#All the bishops are sick of him bringing him up like

[saltysaltdog]

Posting this by itself too because I spent too long drawing this joke it so it's no longer just for the bit.

Ratau and Kallamar now have a very deep and checkered past. Based off the fact Kallamar actually remembers his name.

[abbyromanoff]

can you do rough g!p kate bishop??

BOYFRIEND

PAIRINGS: Kate bishop x reader

WORD COUNT: 1,149

WARNINGS: smut, cheating (R had a husband), kitchen sex, breeding, Kate has a dick, being caught, blood kink, knife kink, use of knives, kinda playboy!Kate, degrading, praise kink, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Your walls clamped tightly around the younger woman’s cock as she drove into you, forcing her hand over your mouth in order to silence your loud moans. Your eyes squeezed shut while your body continued to rock back and forth, her smirk only bringing you more annoyance combined with a sick pleasure. Your husband was sleeping a singular room away, your body being placed on the cold counter of the kitchen as Kate stood in front of you. Her clothes had been discarded previously along with yours, creating a small pile of fabric by her feet but neither of you could care less about the mess.

“You need to be quiet, slut. Weren’t you just worrying about him hearing you?” She muttered in a hushed tone, yet you could still hear it loud and clear as the words seeped into your mind, the degrading nickname sending you into spirals. She picked up on this.

“Awh, you like it when Daddy tells you how bad you are? You must fucking love it, I can feel you clenching around me.” She moaned lowly, goosebumps traveling across her body as a chill went down her spine. You weren’t the first to be panting beneath her, but you were definitely her favorite sight out of all.

“C’mon, tell me, tell me how much you love it.” She removed her hand from your face, and before you could even process what she had done, whimpers were escaping you faster than the speed of light.

“I-I love it, Daddy.” She slapped your cheek, causing the rising tears to suddenly fall onto the now reddened skin.

“You love what, baby?” You threw your head back, hands fumbling to find her biceps as you held onto her for dear life. Her grip landed on your thighs as she held you firmly, her face close as she created marks of her arrival on your neck.

“I love it when- fuck! I love it when you treat me like a bitch, wanna be your slut.” She groaned, chuckling darkly in response. You should’ve never let her back in, but when she came to your door late at night after sending you a quick yet truthful ‘I miss you’ message, you knew there was no hope. You felt so shameful for acting on such sins, but it felt so heavenly when her cock would tear you up in ways your husband could never do.

That’s when it all started, her pinning you to the wall as she groped you through the loose pajamas you had worn for your partner, only to receive a small compliment before he went to bed, not even registering what you were ensuing or just not wanting it. Kate would never. She’d never miss an opportunity to worship your body in all the ways he failed to do. She thought, no, knew he was a fucking idiot for not falling to his knees and begging to make sweet love to you right then and there, so it was her job to make up for it.

“Maybe I’ll get you on your knees to suck me off like a dirty whore. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You nodded sharply, placing your chin on her shoulder as she inhaled your scent. It was her favorite perfume, the one she bought you during her shopping spree where only you were on her mind, resulting in thousands of dollars worth of clothing, expensive jewelry, and slutty lingerie, none that were meant for your husband's eyes.

She fluttered her eyes open as her sight landed on a knife holder placed on the same counter you were just on, now you were in her arms and it was even better.

“Here’s the deal, baby,” She started. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock and in return, I’m gonna fill up this pretty cunt. Then, I’m gonna take that knife, and ‘ima carve my name on your beautiful body. So whenever Steve wants to fuck you, he’ll see that you’re all mine.” There was a part of you that feared the pain she’d cause, but the other side of you craved it. You craved her touch, whether it was sweet or painful, you wanted it all.

“Please- need your babies, Daddy.” You pulled on her long, black hair that caused an ache in her scalp, but she didn’t mind. Your feet dug into her ass, your legs around her waist starting to become sore.

“I’ll make you a Mommy, baby girl, I fucking promise.” She grabbed the sharp object, now holding your entire weight in just one arm. Her strength had always amazed you.

The blade sunk into you, causing you to let out a silent scream. She bit her lip as blood seeped out of you, droplets landing on the counter and floor. It hurt so bad, but it felt so good.

“You doing okay?” She asked in the heat of the moment, and you could feel the care she held for you, creating a puddle of warmth in your heart.

“Yeah, ju-just keep going…please?” She didn’t give a worded response, only continuing as you asked. You looked down, noticing the letter being carved into your soft skin. It was a K, and you realized there would be no hiding it from Steve. This was it. This was the moment when everything would change for better or for worse.

Her thrusts weren’t as fast but exchanged for a deep, powerful desire. She didn’t want to ruin her creation, she wanted it to be perfect, it’s what you deserved.

“Nothing but the best for my princess.” She admired her work before disposing of the knife, letting her thumb brush over the open wound. Now she could fulfill her promise, now she could release her finish deep inside of you like both of you had been wanting for months now. Ever since you two slept together for the first time, it all changed. You couldn’t get enough of one another, you’d grown addicted as if she was some sort of drug, a highly illegal drug that is.

“Cum.” A small phrase did so much as your release instantly hit, bringing Kate even closer. She wasn’t letting you go, not even when her thrusts stilled in response to her cum filling you up, a few drops leaking out of you and joining the mess on the floor.

“Take it. Fucking take it, whore.” You choked out a sob as you felt your womb being filled to the brim, just like she planned.

“I hope you get pregnant, just so I can show that bitch you’re mine.” There was a small moment of silence between the two of you, the only sound being your shared pants and your winces whenever she brushed over your torn skin.

“Y/N? Honey, is that you?” You both shared a look of fear when the deep voice was heard.

“Shit.”

[hard-core-super-star]

hold you in my arms tonight [K.Bishop]

pairing: alpha!kate bishop x omega!reader

summary: kate's spending another late night at the office and you do what you always do best: distract her enough so she'll pay attention to you instead

warnings: smut -> minors, look away this isn't for you! [omegaverse au; pet play is more than implied this time but it's not super explicit {kate calls R puppy multiple times}; grinding; lots of praise; soft kate hours; a very small dash of overstimulation; cockwarming; office sex; kate either has a penis or a super fancy strap, that's up to the reader to decide ;)]

wordcount: 2.4k

a/n: LISTEN- i have no explanation for this, i am haunted by alpha!kate and i needed to do something about it. i'm still NOT an expert on omegaverse au's at all so the worldbuilding isn't as fleshed out as i would like. OH and yes, this is technically set in the same universe as my last alpha!kate fic, it's technically a sequel. anyway, that's all, hope you enjoy and um...drink some water :)

* * * * * * *

“Tell him I don’t care, he better have that paperwork in by tomorrow morning or he’s fired-”

Your eyes slowly open to the artificial lights in Kate’s ridiculously large office as her annoyed voice rouses you from your sleep.

Despite her best attempts at making the space cozier for you, a plan that includes an overwhelming amount of blankets and a special bed, the bright light contrasts too harshly with the pitch black darkness on the outside of the window behind her.

You don’t know what time it is, or how long you’ve been asleep for, but it’s obvious it’s far too late for her to still be hunched over her desk. It’s not unusual for her to overwork herself but she’s been spending far too long in this office and you’re a little sick of staring at the same four walls, no matter how much stuff is on them.

Kate’s phone call isn’t over yet but your need to be near her is more overwhelming than your uncertainty. 

You slowly make your way over to her, the tension in her body getting clearer the closer you get to her. You’re not sure how to help and yet you continue forward with no plan until you reach her chair.

Your scent must give you away because Kate looks down to look at you the second you situate yourself on your knees next to her feet. Her free hand reaches down to stroke your hair while she continues arguing with whoever’s on the other line of the phone.

Despite your curiosity, you pay no attention to what she’s saying, assuming it’s just a bunch of CEO nonsense that you don’t understand. So, instead, you focus on the subtle change in the air around you.

The awful smell of the alpha’s stressed pheromones finally begins to dissipate a little as they’re replaced with the protective smell you’ve learned to associate with Kate.

You lean forward to rest your chin on her leg, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips while she continues to run her fingers through your locks. 

You’re not sure how much time goes by, and you’re pretty sure you end up taking another mini-nap, but eventually you hear the words that you’ve been waiting for. “We’ll sort this out tomorrow, I’ve gotta go.”

You look up at her as she finally hangs up and turns all her attention over to you. Your excitement must be obvious, and contagious, because she matches your smile with a bright one of her own. 

“Hi, baby,” she coos. “Someone’s still a little sleepy, huh?”

You let out a soft hum in response and bring your hands up to tug at her ridiculously expensive pants. It’s a habit you’ve developed over the course of her many, many, late nights at the office. Even though she always tells you to use your words, she can’t deny how cute it is when you get so soft and needy.

“Okay, okay.” She chuckles as her hands drift down to help you climb onto her lap. “Come here, sweetheart.”

You happily accept her help, letting out a soft little yip once you're fully situated. Kate looks down at you with the most breathtaking smile you've ever had the privilege of seeing.

"There you are, that's better, isn't it?"

Your nod of glee is almost instantaneous and it earns you another sweet chuckle. Her hand comes up to tangle in your hair, lovingly scratching your scalp and relishing the soft little sounds you make without even realizing.

Somehow, you end up wiggling enough to feel a certain hardness pressing up against you. It takes pretty much all your self control not to grind down harder against her and instead you whine while looking up at her.

"What?" She asks, her smile turned more and more into a smirk. "Do you not like your surprise? I've been thinking about giving you a treat all day, puppy."

It's not like you and Kate have never messed around in her office before but it felt different this time.

Maybe it was due to your lingering sleepiness or your need for her attention and affection. Or maybe you were simply needier than you thought. Whatever it is that's affecting you so much makes you want more of her.

The alpha's eyes darken as the scent of your growing arousal hits her nose. You've never met another person who is as reactive to smells as she is. It's as overwhelming as it is attractive, especially when her reactions are due to you.

Her hands suddenly move down to grip your waist and it's not until you feel her nails trying to dig into your skin through the fabric of your shirt that you realize you're grinding against the bulge in her pants. "Someone's getting ahead of themselves."

"Sorry," you mumble as a familiar warmth spreads across your cheeks.

"Don't apologize, baby. I love seeing how needy you are."

Her words make you grow needier which makes you feel suddenly shy. Kate's warm chuckle rings in your ears as you bury your face in her neck to hide your embarrassment. You were pretty used to how different the brunette was from the cruel alphas you'd known all your life but some things still caught you by surprise.

Such as her love for turning you into a shy, subby, little mess for her. You still weren't used to all of those things being good. Desirable, even.

You whine against her skin as her hands slip under your shirt, slowly exploring your stomach and the bite marks she'd left behind a few nights ago. Kate was insatiable, though, and going a few days without having her way with you was practically torture for her. Especially when you were around her all day, looking so adorable in her old, oversized shirt, and comfortably curled up in your puppy bed.

"You're too cute, sweetheart," she says, tilting her head back a little when she feels you nuzzling her. "You have no idea how hard it is for me to resist touching you all day."

"Then don't," you whisper.

You feel her laugh before you hear her. "Oh, that's naughty, pup. Is that something you'd like, hmm? Sitting on my lap while I'm in long, boring, meetings? Letting me touch you however I want?"

The idea causes you to moan, the sound coming out louder and needier than originally intended. It's not like it matters much, though, considering you two are the only people left in the office at this hour. And Kate loves breaking you out of your shell like this, watching you slowly let loose until you're helpless against your needy urges.

"Come on," she says, her hands sliding up your body until she's able to cup your breasts. "Use your words for me."

You instantly arch into her hands, the movement causing you to rub against the hardness in her pants again. "I would really like it."

"Good girl, darling." Her fingers play with your hardening nipples, softly tugging and pinching in the way that causes you to absolutely melt against her. "Go ahead, pup, I know what you want."

It's not exactly what you want but your hips instantly respond to her gentle command and you start grinding against her bulge. Even though you'd already desperate for more, the friction feels incredible against your soaked cunt.

"Someone's a little messy," she teases almost absentmindedly. It's obvious you're already too far gone to really comprehend what she's saying which only makes her want to tease you even more.

It took her more than a few months to get through your defenses enough for you to be this vulnerable with her. Your recovery process had been slow due to the amount of bad relationships and cruel alphas you'd been with in the past but she was slowly teaching you what it was like to be with someone who didn't care about stupid dominance hierarchies. She was just as much yours as you were hers.

You still don't have the matching mating marks to prove it, though, much to your dismay. Kate's still set on taking things slow and giving you time to recover before allowing you to make a commitment like that.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Kate asks, choosing that exact moment to thrust her hips up against you.

"Ah-" Your fingers grip the front of her shirt as your body shakes in response to her movements. "Good- Feels so good…please…need you."

"Yeah? You need me, darling?" Despite the teasing tone in her voice, her hand moves down to her pants.

Your brain doesn't fully register what she's doing through the fuzziness in your mind and you instantly try to grind against her hand. She chuckles which causes you to whine and rub your nose against her scent gland.

You know exactly what doing that does to her but you're not doing it to rile her up. Something that, considering her scent, might actually be impossible. Her pheromones are so strong and lust-filled that it makes your head spin but it's still not enough.

You need more.

Thankfully, Kate's just as impatient as you.

She uses one of her hands to lift you up enough for her to haphazardly pull her pants down. The potent smell of alpha musk hits your nose all at once and your whines grow louder.

"I'm right here, I've got you, baby." She shifts her hips and you gasp as the head of her cock parts your drenched folds.

"Please," you mumble, trying your best to stay still and patient.

"I know, just relax for me, okay?"

All you can do is hum in response and allow her to help you sink down onto her cock, gasping and moaning as she stretches you out. You doubt you'll ever get used to her size. To how well she fills you up without even trying.

"You're such a good girl, puppy." She groans as your walls clench around her. "Fuck, you're taking me so well, darling."

