifact in the mother of the Chosen One's hands? It was all too much of a coincidence, and yet the lack of evidence was there. Until something that the Alchemist said rang in his head: the immemores incantation. The one spell from the Verron Mystics passed on from the Power Primate himself that could erase memories or parts of them. Just like he had done to his knowledge of the portal, the Alchemist's memories were gone or altered for part of the time he spent on Verron. Unfortunately, there was no way to access them. The body and soul had to be alive and together to do so, and that was impossible for him. Of course, he was still an alchemist after all. A few spells and potions would more than likely reveal all that was unknown now. Perhaps a mystery could be solved. 

He stood, and grabbed a few tomes from his walls. The time had come to visit another former home - the Alchemist's lab. The pieces needed for a revealing cantrip would be ready at his disposal, and simply the act of using the former home for his misdeeds would be torture enough for the Alchemist. The sun was already rising as he left for the jungle, keeping to the shadows as he sped. The last thing the Skeleton King wanted was to be seen by any scouts. He wanted no intrusions, no delays, not by some half-trained pilot or monkey or hero. He had plans to fulfill, and for this? No one would be able to stop him.

-

In the safety of Shuggazoom's walls, the supplies were being distributed out, and repairs were beginning. For the first time in weeks, there was enough food and the promise of more help helped rekindle a few spirits. Chiro had been up with the sun, helping oversee everything. When he finally took a break, the sun was getting higher in the sky. The travel from yesterday and running from one end of the city to another was hell on the engine. He leaned against the Super Robot, taking advantage of the shade. 

"Chiro?" he looked up to see Jinmay landing in front of him, and he grinned. 

"Jinmay! Sorry I didn't get to see you earlier," he quickly apologized, rushing over to hug her. 

"No, it's fine! You had the supplies to take care of!" Jinmay said. "How did everything go at the Vault?"

Chiro paused at that, pulling away from her but not letting go of her hand. "I learned almost everything about my mom. She's actually willing to tell me more now. I'm still just - she left Sprx and me at her friend's shop to confront someone and almost killed them."

"Oh," Jinmay replied shocked. 

"I just wish she had told me what was going on. I know she couldn't exactly tell me everything as a kid but now?" Chiro continued. "I don't want to be left in the dark again."

"She seems to be getting better about letting you know things. After all, you are her kid."

Chiro sighed out a laugh. "I know. There's still some stuff she won't tell me yet, but she said that she didn't want me to shoulder the burden of it, so it must be bad..."

She rested her forehead on his arm. "It'll be okay. Once everything is over with, we can all talk about everything and anything." 

"Yeah...," Chiro said softly, leaning her head onto hers for a moment before popping back up. "While you're here, I got something for you at the Vault!"

"Chiro, you shouldn't have," Jinmay protested. He pulled a small box from his pocket. "...you really shouldn't-"

"I don't want to be...forward, I guess?" Chiro stumbled for the word. "I know you said that you wished you could grow up too. And the Vault has things from all over the galaxy, including things from tech planets. And I know that if Otto could right now, he'd make this for you but-"

He opened up the box to reveal a bright silver microchip. "There's a planet whose population is androids, and they have a chip just for their kids to grow up. I already had it scanned for issues and everything. Whenever you want, if you want to-" 

"Thank you!" Jinmay squealed, hugging him. "Now I can grow up with you! I can talk to Otto and Gibson about installing it tonight when I run diagnostics- Chiro, you have no idea how much this means to me."

"I'm glad you like it," he replied. "I couldn't come back without something just for you."

Jinmay cradled the box carefully in her hands, cheeks artificially flushed. "Oh Chiro..."

Before he could say anything more, she leaned forward and kissed him. Chiro could only mumble half-cognizant replies in response, face fully red, much to Jinmay's joy. "Yeah- yes- I mean, me too. I mean- love you."

"I love you too," Jinmay smiled. "I'm going to drop this off in my room for safe keeping. I'll see you in a bit?"

Chiro nodded, watching her fly off, following her form as it disappeared into the Robot. His glance went upward, seeing two silver figures up on top of the shoulder. Antauri and Mara had been meditating for a while. Chiro knew about his mother's small connection to the Power Primate, but it wasn't on the forefront of their minds to harness it. His mother was already a fighter and didn't need it, but for Antauri he knew it was a mystery as to why it was there. Chiro couldn't help but wonder if it was because of his own connection to the Power Primate and being the Chosen One, lingering after affects from before he was born. Whatever Antauri had figured out he hadn't divulged yet, more than likely still sorting through it. 

He entered the robot, and soon found himself on the shoulder. Mara's head slightly tilted towards his footsteps, only relaxing once she recognized the sound. "Hey star sweeper. How's the supply distribution?"

"Almost done. People feel more secure now," he replied. "Can I join you two for a little bit?"

"Absolutely, Chiro. Don't think I haven't noticed you've been skipping that part of training," Antauri replied, opening one eye to look at him, his muzzle twitching into a smirk. 

"Hey!" Chiro whined. Mara laughed, patting the space next to her. 

"Come'on you," she replied. "After this, I'm going to go scouting. Want to join or are you going back to distribution?"

"Clayton said he'd take over that," Chiro replied, sitting down. "I'll take the North-side if you take the South."

"Deal," she nodded, closing her eyes again as she rested her wrists on her knees. He smiled. All the drama of the day before slipped off his shoulders, and his eyes fluttered shut. Antauri took a moment to look at the two of them. The two of them were perfectly still, fully in a trance, Chiro's connection immediately burning bright in his mind, while Mara's still only just shined liked a neophyte's in the Order. After everything she had told him the night before, he couldn't help but wonder about some thing she had said. 

