#but not out of sheer laziness my king what in the world

[itshyuka]

as long as you’re happy ig

[thermitetermite]

Prompt #8 - Mind Control and Hive Mind Clones Part 2

Tldr: A lazy morning is interrupted by a surprise attack by Hero.

CW: Gore, torture, blood, severe injuries, mind control, death

I tried to be light on the gore but if you'd like to skip it the main gore happens between the asterisks **

Supervillain woke up embraced in the arms of their beloved Villain. Silk sheets and numerous plush pillows adorned the California king sized bed they shared.

Villain normally complained about the sheer amount of throw pillows Supervillain insisted on having but Supervillain thought they truly made their bed feel like a nest. It made their bed feel like a home.

It wasn't until they noticed Villain drooling on them that they started to shift out from under the covers to start the day. Villain sleepily threw an arm around Supervillain to try and convince them to stay.

"Noooo... Five more minutes..." Villain whined while trying to pull Supervillain back into bed with them. Supervillain gave a warm smile in return, leaning in only to press a short kiss Villain's lips before getting out of bed completely.

"Well, you should have thought about that before drooling on me." They curtly responded before changing out of their silk Pj's and throwing their shirt over Villain's head to finish changing. They smirked as Villain started to stir before heading into their luxurious bathroom.

Supervillain was brushing their teeth when they were finally joined by a somewhat drowsy Villain who hugged them from behind.

"Baby, go back to bed. I know you have copies that are more awake and I want all of you to be well rested."

"No... All of my other copies are guarding the building and the door to our room. I don't want to bring myself together to cuddle you and leave us defenseless. What happens if that pesky hero shows up and I can't warn you?"

It was true that Supervillain and Villain formed their relationship out of convenience. Supervillain needed henchmen to guard their base of operations which was their huge skyscraper.

Supervillain was absolutely dreading the cost of hiring enough henchmen to adequately cover every floor. So many projects were under development and any stealthy hero could have easily broken in and shut everything down.

When Villain had answered the help wanted add they were everything Supervillain hoped for and more. They offered to do the work for the cost of one worker, had enough copies to cover every floor, didn't need to take many breaks, and as a bonus they could quickly relay any information immediately to Supervillain and rally other guards.

Their relationship started later on when Villain started to win Supervillain over with their charms.

On the flip side, Villain felt so grateful to be employed by Supervillain. They were a big name in the villain world which meant Villain finally got some respect. Additionally, Supervillain had offered them several perks with the job including vision, dental, health care, paid time off, free room and board, etc.

Furthermore, once they explained their condition to Supervillain they were offered luxury upon luxury with Supervillain explaining that their employees needed to be treated the best to work the best.

It totally wasn't Supervillain's attempt at flirting.

Regardless, Villain was glad they weren't facing poverty anymore and were even happier to have the most attractive and stunning Supervillain in the world as their date friend.

Last night Villain reassured Supervillain that they loved them for who they are. A cute dork who ruled this city with an iron fist.

Today, they planned to continue the praise and adoration. Not that they didn't normally praise Supervillain on the job but they figured they could use a pick-me-up this morning. Especially after they finished the paperwork instead of Supervillain.

Villain opened their mouth to give the morning guard report when they were interrupted by a view from a different body.

"Oh my God." Villain said in a terrified whisper. "It's Hero. He broke in."

Supervillain's toothbrush clattered in the sink as they gave a startled "What!?!??"

"Third floor. I'll try to hold him off as long as possible. Please hurry." Villain replied now sending all available copies to fight Hero. They knew they'd be no match for him they they didn't have to be.

They just needed to buy time.

Supervillain ran out of the room alongside the 2 copies guarding the room. The copies shared the play by play of the battle, stifling any cries from the injuries Hero caused. They tried to put on a brave face for Supervillain but they could see right through them.

Villain could feel the gravity coming off of Supervillain. They were actually starting to get a bit scared, not for Supervillain but for Hero. They'd never seen Supervillain truly furious. Despite the broken bones and severe injuries inflicted upon them, Villain could feel an excitement from seeing their love let loose.

** When they arrived at the battle all Supervillain could see was the amount of bodies and blood littering the floor. Villain had told them they had technically experienced death before but Supervillain was still struck by the horror of the situation.

Villain tried to offer some comfort saying the dead copies died fast but Supervillain pushed past them to find Hero.

Additional copies showed up to clear out the injured or charge in to fight Hero. When Supervillain turned a corner they found Hero surrounded by injured copies of their Villain.

Hero hurt their Villain.

Hero turned to notice Supervillain and smiled an insincere grin. He puffed out his chest, gestured to the carnage surrounding them, and began triumphantly monologuing.

"We finally meet Supervillain. I was honestly getting tired of these worthless minions you keep around as cannon foder. Now we will battle in a legendary-"

"Break your fingers." Supervillain commanded as Hero became unfocused, clearly under Supervillain's control.

Hero complied, in a long drawn out process which Supervillain intended. Supervillain then ordered Hero to break various body parts, leaving him broken in a broken heap. Then Supervillain stopped controlling Hero, just so he could feel everything he'd done to himself.

Supervillain coldly walked up to the once proud Hero and ground their heel into what was once his ankle. Hero screamed out in pain on the verge of passing out.

"You don't get to walk away from this. You'll die here. They'll never find you. Maybe next life you'll be blessed to be powerless. Then maybe you'll have the mercy of being killed faster. Stop breathing."

Hero stopped breathing. A horrified look stayed in his eyes as he clawed at his chest with broken limbs until they finally stopped. **

Villain looked at Supervillain with all their copies, some in worse shape than others but all worried about them. One stepped close to clean up what was left of Hero but was stopped when Supervillain raised a hand.

"How many?" They asked with a melancholic look on their face. "13 dead, 5 injured. I'll eliminate the injured now." Villain turned to an injured copy, ready to end it for efficiency.

They could just replace all they lost with time and excessive calories so when a copy became injured they often just killed the copy rather than waited for it to heal.

Supervillain stopped them again, stepping close to the injured copy who had a broken arm to cradle their face.

"I'm going to take care of you. Every piece of you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, but I'm not going to loose anymore of you if I don't have to. Gather your injured and call our doctor's from downstairs. I'll deal with the mess." Supervillain ordered before turning themselves towards the mess that was left from the battle.

Villain followed their orders, sending copies to do as commanded but still leaving about 10 behind. They turned to Supervillain concerned about their well being. It was a great battle and fun to watch them take down Hero (despite the injuries sustained) but they could see Supervillain shaking.

A copy came up to Supervillain and carefully held a trembling hand as though it were glass. They were shocked when they were pulled into one of the tightest hugs of their life.

"I'm so sorry! I couldn't protect you!" Supervillain cried into Villain's shoulder. Villain hugged them back just as tightly. The other spare copies immediately ran up to Supervillain as well, massaging their head and shoulders, hugging them, and peppering them with kisses any place they could.

"It's ok! It's ok! I'm here, I'm fine! You kept me safe! I was able to keep you safe! We did wonderful Supervillain! YOU did wonderful Supervillain! I love you so much! I love how you care for all of me! Thank you for being my Supervillain!"

Supervillain kept crying in Villain's arms while the other spare copies quickly began to clean up. They knew Supervillain wanted to clean up by themselves as punishment. To convince themselves they were a failure. And Villain refused to let them spiral.

Villain was once again caught off guard when Supervillain initiated a deep passionate kiss full of need. Villain tangled their hands in Supervillain's hair and only pulled away when they were both out of breath.

"I don't want to lose you..." Supervillain choked out, voice croaky from the intense emotions they were experiencing. Villain brought their foreheads together to stare more deeply into Supervillain's eyes.

"You will never lose me. I'm too stubborn and there are too many pieces of me. I chose the name Hydra for a reason my love." Villain pulled Supervillain in for another slower more tender kiss before giving a sigh and smiling against their lips.

"Let's take the day off. We've had enough action for one day. What do you say? Can we spend 5 more minutes in bed?" Villain said with a smirk in their voice. Supervillain hugged them tighter before picking them up and walking towards the elevator.

"I'll spend the whole day in bed with you if you want!"

"How about we just sleep in a little longer then go on a date later?"

"Where do you have in mind?"

"Anywhere with you."

[kmp78]

Best review under the Worst album 2023, No.5 is for the Mars record was:

" At this point, what can be said that hasn’t already? For any long-time Echelon hoping for this to be a return to even the Flood era of the band’s sound, they would have a better time platting their own piss. No, 30STM have made it abundantly clear at this point, doubling, tripling and now quadrupling down on the same mission they’ve been trying to accomplish for the last ten years now. What’s the mission I hear you ask? Well, it’s to create the most sanitised, vacuous, cheap and creatively insipid record of their career, one that’s completely devoid of human emotion – methodically calculated to amass the current day trends, with cost-efficiency being absolutely paramount. (After all, those Mars Island “experiences” the Leto brothers set up for The Echelon [aka 14-year-old girls] every year aren’t cheap, are they?) Thankfully, after a decade of staunch obstinance, the boys have finally gone and done it – they’ve gnawed and clawed their way to the apex of their own demise. It's the End of the World but It's a Beautiful Day has such a richly prestigious one-dimensional sound, it makes even the worst Justin Bieber album look like a worthy addition to the Humanity’s Greatest Achievements list.

Seriously though, it takes real dedication and belief in one’s self to apply this level of effort into your craft. I mean, I don’t know how Jared does it. When he’s not out there making premium-quality comic book movies, he’s at home walking around in front of the mirror in his glittery cape and Lady Gaga shades, punctiliously planning his execution for the greatest artistic statement yet. All I know is, I’m eternally grateful for these talented chaps’ efforts, because It's the End of the World but It's a Beautiful Day cured my insomnia. Now I use that insufferable “oh-woah-oh” Jared uses – you know, the one he utilises every twenty seconds when he can’t think of anything meaningful to add to the song – as a lullaby for when I’m trying to catch up on my beauty sleep. The fun doesn’t end there though – oh no, you’d be so lucky, my friend! That painfully hackneyed autotuned “oh-woah-oh” is just the sweetener in this acrid sh*t cake. Leto’s quasi-inspirational lyrics about dreams, rebellion, kings and… pain(?), they’re the bastion of unrivalled platitudes and go in accord with the little tick Leto has. All of this is a chef’s kiss of unfettered brilliance so far, but keep up now; don't lose sight of the prize. We can’t just talk about our venerable frontman when there’s a plethora of tenuous, lazy, repetitive guitar and synth melodies to unpack over a banquet of dry, brittle drum cracks that echo limply in this empty shell of a soundscape. The instrumentals on this thing are so nondescript, austere and samey, it’s almost a talent in itself getting them to draw out this high-quality level of ennui from the listener, witnessing one baron, elemental track bleeding into the next with very little distinction. Incredible work.

In short, It's the End of the World but It's a Beautiful Day is the summation of the band’s passing. An affirmation that lets every 30STM fan know; they’ve taken their rapacious, pretentious sensibilities to a new solar system here. If you’re the type of music fan who loves every facet of their music to be vacant of genuine emotion, creativity and expression, this album will satiate your cravings, you hungry listener. Eat the slop, peasant, and hopefully, if you’re very good, the boys will come back in five years’ time and give you… even more slop served as high art.

Sheer brilliance. Here’s to next time, fellas."

😂😂

God damn... 😭

[agentnico]

Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves (2023) Review

A month ago at the point of Quantumania’s release I was discussing superhero fatigue, especially with the MCU. However now it seems it may in fact be fatigue of cinema as a whole! 2023...what have you done.