"Kate-"

A possessive growl builds up in her chest at the sound of you moaning her name. You can smell how aroused she is, how badly she needs to give in to her instincts and just take. And yet, despite her own needs, she moves painfully slow, giving you all the time you need to get used to her size.

All it takes is one shallow thrust before she's fully sheathed inside you. Her head drops down onto your shoulder, her loud pants filling the air between you for the next few seconds.

You appreciate how gentle she's being, especially since your neediness only serves to make you even more sensitive than usual, but you're already teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

You can't stop yourself from shifting against her when she doesn't move. She chuckles, the sound slightly muffled by your shoulder.

"Close already, sweetheart?" She asks, her voice far too sweet for the teasing words she speaks. "We've barely started."

"Please-" You don't care how desperate you sound, how borderline pathetic it is that you want to cum already, all you care about is her.

She shushes you as her hands grip your hips. "It's alright, just enjoy it. I'm right here with you."

"Uh-huh," you mutter, completely intoxicated by her scent and the possessive dominance that coats it.

"You're so cute like this."

The soft praise makes your walls clench around her and your both moan in response to the sensation. It's more than enough to spur her on and she wastes no time in helping you ride her, practically moving you up and down her length on her own.

You try to hold yourself up but then she starts thrusting up into you and you practically go limp in her arms. She notices, the rumble that emanates from her chest makes that perfectly clear, yet decides not to comment on it. Instead, she does what she can to pump out comforting pheromones as she continues to overwhelm you with pleasure.

"Doing so good for me, baby." One of her hands leaves your hips and snakes its way between your legs. She barely holds back a groan as her fingers meet your wetness. "Fuck, you're soaked. My poor puppy's so needy, aren't you, darling?"

"Yea-" Your words give out the second the tip of her fingers tease your sensitive clit. "Kate!"

Her touch is gentle despite the growing sloppiness of her thrusts. "I know, cum for me, don't hold back, pup."

The firm encouragement is all you need to let yourself go. All you can do is moan breathlessly and hold onto Kate like she's your rock. Which she is, in more ways than one.

The alpha in question holds herself back until she's sure you're lost in the throes of pleasure. She doesn't have to, you've told her that at least a dozen times, but she does it every time without fail. Your pleasure will always come first for her.

Something that only makes her orgasms all the more intense.

It quickly becomes impossible to tell whose moans are louder and before you know it, both of you are breathless, panting, and pressed up impossibly close.

"Holy shit," the brunette mumbles, her body shuddering through the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"Mhmm," you reply absentmindedly.

Your exhaustion comes back with a vengeance as you recover in her arms. Kate obviously notices but no amount of soothing phenomes can win out over the smell of musk and sweat and clings to both of you.

"You did so good for me, you're always so good." Her fingers brush against your clit again and you instantly squirm against her.

"Kate…" you mumble against her neck.

"Too sensitive?" She asks even though she already knows the answer. "How about you take a nap and I'll wake you in a bit?"

You instantly huff. "What about going home?"

"In a little while," she promises, the hand on your hip coming up to rub your back. "I have a few things I need to finish up first."

"You work too much."

"You're the one who won't stop distracting me."

Your silence is just as effective at making her chuckle as your pout. She leans down to pepper kisses down your neck and across your shoulder.

"I'm kidding, baby. You know I love you."

"I know," you mumble as your sleepiness mixes with your shyness.

And it's true.

You might not be ready to say it, much less to be fully mated to her, but you know deep in your heart that she loves you.

Because you love her just as much.

[n30nwrites]

Rewind (Bridgerton)

Pronouns: He/Him

Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton x Kate Sharma, Penelope Featherington x Colin Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Kate Sharma x Reader, Penelope Featherington x Reader, Colin Bridgerton x Reader

Soulmate AU, Polygamy, Reader is autistic

Warnings; Mentions of homophobia? Mentions of absent parents, Christianity but the Reader doesn't believe in God, Talks of Unwanted touching, Talks about canonical child death and sickness

This is just a small excerpt because no one else will fulfill what I need because I am very much in love with the people surrounding Bridgerton. IDK if I'll continue it.

You weren't the eldest son, nor were you the youngest. A Classic middle child, having your older brothers torture you and your younger ones followed in their footsteps soon enough. But all of your siblings wanted one thing.

Your parent's attention.

Your father, The King George, was a mad men, at least he was considered one. Your mother was too busy ruling England and keeping everything picture perfect to really care about you guys.

Well you didn't really count yourself as one of your siblings.

Simply because you weren't meant to be here.

When you were first taken to this universe, you had been a babe, just freshly born. It was strange, to have full consciousness when being a young'en. The minute you could, you were walking and talking, far earlier than any other babe, but you had too.

By the time you were five, you had been considered a spectacle. The prodigal son, they claimed. You had your wits, you were respectable, truly the perfect gentleman.

You played your cards right, up until you couldn't.

Growing older meant more siblings, and you took care of them the best you could. But you hated these new rules. You couldn't be alone with a woman who wasn't a relative, your brothers were rude and loved it, and your sisters were innocent. Naive really, which you felt was a strange thing. To know about Sex but they couldn't. You tried to teach your sisters as well, education was the future.

But it was all useless.

Eventually you became a recluse. You stuck to yourself, in your room with instruments. Your English guitar, harp-lute, piano, and even the improper ones like a violin, cello and flute. You had to make the best of a situation, and that was what you did.

Even well into your adulthood, your brothers were still your biggest bullies. They thought you were a prude for never having Sex, which frankly if women couldn't without being criticized and shamed, then you shouldn't either. They said you were secretly a woman, or queer.

Well you could attest you weren't a woman, and well you kind of were queer. Bisexual, but they wouldn't know that word.

But you were brought into this universe for some odd reason. You weren't sure why, you didn't really get into Bridgerton like everyone else. Not that you were different from others, you just couldn't commit to watching a tv series, but you had seen the edits.

It just made no sense for you to be the one. It wasn't until the marks appeared that you understood.

Soulmates. That was a new adaption. Apparently they were rare, rare enough that out of all your siblings, you were the only one to have one. Your mother said it was a gift from God, though you thank she only said that because the bishop was there when you got them.

Them as in multiple, that put the bishop out of his head. He said it was blasphemous, you were too entranced with them to care. A matching soulmark would tie you to these people. 5 people.

That was a lot of people to keep happy. Especially when this century wasn't very happy with queer couples and polyamory. After that, your mother had insisted you hide them, and you weren't willing to risk a Romanov situation because people were too religious.

Your mother didn't like that you weren't religious, but she didn't bring it up again after one intense arguement that caused you to leave for a few weeks.

But you agreed with her, you wouldn't tell others. You were here to find a way out, you already had some ideas, one being a specific spot in the woods where you found something from the future.

A portable Radio/Cassette player. Wasn't that far in the future where you were, but it would work. You had headphones with it, and you finally felt some sort of sanity. Music in this era wasn't nearly as relaxing as yours was.

Keeping to yourself was easy after that. Every servant was ordered to knock on your door loudly by you, and to stop any sibling that would come your way just in case they caught you. Your servants were almost your friends, you knew they were reqired to be there, to be kind to you, but it was the closest you had to an actual relationship.

You stayed away from your mother on days like this. She's irritated, you don't know why, you don't care to ask. Your siblings are stomping around the palace but you don't move from your room, you instead walk around your room, shirtless, listening to your music. Your favorite servant, Zelena, is behind you, just watching you. She's always been touchy with you, your hair, your chest, you assumed it was just the way she communicated. And while you were uncomfortable with it, your mother had told you that you couldn't afford to be rude to people.

Zelena stayed next to you while you played the English Guitar. You knew enough about it in your old life, having made adjustments to the strings to be able to play older songs. The ones you could remember (Which you wrote down because eventually, you wouldn't.)

You ignore the knock at the door, simply nodding your head to Helena, who opens the door gently.

A gentleman is at the door, he's staring at you the minute he walks in. Like he's almost amazed at you, you didn't understand.

You never did.

He seems to look at you yet avoids eye contact. You set the instrument down to the side, gently. "Can I help you sir?"

He says your name, and you nod your head. "Can we be alone?" He asks. Your mother said it was improper to be with women alone, not men. So you nod your head and your maids walk out of the room. You figured this man was a duke or something, he had to be important considering he was in the castle. Perhaps a suitor for one of your sisters.

"My name is Benedict Bridgerton."

"Bridgerton? I've heard stories about your family before from my mother. She enjoys the drama that surrounds your family." You tell him, "Last I heard the Viscount found a wife."

"My brother, Anthony." He confirms.

"What brings you to my room?" You question. "Surely it's not to tell me about your family?"

"I just had to meet you."

"You really didn't." You frown slightly, to be fair, you knew a bit about Benedict. You weren't the biggest fan of his story, kidnapping a bride from her wedding day and tying her to a pole. It was strange, but you couldn't change the writers opinion. At least you think that was his story, TikTok could only tell you so much and it's not like you read the books.

You could only hope that it was different in the tv series, considering that's where you were right now. The actor himself you knew very little about as well, but you didn't really care for actors. You stood from the couch in your room, "Why is the artist here?"

"You know of my work?"

"I know a lot of things Sir." You take a few steps away from the couch. "Can you get to the point?"

He seems unsure now, fiddling with his fingers. "You're my soulmate" He tells you, and you look down at one of your marks.

"Which mark are you?" You question, and he looks hopeful. He pulls up his sleeve, the little feather on your wrist, in matching spots. You looked at your own and slightly traced it.

"Benedict!" The voice is angry and your door opens. You glare at the person who opened it. He didn't knock. It's Anthoyn Bridgerton, looking angry. "Benedict what are-"

"Next time Viscount I would ask that you knock instead of rudely interrupting." You cut him off, glaring at him. He seems to have brought a group of people behind him. Benedict stands up and walks right next to you. You put your hands behind your back, picking at your wrist. "It seems you've brought company." You tell Benedict.

"I was about to explain." He tells you, but you look at Anthony, more specifically behind him. You can see your mother through the crowd.

"If we must speak, we will not do it in my room." You grab Benedict's wrist, still refusing skin-to-skin, and pull him with you. Your glare causes the eldest Bridgerton to move to the side, he walks next to his wife.

Outside your room is a lot of people, it's almost overwhelming. There's the Featheringtons, really you only recognized Penelope but you knew by the yellow dress that they had to be her relatives. You could guess they were her sisters and the eldest-looking was her mother. You then saw your own mother, with what seemed like all of your siblings behind her. You rolled your eyes, your eldest brother seemed to glare at you. He hated you though, and you didn't particulary care. You just hated the drama that came with them. Then the Bridgertons. All of them, it seems. The eldest Bridgerton son is there with his wife, Kate. As is their mother, then Benedict who was next to you, Colin who seemed to glance between you and Penelope, Daphne with her husband, Simon. Eloise, Francesca (you truly hoped she got a better story in this show than the books), Gregory and Hyacinth.

"Brimsley, a pleasure to see you again." You avoid everyone to speak to your mother's right-hand man.

"Perhaps if you came out of your room more sir."

"Ah but if I did I might just die." You smile slightly, "Especially if I see William's face." Your brother takes a step towards you but quickly faltors at your mother's expression. "What have I done to warrant a family meeting without me."

"Being born really." George remarked and you smiled at him, cruelly.

"Brother you make me wish I wasn't and that instead I was with Charlotte, Amelia, Alfred and Octavius." What you said was cruel. Amelia died of tuberculosis, Alfred and Octavius died of smallpox, and the young Princess Charlotte who you weren't really sure how you died, you were barely there during the funeral. George (The fourth?) seemed to quiet down, looking sad. You were being rude, you didn't care. They back you into a corner and you attack, like always. "Edward! If you want to strike me you might as well try, but we both know you lack in that department, and many others."

"Quiet." Your mother tells you, and you wish you could care but you didn't. "This doesn't pertain you." She says your name gently, as if convincing you to calm down.

"Obviously it does if it has my soulmate running towards me." You jest towards Benedict. "What? Now that my attraction to men is out we must kill them all? It's not like it's been a secret."

"It is not godly." One of your brothers say.

"God is not Godly." You dennounce him, "You follow a book that has been rewritten multiple times, through many different languages. I do not believe in your God, you know that."

"Hush." Your mother calls your name and you just stare at her. "This was for the better of the Kingdom."

"Why does the Kingdom matter more than I?" You question, "Frankly, none of this does. But why are the Bridgertons and the Featherington's here?"

"You know who we are?" One of the other Featherington sisters say, she seems hot, considering the red to her face.

"I know of Penelope." You looked to her and nodded. "Who wouldn't? She's absolutely beautiful." You notice the looks that you recieve after you say your words. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, I just think its best-"

"She wants to discourage us from going after you." Benedict says as he grabs your wrist causing you to look at him.

"Us?"

[wittlesissyb4by]

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Here

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.” Mr. Pennyworth says. 

It feels like a dagger has been shoved into my stomach. I’m not sure what to say, so he just continues anyway. 

“Your productivity is by far the lowest in the company, you’re not reliable to show up on time or even at all, and your long hair is unprofessional and not befitting of this company’s standards.” He clears his throat, sifting through some papers. “We also have reason to believe you called-in on Friday without actually being sick.”

“What makes you think that?” I say, finally speaking up for the first time. 

He shrugs, “Let’s just say we got an anonymous tip.”

******

“Everything alright with you?” Max asks, moving his pawn forward to free up his bishop. 

“I’m fine,” I say, half-heartedly moving my knight with no clear plan in place. “Lost my job today.”

Max frowns, moving his bishop out as I expected. “I’m really sorry, dude. That sucks to hear.”

“Yea…it’s fine, I guess,” I sigh, “Didn’t much like it there much anyway.” 