"There's a whole year and a half I'm missing from my memory," she had said. "It was like it never happened. I just disappeared, was back a second later, and I had aged. Probably just an isolated wormhole and there's nothing to remember...but I don't know...it just feels like somethings missing."

If was an odd occurance, he thought. Mara had gone on to say something like a rift had been opened on the bridge of her ship and she, foolishly, walked right into it. What made him ponder further was when she mentioned where it had happened - nearby the Corolla Dawn system. She didnt' know that, seeing as it wasn't on any star maps and hidden from all save those tied to the Power Primate and the Verron Mystics. Antauri had long since stopped putting faith in coincidences, and this couldn't just been one of them. Hopefully an answer came soon. For now, the two next to him were deep in their meditation, and he was more than happy to join them in the brief period of respite they had. 

#srmthfg #srmthfg skeleton king #chiro srmthfg #srmthfg oc

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

Oliver Anthony!

Wood Guthrie or right-wing agitprop?

Stephen Jay Morris

8/16/2023

©Scientific Morality

Oh, here we go again! Last month it was Jason Aldean, whose music had that vibe sound all the kids are into today. Plus, his lyrics did not rhyme. It was modern day prose. Get a rhyming dictionary, ding-dong doofuses!  His lyrics sound like the Heritage Foundation folks wrote it. “Try It in a Small Town” is yesterday’s news; gone with the wind! It took three guys to write the damn song!

All in all, this wasn’t a Motown song that became a major hit by mass appeal. It was a well-crafted, agitprop that infers vigilante justice by angry, middle class, white people against Antifa and Black Lives Matter. Neither does it evoke Bob Dylan lyrics that require in depth analysis of its symbolism. No! These pernicious lyrics have been crafted, and are intended for passive/aggressive WASPs and their esoteric language. They can read each other’s minds—or so, they claim.

Well, now comes this month’s mole. It is a perfect casting choice done in Hollywood style. With his short, red hair and lush beard, the dude looks like Vincent Van Gogh! He lives in a place called Farmville. Perfect! He has ninety acres of land and three big dogs. Is he married with kids? I do not know. If he is, he’d be a perfect candidate for the “every day, ordinary person.” This latest model exudes rugged individualism. Is he an A.I. creation? Seems like it.

A man with just a voice and a guitar can be a powerful thing. Oliver’s voice is archetypal Country and Western, though it is loud and clear. His guitar playing is adequate, like that of a Mel Bay student in their first year of guitar lessons. Given his lyrics, however, all possibilities for a promising career become a car crash. The conservatives will never learn that the Anti-Authoritarian Left are the trues artists.

Now on the chance that he wrote the words himself, it is evident that they come from his emotions. That is fair! Music comes from the brain and lyrics come from the heart. However, facts do not care about your feelings. In political statements, you cannot state a Left- wing view and then a Right- wing view. He did say he is a centrist. A centrist is like a big ass: You got your left cheek and your right cheek, and in the middle is the butt hole! Let us examine some of his lyrics. Shall we?

Here is where his lyrics crash into a wall:

Quote: I wish politicians would look out for miners, and not just minors on an island somewhere. End Quote. Good play on words. However, “politicians”? You do know that Republicans hate unions, don’t you? Perhaps you don’t believe in collective bargaining. How about the fact that they couldn’t care less about pedophilia, rampant among the religious Right. Perhaps you don’t believe in the truth. In either case, it is sad.

Quote: Lord, we got folks in the street. Aint got nothing to eat, and the obese milkin’ welfare. Well, God, if you’re 5 foot 3 and 300 pounds, taxes ought not to pay for your bags of Fudge Rounds. End Quote. First, as far as government assistance goes, President Bill Clinton did away with Welfare in the 90’s. Food stamps are still offered, but the benefit is very meager. You’d be lucky to buy milk and bread. Second, “obese,”—you resort to fat shaming? Being fat doesn’t equal wealth!  When you are poor, the only food you can afford is the junk from mini-marts, McDonald’s,or Taco Bell. Most junk food is full of empty calories and leads to heart problems and diabetes.  You imply that obese, African Americans are on welfare. Whoa! Whoa there, Hoss! America is home to the majority of obese people in the world! As for the motto, “Everything is big in Texas,” well, most of the state is populated by fat white women. It is a chubby chasers’ paradise over yonder! You said that you previously used booze and pot to suppress your depression. Alcohol is highly caloric. Unless you routinely chop wood, that explains why you’re not fit. Some drink beer to feel better and some eat to quell their melancholy.

So, let’s wrap this up! Oliver Anthony is either confused about political issues or just stupid. Sadly, working class people are victims of the rhetoric of pastors, Republicans, and Fox News. It all makes them willfully ignorant.

If you think your lyrics are just fine, then you are willfully stupid. I guess you won’t be singing to striking workers anytime soon. You want to learn something, read my articles! Remember when laid-off, Kentucky coalminers blocked southern railroad tracks in a 2019 protest? They called on the president for support and what did he do? Nothing.

Breaks your heart, don’t it?

#stephenjaymorris #american politics #country & western #baby boomers #anarchopunk #anarchocommunism #cowboy #anarchoindividualist #anarchofeminism #anarchoqueer #anarcho syndicalism #anarcho communism #anarcho primitivism

[gustafsnightangel]

Muse Part 5

Days later she woke and studied the man in her bed, remembered the past few days how he’d touched her, cared for her, loved her. There was no animosity as she took care of some work, or sat down to sketch, to paint. A kind soul that understood her need to create and encouraged her with no need for words passing between them. She didn’t need the words, she felt it. This could be something beautiful if she let it, if she worked at it and she found that she wanted it like her next breath. As crazy as it was, she wanted to be with him, a man she barely knew, but a man that had shown her she was more than what she’d believed herself to be. A man that knew how to treat a woman.