Plot: A charming thief and a band of unlikely adventurers embark on an epic quest to retrieve a long lost relic, but their charming adventure goes dangerously awry when they run afoul of the wrong people.

Straight off the bat I’ll say that I am not really an avid diehard D&D fan. I have played a few games during university with one of my more nerdier mates back then. Yeah, you know the one. Everyone has that one geek king in their uni years who’s an expert in all things pop culture, comics, movies and D&D. So yeah, that cool dude! However outside of those few D&D sessions where I’d cameo as my dwarf character that I aptly named Gimli the Second, my knowledge of this trademark tabletop game begins and ends there. So of course I won’t get all the references and Easter eggs that are sure to please fans in this movie. That being said, as more of a casual viewer I must say...I didn’t really like this movie.

I know, I know, many of you liked this one. I’ve seen the positive critical reviews on Rotten Tomatoes and the excited audience response on IMDb. Yet I am not one of these lucky chums. Look, I’ve been getting really frustrated with the sheer mediocrity that Hollywood has been churning out recently. This year alone we had Adam Driver take on dinosaurs and somehow make it boring; M Night Shyamalan tackled the end of the world and there was no signature big twist; Nicolas Cage starred in his first ever western and surprisingly did not Cage-rage once; the new MCU big bad Kang ended up not being that intimidating...look, it’s been a crappy year for films so far. The fact that I’m considering Cocaine Bear at the top spot is heavily concerning. Now we have the new Dungeons & Dragons movie that I personally found to reinstate that fact of banality. 

The plot of the film is filled with predictable clichés all ripped from the likes of Lord of the Rings, Guardians of the Galaxy and The Princess Bride, only all those did it better. I found myself daydreaming multiple times throughout the movie and being flat out bored by a lot of what was going on. It was a weak narrative with very cringeworthy dialogue. Heck, even the comedy wasn’t really good. Hugh Grant does his usual over the top shtick, yet even though that worked superbly for him in Guy Ritchie’s The Gentlemen, in here it came off pompous and annoying. Chris Pine, as charming as he may be, is miscast as the lead bard, as the main character is supposed to be more of a know-it-all doofus, as such I feel someone like Jason Bateman would have fit the part more. In fact, this movie is directed and produced by John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein, whom both worked with Bateman previously on Game Night and Horrible Bosses, so I feel like they may have even had him in mind when they first wrote the script. Michelle Rodriguez is bland as ever, Sophia Lillis is forgettable, Rege-Jean Page was only cast for his looks and Daisy Head isn’t menacing enough as the villain. Justice Smith is the only one really who actually got some laughs out of the audience in my cinema, and also the only one to really have a proper character arc in the whole movie.

The visuals in all fairness were solid. The creature designs were realised really well, and the use of some practical effects is always a welcome. But overall this D&D adventure came off as a lazy fantasy rehash, and one that offered minimum thrill. Again, this may appeal more to hardcore fans of the original game, but overall the cure of 2023 movie mediocrity continues. Here’s hoping Chris Pratt voicing Mario isn’t as bad as it sounds...

Overall score: 4/10

[wrongpublishing]

BOOK REVIEW: Dreadstone Press's Split Scream Volume Three

by Elizabeth Broadbent, Staff Writer.

Dreadstone Press’s Split Scream series has a simple mission: put two thematically similar novellas together, like an old-school double feature. Th first two volumes were great—Volume Two, with M. Lopez da Silva’s What Ate the Angels might be my personal favorite. Volume Three, with novelettes by indie standouts Patrick Barb and J.A.W. McCarthy,  rocks as hard as its predecessors.

Admittedly, I’m an easy mark for these books. As the world wakes up the hard-punching power of a good novella or shorter novelette, I’m cheering it on, though they’ve always been more accepted in the horror genre—probably thanks to the triune forces of magazines, serializations, and Stephen King. These bite-size books make a perfect afternoon read. I beach-read Volume Three.

Though indie horror novellas tend toward the literary side, they don’t demand the hard braining and intellectual will I often need to summon when I sit down with a full-length work. Call me lazy, but I like it. That lessened investment, I think, gives the reader more incentive to work with concepts like narrative disorientation (a key point in Barb’s So Quiet, So White) and shifting timelines (part of McCarthy’s Image Expulsio: The Red Animal of Our Blood). With less space, we know the answer’s coming soon; we don’t have to spend sixty to a hundred pages wondering what the hell’s going on before we settle into the story. There’s a time and place for that, and I love those works, too. But sometimes, I want to nestle into world more quickly.

Another reason I’m a sucker for Split Scream Volume Three is that its theme is art and artists, specifically how we use it in community (check out Collage Macabre as well if the theme holds specific appeal). Barb’s atmospheric novella is a disorienting, creepy-vibed delight, with its dreary-dark-woods setting playing a major role. In my opinion, he’s a master at building tension and picking apart family dynamics; this novella lets those talents shine. McCarthy’s dual timelines build to a stunning conclusion. You won’t see either of the endings coming, but you’ll shut the book (Kindle) satisfied. Yes. That’s what had to happen. It’s the only thing that could possibly happen. There’s a little glow that comes with that.

Both works ask what we’ll do for love and what we’re willing to give to others. Answer: probably more than we should, but we’ll give it willingly. While Barb shows it in a familial context, McCarthy delves into relationships. Despite their thematic similarities, the works are very different, not only in point of view (Barb’s is third person, McCarthy’s a terrifyingly immediate first), but also in gender and tone. Both serve up some fantastic dread—you know they won’t end well—and while Barb’s slow atmospheric dread draws the reader along, Image Expulsio’s dual timeline will keep you going with its sheer otherness. Both get weirder as they go along, and that’s a very, very good thing. 

Novellas are good. Weird novellas are even better. Pick this one up from Dreadstone so you don’t give bucks to to ‘Zon. Read it on the beach for a serious horror power move.

[nagavoice]

( PLAY: while sitting together, the sender absently lifts the receiver’s hand, idly running their fingertips across the lines of their palms, mapping out every inch of their hand with slow, lazy touches. )

Mortal understanding would never cease to pale to the seemingly immortal variety. Full mastery over such things as the truths of the world came far from easily by comparison - Falchion’s origins and the Binding Shield, the ancient transgressions imposed upon divine treasures, and the longevity of those who lived with one foot in the world of dragons and another in that of humanity. However, always did the man-made mind find ways to stretch itself thin without breaking, resilient as a corded rope of hair that resisted snapping no matter the force. A lesson that the Hero-King and all who fought at his side and standard acquainted with time and time again.

Marth naturally marveled at the differences that set not only him and Tiki apart, but Tiki apart from herself. Short, fleeting lifespans that shone bright with all they had and guttered out like a candle no matter their readiness…such were humans, after all. Minds left only to spin at the centuries and millennia that, for them, spanned an age, but represented merely a fraction of a moment–a blink, an exhale, or a sigh–to the dragonkin. To Tiki.

How could the manakete child he knew grow simultaneously so little and so much over the eons? What common men could not hope to understand even after a dedicated lifetime of study King Marth understood just as little with lesser sophistication. But born from his limitations nevertheless was his love, suffused with a bright and wistful kind of wonder…

Curiosity guided the gentle pathing of his thumb; a weight without pressure, an exploration that wound up and over the ridges and grooves of Tiki’s hand alike a connoisseur marveling at the fine bones of a small bird. Never mind that such a ‘bird’ in question could, in native form, crush a man's skeleton much less his hand within the generous realm of choice. But such thoughts did not reach Marth's smile in the slightest. And nor would they ever. “—I remember when your hand could scarcely fit in the palm of my own… no bigger than the apples and peaches we picked on the march, really. To see how you've grown, Tiki, I feel as a proud parent who has witnessed the peak of their child's growth. Or perhaps an older sibling who finds himself surpassed by the younger. It is in any case a feeling I find the utmost difficulty putting to words, hah-hah!"

          SHE IS KEENLY AWARE OF THE FRAGILITY that entwines around her fingers; how the bones beneath Marth's still-rosy skin could well break beneath the draconic strength of her hands. When he caresses her palm with his, every bit as cooing and gentle as she remembered him, she scarcely makes a move. As though he would break apart beneath her very touch. As though she would lose him again, or, worse yet— reveal this form to be naught but an illusion. Tiki keeps herself restrained, thus; a bird clipping her own wings.

          There exists, of course, a burning desire to throw all away. To revel in the joy of her reunion with her beloved Mar-Mar; to sing and play with him as she once did all that time ago. But she hadn't known the brittle nature of mortals, then, nor did she realize the sheer power that coursed through her veins. Humans were but a smear across the vast painting of time. How unfortunate it would be, were she to squander such an opportunity to exist with him once more, in this older form of hers. She grows gentle; careful and patient in ways that she hadn't known herself to be. Fretful like her dear BanBan, or her cherished Say'ri. How she understands their worries now! For as decorated the Hero-King is, she finds herself treating him like glass, just as the both of them regarded her gingerly.

          Marth speaks, fondness warm in his voice. Tiki finds her cheeks flushing as his thumb draws constellations in her hand. Eyes trace the invisible lines that he creates, her draconic gaze honing in on the details he refers to. Yes, she can see it; the fractions of growth between her fingers and his, the way her palm is easily able to cover his. These had taken millennia to form. Were it not for the miracle of this land, she doubts Marth could ever see it. She doubts Marth would know her outside of a young dragonling at all!

          All the more reason to cherish this moment, then. All the more reason to grasp his hand in turn and feel its callous and age beneath the barely-there brush of her fingers. Watch the way his knuckles catch the light, keenly, as though committing the scene to memory.

          "You needn't use words at all," she speaks, her voice every bit as soft as her touch. She sighs, the exhale coming out from her nose. "I feel your joy and pride sharply. I have grown lots, MarMar. I'm delighted to know that I can show you… when I otherwise could not."

          A laugh. Tiki turns to meet him, eyes twinkling like the stars that accompanied her nightly. "Though... I imagine you must find it curious as well: How it has taken me centuries to grow to your age. You will outpace me soon, I am certain… and I shall see you turn old and gray once more. But, for now, I will enjoy this time we have together. As equals. I am that child no longer; and I hope to keep making you proud."

[jiaolong-rp]

"Shufu and his Fufu"

Finally, got to finish a drawing of my Laopo Fu aka "Fufu" and the oldest uncle of my dragon OCs Dalong Shu aka "Shufu". Shufu is a friend's OC. Their backstory is hilarious, but also a little convoluted. Which is why I will put it under a read more, for those, who are interested in learning about how a fox spirit ended up as a freeloader in the palace of the dragon king. 🤭

Don’t like, don’t interact. (°u°)b // Please don’t steal and/or repost.

● Patreon ● Commission Prices ● Redbubble ●

Dalong Shu is not only the elder of my Dragon OCs, he's also the highest ranking judge among the dragons. A long time ago, he was engaged in a battle with the Calamity level demon Fen Dao, who threatened to devour all living things. Dalong Shu managed to subdue the demon and seal his soul away in a paper fan.

At that time, Fufu himself was a notorious eight-tailed fox demon. His original name is now lost in history. The fox demon was famous for being as much of a genius, as he was lazy. He would come up with the most fascinating inventions and concoctions out of sheer boredom, or in order to circumvent what he considered bothersome labor. Unfortunately, he also had a habit of leaving his inventions lying around unsupervised, so they would end up causing chaos, or cursing an unsuspecting mortal who picked them up.