He still hasn’t said anything about the other day. I’m not sure if he actually saw anything, or he did and just doesn’t want to bring it up. How do you talk about seeing a bunch of sissy toys and diapers in your roommate’s room? Is that even something to talk about?

I remember back in college when my roommate at the time had found a slew of sissy porn on my computer. I was there when he saw everything. That sick feeling in my stomach took forever to go away. It’s back now. 

“Well if you start applying for jobs, you can always use me as a reference. Just say I’m an old manager or something.” He says, putting his Queen in a precarious position. I seize the opportunity and take it. I realize too late that it left my King open for an easy assault. An obvious trap I should have seen coming. 

“Checkmate.” Max says, smiling. 

******

As the weeks went by, so did the job opportunities and applications. I rarely received any callbacks, and even if I got an interview, I’d either get ghosted afterwards or they would call and say something to the degree of “after careful consideration, we’ve decided to go with another candidate.”

God, the job market is rough. 

My bank account is dangerously low. I probably should have done a better job of saving for times like this, but I guess I was more excited about buying outfits and diapers. Still, I’m not going to make it through the next month without some sort of income. It’s time to have the awkward conversation with Max. 

“Hey, man. Can I talk to you for a sec?” I say, shuffling my feet into the living room. 

He pauses the hockey game and turns to me, “what’s up?”

It’s such a weird topic to bring up, but I have to bite the proverbial bullet. “I’m having trouble finding a job…” I say sheepishly, “I didn’t work long enough at my last one to get severance, so…I’m a little low on funds.”

He just sits there, always with that stoic expression, listening intently. He doesn’t say anything, just lets me continue. 

“So…umm..I’m uh, gonna be short on rent this month.”

Again he continues to stare at me, as if deep in thought, stroking his beard. It almost seems a little exaggerated. Like he’s acting. 

“I see,” he finally says. “So you need me to help you?”

As demoralizing as it is to admit, I have to. “Yes…”

He smiles. “Okay. No problem.”

“Really?”

“Yea.”

I don’t know what to say. A weight of anxiety and fear is lifted off my shoulders. I can feel it melt away as I start to relax. “Thanks man, I really do appreciate it. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise. Anything you need, just let me know.”

His eyes have a strange glint to them. Like he was hoping I would say exactly that. 

“I actually do have a job in mind for you,” He says, “You can start today.”

I sense a sudden shift in the air around the room. He leans back on the couch a bit, patting the seat next to him. I find myself sitting down beside him, not exactly sure what’s going on, but sensing something amiss. 

Max puts his hand on my leg, “it’s okay, nothing to worry about.” he says softly. I feel myself release a breath, feeling comforted, but still a little uneasy. 

It’s like he’s holding something back. Like he’s trying to find the words but doesn’t know how to say it. I wonder if he knows. If he saw the things in my room.

“I saw the things in your room.” He says. 

Yea, I’d say he knows…

My stomach does that familiar churning. The shame of what I've done, or been caught doing coursing through me. “I-i can explain…”

“Don’t bother.” He says, waving it away. “I’ve always had my suspicions.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’ve always tried to be so reserved and secretive with my true desires. I didn’t think anyone else would notice. 

He shifts on the couch again. When he does, something catches my eye, there’s a very large bulge in his shorts. 

Noticing me looking at the log snaking down his leg, he starts running his hand over it and smiling. “Have you ever sucked a cock before?”

I realize my mouth is hanging open. I gulp, shaking my head. “Not a real one.”

He laughs at that, it breaks some of the tension, then he shrugs. “Well, there’s a first time for everything…” he gently pulls at his zipper, snaking it down ever so slowly. But he doesn’t pull it out, just leaves it open, letting my imagination run wild. “Do you want to suck it?” He asks. 

Again I find myself dumbfounded, this is all happening so fast, but before I can think about it I find the word escaping my lips. 

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “Good, because you were going to have to do it anyway. This place ain’t cheap.”

After our awkward laughter dies down, I’m left in the precarious position of what to do next. Luckily, he guides me after several seconds of silence. 

“Open my pants.”

I reach a shaky hand to his button, it takes me a bit to get my fumbling fingers to work it free. 

Again, I’m lost as to what to do next. Should we kiss? Do I close my eyes? What do I—

“Take it out.”

His direction helps. It’s easier for me to follow orders than it is to take initiative in such uncharted territory. I reach my hand into the waistband of his boxers, feeling around for it, my heart beating out of my chest. It doesn’t take me long at all to find the warm, fleshy member. I gently pull it back, it bends a bit before snapping out of the boxers to stare straight up at me. 

It’s big. Very big. I can barely wrap my fingers around it. The veins are popping out the side, and I can even feel his own heart beating through it. Pulsing. Rapidly. He’s just as nervous as I am but he doesn’t show it. 

“Well...it’s not gonna suck itself…”

I realize I’ve been staring at it for a while. I use my other hand to wipe the drool from my mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Somehow my throat feels both dry and wet at the same time, it doesn’t even make sense. Finally, I push past the nervous excitement, and lean forward. His cock seems to grow as it gets closer to my face. I’ve imagined this moment over and over for years. I’ve watched countless videos through the lens of girls wearing a GoPro on their head taking big, giant dicks into their mouths. But somehow this is different. I’m the girl now. It’s my POV, and it’s what I've always dreamed of. 

I open my mouth when I’m inches away and close my eyes, imagining I'm one of the girls in those videos. 

The head of his dick already feels different than my dildos. It’s squishier, warmer, and tastes just a little bit salty, but in a good way. In a great way. This is what I've always wanted, and I’ve finally gotten it. 

I hear a soft moan escape my lips just before they close around his cock. It sounds pathetic, but I don’t care. Things finally feel…right. Like this is what was supposed to be in my mouth all along. All those things they told me in sissy porn were true. 

I take him deeper in my mouth. I find it easier to slide it  down my throat than my dildo. I take it as far as I can until my eyes water, then go back up for a breath. 

In the overwhelming rush of stimuli, I forgot all the techniques I’ve practiced for so long. I try to remember: swirl your tongue, suction on the way up, not down, and most importantly: keep it nice and wet. 

I let the drool run from my mouth, using my hand to coat his cock with it, taking a breath before diving back down. 

“Someone’s been practicing.” He breathes. 

I melt at his praise. I always wanted to be a cocksucker, and I always hoped I’d be a good cocksucker. But you never really know, my dildo doesn’t make noises. 

But him? He was breathing heavily, moaning, groaning, and doing all the things that told me I was doing something right. It ignited a fire in me. With every grunt he made I found myself getting more and more enthusiastic so as to make it happen again. 

Leaning over across the couch next to him is a bit awkward, though. 

He notices. “Get on your knees.”

I take him out of my mouth and scramble a little too eagerly onto the floor between his legs. 

He looks down at me, almost victoriously, like his plan has come to fruition. I am in no way perturbed. In fact, my cock is screaming inside my pants. I don’t think I've ever been this hard in my life. 

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” He says, apparently noticing my penis poking prominently through my pants. “You can touch it.” 

Is that his decision? I guess so…because as soon as he says it I find my hand going inside my pants. 

“No no.” He says. “On the outside. Rub it like you’re a girl. A sissy girl.”

Just the sound of that word gives me a wave of pleasure. I’m so hot and bothered that my body is quaking. I love the way he’s dominating me. Taking my power away so I don’t have to make the decisions myself, and therefore making me more relaxed about doing something I may otherwise have chickened-out on. Would I be here, on my knees, about to suck his cock if he hadn’t made me? Is he making me? Or am I doing it on my own volition?

I knead the front of my crotch. Feeling my throbbing cock and nestling my aching balls. I feel a bit weird with him watching me, so I turn my attention back to his cock. Well, more specifically, his balls. I’ve learned that when worshipping a man—as I’m doing right now—maintaining eye contact while lapping at his balls is one of the perfect ways to show your submission. I also know (from being on the receiving end) that having your balls sucked does not feel nearly as good as porn makes it seem, it’s actually kind of painful. 

So after licking his sack and stroking for several seconds, I spit on his dick and take it back into my mouth with renewed vigor. My own balls are aching at this point, I can feel them turning blue. I use two fingers and twirl them in circles over my pants while I bob up and down on Max’s dick. 

“Fuck yea…” he moans. God it feels so good to make him make those noises. “I’m gonna cum.” 

So am I. 

Knowing he’s on the verge gets me insatiably hot. I want nothing more than to get him to bust in my mouth, like some sort of primal need. 

I hear myself moaning again. I’m not sure if it’s from the pleasure I'm giving or receiving. 

“You want it in your mouth?” He asks considerately. 

“Mhmm!!” I swoon hungrily around his dick. My hand gyrates over my own. The thought of making a man cum in my mouth is too much to handle. I feel a warmth fill my pants as I shake and convulse, trying to keep my focus on his dick while I spasm in an intense orgasm. 

I feel the desire begin to fade. The reality of what I'm doing seeping in. This is my roommate, and I’m on my knees in our living room slobbering all over his big dick like a girl he just met on Tinder. 

“Ohh yea…” he twitches. I can feel the head of his penis swelling, even more than it was before. It gets me excited again. Eager. Desperate. “Right there, just like that! I’m almost there…”

I’ve never been on the receiving end of that statement. Guys saying they’re almost there but are actually a few minutes out. 

My cheeks are starting to burn, my throat is getting sore, it burns from the bile of gagging, I need air, to take a break and a breath, but I don’t want to lose my progress. I need to power through and do what I need to do. 

He grips the cushion of the couch. His legs flail and tense. The head of his cock is bigger than ever. His breathing becomes labored, syncopated, and then it stops. 

That’s when I felt the first gush hit my tongue. Even though I was expecting it, I wasn’t exactly ready for it. Another pump, and then another. I worry I won’t be able to hold it all. 

He gives a big exhale, and that’s when I know he’s spent. I hold his dick and his cum in my mouth a bit, not exactly sure what to do next. I suck a bit more to pull out any remaining drops, then take him out of my mouth. 

The jizz is warmer than I expected it to be, saltier too, but it doesn’t taste bad. It’s my reward. A token of my accomplishment. I just sucked my first real dick, and it was everything I hoped it would be. 

I gulp down the load, smiling gratefully like any good little slut would. 

“Good job.” He says, patting me on the head like I’m a well-behaved puppy. “Now run along…”

That’s it. He doesn’t say anything else. Just pulls up his pants, zips them back up, grabs the remote, and resumes the Hockey game. 

A little disheveled, I wipe the slobber from my mouth, get up, and head out of the room like a discarded toy. What did I expect to happen? For us to cuddle and whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear? I don’t even think I would want that. But to be thrown away like that makes me feel…used. 

Then I remember the wet, sticky stain in my pants. A reminder that I enjoyed myself, a lot. 

So I guess it’s no surprise that when I got back to my room, I shut the door, locked it, and started enjoying myself two more times…

To Be Continued

~~Click HERE to go see Chapter 3!~~

[cult-of-a-buttercup]

Headcanons of the Old Faith: Anchordeep

Darkwood

Anura

Narinder’s Faith

Silk Cradle

Festivals:

The festivals held in Anchordeep aren’t many, and aren’t as casual as some held in other lands.

Whenever Anura holds their festival for wines and beers, most Anchordeep followers like joining in- they might now enjoy beer, but if you ask any of them they’ll talk wonders about the wine and signature drinks sold there. Kallamar used to attend as well, until one day when both bishops got into a quarrel because the bishop of pestilence refused to drink something Heket had created, be it because of his paranoia or because of some sort of prank.

Anchordeep also holds its own festivals, the most popular one being an artisan gallery where artists, jewelry makers and writers sell their best works. During the duration of this celebration, merchants of other islands also drop by to sell things from their own lands, resulting in a good place to exchange things such as relics and treasures.

There is also a small festival, or rather a competition, to collect the crystals that grow along the depths of Anchordeep and the caves along the beach. Whoever collects the most has the honor of gifting them to Kallamar (though he gets all of them anyways) and gets a piece of jewelry from his own collection.

Rituals:

Most rituals of Anchordeep are simply there to fill doctrines and Kallamar’s ego.

At the start of every season, Kallamar has all of his followers reunite in his temple to do a massive healing ritual: to stay healthy for the next few months, everyone must bring forward an offering. It can be gold, gemstones, different types of jewelry or praisings of the Great Pestilence. Paintings, poetry and sculptures all count as praisings, and often give an extra boost when brought forward to the bishop. He still heals followers who don’t bring gifts that meet his standards, but appearing empty handed can be the cause of a totally unrelated pest- either in a household or to a specific follower.

Besides that, Kallamar hosts balls every full moon so his followers could thank him for keeping sickness at bay, again. The dance lasts the whole night, and is followed by three days of holy rest. Those who didn’t attend often get sick with small sicknesses, but those who would miss every ball for a period of time were taken as prisoners and questioned- Kallamar saw them as heretics, making plans and schemes to take him down while he’s too busy to notice.

Since Anchordeep is filled with fancy buildings to keep up its image of the “better cult”, Glory of Construction rituals are held every month, after careful planning of where new buildings should go and which buildings could use a new coat of paint. Despite it meaning new decorations, something most of Kallamar’s followers love, the ritual itself it’s quite disliked due to them not really wanting to do the hard work- which is why a follower can spend an amount of its own savings to request for a follower from Anura to do the work for them, with and official request from Kallamar of course.

Anchordeep’s weddings are, of course, grand. They are held individually, are overseen by high priests and officiated by Kallamar himself- they have months if not years of thought put to them, since the decoration of the ceremony has to stand out from the other weddings held in the rooms of the temple. Because of this, they are the most expensive weddings amongst the Old Faith, but are seen as absolutely worth it. The clothes are made of fine fabric, decorated with seashells, crystals and sometimes different types of seaweed.