“Do I have something on my face?” He croaked out, his voice husky with sleep.

“What?” She snapped out of her musings and focused on those eyes that saw more than they were ever supposed to.

“I could feel you staring at me.” He grinned against the pillow.

“Sorry, I was far away thinking.” She felt the flush rise, he’d caught her out. Committing that face to memory to hold her over on the long days without him that were coming.

“Good thoughts?” He stroked a hand up her thigh and over her hip, before snaking it around her curves and pulling her in for a kiss.

“Sort of, just thinking.”

“What would you like to do today?” He didn’t push, he knew she was still working through her distrust of the male species. She’d tell him what was on her mind when she was ready.

“Just be with you.” She mumbled as her fingers twitched against his chest. “We only have two more days before you fly home and as selfish as it is I don’t want to share you with anyone.” Her gaze flicked to his and then back down to where her fingers were drawing infinite patterns over his skin.

“I couldn’t have said it better.” His smile warmed her when she looked back up at him. “We’ll figure it out Helena, we’ll make this work.” He could sense her unease about something.

“I don’t have the money to come visit you and I don’t want you paying for everything, I want this to work but I don’t...” She was embarrassed to admit it, financially she was a mess, living from one paycheck to the next. But she didn’t want his money, that wasn’t hers to lay claim to, even if they ended up together. “I just don’t know how to...” Her anxiety about the entire situation was gaining the upper hand.

“Look at me a minute.” He said and waited for her eyes to find his before continuing. “You are the first woman I’ve been with that isn’t after my money, connections, or fame. You’re in control Helena, but if you want to visit me at home I’d be more than happy to buy you a plane ticket. I also understand your independence and wanting to do things on your own terms.” He added as she opened her mouth to say something. With her history with men and money he was on dangerous ground. “Money for me isn’t a status symbol like it is for some. People tend to horde it and live miserable lives, using their financial wealth to gain power over people.” He saw the recognition light in her eyes for what it was, that Michael had done exactly that. “I don’t see it that way. I have money, yes, I’ve worked hard for it. But I prefer using it to experience new things, explore new places, and visit the people I love.” He was treading a fine line here because he knew she wasn’t ready for him to tell her he loved her.

“Oh.” Her gaze dropped and he could see her thinking something over. He knew she struggled with not comparing him to her ex but if it was the only benchmark she had he’d have to be gentle as they moved forward, give her time to acclimate, to learn.

“What we have Helena is more than money, more than a week between the sheets with mind blowing sex. More because we both recognize there’s something here, something worth investing in on a much higher level.” He curled a finger under her chin and gently lifted it so he could claim that mouth that was his undoing. “This is worth so much more than any riches in the world.” He breathed against her lips and felt her body give in. “It’s more than money, more than sex.” It’s love he added silently. “It worries you, the distance?” Her nod confirmed it and he’d wager a large sum that Michael had cheated on her when he was away. “What else?” He asked gently.

“Everything.” Her huffed chuckle made him smile.

“We’ll just take it one day at a time ok? We’ll make it work in our own way.” Sinking his fingers into her hair he devoured her mouth pouring every ounce of love he had for her into it.

“Sweet girl you’re so beautiful.” His tone made her quiver, as did the fingers blazing a trail along her spine, her blush creeping up her neck.

He rolled them both until she was under him, those soft curves enticing. Losing himself in her kiss he tormented every inch of skin until those barely audible pleas fell from her lips. Hooking her by the knees he wrapped her legs around his hips and looked down into those eyes of smoke and rain. There was no more falling in love with her, he was in love with her. “Helena.” He breathed against her lips, the soft kiss urging him to take more of what she offered so freely to him. Slipping into her wet heat she arched against him, the soft cry of his name making him harder still.

There was no denying the man currently between her thighs was a Viking god as he thrust inside her again. Their slow deep union making her feel every inch of him as he made love to her. She lost herself to him, memorizing him in this moment, the love she felt from him. She was still cautious, trauma and trust issues didn’t vanish overnight, or even a week of someone fucking her like he did. But he was right, what they had was worth far more than just this week.

“Go over sweet girl, come for me.” His breath ragged as he bottomed out inside her with a groan, her pussy clamping down around him as she came. He watched her come, those eyes captivating his soul. I love you, he whispered silently, so much. Moments later he saw stars as he came hard, this beautiful woman wrapped around him.

“I like waking up with you here.” She smirked.

“You just like the sex that comes with it.” His quip making her giggle. “Are you working today?” He asked, a finger toying with a loose wave of hair.

“No I think I can swing a full day off. I got a lot done yesterday.”

“Mmmm, in that case, let’s eat so I can spend the day doing wicked things to you.” His grin made her chuckle. Rolling off her to his side, she climbed out of bed to use the bathroom. She made him so happy, the thought of her visiting him at home more so. Standing he slipped on his sweats and balled up the dress shirt on the floor that she’d been wearing.

“I was going to wear that.” Her tone playful as she came out of the bathroom to dress.

“It’s really dirty, grab another from my bag.” He said gently and kissed those lips he couldn’t get enough of. “Whichever one you choose you can keep.”

“Really?” Her smile wide.