The final straw was, when the fox demon decided to create the powerful weapon, Quanchi. Quanchi was a guangdao of such great destructive power, that it could flatten solid city walls with a single strike. When the fox demon got bored with his new creation, he gave it away to a mortal warlord. The first thing, said warlord did with Quanchi, was of course to destroy the capital of his most feared enemy, killing hundreds of thousands of humans in one night. Being the careless enabler of such a tragedy, the fox demon was blamed for it by the Heavens. Dalong Shu was sent to issue a warning to the notorious demon and see, if he posed any true threat to the Heavens.

Dalong Shu has a tendency of being a bit of a nagging old geezer. Not only did he warn the fox demon, that he was now on the Heavens' watch list, he also berated him for wasting his great genius for mischief and evil deeds. "If you return to the righteous path and devote your mind to betterment, the Heavens surely will welcome you with open arms."

Being as lazy, as he was, the fox demon considered all of this nothing but bothersome, but knew himself that he had no chance in a direct battle with Dalong Shu. At the same time, the Calamity demon Fen Dao was beginning to encroach onto the fox demon's territory, threatening to drive him out of his home, if he got any closer still. This was yet another bother, the fox demon saw himself incapable of dealing with head on. So, he hatched the plan to play Dalong Shu and Fen Dao against each other. He began spying on the dragons and soon found out, that Dalong Shu and his retainers were preparing for a sealing ritual to seal the calamity away. They were just missing a few key components and didn't yet have a proper plan on how to get Fen Dao to hold still long enough for the rites to be completed.

So, the fox demon went to Fen Dao next, idly chatting as if he was just a simpering demonling trying to cozy up to the calamity. During their conversation, the fox demon casually mentioned how he heard, that the dragons plan an ambush, but kept the exact details to himself. Enraged at their audacity, Fen Dao stormed the Heavens to challenge the dragons. With him conveniently coming to Dalong Shu's doorstep, the elder dragon immediately engaged in combat, while his retainers prepared the ritual. At the end of the battle, Dalong Shu just barely managed to seal Fen Dao's soul in a paper fan. However, he still needed to find a suitable vessel to contain Fen Dao's body, so it could be hidden away, keeping the demon from returning to the mortal world. When he turned to his retainers, asking whether they found a vessel, they replied: "We could not find a vessel in time, but a kind fox happened to come by and gifted us a giant pickle jar, he used to pickle his plums in." Therefore, the body of the powerful calamity Fen Dao was sealed away in a giant stoneware jar, that smelled strongly of pickled plums and then hidden within Dalong Shu's palace.

Now, only left with having to deal with his Heavenly probation and the constantly nagging Dalong Shu, the fox demon decided, that the path of least resistance would be to simply cultivate on the righteous path until he ascended himself. Several hundred years later, the fox demon had finally cultivated until he acquired his ninth tail and thus ascended as a powerful fox spirit to the Heavens. Once there, he strutted into Dalong Shu's palace, as if he's always belonged here. Bewildered by the fox's daring attitude, Dalong Shu asked him what he thought he was doing. At which the fox replied with a pretence of demure innocence: "But shufu! Was it not you, who told me, that if I cultivated on the righteous path, you would welcome me with open arms!?"

Thus, the former notorious fox demon became a freeloader in the dragon king's palace. Once there, he played up the act of being a smitten little fox kit, that fawned over his powerful and caring shufu any moment he could, much to Dalong Shu's great chagrin. His current name, he obtained during one such occasions. The name Laopo Fu has several meanings. Literally translated, it means "old vixen", but usually it is rather used as a mean word for an old nagging woman. Laopo is also an informal way to address one's wife. At one point early into his stay at Dalong Shu's palace, the fox spirit overheard some younger dragons complain about Dalong Shu's constant meddling and nagging. "Ugh, he is such a Laopo Fu!", they griped. Smelling an opportunity to cause mischief, the fox spirit butted into their conversation: "What are you talking about me there? I have never done such things!" Startled and also slightly frightened by the powerful fox spirit, that everyone knew was living scot-free even right under Dalong Shu's nose, the young dragons hurried to appease the bewildered fox. "A-ah, we weren't talking about you! We actually meant-", "What!?", the fox exclaimed confused, "Have you not said 'Laopo Fu'!? Am I not my shufu's Laopo, his little Laopo Fu!?" He continued to play that act up for so long, that eventually he was known all across the Heavens as Laopo Fu and everyone in the Court was convinced, he was Dalong Shu's inofficial favored concubine. Much to Dalong Shu's chagrin.

[bakugohoex]

Since no one is taking it, could I ask for NSFW prompt 1 with Hawks??

“you’re going to show the whole world who you belong too”

pairing: keigo takami x female reader

cw: nsfw (MINORS DNI exhibitionism, soft sex, female receiving oral, praise kink, nipple play, clit stimulation, creampie, degradation, kissing, bruises) and language

word count: ​1900+

a/n: i’m like 80 followers away from 3k and i’m still doing my 1k event this is how you know i’m behind on everything

summary: in which you find yourself in a hotel room after your dinner with keigo, pressed against the glass window for the whole world to see

1k event masterlist

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His hand glided past your waist; eyes fixated on the ascending lit numbers that increased by the second. Your body ached for more feeling, to have his hands clasp around you forever, his mouth beginning to litter past your shoulder right onto your skin. It was supposed to just be dinner, that was the plan for this week’s date night but ever since you had come out of your shared bedroom, Keigo couldn’t keep his hands away from you.

The way your hips looked into the dress, or the way it fit you perfectly, as if it was made to make you look even more beautiful. He had found himself paying in an instant before grabbing your hand, giving it a soft kiss on the back of your hand and dragging you away. You had been led outside, taken to the nearest hotel that Keigo knew would be perfect for the two of you and here you were.

In the elevator with a very horny Keigo ready to have his way with you, his hands slipped against your body once more, originally placing his hand on the small of your back. He couldn’t resist but keep you pushed against his ever-growing cock. “Look what you’ve done baby, made me all hard.”

He nibbled at your shoulder, one of his feathers had moved under your dress gliding against your thigh. A shiver running down your spine at the action, it felt intoxicating as his hands and feather touched your body. He looked up at the elevator numbers, the way it became slower and slower the higher you got, till the 45th floor was in his grasp.

Taking your hand the doors opened as he swiftly walked out, instantly finding the room number and letting you in. Locking the door as he entered, the suite looked perfect for lovers, with a big king-sized bed with fresh sheets and the smell of vanilla filling the room. A bottle of champaign and a rose sat on the marble table as the bathroom looked fully equipped for two lovers to prance into.

Keigo watched as you looked around, already forgetting why you were in the room in the first place, his eyes remained on your body. How pretty you looked as you finally looked up at him, with those big doe eyes that would take all of him in an instant. He knew you, knew how you acted and how with one look he could have you on your knees. “Pretty.” He murmured beginning to walk towards your form, the way you seemed to get smaller and smaller at each step.

You were more than pretty to Keigo you were perfect, his prefect little girl and all he could think about as he licked his lips was having you begging for his cock to fuck into you. “Keigo…”

Trailing off as soon as his hands reached to cup your face he muttered, “let me have you for the night, let me”

“I want you…” You breathed out heavily, but at the sign of the agreement, he got to work. His feathers swiftly moving your dress upwards as he kissed you.

Tongue gliding inside as he kept a firm grip on your now uncovered hips, the straps having been pulled by the feathers as you stepped out of the dress. Keigo knew why he picked this hotel, the big windows that cascaded past one wall. You could see the whole city or better, yet the city could see the whole of you.

You expected him to take you to the bed, put you down and fuck you senseless. But he had other ideas, his hands moving to grabbing your throat as he pushed you towards the glass windows. “Look…” he moved your face with his fingers forcing you to look out into the dark sky, “that’s our audience baby girl.”

Your heart fluttered as he let go of you, his feather keeping your wrists pinned behind your back as you looked to him. The way you still felt pressed against the window even though he wasn’t even touching you, the sultry look he gave as he unbuttoned each button. You admired the way he looked tonight, having worn a black shirt with silver dangling earrings had always turned you on. But seeing him now, about to expose the both of you against a window was what got you really going.

“Excited are we?” He chuckled as his shirt fell to the floor, his trousers feeling tighter and tighter as walked towards you. Eyes focused on the way your clit filled with slick, his fingers moved between your thighs touching at it as he brought it to his mouth.

You gave a moan at the sensation, the missing of his fingers but most of all how his mouth sucked his fingers. “Taste good baby.” You didn’t know what you were expecting but as soon as his belt came off and trousers fell, you watched how hard he had gotten from the mere look of you tonight. His hands moved to your thighs as you shivered under his touch waiting to see his next move. “Tell me you want me again.”

“I…I want you…please Keigo…gi…agh…” Before you could even finish speaking Keigo’s arm had wrapped under your thighs pushing your back against the wall as he held you up with his arms. He stayed on his knees as your ankles rested against his back, you couldn’t help but feel turned on by his sheer strength over carrying you like this, but even more so how his mouth had attached right into your cunt.

His tongue gilded against your clit and he tasted your slick as your moans filled the hotel room as your hands moved to his locks of hair. You could barely hear him speak as he sucked and nibbled at your cunt, intoxicated by the sheer power and lust he had for eating you out. His tongue moved deeper and deeper inside of your cunt as you could feel your legs tense at his actions. “Fu…fuck Kei…please,” you tugged at his hair wanting to feel his tongue go further in. His feathers had moved towards your back, so the cool window didn’t hurt as much against your back but even then it only turned you on more.

His muttering was inaudible, but as he kept moving deeper and deeper, his hands became harsher and harsher against your skin. “Agh…Kei…” your moans could probably be heard through the thin walls as your other hand to your face, feeling flushed as you could barely keep your mouth closed at Keigo’s movements.

His groan made you weak, already feeling the coil in your stomach ready to burst and as he gripped your under thigh ever harsher, leaving nail marks in his way. “Keigo…Kei…I’m gonna…cum…” you could barely speak biting into your hand as you felt your cum gush out right into Keigo’s mouth. He seemed to happily accept his favourite offering. Finally looking up at you, the way your back remained pushed against the window, your hand with spit on it and the way cum still seemed to leak out of you.

“My pretty girl…” He moved his hands to let your feet touch the ground before standing up to tower against you. “Gonna be my good girl, gonna listen to me baby?”

“Ye…yes…” You could barely speak from your first orgasm, but you already knew what Keigo was planning as his hands moved to your hips pushing your chest against the window.

He scoffed as you both stared out of the window, taking his boxers off as one hand kept a hold of you. The flashing lights of other high buildings in view, the bridges with bright yellows and reds from cars zooming past. “You’re going to show the whole world who you belong to.”

It wasn’t a question instead as he gripped your sides pushing you further, his cock used your cum to slam itself into you. “Keigo,” your mouth had become agape in a matter of seconds as you moaned his name, his eyes flashing as he began thrusting into you.

You wanted to see him, wanted to face your love and as you tried. His hand moved from your side to your jaw. “Look outside…you want to be good? Let them see…let them see your stupid cunt,” your moans remained as his hand made you focus outside, how his own mouth had moved to your shoulder as he left kisses. His other hand moved to play with your clit as you both filled the room with groans and moans.

You could see the way the stars played in the sky, the way each one connected to another, meeting down to the river. How the cars flashed passed going onto the bridge in a matter of seconds or how if you could see into other businesses that towered the streets of Japan then they could definitely see how you were getting fucked. “Fa…faster Keigo…” he complied as he kissed your neck, his fingers becoming lazy on your jaw as you leaned your neck on his shoulder.