However, funerals are not held at all- its association with death are too heavy for Kallamar to be okay with them, so instead followers of Anchordeep are sent to Silk Cradle or Darkwood to mourn their loved ones, the choice of which land to go to up to the follower. Unlike Heket’s followers however, they are given enough gold for the trip, and a few days of rest after coming back from their travels.

Worshipping:

To worship Kallamar one must show appreciation for health. Which can be shown easily by strutting around Anchordeep, attending sermons and attending any sort of ritual held by the bishop of pestilence. If not shown through this, gifts and offerings also can work quite nicely. If a follower gets sick, be it because of bad luck or because of a lack of worship, it can be easily fixed by offering Kallamar gifts, or simply singing him his praises.

Clothing:

It is no surprise that most of Anchordeep’s cultists prefer to be covered in jewelry from head to toe, fin or tentacle. Due to being underwater, clothes are often flowy and thin to not weigh too much, especially combined with tons of jewelry. There are certain doctrines on what to wear when out and about, mainly to keep up an image. Clothes cannot look old, be ripped or not be adorned with at least one piece of silver or gold, preferably real silver or real gold.

Amongst cultists:

With Kallamar’s following being used to the more glamorous and vain lifestyle of their leader, a lot of them work as high class artists or spell casters. Big gatherings for either balls, masquerades or other fine activities are the usual, anything less than being found lowbrow or just plain mockery.

Anchordeep’s riches allow it to be more of a citadel, being a good place for writers, artists, spellcasters and architects to grow in. The streets are filled with fine establishments of everything you can imagine, more often than not thriving with the snobbery of the followers living there- due to this, scams are a constant danger. Though most of the time if a follower gets caught in one they’re too prideful to actually admit it.

It was also the cult with the most lambs before Narinder’s imprisonment. Once the prophecy of a lamb liberation came around, Kallamar ordered the capture of all lamb followers- they were soon sent to Silk Cradle to be held in prisons until the bishops figured what to do.

Outside of Anchordeep, this underwater city seems to be the most popular place to live in, due to its low danger and luxurious customs. Though, it is also seen as a place filled with snobs, lacking in actual substance when looking behind the decorated buildings, fancy gatherings and golden lamps.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi. This is an ask for Bishop Losa. The prompt is: 12. God only knows how long I’ve waited for this. Thank you so much.

Companion piece to:

Black Satin (NSFW) - Bishop discovers a surprise Christmas gift.

Gingerbread - Bishop comes home to a problem.

Snow - Bishop talks to you about something that's been on his mind.

You’ve been sitting in the car for fifteen minutes, your hands gripping the steering wheel as you stare at the wall in front of you when the ringing of your phone brings you out of your reverie. You glance down to see Bishop’s name; you can’t deal with him right now, so you let it ring out.

You’re still in a state of shock from your doctor’s appointment because what they’re telling you, it can’t be right.

You’re pregnant, two months pregnant which should be physiologically impossible because Bishop’s had a vasectomy and you’ve always had difficulty conceiving, it’s the reason you and your ex-husband divorced.

You’re still in a daze when he gets home that night. He finds you sitting at the kitchen table, your hands wrapped around a mug of ginger tea because that morning sickness, it’s become an all day thing.

“You alright?” He asks, his fingers tip your chin up so he can look into your eyes. You can see the concern etched into his features as his thumb ghosts along the line of your jaw.

“Obispo…” You murmur as his lips brush over the corner of your mouth. “I’m pregnant.”

You see the moment the news hits him, his eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to speak but no words come out. He drops down into the kitchen chair, your knees bumping against each other as he scoots it closer so that he’s within your proximity. His gaze comes to rest on your abdomen, where a baby, his baby currently resides.

“I don’t understand…” He says his voice breaking. “I thought we couldn’t have one.”

“The doctor thinks your vasectomy must have failed and my situation…” You trail off because there’s an ache in your chest.

You’d been told that the chance of having a baby of your own was minuscule. You’d given up hope of having a child, you both had.

Bishop reaches out, his palm coming to rest on your abdomen. The edges of his mouth tip up into a smile as his thumb chases over the space where his baby resides. His eyes fucking sting because he’d never imagined that this was a possibility, that he’d be able to have a family of his own again. He looks up at you and he can tell you feel the same way.

Your hand comes to rest upon his as he leans in close, his fingertips brushing the tears from your cheek as his forehead comes to rest upon yours.

“We’re having a baby, Mi Cielito” He whispers, and you can feel his smile against your lips. “We’re having baby.”

Love Bishop? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Want more Bishop? Read his masterlist here!

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@fanfic-n-tabulous @anime-weeb-4-life @keyweegirlie @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @est1887 @oklahomapeach @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @adaydreamaway08 @spookyboogyuniverse @librarian1002 @thanossexual @kishie8 @fleureeee @saltyunicorn079 @thebaileybugle @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @doggirlforever @justreblogginfics @skyesthebomb @beccabarba @legally-a-bastard @trublu2u @jp1019

[aughtpunk]

So in the comments of "Primum Non Nocere" someone asked what would have happened if Shaun didn't get sick. I answered briefly, but I really felt like getting lost in the weeds of this idea for a bit. Because there's just so many possibilities, you know?

To start, Shaun would have ran. Shaun had been running his entire life. He doesn't know how to do anything else when faced with such potential danger. Shaun would run, leaving the safety of the Grand Temple and everyone within behind. It's from there our possibilities begin to branch off.

It's possible that, with time, Shaun would calm down and reflect on what he learned and the life of his twin. Maybe it would take weeks, months, years, decades, but with time and distance he could begin to understand what Jacob had gone through. Perhaps as more and more lambs come back to life and return to the world Shaun would slowly believe that--despite their evil actions in the past that--Jacob is now fighting for a peaceful, better future. Perhaps then Shaun would return to the Grand Temple. Older, yes, but more mature and understanding and willing to rebuild his relationship with Jacob.

or maybe

Or maybe Shaun never returns to the Grand Temple. He instead spends his life in hiding, too scared to return to the only family he's ever really known. Maybe he starts a family of his own. Maybe he spends his years alone. When he eventually passes he's not too shocked to find himself alive again in front of Jacob and Narinder. Would he run again? Or would the weight of a life alone make him more eager to forgive?

or maybe

Or maybe once he's alone Shaun would find it so easy, so painfully easy, to convince himself that the God of Death isn't his twin. That Jacob died kneeling in front of the Bishops over two hundred years ago. This thing, this monster known as the God of Death is not Jacob. Maybe it's just the Red Crown using his body as a puppet. Maybe it's a demon, or some other sort of monster that had taken Jacob's form. Because there's no way Jacob, his Jacob, would ever do those horrible things. No, this must be something else. It must be. Whatever it was it had to be stopped or Jacob's soul would never be able to rest.

Shaun couldn't do it alone. But The God of Death and their followers have plenty of enemies. How easy it would be to join those ranks. To rise up thanks to his knowledge of The Lamb's weaknesses and fears. Shaun wouldn't think twice about leading these troops into battle. He would show no mercy to those within the Grand Temple, nor would he hesitate to take on the thing that wore Jacob's flesh himself.

Shaun would lose, of course. Dead before he even knew what happened. Jacob wouldn't want to do it but they'd have no choice. It was the only way to end this. The only way.

And Jacob would bring him back, of course. Apologizing the whole time. Begging their twin to hear them out, to listen, to stop this senseless violence.

Shaun would run again. He'd come back more powerful. He'd fight Jacob. He'd die. Jacob would bring him back. He'd run again. An endless cycle fueled by rage and denial.

or maybe

Years pass. Decades. Centuries. Jacob still hasn't felt Shaun's second death after all of this time. But they're not shocked at all.

Because, you see, on the night Shaun left someone also stole the translated text about how to create a crown.

There are rumors of a new cult in the air. This one lead by a God of Justice. A lamb.

Jacob could easily crush the new cult, but they don't. They can't. All they can do is wait until the day The God of Justice decides to make Jacob pay for all of their past sins. Even if it meant killing The God of Death themselves.

And frankly? Jacob may let him.

***

In all of these possibilities, these strange and twisted branches, Kallamar will sometimes look and his old chess set and feel an odd lump in his throat. It made no sense, really. He'd only known The Lamb's twin for a few short days. Yet there was still a part that missed him. He'd then go back to whatever he was doing before and forget all about it.

Still. It was a shame he never got that rematch.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can I request a oneshot with Leshy from Cult of the Lamb and this child follower who just follows him eVeRyWhErE, and after getting mad at the child he's just like, 'yo heket I have a kid' and he's unbelievably chill about it after that and eventually just brings the kid with him instead of the child stalking him. (And platonically because I'm not that kind of weird--)

If you don't write for platonics or just don't want to write this please ignore-- have a wonderful timezone!

Awe this is such a cute idea!! Also for the child follower y/n I decided to make Lamb their parent (I'll leave the other parent up to interpretation).

...........

"Lesh!"

"Augh!! Lamb's little brat...how dare you stand in my way?! I could have tripped over you and spilled all these beetroots!"

"Sorry. I thought you'd wanna play tag..."

"Tag? No, thank you. I feel as though I'd be at a great disadvantage. Why don't you go find somebody else to play with? Perhaps someone who still has their sight."

"Okaaaay!"

"Good. Now away with you." Shooing you off, Leshy heard your hoof-steps running away from him. As he put the vegetables into the farming station's chest, he growled in irritation upon hearing Lamb's annoying bleating, as well as your own as you greeted them.

If only he could roll his nonexistent eyes...

For the Red Crown's vessel to marry their most devoted follower was one thing...but to have a child with them, too??

That's something he didn't expect when he first arrived into the cult. It probably wouldn't have bothered him so much if you weren't half-sheep and chose to annoy him in particular.

He's not sure how much time had passed between your birth and Lamb "saving" him and his siblings from purgatory...but you've grown into quite the irritable spawn.

You only proved his point when you returned a few minutes later, and he slammed the chest closed, making you stop in your tracks.

"The clopping of your hooves gives me a headache sometimes..what is it now?"

"Lammy asked me to ask you if um...you could lead the harvest ritual this evening?" You smiled up at him, oblivious to his attitude and snappy words.

".....they couldn't just ask me themselves??!" He groaned. "Fine. Tell them I will begin it at sundown. And I'm not waiting for everyone. If they're late, oh well."

"Will do! Thank you, Lesh!!"

The green bushworm huffed and tried going back to his work, only to become startled when you rammed into him, hugging his torso tightly. It made him tense up as he hissed angrily at you. "Don't touch!!!"

You let him go, confused. "Why?"

"Because....!!!" Leshy paused, having remembered that Lamb was likely close by, watching him. So he took a moment to think of another excuse. "...because..you may get ichor in your wool. We bishops haven't fully healed yet..so you may get sick."

"Ohhhhh, I see it. Sorry, Lesh! I'll be more careful next time!"

Nodding, he heard you leave to tell your parent what he said, and he was convinced you were officially gone for good this time.

Then his ears picked up the sound of a wheezy chuckle.

"I hear you, sister..."

"Brother...is...warming up....to them.." Heket teased as she approached her younger brother, nudging his elbow playfully.

"As if! I only put on the act because Lamb's around." He scoffed, shaking his head. "They won't hesitate to make me relive my death again if I do anything to upset their little spawn.."

"Hm..good...luck. I'm...hungry...bye...." The red frog decided to leave him alone and head to the kitchen station.

And for a while, Leshy was able to finish his tasks at the farm without any disturbances. But just as he brushed the dirt off his hands and was ready to eat, too, he overheard Lamb talking with a random follower who hollered their name from across the base.

They spoke of having trouble confessing to someone they liked...so they wanted their leader to get flowers from his realm as a "gift" for this crush of theirs.

He thought it was outrageous.

'Does nobody here want to lift a finger anymore?! Or maybe..they're just too scared to enter my realm...so it must be doing well even without me to rule it. But if Lamb's going there, then.....no...would they..?'

It suddenly dawned on Leshy, and he scratched his bandages, finally remembering something that has been weighing heavily on his mind:

A relic.

Specifically a piece of him that was lost to the woods.

He remembers commanding the worms to hide it for him so none of his devotees tried to seize its power for themselves.

For as long as he's been in Lamb's cult, he learned they were an excellent scavenger--willing to retrieve bundles of silk or crystals for their more artsy followers, and even mushrooms for those who were "curious" about them.

They've reunited friends and siblings...even the ones who killed their entire species.

Surely, he could ask them about it.

It wouldn't hurt to try, right?

After the follower left, Leshy walked over to you and Lamb, ignoring your greeting of excitement when he arrived, as well as him making no effort to stop you from playing with his tail. It just swished around, and you kept jumping over it like some rope.

"Lamb. Just so we're clear..this is not a favor, I do not need your charity." He warned.

"...okay? What is it?" They tilted their head, closing their doctrine book.

"Well...when dear brother Narinder struck us in his fury, my eyes were torn from the socket. One was salvaged, and hidden in the tangled Darkwood. I despair at the thought of it being uncovered by some simple-minded beast..."

He took a pause, before sighing. "You have navigated my realm once before, do so again and recover my eye. Perhaps we can...make an arrangement."

As expected, Lamb was adamant. "Why should I find something that your "dear brother" took? Why don't you ask him since it's his fault? Or maybe you can go find it yourself?"

"You know I can't. If he goes, he'll lie and claim it's gone forever. If I go, all of Darkwood will be out for my head!" He huffed. "I thought it was your duty to cater to your followers' needs. You've never sent one back into the maw of Silk Cradle to find their lost brother, even though it's their fault for-"

"That's different, Leshy. You don't get to group yourself with them just yet." They warned, scowling at him. "They don't know these realms like you do. They have good hearts, led astray by your hubris and corruption. You were a rotten bishop who ruined their lives..ruined my life...and on that note, you've shown my child nothing but disrespect since the moment you arrived."