“I like the idea of you in my shirt, even when I’m not here.” His woman, he thought, she was his salvation. “Go on, my turn for the bathroom.” He kissed her longingly as if it was the last he’d ever receive.

Smiling she knelt in front of his bag and pulled out a few t-shirts until she found the dusty blue dress shirt she liked, it matched his eyes and he looked goddamn sexy as hell in it. As she pulled the shirt out her fingers brushed paper. Looking down what she saw turned her stomach, bile rising. Her drawing of Floki, her signature, there buried beneath fabric was her work. Something snapped in her brain, the world moving in slow motion as she pulled it out to find two more underneath, city scape watercolors. Her head was suddenly filled with memories, the emotions flooding her system, and unbridled rage. Her world suddenly tilted and started to unravel.

“Why are these in your bag?” She asked calmly as she heard the bathroom door open. But it wasn’t calmness she had simmering under the surface, it was a murderous fire. She’d been so sure he was different, the kind soul she’d fallen in love with. He was just like Michael after all, she thought as memories flittered around her brain. This was history repeating, a lesson she’d already learned and wasn’t about to have a refresher init.

“Why is wha....” He saw them then, in her hand, and the look of complete betrayal across her face as his eyes snapped to hers. “They we’re from the pile soaked with coff...”

“I know where they’re from, I was the one who placed them in the folder that morning. Why are they in your bag when you’d had the remainder cleaned and returned to me?” She cut him off and there was no mistaking her tone. These were legitimate questions, answers she was entitled to, answers he didn’t have, he was so fucked.

“Helena.” He pleaded. “It wasn’t like that.” Knowing her mind would have gone straight to her past, to Michael and what he’d done.

“Wasn’t like what? That you stole from me? You took my work Gustaf, mine. You had no right to keep them without asking me first.” She was right and he knew it, she saw it. “You’re no different from him.” She spat.

“You’d told me to trash them and I couldn’t and I never expected...” He started, there would be no reasoning with her and he knew it, but he’d not kept them to do what Michael had. He’d kept them to... to what exactly he didn’t even know in this exact moment. “You’re right.” He added backing down, he wasn’t going to see this escalate into a full on fight that would hurt her more. The damage was done. “You’re absolutely right.”

“I KNOW I AM.” She exploded, all the pent up rage she’d held onto for years at Michael for doing the exact same thing, boiling over.

“Helena.” He stepped toward her and she retreated with a glare that promised death if he touched her.

“Don’t you Helena me in that silky snake charmers tone.” She snapped and ripped the drawing of Floki and the watercolors into chunky confetti. Was it rational behavior? Probably not, she thought, but she was beyond rage and hurt, she was just done. There was no way in hell she was living through this shit a second time. She maybe naive and stupid, but she wasn’t about to repeat this mistake. Turning she stuffed the shredded remnants of her artwork in his bag along with the shirt she’d chosen. “Get out.” She snapped, using every ounce of will power to not cry in front of him, that would come later along with the soul crushing pain.

“Helena, I can explain.” He said softly, only just holding onto a semblance of composure.

“I don’t want your lies Gustaf, I think I’ve had enough of those.” She tossed his jeans and shirt at him, followed closely by his shoes and phone. “Get out.”

It was said so quietly, so calmly that he actually believed she would resort to physical violence and drop kick him out the door if he didn’t move. She stormed past him and opened her front door with every ounce of rage she felt. There was no room for negotiation. Collecting his things he stood in front of her, eyes filled with unshed tears and a visceral pain he’d put there. The damage would be irreparable. “I love you Helena, and I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. It wasn’t my intention.” It was all he could say, all that his ever tightening throat would allow him to say. Heartfelt as the sentiment was it wasn’t going to fix this. He stepped over the threshold in nothing but his sweats, the door slamming shut a breath later without another word from her. The resonating sound of her deadbolt latching had his eyes closing, the magnitude of his fuck up suddenly a harsh reality. Pulling on a shirt and shoes he placed a hand on her door and breathed, he could hear her sobbing, the quiet keening of a woman distraught drifting through the timber. “I love you.” He whispered, and let his hand fall. “And I’m such an idiot.”Standing on the sidewalk a few moments later he dialed for an Uber and glanced up at the window. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered as the car pulled up. Climbing in he gave the driver directions to the airport and disappeared, not wanting his presence to cause any further pain to Helena.

********************

She watched him through the curtain, her sobs turning into the silent tears of betrayal and all consuming numbness at what had just happened. How could he, she wondered? How did this all go so wrong? How could it be blissful one minute and disastrous the next? Watching him climb into the car she saw his final look to her window, their eyes locking for an instant and it hurt. A gut wrenching pain at the loss of something that had such potential to be wonderful, something she’d felt was so real. As the car disappeared from view a fresh wave of tears swamped her and she let it take her fully, there was no fighting this level of grief.

********************

It was dark when she woke, not wanting to surface from the blissful nothingness of sleep. He was gone, her apartment stone cold empty, she was alone in the world once more. She knew he wouldn’t return and perhaps, she thought, that was for the better for the both of them. It was a quick affair and despite his mesmerizing words he was never serious about her. She’d caught him in his own lie and would be better off without him. Climbing into bed she cried herself back to sleep, the sheets holding the scent of him close to her.

********************

Life went on around her, the hours without him turned into days, then weeks, the pain still raw and angry bashing itself against her skull. Henry knew there was something up and after giving him the short version she tried to put it behind her and move on, there was no other choice with bills to pay.