You were completely complying to your love, letting him have you. Keigo’s fingers continued to play and pinch at your clit as your whole body went into overdrive. You couldn’t help but look to the side and see how Keigo looked, the way his hair had become damp, his other hand on your bare chest and he flicked his fingers between your nipples. But most of all how Keigo’s eyes were barely open as if he felt on a high, his stifled moans through your ear not helping how wet you had become.

He thrusts became incoherent, as he wanted to cum right in your cunt but had to wait for you to cum first. Your pleasure would always mean more to him than anything else, so as he continued to thrust into you, groaning into your ear unaware at how even if the sky looked like a sight for sore eyes. The way he looked at you was so much more, as if you had seen the entire universe and what it was worth in the man that held you.

You could feel the coil in your stomach as his thrusts continued to be sporadic it was almost hard to tell if Keigo was in any right mind. He had become intoxicated by the way your cunt kept him firm inside of you, how each thrust led to even more lust.

But as you continued to look up at him, realising just how much adoration you had for him, your incoherent moans and his continued grip on you as he went faster and deeper lead to cum gushing out of you once more. 

“I…I love you Keigo…” he hadn’t expected it but as you moaned out his name the feeling of your second orgasm coming through. Cum filled your cunt as Keigo’s thick cock stuffed it right back into you, not letting any drip down your thighs.

He spoke as he thrusted into you until he cummed right in your pretty little cunt, “I love you too.” You both stayed panting as Keigo took himself out of you, the way you remained in his arms as cum leaked down your leg.

He kissed your forehead before bringing you up into his arms, holding onto you as he took you towards the bathroom. And as he placed you into the tub, the mess of your body, with the scratches and marks littered across it all Keigo could think about was just how lucky he truly was.

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[lovieebby]

The Crying Game

Poly!Oscar Issac x Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Summary: On a cold winter night, when Oscar’s sleep comes and goes, him and Pedro find themselves thinking differently when you cry.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+!!!! SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!! ddlg themes, crying kink, kinda dub con if you rlly squint, vaginal penetration, bodily fluids, oral/m receiving, heavy dirty talk, poly relationship

Note: Meda and I where talking about me touching base on how my theory of pedro (and oscar) having a crying kink, so here it is! Hope you love it from the depths of my horny corner! AND THANK YOU @pinksdaydream FOR HELPING ME THIS MADE IT 1000 TIMES BETTER!!!! 😩💞

In the large king bed with the heater ridding the cold breeze of the outside snow, Oscar awoke to the glowing moon. His arm was draped over your waist while your legs tangled with Pedro’s, comfortable and calm in the meer hours of the night. Oscar had been tossing and turning most of the night yet didn’t realize he fell asleep when he woke up with his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

He felt his lashes flutter against the whisps of stray hairs from your now loose bun that had held your hair before you fell in your own sleep. He kept quiet for some time, listening to yours and Pedro’s breathing in hopes it would lull him back to sleep, but his mind and body were wide awake. Nights like these usually consisted of him sneaking out of the warm bed and creeping down stairs to the at home gym in the garage, though something different stirred awake. A little voice chanting erotic words and thoughts as you shifted unknowingly into his hardened member.

With slow and gentle movements, Oscar rolled you completely to your belly and propped your hips up slightly as he crawled behind your sleeping form. You groaned softly, making Oscar grin lazily when your legs spread to brase yourself. Even in your sleep you know your daddy’s touch and the thought made Oscar’s chest swell with pride at his little princess getting ready for him in her sleep.

He brought the blanket down just a tad, letting it lay on the back of your knees and pulling your nightie up your back. Your body still breathed evenly, sleeping peacefully which brought Oscar to spit loudly on your winking lips, bending impossibly close to your pussy to do it once more. He licked his spit through your folds and gathered it at your clenching hole as you mewled brokenly in the fluffy pillows.

You tried to stretch as Oscar folded his pants down, lining his cock up quickly to your entrance before you awoke. The bed dipped with his knees, restling the placement of the blanket and waking Pedro up with a quick intake of air. It took him a moment to understand the situation, but soon aware of what Oscar was doing by the time his cock was seethed completely into your cunt. Pedro’s smile was small and pleasant, watching Oscar fuck you awake. His hand came to lay lazily ontop of your head and brushed the hairs covering your face as your brows furrowed in confusion.

Oscar was slow with his thrusts, but pushing deep within you, making your hips tilt upwards. He felt your walls constrict and relax in one flush movement, your cunt spooked at first but realizing who and what had entered, relaxing its velvet walls around Oscar’s thick cock.

You muttered something under your breath as your heavy eyes opened slowly, Pedro being the first person you see while your body jults and withers. You began to pant in pleasure when your mind caught up with the real world, Pedro’s warm palm pressing on your cheek as you moaned brokenly.

“Someone’s awake,” Pedro cooed, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes trailing to Oscar’s hands fisting your night dress.

“G’mornin’ baby girl,” Oscar grunted, his hips stilling to your ass only to pick up his pace.

You grunted lowly, pouting your lips as Oscar slid out then pushing deep in a slow thrust. His breath was hot and shallow on your overly warm skin, sending your senses haywire at the sudden pleasure.

“P-papa?” You mewled, nose scrunched as your palms came to rub your eyes though Oscar’s thrusts knocked your head closer to the bed, “Daddy!”

Pedro chuckled at your squeal as Oscar hummed in delight with a lazy smirk. You hiccuped with a cry, your arms pushing you up to see your lovers clearly but Oscar and Pedro both had the thought of keeping you down. Pedro’s hand holding your shoulder blades down while Oscar held your hips closer to his. You cried again, mumbling incoherent words as a plea.

“Up! Let me up!” You cried in the sheets, nuzzling your nose in them.

“Jus’ wait baby— Don’t this feel good?” Oscar grunted, thrusting his cock in and stilled to walk closer to you by his knees, making his presence known. The pressure made your eyes roll back with a short hitch of breath.

“S-so go-good daddy…” You panted as you looked at Pedro, your eyes gloomy and teary eyed.

Pedro’s gut dropped, and not the kind where he felt guilty or bad, it was a raw feeling that he’d do anything and everything to see you cry, whether it was for him or Oscar. Pedro released your shoulders and sat up quickly to grab Oscar’s attention.

“Look look look.” He whispered, pulling your hair away from your soft and drowsy face, “Look at that…”

You sniffled when Oscar peeked at your damp cheeks and heavy eyes, your pants deep and erratic as you blew them into the sheets. He groaned at the sight of you. Your hair messy and untamed with your cheeks pressed to the soft bed as your body slumped in relief when he ceased his thrusts. Oscar quickly pulled out and turned you around, your back thudding on the bed in a bounce as you squealed in surprise.

“God fucking damnit princess.” He said, perching your legs up to your chest as you looked down at his gleaming cock.

Pedro whistled lowly, drawing your attention to your Papa before Oscar plummeted back into you. This time he could see every inch of you perfectly, your pussy fluttering to be filled and the sheer fabric that covered your chest that did little to conceal anything. Pedro could see it too, itching to rip your nighty straight down your chest to fondle with them, pitching and pulling until you come on Oscar’s cock.

Before you could count to three, Daddy’s hands were wiping your tears with a teasing coo, while Papa stretched the fabric of your dress down your chest to make your breasts exposed to them. You gasped and whined at their pulling and pushing, feeling like a bone for two hungry dogs. You cried again while your Daddy’s cock relentlessly pounded into you with need as your Papa twisted and tugged on your peaked nipples.

The fingers, cock and dirty whispers were too much. It was a toe curling burn that crept up your spine and throughout your ligaments; a coil that was about to snap. You couldn’t help but to bend your back into a painful arch and beg loudly for your release.

“P-please!” You moaned, thrusting your hips up to meet Oscar as your body ached for anything. A shove, a touch, a smack. Anything would be perfect to your release. “Daddy please!”

You looked at Oscar as you pleaded, but before he could answer, you turned your head to Pedro, screaming his name without a care of how pathetic your voice sounded.

“What do you need sweetie?” Pedro asked, coming closer to pull your head in his lap while he sat up against the headboard, “Is daddy and papa not giving you everything you want?” Oscar chimed, his warm hand coming to rest on the base of your neck.

“N-no! I-I have to cum! Please let me cum Daddy!” You defended, tilting your head back and forth to beg to your lovers. “Papa!”

Oscar moaned as fresh tears fell down your puffy cheeks, his cock bouncing in the warm walls of your cunt as his bollocks tightened. He was ready to blow his release, but stopped his movements and pulled out, making you whine as you cried harder. He sat back on his heels with a groan, his hand running over your slickened folds and stretched cunt.

“What about Papa? Hmm baby? You gonna give him some love before you cum?” He cooed with a pout, his head tilting as you nodded your head fast.

It was a perfect way to prolong his release, and Pedro knew it too. An all knowing smirk graced Pedro’s lips as he bit his tongue. His cock was impossibly hard in his fleece pants, hanging heavy on his thick thighs, clenching every moment you moaned and mewled.

“You look so pretty on Papa’s cock princess. Go show me and Papa yeah?” Oscar’s words were hypnotic, dripping from his lips like honey as he persuaded you.

He gripped your chin gently, rubbing your rosey bottom lip with his thumb, entranced by the thought of you perfectly seated on Pedro’s cock. You moved your head quickly when Pedro’s hands came down to rub the rounds of your breasts, your cheek laying lazily on his bicep as you looked at his darkened eyes and crazed peppered hair swirled around his beautiful face.

“May I have your cock Papa?” You asked sweetly, jutting your lips as you rose your chest for him to grope you more.

“Ah, using your manners? Such a good little girl I see.” Pedro adored, your eyes watery and wide while your lips pouted, he couldn’t say no. He’d be a fool if he did.

He didn’t wait for you to respond, hooking his arms under yours and lifting you up to sit in his lap. His legs where spread out before your ass landed on his thighs. You wiggled back, cooing and mewling as your Papa fumbled to barely pull his pants down to forcefully place you on his cock. It was a different feeling than Oscar— uncut and thicker, fulfilling and smooth. Pedro’s manhood stretched you further and made you squeal and squirm, him jabbing and demanding at your cervix, unlike Daddy’s who sweetly kisses your endings.

“Show Papa what you can do, let Daddy see it.” Oscar grunted, laying on his elbows as he gripped his cock, letting you and Pedro watch him pleasure himself at the sight of you two.

Pedro was the first to move as you drooled over Oscar’s show, watching intently as his big hands covered his slippery cock. Your breath hitched with Pedro’s fast and deep thrusts, your hips working in speed to match your Papa’s momentum. This had to be one of the favored mornings, your cunt onto his cock while you watched Daddy fumble with his, it made you moan louder with your ass bouncing harder on Pedro. And the man loved every minute of it, watching your eyes gloss as you watched Oscar and your sweet juices coating yourself along with him. It made a lewd squelch, making Pedro pant his moans as he squeezed your waist to keep your bouncing hard and deep.

You were repeatedly being impaled upon Pedro’s cock, it tore you in two so deliciously. There was a burn from him stretching you but it added on to the pleasurable ache between your legs. You were starting to lose yourself in the pleasure, your hips starting to stutter. Whines starting leaving your mouth, you didn’t think you could handle it anymore. You were still reeling from Oscar, the way he pushed into your unguarded walls to right now with how tempting he looks. Your body was buzzing as Pedro started taking over.