At the mention of you, you stopped playing around and frowned. "Lammy-"

"Disrespect?! They've been following me nonstop and disrupting my work!!" He exploded. "But of course you'll never believe me because they're such a "perfect little angel" in your eyes-"

"THAT'S ENOUGH, WRETCHED WORM!!!"

Suddenly, Leshy felt his throat tightening up as his feet were lifted off the ground. And he coughed, clasping his hands around his neck as he realized what was happening to him:

Lamb was strangling him.

And there's no way for him to fight the invisible force that kept crushing his windpipe. He could only gag and beg for mercy, becoming panicked quickly as the ichor dripped down his face faster.

Why did this feel more agonizing than the sharp blades that sliced and diced into him dozens of times?

"Never forget the god who usurped you and granted vermin like you the blessing of redemption.." The sheep snarled, eyes glowing red with rage, sharp teeth bared as they watched the bushworm writhe. "Speak illy of my child again, and I will-"

"Lammy, stop it!! You're hurting him!"

They felt a tug on their cloak and looked at you, having forgotten that you've been standing there the entire time. A look of horror flashed in their eyes as they quickly set Leshy down, allowing him to catch his breath.

"Oh no..I...forgive me, my dear." Embracing you, they gave you a tiny smile after their demonic features disappeared. "I-I didn't mean to make you see that, but...you must understand why I did it, right? He was being very rude and unkind to-"

"He didn't mean it." You pouted, although you did hug them back. "Will you find his eye?"

Leshy glanced up in bewilderment.

Did he hear you correctly?

Lamb was just as stunned that you were taking his side, blinking. "But [y/n]-"

"No! You have to find it, Lammy! He's only grouchy because he doesn't have his missing eye." Your gaze went to the bushworm. "I bet if you find it for him, he'll feel better!"

"...I suppose you're right about that." They sighed in defeat, standing up and turning to him. "You are fortunate that my child has such a forgiving heart, so...I will search for your eye when I have the time. But remember that I'm doing this for them, not for you."

Leshy just nodded in understanding, awkwardly scratching his bandages as he heard hoof steps walking away from him. Yet he was too afraid of moving from his kneeling position.

"It's okay. It's just me, Lesh."

Feeling your smaller hands take his own, his shoulders relaxed a little as you brushed some of the ichor off his face with a cloth you found. "Don't cry, it's okay now."

"I-I..had it coming." He finally found his voice, still shaken up over the altercation. "It's my fault. I was the one acting more childish than you..and I owe you an apology for-"

"No, Lammy should be sorry." You frowned and hugged him. "I don't like it when they do that. You're right..they should help everyone here. Even you."

This time he didn't push you away and instead wrapped his arms around you, feeling the wool on top of your head and the nubs that would soon sprout into horns.

Lamb was right.

He felt blessed to have your forgiveness...or else he surely would have met a grim demise.

Maybe you weren't as annoying as he previously thought.

"..thank you, [y/n], for standing by me. Will you...let me know when your parent returns with my eye?" He hesitated to ask.

Yet you immediately answered with enthusiasm.

"Of course!"

..........

"Sister! My child's green thumb continues to flourish!"

"....you....have...child...?"

"Over there!"

"...Lamb's....spawn-?"

"No, no! That is [y/n]!" Leshy huffed, shaking his head as he heard you rapidly approaching. Then he crouched down with a smile, keeping his arms open so you could rush into them. "How are you today?"

"Great, Lesh!!" You giggled as he picked you up, although he sensed that you put something on his head. "It's a camelia crown. The most beautiful ones I could find! I feel sad you can't see it, though..."

"That is alright, little one. I still remember their colors and radiance.." His claws reached up to gently brush the petals, humming with nostalgia. "Its fragrance remains constant..so I know it's always here with me. Thank you."

Looking at Heket, you giggled again as you saw that her extra pair of eyes were now open, wide with disbelief at her brother's sudden change of heart. "Hek-Hek! I didn't know you had four eyes!"

"...what did...you do...to...brother?" She squinted in suspicion.

"Well, umm..I-" You stammered, trying to explain yourself.

"They insisted that Lamb recovered my eye." Leshy was quick to explain, setting you down on the ground. "At first they refused and got irrationally angry with me for "insulting" their child. But [y/n] spoke up in my defense and...their "Lammy" listened and retrieved it this morning. Looks like it was in one of Chemach's lairs, but I let them keep it."

"Huh.....why..?"

"It's more useful to them as a relic. It's not like I can reattach my own eye and see out of it again, but I find peace knowing it's here."

"...good...point..." Heket paused, before touching her own throat and thinking for a few moments. "Would...Lamb....find....it for..me...?"

"A throat sac? Hmm..you can certainly try, sister."

Nodding in understanding, she turned and walked away, eager to ask Lamb if they were willing to recover what she had lost within Anura.

Once she was gone, you tapped Leshy on the arm. "Can you help me get the fertilizer for the plants? It's....kinda icky and really smelly."

He smiled as well, patting the top of your head. "Of course, little one. You can leave all the "icky" work to me."

And with that, you both set off to the farming plot, with him not being bothered by your presence anymore.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

I've been binging your x readers the past few days, and they're so well done!! If it's not much trouble, could you do a 2k3 Donnie x GN Reader during the Adventures in Turtlesitting/Good Genes arc? I've been turning the thought of (Y/N) witnessing his transformation and going "Like Hell I'm not gonna do something about this" and doing what they can to make a cure; even standing up to Bishop and Stockman. I'm a sucker for "You helped me, it's the least I could do to help you" stories. >u<

Secondary Mutation (Angst)

2003!Donatello x reader

A/N: Thank you so much! That’s so sweet of you to say💚 This arch goes over three episodes, but I’ve tried cut it down and make it more precise, making the main focus the showdown and all that at Area 51. Hope you enjoy💜

---------

Warning: Spelling (was a little tired towards the ending. Long day😅), Donnie with a secondary mutation, Bishop and Stockman being assholes, a little hostage situation like?

---------

You were there when it happened. You witnessed the whole thing as it unfolded. Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo and dropped you and a sick Donatello off at April’s place. It had been Leo’s idea, citing it would be good to keep both of you out of the sewers, while he and the other’s went on a hunt for Bishop’s mutants. You too thought it was a good idea, except it meant crashing April and Casey’s long awaited date night.

It had started out great. Or as great as it could. Your boyfriend was continuously sneezing and sniffling, bags running under his eyes, and shaking even when covered by several blankets. The poor guy was going through it.

But then the black out happened, leaving all of New York City in darkness. That was the last thing you needed, sitting with your shivering boyfriend’s head in your lap, trying to sooth him with your fingers tracing across his head. But nothing helped. Donnie felt horrible, and the darkness only made it worse for him.

As Casey went to look for a flashlight, Donnie started groaning out in pain, complaining that the cut on his leg was beginning to act up. He said it felt like it was burning, causing you even more worry than before. April wanted to help, but with her own boyfriend knocking things over in her room, as he looked for the flashlight, she had to leave to make sure he didn’t bring the whole apartment down over the shop. But that was when the trouble began.

Donnie groaning almost turned to screaming, his thigh convulsing. You were terrified, asking him if he was okay, begging him for an answer, but Donnie could not speak. The pain was too much for him. Then suddenly he let out an ear piercing scream, his thigh doubling in size. He sat up, hugging onto his legs, screaming and shaking as sweat ran down his face. His body started to grow, his belt, elbow pads and knee pads ribbing before he hurried up from the sofa, as if he frantically tried to find a solution on his own.

“Donnie?”, you asked terrified, trying to find him in the dark, grabbing your phone in your pocket.

“(Y/N)”, you heard Donnie’s strained voice call out from the corner of the room. You quickly turned on your phone's flashlight, pointing it in his direction. There he stood, double in size, red eyes, sweat dripping down his face with an expression of pain. “Help me”.

“Don?”, you asked in confusion, stepping closer to him. “What’s happening?”

“No!”, he exclaimed, just as April and Casey came back into the living room. “Stay back!”

“Don!”, they called out.

“No!”, Donnie yelled, before pushing past all of you, making a b-line directly for the door, breaking it off the hinges before he ran downstairs. “Get away from me!”

The next few hours were horrible. Finding Donnie had turned into a giant alligator-like creature in the basement, before you and your friends had to defend yourselves against your boyfriend. Casey even had to go as far as mashing him over the head with a vacuum. It was even more horrible knowing he had run off into the sewers, leaving you scared and worried while the guys looked for him.

All of this led you up to this point, you and your best friends seeking out Agent Bishop in order to find a cure for your horribly inflicted boyfriend. Seeing Donnie like this broke your heart. Tears rolled down your face as you watched him unconsciously float around in the round glass bubble. Somehow this was even worse than having watched him slam against the glass or the other containment unit, roaring like a wild beast, trying to claw at whatever he saw outside the glass. Even you. You almost broke down when he snapped against the glass, wanting to bite you.

You paced around Bishop’s lab, unable to sit still. Because if you sat down you would stare, and if you stare you would cry. And you did not want to cry, you wanted to act. You wanted to do something. You couldn’t just sit around and wait for his brothers to get whatever Bishop had asked of them. Especially not when Leatherhead and Splinter kept reading Donnie’s vitals, giving each other sad looks. You knew what they were saying. You could not hear it, but you knew it. Donnie’s time was running out. His second mutation was breaking down his body. And there was nothing you could do but wait. And you hated it. You felt like you were going mad. Time was ticking and you could do nothing but watch, feeling the need to scream and cry.

“Doctor Stockman”, Splinter said, turning to the walking brain on a stick that had been testing your patience ever since you got to Area 51. “Agent Bishop told us that you would administer the cure to Donatello”.

“To think that I’ve sunk so low”, Stockman spoke to no one but himself, testing out different liquids on a creature in a different bubble. “That my unparalleled genius, would be used to save the life of one of these freaks”. You bite the inside of your cheek, holding from the temptation of smashing the glass that harbored Stockman’s brain. "Unfathomable".

“Where’s the cure, Stockman?”, Leatherhead asked, doing his best to keep his tone civil. But Stockman ignored him, moving from one console to another, still talking to himself as he went.

“I’m pulled from sweet oblivion, for what?! This?!”

Getting tired of Stockman’s rambling, Leatherhead grabbed onto the walking stick, forcing him to face him. “Show us the cure, now!”

“Cure?”, Stockman asked. “You stupid animal! Agent Bishop lied. There is no cure”.

“What?!”, Splinter exclaimed, his eyes wide. You felt your own body going pale, stopping dead in your tracks. For a moment you stopped breathing. Leatherhead growled, anger bobbling inside of him.

“You inhuman, soulless, monster!”, Leatherhead yelled, slamming Stockman against the keyboard, before getting ready to punch the glass head himself.

“Leatherhead, please”, Splinter called out, putting a hand on the mutant’s shoulder. “I share your anger, but this will not help Donatello! We need solutions not vengeance”.

“According to me, that piece of gum needs a good chewing!”, you yelled, pointing at Stockman.

“You too, (Y/N)”, Splinter said. “Please, my child. For Donatello”.

“You’ll be wise to listen to your inlaw”, Bishop’s voice sounded as he walked into the lab. Leatherhead growled and you felt your fists tightened at the sight of his smug smile. Both you and Leatherhead started seeing red, your anger so great that not even Splinter could hold you back.

“I’ve waited a long time to do this”, Leatherhead said before grabbing Stockman by the metal throat. “Now you’ll know the meaning of pain!” He threw the lump of metal onto the ground, before making his way to the well dressed man. You wasted no time stomping your foot onto Stockman’s back, making him lay flat against the floor.

“Doctor Stockman is working on a cure”, Bishop calmly said. “He’s the best change Donatello has for survival”. You sucked a breath in, staring directly into Stockman’s lone eye. Leatherhead fought the urge not to jump on Bishop. “Harm me, and Stockman stops. And your friend has no chance!”

You reluctantly let Stockman go, just as Leatherhead decided to back away from Agent Bishop.

“Fine, for now villain”, the large mutant said, before turning to the robot human hybrid that had just managed to get off the floor. “Doctor Stockman, show me what you have so far”.

The scientist sighed, before moving to the console with Leatherhead and Master Splinter. You however went straight over to Bishop, anger still fuming off of you. “This better work, Bishop”, you growled. “Or else you’ll personally have to deal with me”.

Agent Bishop faked a kind smile. “Your care for your friends is admirable, Miss (L/N), especially your care for Donatello. Although, I’m right to assume that your care for the turtle goes above just that of friendships?”

“How I care for my friends is none of your business”, you calmly said, keeping your anger in check. “What is your business, is making sure Stockman succeeds”.

“If you say so, Miss. (L/N)”, Bishop said, before walking away, leaving you back alone in your anger and sadness. How you wished you could be hugging Donnie, just one more time.

—

Leatherhead and Stockman made great progress on the cure, with the first test subject being a success. Who would ever have thought that you would be happy with Stockman’s work, even if it actually had been Leatherhead that had done the most out of the two? But all that slight happiness disappeared the moment the Bishop opened his mouth.

“Impressive, Mr. Leatherhead”, he said, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “And to think, I was going to dissect you”. Leatherhead growled. “What a waste that would have been. You’re even more brilliant than Doctor Stockman!”

“That doesn’t take much”, you mumbled, Splinter lifting a finger, telling you to behave. For the sake of Donnie.

“What?!”, Stockman questioned, not believing what Bishop had said.

“Then, it works?”, Splinter asked, watching as the test subject turned human again.

“Doctor, prepare an airborne version of the cure for the New York outbreak. As well as a sample for Donatello”, Bishop said, turning directly towards you and Splinter. “If his brothers fulfill their side of the agreement”.

“Don’t worry, Bishop”, you said, engaging in a stare down with the agent. “They will”.