She glanced at the nearly finished paintings of Gustaf as she walked through the door one afternoon to her sanctuary. There was no desire to paint now, her muse had left taking her soul to create with him. Placing her messenger bag on the table she picked up the two paintings, the sketched out tryst between them and buried them at the bottom of her closet along with her box of paints. The pain was all consuming, a deep resonating numbness that lingered. She’d get nowhere healing with the constant reminder of what they had together, it was bad enough living with the memories of him. Setting up her calligraphy inks and nibs she got to work, burying the grief once more.

********************

He had no idea how he’d made it home in one piece, but he was here, staring at familiar walls, the silence consuming him. After a bone crushing sixteen hours he was home and the shower he was currently broiling the skin from his bones under, bliss. Though nothing prepared him for the devastation when he opened his bag, the memory of their last encounter a brutal attack on his already taxed emotions. With shaking hands he pulled out every piece of paper, every torn shred of graphite and color, putting them back together on the floor like the sentimental fool he was. When his hands fell on the balled up shirt she’d been wearing he broke, the fabric holding onto her scent. He deserved the torture it held, the scent of a beautiful woman and sex, he had ruined it all. It was never his intention to sell the drawing or watercolors and truth be told he’d forgotten all about them until she’d pulled them out. He’d never expected to fall in love with her, for those feelings to be reciprocated, for there to be a hope of a relationship. Those pieces of her work were a keepsake, a reminder of a woman he’d admired, he’d fallen for even on that first day. Burying his face in the shirt he breathed her in and let the sorrow consume him, the harsh reality that she was gone from his life.

********************

The wound was too raw to contemplate contacting her, even as the weeks turned into months he wasn’t ready to pursue her to deliver an apology. She’d get one because she deserved to hear the truth from him, but whether she accepted it as the truth was an entirely different matter. In all honesty he couldn’t have fucked this up more.

It wasn’t until he sat in his fathers living room one night, staring at Twilight that he realized life without her in it was not a fulfilled one. Life without her was empty. It lacked the shine and sparkle that it once held for him.

“I fucked up dad.” He mumbled.

“How bad?”

“Catastrophic.” His voice monotone as he focused on her painting, the colors, the brushstrokes, the beauty. His father was always there to hear his troubles, not necessarily to give advice but at the very least a chance to be heard. Retelling their story tugged at something deep within him, she deserved to hear the truth from him face to face. He owed her that much at the very least, to be a fucking man and face her wrath again which he deserved in its entirety.

“You should take that back to her.” Stellan said softly.

“I’ll buy it off you, then take it back to her.” Gustaf said honestly.

“It was never rightly mine if it was never her intent to sell it Gustaf. As beautiful as it is, it needs to be returned to her to sell again if she so desires. For which I’d pay double market value for as long as the money goes straight to her.” Stellan watched his son. “Where is its sister painting? Dawn?”

“At Paramount, in an exec’s office.” Gustaf said absently as a plan formulated. “Can you drive me to the airport?”

“Of course.” His father beamed at him, the all too familiar smile giving Gustaf a glimmer of hope. “Bring your girl home.”

#muse #gustaf skarsgard

[madamescarlette]

Just finished reading Eagle of The Ninth and I would like to scream (of pure, sheer, exhilarating joy). That is all. 

#reading tag #oh the power of symbols! of things to believe in when you are far away and in the dark! #but best of all the bonds we create between ourselves and those who love us and trust us #when cub comes back.....when esca chooses to follow......when marcus finds his father's ring #i wanted to cry. very very very much #this lingering image of the love he carried around for his tall brave beautiful father all these years #our love lasts so long etc etc #💖💖💖💖💖💖 #A JOY AND A DELIGHT #i wrote down so many quotes but i won't ply you with all of them. maybe just my favorite one. maybe

[syven-siren]

Crystallized Yearning // Kinktober 2021

{Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader x Alfie Solomons} Word Count: ~1.4k

Summary: Finding new partners, ones that won’t betray the trust of the relationship, can be difficult; especially with the shady characters Tommy does dealings with. But if there’s one thing you know, it’s how to pick the man for the job and Alfie Solomons is just right to put you in the position you’ve always coveted. 

Warnings: 18+ / voyeurism / cuckolding / double penetration / degradation / praise kink / size kink / power play / taunting / multiple creampie

There’s something about joining Tommy at his business meetings that is quite enjoyable. Though it’s been quite a few years since your initial accompaniment, there’s always something new to discover. It certainly isn’t the men, who Tommy deems worthy of his time, that you find intriguing. Most leer, just after their initial fascination wears off, forgetting their decorum while others scoff at your presence in the room. Those men believe a woman’s place is in the home or by her husband’s side while minding her words and tending to their children.

Alfie, like many of the other men you’ve come to know, directs his words towards Tom as soon as you step foot in his office. “I see you brought the missus then. Could have warned me. I’d ‘ave cleaned up the place a bit.”

You interject. The words flow easily with the sharpness of the blades hidden with Tommy’s cap, “He didn’t bring me. I decided to come and I’m not his wife.”

You are a blazing spirit, unabashed nature, and blunt words all held together in beautiful physical form. As most have outwardly exclaimed with no such eloquence, you are a truly blasphemous entity. But you’ll forgive Alfie's mistake this one time, if only because you’ve come with one certain objective in mind.

Many men assume, incorrectly, that you are a weakness, both to yourself and to Tommy. And taking control of the situation is fairly easy when your opposition assumes, incorrectly, that you are a whore Tommy totes around. You may not have the ring on your finger, yet, to announce your status in Tommy’s life but you have never been one that needed material symbols of commitment. And being a whore or housewife has never been and will never be your place.  