“Can’t handle it, Peach?” Pedro mocked as he flipped you onto your back, your movements too slow for his liking. He slid back into you and started pounding hard and fast, making you yelp as you covered your mouth. You were scared of the sounds that would come out if you didn’t.

You used your other hand to press it against Pedro’s tummy, trying to get him to let up on his pace.

“Uh uh, baby. You can handle Papa, show me how much of a good girl you can be and take it.” Oscar said as Pedro pushed your hand away.

“No! It’s too big.” You whined, making both Oscar and Pedro laugh at you, though the laughter soon turned into guttural groans as more tears cascaded from your eyes. Both men didn’t think they would be able to last much longer.

From the side view of Oscar to the way Pedro pounded his cock, you could help but mewl and shake as you held your legs up to your chest. The tilt of your hips drove Pedro’s cock deeper as your fingernails created half moons on your soft skin. You clenched and pulsed around you Papa, your eyes becoming blurry with tears while your pretty little head fogged. You couldn’t hold your delayed release even if you wanted to, it came quick and hard, making your mouth drop open in a silent squeal. Your tongue jutted out slightly as your eyes crossed.

“Ooh yeah baby— Fuck! Su-ch a good girl!” Pedro gasped, smirking with an open mouth as he imprinted your fucked face in his memories.

Oscar released his hand from his own cock like it had burnt him, panting as his member flexed for more. The sight was beautiful; your curvy body bent deliciously, your face flushed as you looked at the beds canopy with your mouth wide. The veins in your neck protruding out, blood pumping quickly before you finally spoke out.

“Fuck!” You squealed brokenly, the tears finally falling down your sweet cheeks. “More more more!”

Your mumbled words were your lovers dream, a blissed demand that any man would oblige. Pedro groaned loudly, shifting his hips deeper into your milking walls as they enchanted him to stay put. Oscar watched with awe as he quickly moved to you, his knees quaking as he did. He placed his cock head close to your mouth and you didn’t think twice as you opened your mouth quickly to trap his head in your warm awaiting mouth.

“Is this what you want sweetheart? Huh?” Oscar asked, Daddy shuttered, his eyes fluttering closed as he smiled wide like a cat that got the cream, “Both of your pretty holes filled?”

“Look so pretty baby…” Pedro mumbled with a curt grunt, pulling and pushing slowly to keep himself from blowing his warm seed into your inviting canal.

You rose your neck, letting Daddy slide easily in your throat. Small mewls and moans were gurgled around him as your eyelids hooded over your blown out pupils, attempting to smile lazily around him. Oscar fucked your face, slow and agonizing at the first few thrusts, then became erratic and aggressive like he was claiming every inch of your mouth. The sight persuaded Pedro to move, captured by yours and Oscar’s grunts and muffled moans. The feeling of Pedro invading your warm walls and Oscar nudging the back of your throat had you close to a second orgasm.

Pedro could tell you were close by the way you were starting to close your thighs, a clear sign that you wanted more but didn’t know how to ask for it.

“Do you want another, peach? Is that what you’re asking for?” Pedro asked. He enunciated every word with a thrust, making you squeal.

“Ask nicely, you’re so good at using your manners peachy girl.” Oscar said, forcing himself deeper into your warm throat.

You loved hearing his grunts, sending your nerves closer and closer to another release, as did Pedro’s unrelenting pace. The pad of Pedro’s thumb found your swollen and puffed clit, the texture of his thumb made you jerk at the sudden contact. He started rubbing in a circular motion, the build up didn’t take long; stars bursting behind your eyes as your back arched off the bed. Oscar came with an erratic thrust of his hips just as Pedro did, filling your greedy holes with bliss.

You eagerly gulped down all that your Daddy had to offer with weak whimpers as your cunt filled to the brim with your Papa’s hot cum. You willingly and joyfully took every drop your lovers gave, filling you up sweetly and beautifully while you panted and moaned.

The moment Oscar released his grip from your tangled hair, you gasped loudly, your heart pounding in astonishment of the lewdness you succumbed to. You didn’t regret a minute of the rough and passionate fucking, you loved every single thing about and secretly hoped for more. But the flushed cheeks and heavy eyes of Oscar told you that the silver haired fox was done for the moment.

You panted with a soft smile as Oscar slumped back on his heels while Pedro’s soft hands caressed your soft tummy, pushing gently to watch his release seep out of your puffed folds. He groaned again, rough and loud, his cheeks puffing in a long exhale while his eyes locked on his cock leaving your body as well as his seed.

It was a dream come true before your friend the sun rose with its bright rays of life, warming the cold ground and awakening the winter birds. But little did the sun know, you danced with the full moon in the most luxurious way.

Taglist will be added in a reblog!!!

[ronnieiswriting]

BY DORNE PART 3

F!reader x Oberyn Martell No descriptive terms for reader, no use of y/n, EXPLICIT, ongoing

Part 1 Part 2

Important: set WELL before the events in Game of Thrones/ Book one of ASOIAF- King Aerys Targaryen is on the throne, Elia Martell is alive, Ellaria Sand is not in the picture (yet?) and Oberyn doesn’t have any daughters yet. As for the universe this is set in, Each major house (Starks, Tyrells, Arryns, Martells etc) are the families that run each region of Westeros but with a 70s backdrop instead of a high fantasy one.

The reader is Oberyn’s favourite arm piece- one he brings to lots of events. He’s known as the hungriest of all the Martells and he likes to prove that to anyone who might question that, therefore, its no secret that Oberyn has had a number of partners and sometimes multiple at once, men and women. Insatiable appetite aside, Oberyn hasn’t enjoyed spoiling any girl as much as he does you, and he’s set on keeping you around for as long as you can keep up with him.

TAGS!!: female masturbation (descriptions, references, partner watches), subtle power play, 70s circle beds, crotchless romper, lots of praise, implied oral f receiving, other sex acts implied/ referenced, feelings, a little bit of angst at the end. ENJOY (if I missed any tags pls let me know!!)

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”

If you had expected any other words to be the first from your lover’s mouth the second he found you- after almost two months apart- you would've been disappointed. The first thing he had done, however, was pull you to him eagerly and greet your starved lips with a searing kiss. When you had separated only for the necessity of air, Oberyn had started remapping your body with his hands as if he had forgotten it in his absence.

You hummed against him, arms circling around his neck where his dark curls brushed against your skin. It had gotten longer since he had been away- you wondered if he planned to get it cut soon. “I missed you.” you told him, drawing in a breath of his cologne.

Oberyn groaned. “Honey, did you touch yourself?” His hands climbed up further, thumbs brushing against the sides of your breasts.

You nodded. “Of course I did. I missed every bit of you with every part of me.”

His brow creased in response. The world forgotten, Oberyn led you in the direction of his room. “How many times.”

You weren’t oblivious to the power you had over the man currently attacking your neck with desperate lips, and you couldn’t deny its effect on you- his effect on you- a welcome kind of intoxication. You gave him an answer, “I lost count.”

He nodded against you, lips dragging and stubble catching across your skin when he looked away to fumble with door handles. After he cursed them for sticking, he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll forget all about your fingers when I’m done with you.”

When he finally got the double doors open it was you that pulled him inside, slamming one shut again by shoving his back against it and the other with a kick.

He looked at you differently then- still like an animal of course- for you had never known the hunger running deep in his pitch black eyes to ebb its flow. But this look came when you would reach out and touch the power you had. And nothing needed to be said, no words to acknowledge the truth- the way Oberyn looked at you let you know exactly how he felt about you seizing power.

The hardening length of him pressing against the inside of your thigh also got the message across without spoken language.

You leaned into the sensation and ran a hand up his chest, along the thick chain of his heirloom necklace. Dropping your voice only slightly, you said “Why don’t I show you?”

Oberyn was leaning forward so far on the vanity stool that you were almost sure he’d fall off it and get a mouthful of the brightly coloured shag rug that covered one side of the room. He watched intently as you draped yourself over his circle bed, pulling back the sheer curtain on your way in a manner you hoped was seductive.

Since you knew Oberyn was coming back that day, you’d made a point to wear one of his favourite pieces- a slinky, lace romper with only a few skimpy panels of silk. Though, what he liked about it most (other than the way it barely brushed the tops of your thighs- and the fact that it was sinfully crotchless) was the colour; not the typical warm orange or bright yellow that the Martell’s so famously covered everything in. You were like a beacon in the room as soon as you took off the earth-toned dress you were wearing, capturing the man before you as he drank in the sight of the romper- rich, royal purple.

He had muttered something that sounded remarkably like an old Dornish verse at the garment, swallowed, and restrained himself to the seat where he adjusted himself shamelessly.

Once you had gotten situated against the pile of velvet cushions set up against the arched bedhead, you stretched for effect, reaching high so he’d get a good view of the way your pert nipples peaked against the fabric. Seeking the rush from his response, you looked at him through your lashes and let out the faintest of moans.

His full lips tugged up at that, edging impossibly closer to the foot of the bed. You found yourself wondering how he would look kneeling for you… another time, you thought.

When he smiled fully, you were unable to resist mirroring it. “Go on, baby.” he said, voice strained with admiration. “Show me how you missed me.”

You obliged him, edging a hand down between your legs that you parted wide for your man to see. When you reached your uncovered sex, your eyes locked onto Oberyn’s as you spread yourself open with your fingers and felt the wetness that had began to gather there. It started slowly, your digits easing the anticipation into a low pressure that made your entire body relax further into the plushness of the bed.

He praised the sight, “That’s it, honey.” and you agreed with a lazy hum.

For a few minutes, you were content with the languid pace at which you teased yourself, running fingers up and down your slit and coating your lips with your arousal. Sufficient pressure built, you tilted your hips towards him and pulled one fingertip over your clit. The pleasure was instantaneous but you resisted throwing your head back in favour of maintaining eye contact with the man at the end of the bed. You noticed that he had scooted the chair forward and contorted himself to be eye-level with your cunt, elbows on his knees, one thumb tracing his bottom lip as he drank you in. He began to compliment you again, “Sweet honey, you look so-” but you cut him off when you moaned his name- circling the bud again to the sound of his voice catching. Before you could hold back the flutter of your eyes at the sensation, you saw the devilish smirk that took to Oberyn’s lips. He repeated the sentiment slower this time and complete, matching each word to the tempo of your fingers, “Sweet, sweet honey. You look so fucking gorgeous.”

It was then that you were suddenly, painfully aware that the man who was so good at pleasing you was so close to you and yet wasn’t touching you- not his hands nor his lips or his cock. His tender words were nowhere near your ear and they weren’t kissed into your skin- it was as if he had become the presence you imagined when he was away. And while the both of you were so clearly enjoying the dynamic, it was an intense thing to act out what you had done to imitate his affections in front of him. There was a rush to it- something exciting about showing him how you could superficially replace him- and the powerful feeling you got out of it easily outweighed the frustration of not having him between your legs right then.

Oberyn seemed to enjoy it as much as you did. You coaxed yourself closer to release with one digit slipping just inside every few swipes. You could hear him through it, his voice harmonising with each breathy moan from you and it sounded like he was repeating phrases- thanking the gods for what he was witnessing, cursing himself for not coming back sooner, praising you, encouraging you- and you could tell he was dying to touch himself.