“Brave of you to trust the life of your sweetheart with his brothers”, Bishop said. “Or maybe even foolish”.

“We trust them”, was the last thing you got to say, before there was news on a returning base helicopter. You sighed a breath of relief. They were back.

You went up to the main entrance, meeting the brothers as they came in. Bishop did not greet them, instead demanding that they handed over the item he was wanting. They looked to Master Splinter, waiting for his confirmation, before Mikey handed the stone over. The moment the stone was in Bishop’s hand, the alarm sounded, red lights shining all over the base.

“Base destruct sequence initiated”, sounded the alarm over your heads, making your ears ring.

“This base has been compromised by your presence”, Bishop said. “You have 15 minutes to collect your brother, and vacate the premises”. Then Bishop turned, smiling over his shoulder before he left. “Pleasure doing business with you”. You felt your fist clench.

It took you less than a minute to find Leatherhead. He was already working the cure on Donnie, leaving you all anxious in anticipation. Fog built up inside the machine, before the door finally opened, letting out a dazed and confused Donnie, rubbing his eyes as he took in his surroundings.

“Hey, guys”, he said tiredly. “What’s up?”

“Donnie!”, you yelled, running to him, throwing your arms around him before bringing him into a thigh hug. He wobbled slightly, leaning his weight on you as he found his footing.

“Hey, babe”, he smiled, still a little confused. “What’s going on? Where are we?”

“That’s a story for a different time”, Leo said. “Now we gotta go before this place blows up!”

He didn’t have to say that twice. Quickly you all ran outside, finding the chopper before taking off. You just managed to get up high enough, before the base blew up, sending red, orange and yellow light across the sky.

You all breathed a sigh of relief, happy to have Donnie back, safe and sound.

“Welcome back, my son”, Splinter said, taking a hold of Donnie’s hand.

“Thanks Sensei”, he smiled, still a little tired. “But I hope you guys didn’t go through too much trouble for me”.

The reaction on everybody’s faces spoke volumes. None of you had the guts to tell him, and neither should you.

You took Donnie’s hand in yours, smiling at him. “For you, nothing’s too much trouble”, you said, placing a kiss on his cheek. Donnie blushed slightly, not sure how to react in front of his family. But in all honesty, it did not matter much to him at the moment. He was just happy to be back to normal, feeling your hand in his once more.

[fancyrat4cotl]

This is part 2.

Next →

← Previous

They were arguing again. It's a normal occurrence for the five siblings to argue, as they had been for thousands of years. And, this time, it's getting out of control. Ideology differences had always caused a rift between them. Leahy, Hemet, Kallamar, and Shamura may no longer be gods, but they had been granted a kingdom in their old realms as long as they swore to spread The Lamb's new faith.

Lamani is the emperor of Flockhaven, and also owned their very own fifth kingdom on the same grounds where they started their cult. Narinder was not a Monarch like his siblings, but the lead disciple, and Lamani's most trusted advisor. One of his duties was to settle disputes between his siblings, and if he couldn't succeed, Lambani would step in.

To say that Narinder was burdened would be an understatement. He hasn't seen a single glimpse of The Lamb since their… accidental love confession.

He couldn't stop his sibling's aggression and had backed away. Shamura was against fighting, ironic for once being the bishop of war, but their wise words had no effect to sway their family away from fighting.

It's time for Lamani to cease this madness before tensions rise, just like they had always done before.

But they are nowhere to be seen.

Narinder feverishly roamed the palace grounds for hours on end every single day for the past month, while pondering what Lamani had said to him that fateful night.

"I… Love you-"

That was what they had whispered in their silky, hushed voice. He felt sick, nauseated, even. The walls around his heart may have fallen, but it was still bound in chains, constricting tighter with each beat, threatening to cease his pulse. Each time his mind crosses the thought of reciprocation, violent flashbacks of his siblings imprisoning him haunt his conscience. But worst of all, Lamani's betrayal sent him over the edge, challenging him and usurping his crown.

He couldn't love them. He won't.

Fear held him in a chokehold, afraid to love with the lingering paranoia of getting betrayed yet again. He won't get hurt if he ignored his longing, no matter how much it ached. There was no time for that nonsense, anyways. His priority was to find Lamani. War was creeping in the minds of all the citizens.

Where could they be? Narinder's mind raced with impulsive thoughts, each one amplifying his anxiety even further. You're not a fool, not anymore. Think. Where did they hide when they were stressed? With trembling breaths and aching lungs, he combed through their throne room, private quarters, the confessions booths, and every shadowy corner of the churches he visited. But as the days passed by, his desperation only grew. Not even the darkest recesses of the cathedral yielded any sign of them. The shadows didn't take on a familiar shape anymore.

In the depths of his memory, there lingered one last location Lamani would be. The ruins lay far beyond the borders of the empire, forgotten about for nearly a thousand years. But to reach them, Narinder would first have to navigate through one of the four territories controlled by his siblings.

He thought approaching Shamura in Silk Cradle might be the best way to go, but Shamura's paranoia has caused them to set up a brutal defense, barricading each and every entrance to their kingdom with traps and guards. If war should break out, they plan to defend their people with everything they have. They knew of war and what it could bring.

Kallamar, Heket, and Leshy were the main primary instigators, their voices clashed in a deadly debate over rather mysterious motives. Narinder sensed a deeper conflict at play, one fueled not by mere material desires, but by ideologies. What hidden beliefs were driving their discord? He could only guess, since he was unable to fully realize the conflict before giving up.

With every step closer to Pilgrim's Passage, the salty scent of the ocean filled his nostrils as the wind brushed his whiskers. The shoreline was quite beautiful underneath the storm clouds.

He could see them. Two figures in the dim, mid-day light at the very edge of the pier. Three-and-a-half eyes met his own as he approached.

"My lord, is that you?"

"We heard The Lamb had gone missing! Are you okay?"

"I require a boat. It's imperative that I go beyond and around the empire's territory to reach my destination. Fortunately, you two arrived, just like you do at the beginning of every season. I've been waiting a full month for this." Narinder brushed aside their questions and concerns. He needed to focus.

Aym and Baal exchanged tense glances, a silent agreement passing between them as they moved aside, allowing Narinder to pass. The sunlight behind the clouds shone an eerie glow over the modest sailboat, its silhouette promising both salvation and danger.

At the edge of the pier, Narinder hesitated as his heart began pounding with uncertainty. Each moment he lingered intensified the burning sensation in his chest, a relentless reminder of his constant inner turmoil.

Unable to bear the agony any longer, Narinder whirled around, his actions guided by instinct rather than reason. His body moved on its one as he enveloped Aym and Baal in a tight, unexpected embrace. Though baffled by the inexplicable sensation, he welcomed the temporary relief as the flames within him momentarily died.

Aym and Baal initially recoiled in surprise as Narinder sweeped them into his arms, their bodies tensed with confusion. They exchange bewildered looks, uncertainty flickering on their muzzles as they struggle to comprehend the sudden intimacy.

"Whoa, my lord, what's going on?" Aym stammers, attempting to break free from the unexpected embrace.

"Yeah, this isn't like you!" Baal adds, his voice laced with unease.

But as Narinder held them tighter, his desperation palpable in the air, Aym and Baal's resistance gradually softened, as if sensing the depth of his turmoil, they relent, returning the embrace with hesitant but genuine warmth. Slowly, the initial surprise gives way to acceptance as they stand together, united for the first time in centuries.

And there he was, disembarking to one of the last remaining strongholds of the old faith: Mystland. As the tide carried the vessel away, he could see the two black cats waving vigorously and chasing him along the shoreline, only stopping once the trees blocked their view.

His spirit felt a tad lighter now, like four little feet stomped out the fire in his chest and pulled back the chains surrounding his heart.

His hand rested just below his collarbone as thunder rolled overhead.

[saltysaltdog]

Narinder and his relationship to the bishops. What caused their falling out?

The game tells you everything you need to know... (Spoiler, it was Leshy)

"Hapless Leshy" is how Haro describes them. And that just means he's very unlucky, unfortunate... doomed.

Leshy is the youngest god, the god of Chaos and flux. For a lot of people when they imagine Chaos, they think of something ever changing, a sensory overload that's never consistent and with no repeating patterns. Constant change.

Notably, Narinder doesn't have anything bad to say about him. His dialogue is limited to one line. "Leshy fell before you like a grain of sand before a tidal wave." Considering how verbose Narinder usually is this should strike you as odd. He comments about how happy he is with seeing the others fall, but not Leshy. He even holds himself in check if you do something that really upsets him, like sell out Ratau (cough cough) but he can't bring himself to demean leshy in the same way, nor celebrate at all.

He should be a natural ally to Narinder, who wanted change. And yet he's not.

"He was unalike the rest of his kin. While others dealt with flux; chaos, famine, pestilence, war. Things in which their constancy must transpose. And yet he was the inevitable; the obstinate and irresistible. The one who waits. Truly peculiar, 'twould then seem, has appetency to invite the novel and the new, break ancient vow and primordial bond alike. Traditions stagnate and appetites augment, nonetheless. Doubt tears faith asunder."

Switching between two states: change, is the natural order of things, Leshy should be inviting chaos, causing it... And there lies the problem.

Bonds of familial duty, turned instead to chains. Most voracious of appetites, curbed and contained. Most infectious of ideas cut off and cauterised before given chance to rot and spread. Cruel, verily. Alas, what other recourse was given? How does one kill Death? ... Alas. One cannot."

The final lines imply that they sacrificed their power, their growth, to stop Narinder, but what if it wasn't him they were doing it for?

Hear me out. Leshy is the youngest and the weakest, it could be that his powers couldn't handle the rate at which things were changing. If so, then he would only be an obstacle to Narinder. At first it would be fine, but if Leshy didn't get better, if the bishops couldn't cause meaningful change, new things, if change itself was making him sick and "Doubt tears faith asunder": wouldn't it be the one to "break ancient vow and primordial bond alike" be first in line for having the blame cast on them?

We don't have a clear idea on what shenainigains Narinder was up to, but both he and Shamura tell us one thing he was working on.

"The blame hangs heavy 'round my neck. I introduced him to ideas of change..." ".... Death cannot flow backward."

Bringing the dead back to life.

He praises you for doing so in response to one of his quests on his quest line. But that's not to say it's all he was working on.

--

Hang tight, because this bit is up for interpretation:

These guys.

Cute mushroom guys that infect you and try to turn you into a mushroom too, and once you die you can be replanted, again and again and again and again and a- its basically immortality!

They live in Narinder's domain, and yet they are Menticide Mushrooms from Anura given a follower form. They are unnatural, and fiercely hunted when they visit there, so they are not endemic to the area. If Narinder was playing with Nature's laws, turning mushrooms into people, or people into mushrooms, then what's to say he wasn't trying it on anything else?

Like say maybe... plants?

Yes.

Now technically a lot of enemies you fight have plant like features, so many in fact that it's like they were mass produced, existing everywhere except the silk cradle: Shamura's domain of war.

Now these plant creatures fight for the bishops, but that's not to say they are natural. We get normal frogs, insects, fish, etc, but we only get these plant-like worm followers after Leshy turns them into plant like creatures. I don't believe you can randomly happen across them. Perhaps these constructs were originally developed to ensure protection of his siblings, something to prevent them from wasting followers on defending their realms from weaker gods. Or launching assaults. After all, don't many people have a primordial bond to the land they grew up on? Having your favourite tree attack you would suck.

While maybe not a direct result of Narinder, although I wouldn't put it past him to look at a worm and crown and go "oh this'll be funny", I think it's possible that no other plant creature developed consciousness, that Leshy is special, unique, alone.

Perhaps everyone had different ideas on how to help him.

It's up to personal preference the order of events and the degree of sentience the plant enemies have, and thus the mental age of leshy when he became a god, but I'm inclined to think that Narinder still considers Leshy his baby brother, one who would be spared if he could.

(He also made the undead enemies you fight but that's probably obvious.)

But this is all speculation, entities like the gold loving tree exist, so there could be old entities that are plant based kicking around. And the mushrooms could just be from the giant dead god skull being a god of decay. It's hard to know for sure.

It'd be so funny if we could plant that mushroom and grow a giant god. Unlikely though.

-

So Leshy's existence is unprecedented, Chaos itself to many who see him. But why doesn't chaos help him? Narinder speaks about the "unordered beauty of his realm..." and his attack patterns are technically random, but most Bishops speak on their domain a lot.

Leshy doesnt.

"Winds of change blow; dost thou sense it? Around us, the world creaks and turns. Afore, it stood immobile. Motionless centuries grow rust. Now leshy has fallen..."

His domain was stagnant. Leshy is concerned with Narinder being a heretic, and thus you, because your rituals don't align with the old faith's practices. But since those "traditions stagnate", it makes sense why he is the least revered among his siblings, his grasp on the order, what those rituals are supposed to bring, isn't that good. He's probably just doing them because he's supposed to without understanding the greater purpose of them.

"The worm, it is hungry. It feeds. It partakes of our flesh. But that is the price for safety. For that we gladly give it all we have."

His average followers don't even use his name, or maybe they aren't really his followers at all? It's hard to know for sure.

"I recall Leshy. Prior to yourself, he was the last to bargain with me. Adept as he was, he rose quickly to the challenges of Godhood, aided by his siblings. Many were drawn to his chaotic ways"

He was helped out a lot by his siblings, likely to the point he would have died if he was alone.

do Narinder's siblings really think Narinder could have attempted to kill leshy after being perhaps monumental in causing his existence?

Part 2: yep.

Narinder says that Shamura "could never handle the multitudes of a being such as I" (paraphrased. I'm lazy.) Which we are to take as a statement on what he wanted to attempt with his power. With the sins of the flesh update however it might not be that simple.

Sup you slithery bastard.