“Excuse me then.” His eyes wander to Tommy who has settled himself on the old couch far across the room before flickering back to you.

“I’m here to make a deal with you, Mr. Solomons.”

“Alfie is fine,” He waves off your formalities just as you thought he would. A smile slinking onto his face as he tries to calculate your next move, “And what could I possibly get you? Doesn’t Tommy give you everything you desire?”

“I don’t need a man to give me what I want. I take it on my own.”

A loud laugh rises up from him, “A real firecracker you got here, mate. I see why you keep her around.”

“You still don’t get it, Alfie.”

“Oh, I don’t? I always do tell Tom that intelligence is a valuable fucking thing. Come enlighten me then, love.” He relaxes in his seat, arms open wide in an unintentional invitation that you gladly accept.

Your eyes flick back to Tom who lights his cigarette. The corner of his mouth is crooked upwards, the barest hint of amusement on his face.

“Pour us some rum, Alfie.”

“And what are we toasting to?” Alfie holds the bottle out to Tom in offering, but the blue-eyed man shakes his head.

Gliding around the desk, you take the glass of amber liquid from his hand and down it one gulp. The path after burns, leaving a warm sensation as it hits your stomach and only adding to the heat growing between your thighs. Your gaze wanders over his face, following the drop of alcohol that escapes from his plump lips. You chase after it, your thumb grazing over his bottom lip to wipe the remnant away, “To a good fuck.”

Whether it be your words or actions that catch him off guard, you can not tell but he recovers quickly, pulling you into his lap and smashing his mouth against yours. He’s different from Tommy in that way. Both men are rough and dominant but Alfie has an all-encompassing warmth. It’s a smothering presence, both in size and personality. Whereas Tom is more deliberate and orchestrated. His power and poise are so big they could completely consume you, driving you to the end of pleasure only to yank you back for more.

Thick fingers weave through the skirts around your waist, unfastening them with an ease that only comes with experience. Those same digits pinch and soothe the skin of your exposed thighs dancing upward towards your awaiting core. Your hips rock, grinding yourself against his clothes erection. Even covered, you can tell he is large; a thought that makes you salivate.

A huff in the distance pulls you and Alfie apart, the man looking to his Brummie partner over your shoulder as you begin to suckle red marks on the skin not hidden beneath his cotton shirt.

“This gets you off, Tom? Me about to fuck your girl.”

“Fuck off, Alfie.” Tommy’s tone has a bitter bite but just below it, you can hear the utter enjoyment he is taking from the display you are putting on.

“Alfie, why you gotta rile him up? Hmm? Let him enjoy our little show.”

“You’re a fucking devil woman, you know that?”

You grin at him, leaning in to nip at his cheek before capturing his lips against yours again. It’s easy, the way things flow. No complicated discussion; just lust and yearning taking control and clothes discarded across the floor as you both give in to carnal desires.

Your head tilts back, unintentionally offering your skin for Alfie to mark as you sink onto his cock. The girth of him stretches you far past what you’ve ever experienced. His fingers dip into your hips, guiding you to a pace you both find suitable.

“Fuck. That little hole of hers is amazing, Tom.”

At his praise, your walls clench around Alfie’s thickness. The man below you chuckles, hips lifting off his seat to match the speed of your bounce. The floorboards creak beneath the weight of your joined bodies, only adding to the sounds released from your lungs and the squelch of juices between your thighs.

It’s almost immoral how quickly your orgasm rushes upon you. The tightening of your small cavern has Alfie gasping and grunting as he works you through the pleasure. You milk him, your body silently pleading with him to coat your walls. And like the good man he is, Alfie follows your command, spilling himself within you.

Heavy breaths and tender kisses are shared but he continues, never slowing his assault on your pussy. You shiver as an imposing figure stands behind you; his front brushing your back. The fabric of Tommy’s suit stimulates your already exposed nerve endings.

His lips attach to your shoulder, biting and then soothing the spot with a flick of his tongue, “Think you can take us both, love?”

“Yeah. Need you, Tommy. Give me your best.”

“Always do, love.”

Your body trembles again when you feel his cock rubs against your already plugged entrance. You hum in appreciation as Tom slips inside, joining Alfie in defiling your pussy. Both men groan as you continue to flutter around them.

Tom is the first to move. Such as with everything else, he takes charge and sets the new pace. Slow and steady, they both move, drawing moans and heady gasps from you. The mixture of your earlier union makes it a smooth transition to taking them both. They work in tandem much different from their usual friendly animosity. They share a more important goal this time: wrecking and ruining you.

And how easily they find a good strategy. As Tommy‘s cock makes an exit, Alfie’s, in turn, eases into you. The push and pull against each other along with the pressure your pussy provides has them both spiraling into ecstasy and dragging you down with them.  

The coil within your core snaps, pleasure washing over you and sucking the very breath from your lungs. Tommy and Alfie follow right behind, emptying into you with hearty moans. The essence of your sin drips out, dribbling past their lengths and your thighs.

It’s quiet for the first you minutes as the three of you bask in the aftermath of bliss. But it’s ultimately cut off by the deep rumble of Alfie’s chuckles, “That’s one fucking way to seal a new partnership. Now how ‘bout we have another round?”

Feedback, reblogs, & likes are always appreciated!

Gif Credit: @lousolversons Tagging: @reborn-rekall​ @amysteryspot​

#tommy shelby #alfie solomons #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby smut #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #alfie solomons x y/n #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders smut

[enchantestuff]

cursed crown (1) - pierre gasly

in which sneaking into Pierres kingdom only means one thing

warnings: smut, royalty au so there's that, language maybe?

please please please let me know what you all think

“Are you alright?” you heard Pierre quietly call from the window above you. You had just arrived at his castle and were currently trying to climb up to the kitchen window, admittedly with no help from the prince himself.