Though you had intended to watch him the whole time, your eyes kept rolling with the effort to chase a climax. Looking at him again, you could’ve pounced on him- he had shifted upright and was working idly at the buttons on his shirt, never taking his eyes off you. He noticed the way your attention drew to the tent in his pants because you showed your appreciation by wetting your lips and arching your back, fingers never stopping.

You moaned his name again and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not going to touch myself. To think I’d come in my hand when your pussy is right in front of me- now that would be an insult.”

You replied without thinking, “You don’t have to come- you--” you paused to squirm, finding a better angle, “You could just stroke yourself a bit?” You were offering him the chance to even the dominance, maybe even take all of it. You’d let him.

It was a vain effort and a suggestion he refused entirely. “If I’m going to make you forget about your fingers- I need to see what they can do, right? I need to know what I’m up against.” He returned to his previous position, chain swinging heavily into his bare chest, hands locked together on his knees and gaze set on your dripping centre. “Don’t let up, sweetness, okay.”

His words encouraged you to go faster still and you moaned louder. When you started to thrust two fingers inside yourself everything felt enhanced. Your feet slid against the sheet as you struggled to ground yourself through the rapidly increasing intensity and your gasping breath turned into a string of words, “Gods, Oberyn- I missed you so much.” and “Did this every night- in every room.” A feat you exaggerated a little- Oberyn’s mansion was a relatively small building next to the Martell manor but it couldn’t be called humble. Your whole body started to burn when you told him how you missed his cock.

He didn’t hesitate to rouse you further, telling you how much he missed you- namely, “Your sweet cunt…” You lost sight of him when your head finally fell completely back into the mass of pillows but his voice rang equally insistent and lustful. “You’re my best girl, honey.” he said as you continued to tightly swirl your clit. “My sweet lover- that’s it, baby- so good for me.”

Tantalizingly close now, you reached under the romper to flick your nipples, squeezing because you desperately craved the same level of stimulation he’d so often saturate you with. Chasing that feeling further, you tried to hit your clit with the thumb of the same hand you fucked yourself on but you couldn’t.

For a second you almost gave up and asked him to help you come- add a finger- anything. But he got you there before you could even get out a word or a pleading moan. Oberyn’s praises came again and he practically begged you to come for him. “Come for me so I can make you come again and again. Let me prove that I missed you... Come so I can fuck you so good you forget the entire world--”

Your climax came out with a choked sob and in a white hot flash that drained all the feelings in your body. All of you went limp but your chest heaved in the air. The bliss was incredible and well-earned but there was so much more to be had.

With the little energy you could muster, you beckoned to him with the same fingers you pulled from yourself. They were still glossy with your slick but barely had the chance to cool in the air as Oberyn’s lips quickly latched around your fingers. His tongue swirled to devour your spend and hungry hands roamed over your tired thighs that trembled in the aftershock.

Kissing your knuckles once he had licked you clean, he moved the same hand to the crown of his head and encouraged you to grab hold. He gave your other hand the same treatment before he moved his lips over your thighs, massaging the tension from them with the pads of his fingers. “My turn.” he mumbled into your skin.

By the time Oberyn had proved himself better than your fingers, the sky was beginning to turn purple with dawn. When he had found you that day it had been just after 10pm.

Somehow, though, whether due to miraculous pacing or because neither of you had so recently exerted yourselves, you and Oberyn were still wide awake. He emerged from between your thighs again- this time without a heavy pant or a shiny chin- with a washcloth in his hand. Coming up to sit back fully on his knees, he unashamedly looked you over.

The purple romper had been folded down around your waist and you were sure one of the straps were broken from the force it had been yanked down with. He smirked proudly at the number of hickies he had left all over your skin as many of them would be seen regardless of what you wore. “You look good.” he said.

Oberyn was quite a sight himself. When he removed himself from the bed to return the cloth to his ensuite, you admired the way his skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat. His hair stuck out in every direction and before he disappeared behind the doorway, he rolled his shoulders and neck with a happy groan. You called out to him, “You make me look good.” Then, put off by the feeling of the lace against you, you kicked off the romper fully and stretched back out on the bed.

He replied, “I don’t agree with a single word of that, baby.”

When he came back into the room, you couldn’t help but admire the almost comical way in which he had shrugged on his favorite robe but not bothered with affording himself any more modesty in it than he had completely naked. You took the opportunity to ogle him openly, proud of the marks you had left on him and he wasted little time in crossing the room again to rejoin you on the bed. When he had gotten comfortable situated between your legs, this time on his back, with his head resting on your stomach and arms slung over your thighs, Oberyn looked up at you fondly. “I do think I proved myself though.”

“To who?”

That smug smile returned, “Well, to you.” Then he looked to think on it for a moment, pondering as his fingers drew half-thought images across the skin of your thigh. “Proved that I’m still good enough for you.”

You didn’t even bother to hold back from rolling your eyes. “You know that’s ridiculous, Oberyn.”

Oberyn nodded, warm eyes drooping before closing softly. “Mmhmm” he hummed.

It settled like that for a while. You stroked his hair, drawing more relaxed hums from him while a question started bubbling up in your mind.

You pushed it aside for a different one, “Why don’t we do something tomorrow?”

“Can’t, I’m afraid.” He sighed, “Doran wants me to come in first thing to review some clause in the trade documents with Lys- something about a weird shipment- it's all very complicated really. I’m sure he’ll find a way to keep me there longer too and spring more papers on me or something.” When he finished the silence started to sting. “I’m sorry, honey. You know I’d love to-”

You refused to let him get to the “but” in that sentence, “It’s okay--really! I mean we just did a lot… Maybe later in the week?”

Oberyn kissed your hand. He was visibly relieved of the tension diffusing between you.“You got it, honey.”

Oberyn left about an hour later, giving you a tender kiss on the forehead and the promise of “soon”. The warm spot beside you and the marks on you were the only tangible signs that Oberyn had even been there at all and you lamented the fact that they too would be quick to flee as the rest of him had.

You hated to pout but it was easy when your lover had barely spent a day with you before being snatched away again by something more important. Important, demanding or serious -any similar word- was more so because you were relatively less. You- unlike business or politics or events- could wait on his bed all day and night for his return.

Ultimatums weren’t known to be answered romantically every time. And you swore to yourself that you’d never force him to choose. Nevertheless, the seed of doubt had been planted and the casualness of your relationship with Oberyn nurtured it against your better judgement.

You stewed over these thoughts long into the morning, staring up at the canopy butt-naked.

He had told you something before he left for King’s Landing two months ago that you remembered suddenly. “... you are the reason I am going to rush back to Dorne.”, the unspoken idea there being that he would value your company above the general comfort of familiarity. You had almost told him then how you felt about him, but a nagging feeling had told you to hold it in and now you had to suffer under the weight of more doubts and insecurities.

Maybe if you had, he would have been able to clear up half of the doubts you were festering over- maybe he would have said he loved you too. It was a selfish thought but irresistible all the same and you were too quickly lulled into indulging in it.

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

lovers’ dreams

Summary: “A day fit for a spring dream.” And then he kisses Roshan, and they become lost in each other.

Characters: India (Aditya), China, Iran/Persia (Roshan, genderfluid). Human names used. Indran, Churan, and Indchu for ships!

Notes: 100% distilled surrealism! This was supposed to be a writing exercise that ran away from me rip. There are many footnotes that explain Many things. Enjoy!

also on AO3! (there are bonus thoughts and explanations there for anyone who’s interested or slightly confused 😅. everything necessary for you to understand the story is here too but I ramble about my thoughts going into the piece on AO3 lol)

———

The willow’s drooping branches hide Yao’s face like a beaded curtain, a bride’s sheer red veil. The spring breeze snakes through the tree, and the sound of wedding suona—sorna rings through the silence. A flutter of phoenix wings brushes past their ear, a whisper on the wind. Roshan walks languidly until they are in front of Yao; it takes a minute—it takes a month. Yao’s face is sharp and his eyes glint, like the jade in his belt. But the kiss is soft when they take his lips in theirs, and it tastes of the rose’s tender petals. The clean sweetness of flowers is warm against Roshan’s face and the fragrance of tea drifts into their nostrils. 

Yao pulls away, and Roshan opens their eyes to polished jade thorns sprouting up from the earth around them—crisp green, sharp-tipped; elegant, dangerous. So these are the fruits of our love. It is fitting. They lean to kiss Yao again, and this time, a laugh peals through the air when they part. It is not Roshan’s, and it isn’t Yao’s. But it is clear as spring water and tinkles like a bell, a joyous sound, and it makes Yao smile—a smile that is gentle, calculating; sweet, dangerous. A copper coin hides in the corner of his lips. “A day fit for a spring dream.” And then he kisses Roshan, and they become lost in each other.

When Roshan opens their eyes again, Yao is gone. They are standing in nothingness, a shell of a dream. A liminal plane. A wedding song echoes in the empty space, loud and cheerful, although there are no musicians to be seen playing the dohol, the sorna. Then sprung from the air, a mirror of fate, Aayeneh-ye Bakh, with its customary candelabras flanking it, and with their dots of golden light—miniature suns, sparkling stars. Its face shimmers, clear and gleaming: a pond on a full moon night—and in it, Yao stands, his reflection bright, splendid robes shimmering like gold scales and fine silk. Roshan reaches out a hand, and pulls him into a kiss.

“Welcome back, my dear.”

———

It is sunset, and a chill brushes past Yao’s shoulders and winds through his hair. The sky burns red, and fork tongued flames lick at the sun. A world bathed in fire, on the cusp of night. A lotus pond sits before him, and a figure is at its edge—Aditya, adorned in gold, the perfect figure of a prince. He, a dream of glittering palaces and beady emeralds, bright against the glow of the setting sun, sharp against the bloody sky. He holds a lotus blossom out, and Yao takes it. It is pure, tender in his calloused hands. A drop of blood drips from a petal. He lets it float into the water, and Aditya watches with him as the peach pink petals drop before their eyes—the lotus head balloons, then falls with the weight of seeds; it withers, a shell of its fruit. Divine beauty is short lived—seasons turn with the winds of change.  

Aditya loops an arm around him, bare skin on bare skin, the warmth of the sun hanging around them like a curtain. Their lips meet. The kiss is long, and lingers even after Yao pulls away; it is slightly bitter, but how could it not be? Aditya’s eyes are like black tea, and Yao tastes acrid lily bulbs. The sky has faded into burnt orange, the aftermath of a blaze. Autumn leaves fall from ginkgo trees, golden yellow, bright with memories of the past. Aditya closes his eyes, and Yao watches him sink into a dream.

The scene shifts before his eyes. The lotus pond morphs into a giant chessboard, and they are on opposite sides. Aditya plays white. Cream colored pawns meet chocolate brown knights, and they watch as kings rise and fall, as steady as the spinning of the world. Chariots race and elephants trumpet; the cavalry fight with long swords and bows, and the peasants use polearms, raised fists. Yao meets Aditya’s eyes, warm but gleaming with an ambition that has never gone away. He nods to his neighbor to the west, to his rival, lover, partner, equal. Aditya smiles.

“So we meet again.”

———

It is afternoon, and the sun is warm on his face. Roshan sits on a bench in the courtyard, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, a pomegranate in the other. Aditya nestles into their side, and they give him a feather light cheek kiss, gift him a wisp of air. They hold out the pomegranate, offers it, and Aditya takes a bite. Roshan takes the other half. They watch as the fruit regrows, seeds become jewels, glittering rubies in folds of red fabric. Roshan holds one up to the light with a critical eye. They spread tawny wings, amber eagle eyes alight with the pride of the past present future. A lion and the sun. The wings disappear—a trick of the light, reality fallen away. Then they hold up the cup of coffee.