What's key here is listening to how the other bishops talk about Narinder. Leshy refers to him as a heretic, Heket as a monster they chained below, Shamura as a brother and Narinder.

They used the term red crown for him, but with the notion of it's own independence Kallamar becomes the most relevant.

Kallamar: "Shamura, the Red Crown grows stronger by the day. Already it has succeeded where he has failed before. Leshy has been slain!"

There's a collective understanding of who "he" is. Narinder. But it is interesting that Kallamar never directly uses the term to refer to Narinder, only using pronouns. Isn't the vessel's success Narinder's success? This makes it sound like the red crown is an entity of its own, succeeding where Narinder failed, at least in Kallamar's mind.

It should be noted that Kallamar doesn't refer to you as the red crown during the events of the game. You are the vessel of it. Then when he needs to insult you, critter, beast. Then as a final plea, lamb. Before that however, after he figures out you arent leaving he tries to bargin with the crown directly.

It seems you cannot be stopped by disease or hunger. And he sends you back from death stronger each time. Please know, it was not my idea to cast out the Red Crown! The other Bishops, my siblings, the blame lies with them. Please, I beg you, spare me. Kill Shamura, but do not send me to my death. Do not send me to him!

Then finally, in post game, likely before seeing Kallamar again, when you have gathered enough sin the seller will ask you:

"I have dealt with Gods, and often pondered; does the Bearer wear the Crown, Or the Crown the Bearer?"

"Stay back! Stay away! Mercy, Red Crown, mercy..."

Of course once you have him as s follower and he realises you are not walking puppet for damnation personified he chills out.

According to the seller "Foolish though he may have seemed, he wielded the power of his Crown without discrimination." Meaning Kallamar might have the most experience with how screwy the crown may be on the minds of followers, and potentially gods if Chemach is anything to go by.

In this sense Kallamar might be the only one who believes Narinder to be innocent- in the sense that he was not in his right mind when he did whatever it was that made the bishops think he was trying to kill leshy- imagining him to be under some kind hypnosis, unable to tell friend from foe. So he always separates the two just in case. That being said, the need to imprison him for was probably encouraged by him.

Of course this all relies on the "he" mentioned being Narinder and not like Ratau or something. Kallamar does know him by name, weirdly enough. "Your friend Ratau was the last vessel sent against us," which begs the much funnier question that how does he know his name? Did they talk? Did Ratau just scream an introduction before every fight? Presumably that was decades ago Kallamar how do you even remember?

Not the worst ship I've seen.

All fun aside, some of Heket's lines can also be interpreted this way.

Heket: "So it is true. The Red Crown sits upon the brow of another."

"The Bishops… my family. Have they not suffered enough? Have I not suffered enough? We fought, pathetic vessel. We bled. We grieved. And yet the Red Crown wants more. No more."

"Pathetic, sniveling, vile puppet to the Red Crown. You have felled the youngest of us. We are the Bishops of the Old Faith. We protect against heresies such as yours. /....We will not tolerate such blasphemy. Your sins are many, and for that y... "

"You there, vessel of the Red Crown! Bow to me, or you will regret it!"

"It was not so long ago that we cast out the Red Crown. A mere thousand or so years. The heresy it preached could not be tolerated. Such noxious ideals... it could not be allowed. For this most damning of sins_"

The mention of sins and heresy is interesting because more less or we just got here. There's the idea that the crown itself is heretical, perhaps not just as a symbol. Since you know, it tells us to gather sin. But of course, in typical play you have murdered her followers in at least four crusades against Leshy then her so, plenty of heresy and sin there.

Theres no much we can gleam about Narinder's actions, but her dialogue suggests her battle with Narinder stemmed from what he wanted to accomplish/his vision for the future, rather than any attempts on Leshy's life- at least not directly- and considering Narinder says "Heket's words were more toxic and foul than the mushrooms that grew in her domain." I think they may have fought over policy and doctrine a lot. After all, nothing would be so wounding to Narinder than himself to be wrong and someone else to be right.

He calls her "arrogant" but Haro called her "temperamental". The two may not conflict, since haro also says she's "afeared by none" which is to say scared by nothing, not that in her rule nobody was scared of her. The seller calls her "vicious" and a "wicked beast", but also amusing in a way, which I'm more inclined to believe is him saying she was annoyingly persistent in trying to get past him into his portal thing than any form of true disdain. Then again she might have just eaten the god tears to see what they do instead of trading them. So many fun possibilities.

That being said, how do we reconcile Kallamar's belief that Narinder tried to kill Leshy with Heket's main complaint being his ideas?

Shamura.

Part 3: the tl;dr.

Shamura introduced Narinder to change, but according to Haro this should have been something he already knew from being around his siblings since their domains "transpose". Famine: feed. Plague: cure. War: peace. Chaos: order. So this has to be something different.

Shamura's domain used to be knowledge but now she is known for war. Her aspect changed, and it's likely this is what she means.

Narinder wanted to change Leshy's aspect. It would solve all his problems, allowing his other siblings to experiment instead of just stamping out anything new. Once he was set on his course Shamura couldn't stop him.

If leshy was already struggling and tried listening to Narinder and changing how everyone saw him, already having issues with cult management, this could have killed him. A god is nothing without followers. If Narinder started his plan without letting Leshy know, it definitely could have killed him.

The plan would require everyone's cooperation to work, rituals rewritten and spreading word of the change fast enough to keep it from being changed back. Shamura would have argued against it, noting issues that if brushed off by nari would set off Heket and they'd argue viciously, probably about Narinder's character and how callous ignoring the risks are. If Kallamar was put on the spot, already being a cowardly person he wouldn't be of any help. And the fight would continue.

It's possible leshy would have tried it just to stop his siblings, and done catastrophic damage to himself. After all, he's the only one who is said to eat the sacrifices directly. It's possible whatever happened forced him to need to eat food, something the gods usually don't bother with.

This would have cemented his belief in the rules as they are now, instead of however lax he may have been before. He may have liked the mushroomos or learning to make plant people before then and might have been the only one who was interested in what Narinder was doing and not trying to stop it.

You may think yourself righteous in your service to HIM. But you should not be so trusting of the Chained One.

He's the only one to comment on how your quest could be perceived as the right thing to do. He's been there himself and suffered for it.

Even so, Camellia still grows in the dark woods. They are the flowers that grow around any red crown rooms you may find, making them explicitly tied to Narinder.

And with Narinder's inability to celebrate his demise....

They couldn't quite bring themselves to hate the other.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Okay. It’s 💛 (perfect emoji choice by the way). I’m going be selfish and request a part 2 to Number 16 Cotton Candy. I know you said you didn’t really where to go with it, so I have a suggestion.

The torchbearer invited the reader to the town hall. I’m thus assuming that he was there (unless you’re pulling a navigating on me). I suggest that the reader perhaps either A) Demand to be taken with him back to the Bandito camp/to wherever he meets up with Clancy, or B) Somehow sneak out behind him and follow him to the Bandito camp/wherever he meets up with Clancy. I feel like some good angst could come out of that reunion if it happened (and, of course, the classic “You changed your hair” trope can occur). Maybe for the ending she can end up joining them officially.

This is just a suggestion. I really loved the first one and thought it would be cool to see it continued. If you don’t wanna do it, no problem (also I’m sorry for all my long asks. I’m a yapper).

Number 16 Cotton Candy Part 2 - Clancy x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph/Clancy × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, anything related to Dema or the Trench story that's generally triggering

Word Count: 2158 !!

Summary: Check the request!

Part 1: link

A/N: Your asks never fail to bring a smile to my face 💛! I had a few ideas with this one and tbh it did relatively well. Someone else reposted it wanting a part 2 so yay! I’m always checking my phone for your next request 💛(I’m not lying, I think I checked like 7 times today). I’m planning on doing an October challenge and writing something new everyday based on a prompt, obviously tøp themed! P.S. I’m also a yapper. Also incredibly proud of this one's ending - literally crying.

The town hall was normally empty, cold. But with the amount of people who looked almost like what Clancy had described bandtios as, it felt hopeful. I’d wondered who all those people were, how they’d found out about this, the banditos, and why they were here rather than in prison cells. Surely a rebellion in Dema would be wiped out instantly, even one of this size. Clancy had walked into the room, face covered in a red and gray mask before speaking to us. Everyone was quiet, anxious to hear what he had to say. Had any of these people even met him before? Did they even know what he looked like? He was shorter than I’d remembered, preaching a story I’d heard him tell 3 years ago. The story felt more important when it was being told to a room full of people rather than just me in the dressing room of ‘Good Day Dema’. Except something was wrong with Clancy. He looked sick, slowly throughout his speech he started to stumble until he collapsed to the floor. Citizens jumped out of their seats and ran in his direction, crowding around his body on the floor. 

“Take his mask off!” I heard one yell while another was already removing the piece of fabric. I stayed in my seat, stretching up to get a look at the floor to see his face, one I hadn’t seen in years. 

“Don’t bother,” a voice came from next to me. The Torchbearer. “He’s not here.”

“What?” I asked, turning to face him. 

“He told you about seizing right?” 

I nodded. There was no way Clancy was seizing, only bishops could seize. I looked back down to the floor to see a lifeless body laying there. A body which wasn’t Clancy’s, not even close to it. I stood up and started towards The Torchbearer. 

“Tell me everything right now or I swear to god I’ll–I’ll…” The Torchbearer grabbed my hand and led me away from the town hall and out into the night. It was dark enough to hide from anyone else around after curfew but the real worry was coming. Soon the vultures would come out and the bishops would be able to see everything. We ran far from the hall and turned into an alleyway. “Where the fuck is he?” I shouted. He held me tightly, clearly trying to calm me down. His fingers dug into my arms, hard enough to tell me to shut up but light enough to not leave bruises. 

“He–He’s safe. Off continent. I’ve kept an eye on him. The sub went down and he washed onto Vøldsoy, an island not far away from here. He’s heading back to Trench on a boat, back to the Bandito Camp,” he explained, composedly. He’d been safe on an island for the last 3 years and hadn’t even reached out once. So much for ‘I’ll come back for you’. 

“And what exactly have you been doing since he was captured?” I felt weak inside and light lit by Clancy snuffed out. 

“I–uh… I have an ability to guide,” he continued. “Physically I’m back at the camp but I’m able to appear to people in spirit. I’ve been guiding him. He has the ability to seize like the bishops, hence why the boy on the floor–” Even The Torchbearer wasn’t here right now. The ‘rebellion’ was turning out to be a fake movement with more talk than action. 

“I don’t want to hear about the boy he used,” I interrupted, “I want to be taken to him. Now.” His face scrunched slightly and his body’s stiff composure relaxed slightly. 

“I can do that.”

We waited, vultures circled over the city, eyes lit orange by the bishops. The Torchbearer grabbed my hand, leading me out into the empty street. He stopped in front of a manhole and removed the cover while I kept watch. 

“There are tunnels down there. If you walk out towards the light you’ll come out in Trench. I can physically meet you there,” he explained, helping me down into the hole. The heavy black boots on my feet stomped down onto the damp ground. The air was dank and felt heavy, hard to breathe in. “You need to run before the bishops find out you’re missing, I’ll see you on the other side,” he declared, closing the lid and sealing me into the tunnel alone. I listened to exactly what he said, despite the air practically suffocating me–I ran. The roof of the tunnel was covered in wooden planks, old and molding no doubt. Light peeked through towards the end of the tunnel and I quickly made my way there. As I exited, I noticed the landscape for the first time. It was flat and dry, except for a few rocks. A bush of yellow flowers sat pristinely at the end, indicating that I was safe.

“You made it.” My entire body jolted in shock, forgetting I was actually supposed to be meeting someone. The Torchbearer was wearing different clothing from the last time I’d seen him. A navy green hooded jacket with yellow tape across his chest, a yellow bandana covering his face. He was carrying a black jacket for me and two other banditos appeared behind him, each carrying yellow tape. 

“Where is he?” I said, taking the jacket while the banditos taped my shoulders. 

“He’s still on the island, preparing to head back to Trench in a few days,” The Torchbearer didn’t even look back at me while he spoke. As we hiked through the terrain, I took in the environment I’d dreamed about. Clancy’s description was an understatement, it wasn’t beautiful, or colorful, or free, it was so much more than that. We walked back to the camp where I was escorted to a tent, a yellow one. The camp was full of tents and boxes of equipment. I wondered what they did for food in an environment like this. How the bishops got food into Dema. Blankets were set up perfectly inside the tent along with one essential item I hadn’t expected to be there, something I hadn’t touched in years. It brought back memories I wasn’t sure were positive but I knew exactly why it was there, The Torchbearer knew the significance, he had to. Number 16 cotton candy hair dye and bleach. He’d set me up with one of his closest friends–or so I’d heard. Debby, a bandito who had apparently been part of the rebellion since she was 13. She was born in the same region as me, had bright red hair, and was clearly the designated hair person in the group. After spending an afternoon telling her every detail of the story, she offered to dye it for me. I gladly accepted. 

It was a week before The Torchbearer mentioned Clancy again. I’d begged him to tell me what was happening with him but he’d refused to say anything. Until out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, he’d enter my tent in a hurry. 

“He’s arriving on the shore, pack a bag,” he declared, with no explanation. There were three banditos lined up behind him, each carrying a torch. I wondered where Debby was, she had to know what was going on. 

“Who?” I asked. Any number of people could be arriving… and there was no need to get my hopes up. 

“You know who Y/N,” The Torchbearer had a serious expression plastered on his face, determined. “Pack your bag.” 

It took 3 hours for us to reach the edge of the forest. Torchbearer stopped right where the trees opened into a large clearing, turning to face me. We hadn’t spoken much on the hike but here we were. I’d wondered how Clancy dealt with him, someone as talkative and creative as him, and then The Torchbearer. Two completely different personalities. 