“A little bit of help would be nice, Your Highness” you scoffed. Pierre laughed at the title you gave him but obliged nevertheless, leaning out of the window and stretching his arm downwards, waving it in front of your face teasingly. You rolled your eyes as you grabbed hold of it, “I thought I was supposed to be the mean one out of the two of us” you muttered when you finally climbed through the window and planted your feet firmly on the ground. You brushed some dirt away from your coat before finally meeting his beautiful blue eyes.

“Perhaps you're rubbing off on me, my lady,” Pierre grinned. He grabbed hold of your hand and quickly led the two of you out of the grand kitchen, carefully glancing across corridors and hiding behind walls as maids and a variety of guests walked through his pristine palace. You thought you would have been used to sneaking around his home by now, you had been doing it for months after all, but the trek from the kitchen to his bedroom was never an easy one. Even though Pierre had repeatedly confessed to you that this certain day of each month was the quietest, there still seemed to be countless people roaming the halls.

“I do quite hope you haven't acquired only my bad traits, Pierre,” you whispered, quickly glancing behind you as you ran up the stairs and into his bedroom. This was the riskiest part of your journey. The stairs that led up to his bedroom were open for anyone and everyone to see, whether it be from the inside balcony above or from the spacious hall below.

Pierre laughed at your comment, quickly shutting his bedroom door behind him and twisting his body around to face you. He placed his hands on your hips as he led you further into his bedroom. “Are you insinuating that you have any desirable qualities, my love?” he joked, his beloved silly grin quickly making its way onto his face causing your own smile to erupt on your own. These moments with Pierre were the only times you could truly be yourself and they didn't come around too often.

“Well of course, your highness” you smiled, snaking your hands up his arms to rest on his biceps. Pierre jokingly cocked an eyebrow at you, his hands trailing lower down your body, unable to keep them still for a second.

“And why is that?” he pondered, frowning slightly as you pulled away from him to take off your coat and climb onto his freshly made bed, getting comfortable in the silk sheets before peeking at him through your lashes.

“Because you crawl into bed with me every month” you teased. Your eyes trailed across his bedside table, smiling at the familiarity of it. Since the beginning of your late night rendezvous the contents of the table had never changed. There always lay a map of Othain, a journal which he had forbidden you to read and his beloved crown, the one that always lay atop of his head except during these moments with you and of course, when he was sleeping.

You carefully picked the crown up from where it lay and placed it onto your own head. It was much lighter than your own, less jewels scattered around it. It was a breath of fresh air. You didn't feel suffocated wearing it. Didn't feel weighed down by what it symbolized. “Now as your queen, i command you to come over here, for i have been deprived of your touch for far too long”

Pierre chuckled at your words, his steps towards his bed were deliberately slow. He knew how to tease you and from the glare you sent his way, he knew it was working. He crawled onto his bed, positioning himself on top of you and adjusting his crown on your head. “Well then, your majesty, I suspect that I am obliged to prove myself to you?” he jokingly questioned.

“Those are quite possibly the smartest words to leave your lips, my love” you commented. Unable to contain yourself any further, you pulled him towards you, finally connecting your lips after weeks apart from one another. Pierre didn't hesitate to kiss you back, but the short lasting kiss was not what you expected and a frown appeared on your face the minute he pulled away. “As much as I love your teasing, Pierre, I would really prefer it if you didn’t indulge in those habits right now.”

He smirked evilly as he trailed one of his hands down your thigh. “Is her majesty upset with my actions?” he pondered, his smirk not once leaving his face as he crawled further down the bed. Kisses were scattered across your thigh and the silent frustrated sigh that left your lips was a good enough answer for Pierre.

“Her majesty thinks she should get what she wants,” you selfishly spoke. You pulled lightly on Pierre's hair, a desperate attempt to get you closer to him again, to remove his lips from your thigh and place them on your own instead. Was that really too much to ask for?

“Well, I personally think she needs to stop being a brat and shut up for once in her life.” Your lips parted to scold him for his language but instead of rude comments, moans of pure delight seemed to leave your lips as Pierre attached his mouth to your core. He knew how to shut you up and for once in your life, you weren't complaining.

You tugged on his hair, pulling him closer into you as your head fell back in pleasure. Pierres crown slipped to fall beside you on the pillow but you paid it no mind as you felt pleasure pass through you like lightning bolts. “Oh Pierre,” you moaned as he lapped at your core similar to a man deprived of a meal. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Pierres fingers dug into your thighs as he moved to suck on your clit. “Shit,” you cursed as you felt the familiar knot begin to build in your stomach. After spending so much time with you and your body, Pierre believed he knew you inside out, which as a result meant he knew exactly when you were going to cum. He felt oh so evil as he brought you to your peak, only to pull away from you at the last second. The frown on your face was enough to make him feel slightly guilty. Only slightly.

“I am going to declare war on you, Pierre Gasly, '' you seethed, completely unsatisfied and now purely annoyed. You hadn’t trekked all the way to his kingdom in the middle of the night just for him to bring you towards the most amazing pleasure imaginable and leave you high and dry at the last moment.

“I'm afraid you don't have the power to do that yet, love” he grinned. He didn't give you any time to come up with a witty reply as he placed a chaste kiss to your lips before undressing himself in front of you.

“Is this your form of apologizing?” because well, it was working, there's just something about a handsome prince undressing before your very eyes that got you going.