“For you.” Aditya smiles, and offers a cup of black tea in return.

We have shared many things, and fought over equally many. How will it be in the future? He takes a sip, and falls through the cup.

A cemetery of swords surrounds them, a memory of things gone by. Afternoon sunlight filters through the trees, winds into Roshan’s hair. Idly peaceful. Flowers sprout through the earth; wither; climb up the rusted metal once again. A vine of roses twists around the hilt of a ceremonial spear, supple and full against cool, glinting steel. The leaves flicker, green yellow dead green again. Its blossom is still fresh red, like passion, like their love, pooling around them like a million memories, a still night in the river of time. Aditya looks at Roshan, different yet the same, a reflection of what they once were. Familiar, always, despite the changing tides and shifting dreams.

———

Notes

this part might actually be longer than the fic itself rip 😔 reminder that there’s extra rambling on ao3 lol

Suona/sorna: suona (唢呐) is a traditional wind instrument often played at wedding and funeral processions in northern China! (also used in Southeast China + Taiwan) It’s very loud and has a super brassy sound, but personally I think it sounds alright! The instrument came from Central Asia and is also used at weddings in Iran (where it’s spelled sorna/sarna), where it’s played with a dohol, a large cylindrical drum.

Phoenixes: wedding imagery in China, where a dragon symbolizes the groom and the phoenix the bride. There’s also an analogue to the phoenix in Persian mythology, a simurgh, which is a benevolent creature that is said to purify the land, roosts in the Tree of Knowledge, and apparently has seen the world be destroyed 3 times. Can symbolize healing, divinity, wisdom, and life. (the simurgh symbolism doesn't have much relevance to the fic but I thought it was incredibly interesting to read about lol)

Spring dream: very loosely referencing the Chinese phrase 一场春梦 (yi chang chun meng), which literally translates to an episode of a spring dream. It means the feeling that past predictions or events were actually totally wrong and fruitless, like you expected something (probably really good), but then woke up to reality not being up to your expectations? I can’t translate 😔

Mirror of Fate: In traditional Iranian weddings, a large, elaborate table with flowers and food and different spices is set up (sofreh aghd). A mirror of fate and 2 candelabras are also placed in the center of the table. The mirror represents how fate brought the bride and groom together, and the candelabras represent light and fire. The mirror is there so that when the groom looks into it, the first thing he should see is his betrothed's reflection.

Lotus blossoms: in China and India and many other parts of Asia, lotuses represent purity (they grow from dark mud but the flowers are pure white/pink), the divine, elegance, spiritual promise, the good part of humanity. so, a lotus with a drop of blood in Yao’s hands would be interesting.

Lily bulbs: this is purely self projection but lily bulbs (baihe) are used in Chinese medicine and I despise them. They're not super bitter but they taste starchy, bland, and off. Also lilies and lotuses are pretty similar and I thought that would be interesting :>

Chess: idk if I need a note for this but chess originated as an Indian game called Chaturanga and spread over to China and Iran, among many other places in Asia.

Tea and Coffee: nothing really special about this besides that Iranians Really Like tea. Decided to make India drink coffee instead for contrast; realistically he’d also be drinking tea lol

Eagle eyes: the Iranian/Persian symbol of the Faravahar, from Zoroastrianism has wings that are supposed to be eagle wings (I think? correct me if it’s just unspecified). You’ve probably seen it; it depicts a man with spread wings, half kneeling in a side view. Nowadays it’s also a symbol of Iranian culture, history, and national pride, besides being representative of Zoroastrianism.

Rose: national flower of Iran, and obv I don’t need to explain the other rose connotations. Also I’ve fully adopted the hc that Roshan and all their stuff smells like roses so that’s there too.

Lion and the sun: getting lazy with the explanations, but the short version is that it was a very important Iranian national symbol for many reasons, moreso tied to the state than culture (imo); it was also on the national flag up till the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Although I’m still debating how much Roshan is associated with the state, I also think sun and lion imagery fits them (glory, golden days, pride and courage). It’s super interesting, go search it up if you wanna read more!

This whole fic was somewhat inspired by this one, and the indchu bit was also somewhat inspired by this fanart.

If you made it down here, you have all my gratitude. Feedback is welcome and appreciated! Thanks for reading <3

[sweetsubharry]

hi! can you give me your hottest, dirtiest, filthiest bottom harry fics?

Hiya!! Yes I can! ^-^

Now there are 41 different fics under this list, so it’s quite long! Obviously what people find dirty/filthy can be a large range, so if you ever want to narrow it down just send another message like ‘no plot’ for example :) and then I can make it more suited to your taste if this one isn’t! I hope you enjoy this though love ❤

In case no one gets to the bottom of the page I’ll say it again here too! Please make sure to stay safe and read the tags!! ❤ ❤

you're my favorite ride by louislovesharry

no summary 

At Least As Deep As the Pacific Ocean (I wanna be yours) by babylouis

Louis can’t help but stop and watch him for a moment, how beautiful he looks, sprawled out on the bed, his cock red and hard against his tummy, collar snug against his neck and the bow still placed neatly in his curls to keep them back from Harry’s face.

His boy may be the most beautiful creature on the planet.

Especially tied up like this, body begging to be fucked. Begging to be destoryed.

or

Louis likes to push boundaries, and Harry takes what he gets. Lots of subspace Harry and fonding Louis ensues.

redder than the devil by mercutionotromeo

It's half past 9, and all Harry wants is for Louis to touch him. Preferably after a good spanking.

If you combine a lazy Saturday afternoon with a distracting, pouty Harry, you'll end up with Louis spanking his baby over his knee in the middle of a paused FIFA match.

Pretty please, take care of me ? by kurtcobain

Louis is stressed. Harry wants to help.

Step into the Light by Smolbeanandhisqween

Harry is on the set of his new music video "Lights Up". His husband, Louis, is watching him film the video. He gets jealous of all of the people touching Harry and teaches him a lesson.

Destroy Me, King by stylinsexualxo

After SNL, jealous Louis has a little surprise for Harry when he arrives home.

Can We Pretend (honestly reality bores me) by SadaVeniren

He felt Louis chuckle. “Dreaming of being my supportive, no-name boyfriend again?”

“Always,” Harry whispered. It was true. After all this time together there was no point in hiding any of his fantasies from Louis, no matter how innocent they were. So Louis was well aware of Harry’s desire to be anonymous sometimes - the “no-name” as Louis called him - loyal, a constant presence at Louis’ side.

aka Harry comes and supports Louis at his Scala concert

Let Me Be Good For You by onlyhuman for haroldtbh

His distress over the bun is nothing compared to the thrill Louis feels shoot up his spine at the outfit Harry’s donned. He’s changed into leather jeans that cling to his legs, hugging his thighs snugly. On top of it, a floaty, black sheer shirt is contouring his frame, doing absolutely nothing to hide his puffy nipples or the endless array of tattoos scattered across his torso. It’s Louis’ favourite outfit in the entire world.

Or, Niall's only birthday wish is to go clubbing with his boys in Vegas. Harry ruins it all by wearing that god forsaken black sheer shirt.

You Like Playing Games by orphan_account

Louis knows Harry likes to flirt and tease. Louis knows that he doesn’t particularly like when Harry flirts and teases. Louis knows that Harry knows that Louis doesn’t particularly like it.

But what Louis doesn’t quite know is why, despite that, Harry’s decided to grind against 5 Seconds of Summer’s Luke Hemmings during “Teenage Dirtbag” in the last show in Melbourne.

Basically pure smut.

Do Not Disturb (kiss me beneath the milky twilight) by SadaVeniren

“I was talking with Nick a couple months back and he was saying how our sex life seemed boring and we’d need to keep doing new and interesting things to keep it exciting or else we’d become boring and heterosexual and I defended us of course but then work picked up and we started living off of studio handjobs and missionary position sex in the dark and so I panicked. I googled BDSM and after looking into it I really want to try some of it because I think we’d enjoy it but we just don’t have the time.”

aka Harry doesn't want to become a boring old married couple a year into their relationship and tries to spice up their sex life.

Forgetting Frisco by iwillpaintasongforlou

Harry probably knew when he decided to wear that goddamn sheer shirt onstage in Toronto that it was going to drive Louis absolutely insane with want. He probably didn't know that Louis was going to proceed to fuck him so good he had flashbacks for years to come just like Frisco, but then again, you won't hear him complaining.

(Basically 6k of Louis worshipping Harry's body and doing it all in front of a mirror so Harry can worship, too.)

Mon Petit by coffinofachimera

Harry wears the 'Mon Petit' sweater while Louis records them on their private 

falling for you, i can't keep away by hegotthedagger plane

Harry wants Louis really bad and Louis might want him just as much.

Always In My Heart by sweaterpawstyles

The tweet itself was not startling at all. Harry saw people retweet it nearly every day for years now. It always made him smile to see how many people had retweeting Louis showing his love for Harry on that day.

What was startling was underneath where the fan had retweeted it, Harry saw the small number 1M written on it.

Harry froze, completely unable to move anything in his body. He knew Louis had the second most retweeted tweet of all time, but it reached a million retweets. One million people believed in Louis' love for Harry. Or AIMH hits 1 million & facetime sex ensues

You and Me by louisgrindsonharry

Harry and Louis have dabbled in the idea of BDSM but Harry finally wants to take it farther and Louis has to figure out how to take care of his boy.

they shake, you conquer (and I'm left to their devices) by butidontreallycare

smut. a little love for Harry's thighs, but mostly just smut. I am not ashamed

Daddy Came Home by RuinedBy5Guys

“You got yourself off.” He says quietly, his eyes locked on Harry’s. Harry’s face flushes and he tries to cover it, shoving himself towards Louis. He drops to his knees, leaning close between his husbands spread thighs. He puts his hands on his dress pants, carefully feeling the material at his knees.

“How did you know?” He asks quietly. Louis drops his face, grabbing over Harry’s hands with his own. Harry lowers his gaze, staring at the carpet underneath him.

“You were asleep. You always get tired after an orgasm. Not to mention how flushed you are.” He says quietly, raking his eyes over Harry’s body. Harry glances up at him, his actions becoming more clear to him now that Louis was home.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, dropping his eyes again.

“What was that?” Louis snaps, reaching to bring Harry’s face up again. Harry gulps, shuffling closer on his knees, the joints aching already.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Harry says, his green eyes locked on Louis’ blue ones. Louis smiles slightly, stroking his fingers over his husbands cheeks softly.

“Just gonna have to spank you now, aren’t I?”

OR... Harry teases and Daddy punishes him in the best ways possible

take me into your loving arms by blankiehxrry

twas the night of the brit awards

I Wanna Do What Bunnies Do With You by MoreThanTonight

“Lou.. Not here?” Harry pulled off with a gasp. “There are people in the next room. What if they hear us?“

“Then I guess you’ll just have to be quiet, won’t you, love?” Louis winked.

It's Harry's birthday and Louis wants to make it a birthday he won't forget. Louis is an art student, Harry is his boyfriend and muse.

if they find out, will it all go wrong? by blankiehxrry

madison square garden shenanigans

Happy Birthday by sleepingalone

“You wanna use that right now?” he asked incredulously, wondering how horny Louis must be. They had just fucked a few hours ago, before falling asleep. Surely he didn’t want to use it already.

“You said we had to wait till my birthday, and it’s my birthday,” Louis said cheekily, throwing Harry a small grin. Harry groaned into the pillow, burying his head in it.