“Y/N. He–uh… he thinks I’ve physically been with him since Scaled and Icy. He might be in shock,” he spoke. I didn’t have a chance to respond before I was pushed forward and out into the open. Torchbearer had handed me Clancy’s mask and followed right behind me. I scanned the field, empty other than a large bonfire that lit up the night sky. Back in Dema the night sky was just dark, no stars or clouds. I wished I had gotten out earlier, I’d have been able to see more of them. A man stumbled out from behind a tree on the opposite side of the field, right on time as The Torchbearer had predicted. I ran to him, a new set of scars on his face capturing my attention. He was dressed in a dark coat, a black beanie covering his head, eyes full of concern. Clancy had aged, sun damage was evident along with smile lines etched onto his face. 

“You’re here? You–you got out? How did you get out?” He turned around as if he expected someone to be standing there. “You said–” Torchbearer stepped out from behind me, a loud sigh escaping his lips. 

“I’m here…”

Clancy pointed right at him. “Josh… you’re going to need to explain where the hell you’ve been for the last 4 years.” Another secret that had been kept from me, The Torchbearer’s name… Josh. The two of them walked away together, as if I didn’t exist, continuing their conversation. I desperately tried to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach, the bubbling mix of rage and sorrow building up. I no longer mattered. 

The whole journey back, Clancy and the Torchbearer–Josh–exchanged stories, catching each other up on the last 4 years. I returned back to my tent when we arrived at the camp, the sound of banditos running backing and forth, welcoming one of their own back. I was exhausted and all I needed was rest, that and to be left alone. Surely I hadn’t escaped for this, to be thrown aside like I was just another asset to ‘the cause’. 

“Y/N?” A dirt-covered hand crept around the fabric ‘door’ of the tent, Clancy. He was the last person I wanted to see or talk to, but before I could say anything he’d stepped inside and sat down in front of me. I stayed quiet, waiting for him to explain himself. “Are you okay?” Three words no one had asked me in the days I’d been out of Dema. 

“Am I okay? Am I fucking okay? You were dead, you were gone for four years Clancy! Four fucking years!” I shouted, my breath quickening. He reached out for my hands and I moved to shove him away. Clearly his reflexes had improved because he’d caught my hands and instead pulled me in close. His heartbeat thumped against my ear, gently telling me he was nervous. It had been a long time since I had been this close to anyone. I couldn’t do it anymore, I knew nothing about him. I wasn’t okay, not at all. 

“I know–I’m–I’m so sorry,” his hand rested on the back of my head, the first proper touch we’d had since ‘Good Day Dema’. “I’m sorry Y/N.” Tears started to well at the edges of my eyes, threatening to spill over. My face burned and contorted into a pained frown, every muscle in my body aching. He rocked us back and forth, whispering comforting words into my ear. My mother used to do that when I was angry. I was the type of person who only got angry when they were scared or sad–it wasn’t clear which one this was.

“I loved you,” I sighed heavily, letting my head drop. I hadn’t admitted that to anyone, including myself. 

“I still love you,” he cupped my face, leaning his forehead against mine. I hated him and loved him at the same time. “Come here,” he removed his large–and heavy–jacket, placing it to the side of my blankets along with his beanie. His hair… it was gone. The brightly coloured pink we’d bonded over was now gone. The color I’d just dyed my own hair. I’d stolen one of the bandito’s beanies to keep warm on the hike and still had it on, hiding the color.

“I want to hate you.”

“You’re allowed to. You–you should. I made a promise and didn’t hold to it,” he traced my palm lines instead of looking at me. 

“You have no hair,” I chuckled tiredly. He sat back, brows furrowed in surprise before shrugging. 

“It was easier to shave it off instead of letting it grow out.”

“I liked the pink,” I muttered. Clancy curled a strand of hair that was hanging out from the beanie around his fingers. 

“I can tell. You changed your hair too,” His eyes darted over my body, “What is that… number 16 cotton candy?” The tears finally fell from my face as I nodded, I removed the beanie and let my hair fall freely. 

“I missed you.”

//

Hope you liked it 💛! Looking forward to the next request :)

[beaconfeels]

WIP Wednesday✍🏻

Technically it’s Thursday now, but if I haven’t gone to bed, it doesn’t count, right? Not going to tag anyone this time since it’s too late, but here’s a little bit from the third part in my Lucky series that I’ve been working on here and there. Thanks for the tag @lucky-bishop , you wonderful human.

Stiles will live, but he’s still sick. The curse had done too much damage in the time it was able to linger, and it will take Stiles time to heal. Fortunately there doesn’t seem to be permanent damage to his organs, but he’s tired and extremely weak from weeks of barely being able to eat.

So Chris brings him home, tucks him up in their bed, and does his best not to let his worry seep into his partner as he plies him with warm broths, and fresh squeezed juices, and anything else with some nutrition that Stiles can keep down.

Peter is over often, and after the way he helped save Stiles, Chris doesn’t begrudge him it. Even if it is a bit strange to actually see Peter plant soft kisses on Stiles’s forehead, or hold his hand. They trade off shifts by Stiles’s side, even though Stiles spends the better part of his days at first sleeping.

Stiles seems to be healing, if slowly, but there’s something off. Something Chris can’t quite put his finger on, until one day Peter pulls him aside, brow furrowed.

“He smells miserable,” Peter says. “I pull any pain he has, and I think he’s healing, but he smells sad all the time. I don’t-“ he trails off, his hand coming up to tug at his own hair in an uncharacteristic show of worry and frustration.

Chris’s heart aches. Stiles is sad? He smells miserable? Jesus Christ, no wonder something has felt off. No wonder Peter’s lips have been pulled down tight the past few days. “I don’t understand,” Chris says helplessly.

Peter shrugs. “I don’t know,” he growls. “There’s something wrong. I think you should talk to him.”

Chris raises his eyebrows. “Why me?”

“You’re his primary,” Peter says easily. “What you two have is solid. Don’t get me wrong, I’m in this for the long haul, but he and I are newer, and our dynamic is…different than yours. I think he’s more likely to open up to you.”

Chris hadn’t known Peter saw things that way, but it’s a nice confirmation that Peter isn’t angling to keep Stiles all to himself, that he respects what they have. “Okay,” he agrees after a moment of tense silence. “I’ll see if I can get him to tell me what’s going on. In the meantime, you should go home and get some sleep, you look like hell.”

“Gee thanks,” Peter says wryly, but he heads toward the door anyway. He pauses right before leaving though. “You’ll tell it to me straight if it’s,” He pauses and blows out a breath, “If it’s not something I want to hear, you’ll still tell me, right?”

Surprised, Chris tilts his head at him. “You’re worried this is something with you? That he’s changed his mind?”

Peter looks annoyed at his own vulnerability, but he nods curtly.

“I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I don’t think it’s that, okay?” It’s not natural to be reassuring Peter, but the man looks so lost all of a sudden, so ready for the other shoe to drop, that he can’t help himself. “You know our boy. He doesn’t do anything by halves.”

“True,” Peter says, smiling a little. “Thank you, Christopher.”

[bandagegirl]

Read more breaks posts when I make them, so you gotta deal with the following copypasted text that i dont wanna clean up. Sorry.

Time to brainstorm Union of Old and Gold.

Fortuna can grant any wish if the person believes in it strongly enough or if many people wish for it. So when Fortuna's relationship starts getting too cozy with Shamura, the other gods decide to use it to their advantage. Instead of asking Midas to seal the Golden Gods away, they instead speak a wish. They wish for the Old Faith and the Golden Gods to unite based on the closeness of Luck and War. They wish for all the gods to be allowed to live, any god who doesnt want to share devotion with the bishops will be asked to leave and never return. Foreign gods are allowed to travel through the lands but will be killed if they dare to challenge the bishops or gods.

Of course, the biggest hurdle will be explaining it all to the other bishops but due to the wish and its nature, the other four bishops agree to it. Many of the Gods Fortuna protected leave, some always wanted to leave, others cant stand the bishops, the rest are split between the five bishops, creating a pantheon in a messed up way. Potential dissenters of the bishops and mortals previously unaligned to any god can now choose between far more gods to pray to, unaware its all the same.

As kind as Fortuna is, Kallamar notices how she's treating him just a bit more coldly no matter how much time passes. And with foreign gods allowed to pass through the lands, a god of Bad Luck and Fear decides to pay a visit, fueling the Squid's paranoia while rolling out his own plan. Bird of Pitch, Gustav Mandela Angel Pechvogel, son of Fortuna born out of negative wishes that drove her horribly sick. No wonder a god born out of illness is drawn to the God of Plagues. Fortuna doesnt even know Gustav exists, she's fully convinced he was just a fever dream. Which definitely would make a meeting between the two very awkward.

"MoTher is Unkind! She NEVER tried to look for me! MoTher likes random trash she finds MORE Than her soN!"

"Until now I was fully convinced you were a fever dream and not real. I'm uh. Terribly sorry"

"MoTher LIES. DeaTH To MoTher! Darling, get THe star!"

Gustav definitely is Horrible influence on Kallamar, poisoning him with his words, manipulating him into believing the world has it out for the squid. Gustav is totally not projecting (sarcasm).

Double breakdown moment where Gustav screams at Fortuna about how its impossible to treat everyone kind, someone will always be treated unkind while Kallamar hunts Midas with the goal to kill him, bringing down the Golden Gods. No one comes out ok from it. Midas is seriously hurt, Kallamar is a crying mess thats mumbling apologies while begging for mercy, Fortuna's choking on the remains of the son she wasnt aware of, huge fight leftovers for everyone around.

[moonstonedrawsrandomly]

Old Painful Memories 6.5🟢

Shamura slides the heavy sliding door shut to a special room behind his library, looking behind it to make sure no one followed him

“Okay, I wasn’t followed. The last thing I need is one of them accessing this room without my permission again…”.

He thought. It’s been sealed off from the rest of the palace after “the Event” but due to Narinder having to be sealed as well, the space hasn’t been used in a long time. Possibly forgotten by the other bishops as of now. It was a relatively medium sized room, holding all of the old bishop’s memorabilia. And he’s not talking about Narinder.

“…Hello my love…”

Shamura said softly. The room, despite being sealed off, was still occasionally covered in spider webs and mountains of dust. Sometimes a critter or two enters and makes a nest there. He doesn’t bother them, the old bishop had never minded them before. He picks up a feather duster from the corner of the room and starts cleaning like he usually does.

“Don’t want you to be in a dirty room now…”

He said to the statue. In the middle of the room sat a huge statue of an hedgehog /pangolin woman with her arms outstretched, wearing similar clothes to them and a warm smile on her face. This is Bishop Gaia.

The lost Bishop, as his people retold her tale. Gaia was a Goddess of Charity, always put people ahead of her own needs and wants. A very caring and kind Bishop, especially to the other bishops. Someone who wouldn’t survive without Shamura’s intervention that one faithful day.

“I never regretted that day I took you and your people in…you know that?”

He sits down and remembers that day vividly.

Bishop Gaia, a freshly made Goddess was taking her small amount of followers to another safe place. They lost a majority of their Clan (she never liked the word Cult, so she used Clan. A more friendly term) in a fight with another God, and running into another one was not ideal.

“Stay away!”

She shouted, branding her power in her hands. Her power was like a Magic fire that she can turn into fireballs at will, However, with no strength left, she knew there will be more casualties. Shamura’s people surrounded hers.

“You are completely surrounded by my cult. It is useless to resist”

Shamura said. He scans the group, realizing the demographic of his group compared to the demographic of hers. His cult only includes strong followers and anyone who can hold a weapon. When he loses a follower, it’s hard to replace.

Gaia’s Clan included the weak and vulnerable, submissive Followers, families with small children, orphans, and some elderly. It was a more diverse group but less could fight. Gaia noticed this too, and used this to her advantage. She had to.

“Wait, before you act, let’s talk! Maybe we can make a deal!”

Some of her followers got scared, thinking she was going to barter them for the sake of the group. But no such thing happened. So Shamura and Gaia sat down and spoke.

“Your Clan needs more individuals, my clan needs a safe place to live, let’s make a deal that benefits both of us and our people!”

“Despite your naïveté, you speak well. Very well, but ONLY temporarily”

At the end of the conversation, they agreed that they will partner up for the time being in order to boost both of their Clans. Gaia couldn’t have asked for a better deal.

This benefitted everyone. More children and babies being born for Shamura’s Army AND a safe place for raising those families and caring for the old and the sick for Gaia.

Even after their deal had expired, they decided to permanently merge their Clans together and have two leaders watch over one big Clan. They called their clan, “The Faithful Ones” under the careful watch of Bishop Shamura and Bishop Gaia.

They puts the feather duster down and sits at the base of the statue. Despite their head injury from Narinder, their memory is still intact. Unfortunately, some memories bring them great pain.

“AGH!!!”

They fall to the ground, in pain. Their whole cranium felt like it was being smacked hard with hammers, repeatedly breaking their skull in and splitting their brain in half. They can feel the cap above their bandaged head being soaked in their blood. The pain was unbearable for them. They curled themselves up in the fetal position and begins to whimper in pain. Even Kallamar’s medicines can only do so much for that scale of pain.

They had to wait it out. They looked up at the statue of Gaia and sobs. The memory that was so painful for them, was the day they sealed her away. They had no choice, they had to trade her life for the life of one of the kids, and since then, their life had known no peace. They’d kill for Gaia to return. They want her to return, they all do.

Unfortunately…they can’t remember how they sealed her…and their memory being attacked by his injury made it nearly impossible to recall the exact memory without collapsing. As they did just now. They collapsed due to the pain, and since no one knows where they were, they’d have to come to his senses themselves.

In the room where Gaia’s statue stood, the statue sheds a single tear. A sign from Gaia? A collection of dew and moisture in the air? Who knows, but it landed on Shamura’s face and for a moment, they were at peace.

TBC