“I was planning on making you cum over and over again, love” he spoke, stretching his arm out beside your head in order to place his crown back on your head. You looked so powerful with it on. You always looked powerful, but his own crown laying in your hair brought freshness to you that he didn't know was possible. It made his chest lighten and butterflies erupt in his stomach. It made him feel five again. “But if this is enough im happy to stop here and continue another time.”

You scoffed at him. Keeping one hand on the crown, you trailed your hand down your body, gripping onto your breast, maintaining eye contact with him as you did so, before moving further down your body. You ran your fingers up and down your folds, spreading the wetness gathered there before inserting one inside. “If you cant pleasure me, i guess i'll have to do it myself,” you muttered, knowing deep down that there was nothing Pierre hated more than you pleasuring yourself in front of him. It felt like a betrayal. Like he wasn’t enough.

Your plan succeeded spectacularly, as they always did, and in no time he was positioned on top of you, his tip teasingly brushing against your entrance. He dragged your hand away from your core and held it above your head. His grip was almost death-like and you found yourself relishing in the pain it brought.

“Don't doubt me for a second, love” Pierre grunted in your ear as he tapped his cock against your clit. You bit your lip at the sensation but allowed him to continue with his scolding. You knew there was nothing but love behind his words and so, to no surprise, you got more excited with each word that fell from his lips. “I think you know first hand the kind of pleasure I can bring you.” You gasped at the feeling of him filling you up. After nearly two weeks of not seeing each other, the sensation of him inside you was better than you had remembered. You transferred his crown onto his own head, an indication that whatever power you had over him was now practically non-existent. You were truly at his mercy.

“I'm sure you haven't forgotten the many times i've made you scream, love. I can do it again if your memory has begun to fail you.”

Pierre was always one to live up to his word. His sharp deliberate thrusts made your eyes roll back and several moans escaped your lips. You haven't been with any other man except Pierre and you would never need to. He knew your body more than you did and the delight that he brought you was extraordinary.

The squeezing of your wrist made your eyes snap open. His beautiful eyes were already watching you withering underneath him. A look of pure adoration plastered on his face as his hips continued to move at a rapid pace. “Shit, Pierre”

Pierre shook his head at you, a lopsided grin replacing his usual smirk as he leaned down to kiss your chest. “That's not what i want to hear, love.”

He was playing your own game against you, but you were too full of gratification to care. “P- please, your highness.” A blush crept up your cheeks at the seriousness of your own voice. You were no longer mocking him with his title but moaning it in pure delight.

Pierre cocked his head at you, “Please what, love? Use your words.” Tingles made its way onto your skin from kisses he scattered over your neck, goosebumps trailing in their wake. You didn't even process your words until they were out in the open.

“Fuck me like your life depends on it.”

And he did. His thrusts became unbelievably precise, his free hand roamed your body, circling and squeezing all the right places while his other intertwined with yours. You knew there would be marks left from where he had held on too hard, but you didn't see it as a mark of pain rather than an indication of what had gone on between you two.  A reminder for the next long two weeks ahead of you.

The clenching of your walls for the second time that night indicated to Pierre you were close. “Hold on, love” he ushered. Something that was incredibly hard to do when he was pounding into you like an animal and circling your clit like he was under a spell.

“I - i can't,” you sobbed. You wanted so bad to release the knot in your stomach, to catch the orgasm you had been chasing all night.

“I said hold it.” He was in control, that much was clear, but you could only hold on for so long until your body couldn’t take it anymore.

“P - pierre, fuck!”

“That's it, love,” Pierre groaned in your ear, “Hold on for just another moment, such a good girl for me.” Your eyes rolled back and your gripped onto his hand for dear life. “Don't know what id do without you.” Your heart skipped a beat and tears began welling in your eyes. “Look so pretty right now, taking me like the queen you'll soon be.” Your breath increased and a whimper left your lips.

“You can let go now, love.”

Nights with Pierre were often sleepless. You had plenty of time to sleep when you were alone in your bedroom. Two nights each month you spent facing the beautiful prince, talking about utter nonsense until your cheeks hurt from smiling too hard and your eyes drooped from being awake for too long.

“Im being sent somewhere tomorrow,” you whispered into the darkness, playing with his hands as you dared to break the silence around you. You could feel him tense up next to you, obviously assuming the worst and imagining an attack his own kingdom. His own people. “Not you, “ you reassured, your heart fluttering when he immediately relaxed beside you, “Some rebels gathering together behind the mountains, I’ll have to leave early in the morning.”

It hurt you to cut your already short time with Pierre even shorter, but duty called and once your father demands your presence on a mission, you had no choice than show up.

“I hate the fact you have to go out on these stupid battles,” Pierre confided. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you all night, wanting to imprint the image of your face in his mind until the next time he saw you again.

“Well, unlike you, I have to prove myself to everyone.” It was the harsh reality of your world, one that you were reminded of at each public event you attended. You were a woman and for that reason, deemed unworthy of ruling.

“You wouldn’t have to prove yourself to anyone if you ran away with me,” he reminded. Without fail, every time you met up with Pierre, he brought up the idea of running far away to another kingdom, one where the two of you could live like commoners and not have to worry about the state of a kingdom nor dooming battles. It was a daydream that both frightened and enticed you in the best ways possible.

“You really think you can survive without all this luxury?” you pondered, your hands immediately running up and down the silk sheets on top of you as your eyes floated across the numerous jewels and paintings scattered around his room.

“With you next to me?” he asked. His hand came to rest on your jaw, moving your face closer to his own as he spoke his true desires out loud, “Of course.”

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