“But I’m tired, Lou. I need my beauty rest.”

“I already undid the packaging,” Louis whined. “Please, can we just do it real quick? It would really make my day. My birthday,” he added. “You can go to sleep afterwards, Sleeping Beauty.”

or

Louis just really wants to use his new vibrating butt plug on Harry and turn him into a broken mess.

I Knew Right From the Beginning That You Would End Up Winning by aalexandravictoriaa

"I remember the first day I met you," Louis says, using his thumbs to make Harry open up to him even more. "I remember wanting to take you right there on the fucking street. I wanted to bend you over and bury myself in you over and over again. I couldn't then, but I'm going to now, baby. First with my tongue, then with my cock."

OR

Harry is Louis' favorite camboy and Louis becomes his Daddy.

In Motion by FictitiousFanatisch (orphan_account)

They'd only talked about it once a few weeks ago. Harry always liked it when Louis was in control and he said there was something about being denied constantly that made him even more turned on.

or

It's a lazy day and Harry wants Louis to edge him. (That's literally it.)

I'm Gonna Love You (Until You Hate me) by sweaterpawstyles

As if reading his mind, Louis glanced over his glasses at Harry, presumably because Harry didn't reply to his statement earlier.

"I decided to get my glasses out again," he chuckled, winking at Harry. "Do you like them?"

Harry felt his face heat up. No, he didn't just like them. He fucking loved them and wanted to ride Louis and call him daddy while he wore them. But he didn't want to just tell Louis this.

Or

Louis wears glasses and Harry doesn't like to be teased

I have often prayed for an angel by orphan_account

“Daddy,” he whines, voice already growing high in pitch. “Can I? Please?” “Of course angel,” Louis whispers fondly, hand tangling in Harry’s hair as he brushes it back. He loves Harry’s long strands, maybe even more than Harry does himself. “You look so beautiful on your knees like that, so eager to suck my cock.” “Mhm,” Harry hums, already licking at Louis’ slit. He begins to suckle softly at the head, peering up at Louis with wide eyes. The angel wings stretch on either side of him, and it’s so obscene, how filthy the act they’re doing is in contrast to the white feathers adorning Harry’s back. “Love your cock Daddy.” Or, the one in which Louis fucks Harry in the VS wings after he wears them onstage.

down and dirty, you're loving me so loud by orphan_account

Harry's finally twenty and there's a few things he wants.

feels so good getting what i want. by stylescantstop

Harry is a slutty yoga teacher with his sights set on Louis and Louis wants to pull that long hair of his while he fucks him really hard from behind.

Empyrean, You Fool by becauseitrhymes

Louis only realized it was actually happening once the reality of getting to carry boxes to his new flat settled in. He’d moved out of his parent’s just two days prior, with a stomach full of butterflies and no knowledge of how to do anything remotely adult, like, at all.

He’s only twenty-three years old, too, and he thinks he’s done pretty well for such a young age, considering he’s bought a flat with his money and had driven his car to get there and hadn’t cried (much) when leaving his parents. All in all, Louis thinks it’s pretty cool.

And then he’s sitting on his couch watching football in his lounge in his flat and hell yeah, it’s pretty cool.

AU where Louis moves next door to Harry, Louis falls in love with Harry, sex ensues.

Love Me Like You Do by sweaterpawstyles

Of all of the things Louis had imagined, never did he expect to become a chief editor for a magazine and to date the world-famous model Harry Styles. But he certainly never imagined one day that he would be anxiously awaiting a phone call from the top floor of an office building to tell the Harry Styles to get himself dolled up and ready to wait for his Daddy to come home before he got fucked into the mattress.

Or

Harry is a famous model and Louis is a quiet writer who may or may not be his Dom

A Hard Day's Work by louisruinedlife (orphan_account)

A bad day at work for Harry usually means turning in early. A bad day at work for Louis leads to something else entirely.

*Can be read as a stand alone.

the big idea by orphan_account

University students Harry and Zayn are filming a prank for YouTube that requires Harry to walk around campus asking random men if he could suck their dick. One of the guys, Louis, who agrees to such offer is too attractive for Harry to pass down.

He doesn't think its much of a prank anymore after that.

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown by orphan_account

“That's why you were late, eh?” he teases as Harry frantically tries to hide the dildos and the collar in the drawer. “Having too much fun to think about good ole Louis?”

“You were having fun too,” Harry replies weakly. Louis honestly has never seen a person be in such a shade of red.

“Yeah, but my fun didn't involve colourful dildos and nipple clamps.”

or the one where louis really needs to pass his a-levels and harry is his tutor who doesn’t really own a dog.

Give It To Me (I'm Worth It) by sweaterpawstyles

"Who the hell puts lube packets in their sock?"

"A boy who wanted to get fucked in the locker room by his daddy," Harry said innocently. "I have my good intentions, Lou."

or

Louis can't resist Harry in the red shorts that he wore during the James Corden skit. Featuring locker room sex.

don't let nobody touch it (unless that somebody's me) by stylescantstop

written for this prompt:

"louis knows Harry gets handsy when he's drunk, but that doesn't stop him from showing harry who he belongs to."

or the one where harry dances with other men and a jealous louis reminds him he's the only one who can make him come completely apart.

causing trouble up in hotel rooms (baby, I'm perfect) by felixandtae

A fan threw a Green Bay Packers crop top on stage and Harry kept it. We all know what happened after that.

sweet like cinnamon by brainwaves for SuburbanWarrior

It all started with bumping into Louis at Gemma’s mate’s wedding. Well, maybe it really started with Harry making heart eyes at the boy in jersey number 17 all those years ago. Now all he can think about is getting into Louis’ pants and maybe staying there for a really, really long time.

Or the one where Harry calls Louis daddy and it all spirals out of control from there.

Fulfilling Your Needs by unmeshed

“You want to be messy, baby? Filled with Daddy’s come? So much that you can barely hold it all in?"

Harry nods softly and Louis leans in to kiss him on the lips with a smile. “Want Daddy to plug you up after? Keep it inside of you all day?"

“Lou,” Harry whines, softly rubbing himself against his boyfriend, biting down on Louis’ bottom lip before he deepens the kiss, sneaking his tongue inside.

Louis’ll be damned if he can’t make Harry’s dreams come true.

or

Louis buys Harry an ejaculating dildo because Harry wants to feel full.

Like a Kitten by peaceloveandlarry

"Erm, I, uh, well, I think... I think you're really pretty, and I, um, I want to fuck you- I mean! Oh god. I- I want to go out? Yea! I want to go out."

Or Harry likes to wear kitten ears, and Louis happens to think Harry looks nice with them.

into another serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry's the yearbook photographer who's been assigned to take pictures of Louis, the new captain of the football team. Harry's got a massive, obvious crush on Louis and somehow, Louis feels the same way.

Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

Cheeky Princess by Noelle1224

Harry and panties. What more is there to explain?

I'm Tired Of Using Technology, I Need You Right In Front Of Me by Phillipa19

Louis goes away on yet another business trip, but when he stops calling Harry to check in, Harry decides to take matters into his own hands.

OR- Louis is Harry's sugardaddy who has gone away on business and Harry feels neglected. Louis is possessive and gets a camera installed in their bedroom so he can check up on Harry, so Harry decides to use the camera to his advantage.

Got A Lot You Wanna Show Off Baby by Phillipa19

Louis had been in meetings all day, he should have known that Harry wouldn't be ignored for much longer.

-OR-

Louis is Harry's sugardaddy and his younger boyfriend is definitely not happy being ignored whilst Louis holds meetings in his home office. There may also be Harry in lacy knickers involved.

As always please make sure to stay safe and read the tags!! ❤ ❤

[princessfbi]

Ok I have got to know what happened with Oliver's character on that one show that makes you rage so hard every time you see him.

WELL NONNIE I'LL TELL YOU!

This is a warning for spoilers if anyone wants to watch this show because my rage cannot be contained.

OK SO...

This show is called Into the Badlands and Oliver's character is named Ryder. Basically the premise of this world is that it's kind of post apocalyptic/alternative universe where humanity got so caught up in trying to one up each other that it sort of imploded and now you have this society where either you're super wealthy (the Barrons), super poor (Cogs and Nomads), or somehow a ninja (The Clippers and whatever the hell MK was supposed to be). ANYWAYS....

Ryder is the son of Barron Quinn. Now the surviving land is either divided into like factions run by Barrons (who control a majority of major trade) or there's these lawless lands that are run dredges of society. You either become a Barron by killing another Barron (which is what Quinn did) or you are an heir apparent. Ryder is more an heir presumptive because Quinn won't outright name him his heir even though everyone just assumes it.

This is because Quinn is batshit crazy and thinks he can just live forever through sheer stubbornness and will alone. This is especially hard to do because he has a massive brain tumor that's dwindling down what little bit of sanity he has leading him to make questionable choices such as killing the only doctor they have in the lands who would've been useful pretty much for the rest of the series but go off Quinn. Ryder has a lot of resentment towards his father, which I will get into in a minute, and at the same time has gone out of his way to prove to Quinn that he's a worthy heir. Except Quinn keeps comparing Ryder to his second and regent, Sunny, and he's just all around a shitty person in general.

NOW HERE'S THE AMAZING BACKSTORY WITH RYDER:

So, when Ryder was a child, he was kidnapped by these nomads who were trying to blackmail Quinn. Ryder's mother begged Quinn to pay the ransom and save Ryder. Quinn... refused. So the nomads tortured Ryder and (Gross warning) like cut off part of his toes and disfigured his foot in the hopes of crippling him and scaring Quinn into giving to their demands.

Quinn, again, refused.

Eventually Quinn's regent at the time, Waldo, defies Quinn's orders and goes to rescue Ryder from these nomads. Waldo defying Quinn is a big deal because he's a clipper which is basically a soldier (often brought in from the slave faction called Cogs) and they take their oaths to their Barrons very seriously. Barrons trust no one but their regents because again you can become a Barron by killing them. But Waldo always had a soft spot for Ryder.

SO Ryder is saved and eventually nursed back to health but he always has a bit of a tragedy cloud hanging around him because from what we were told Ryder was a very sweet, bright child before he was kidnapped and was brought back as "a broken bird" and he's been doing everything he can to get rid of the broken bird image ever since.

Quinn resented Ryder for making him look weak and Ryder resented Quinn for... Well being a heartless dick.

But here's the crazy part... They both, in their own way, still kind of loved each other.

Now I won't bore you with my rant about how the best antagonists are often the tragic figures who have fallen from grace (Peter Hale, Draco Malfoy, Loki to name a few) BUT I will say Ryder had the PERFECT foundation of showing that fall. He was an asshole and hard and spoiled and super privilege but also soft and still a little broken. There's a whole other narrative involved too with his childhood love and how his dad planned on marrying her but we won't get into that.

ANYWAYS Ryder still had this desperate need to prove to his dad that he was a worthy heir but in his attempts to prove himself (and his dad's fall into madness) his dad started seeing him as competition. Competition and another objects (like Quinn saw with most other characters but especially Sunny). But Quinn has this weird kind of pride when it comes to things that he considers his and an attack on his property is an attack on him. There's a character named the Widow who lured Ryder out and tried to kill him slowly and personally as well as Sunny as an attack on Quinn and he went bananas (sorta).

Ryder was fine eventually but he realized that trying to prove himself to his dad was never going to work so he decides to try the other option: which is killing his dad. Partially because if he doesn't, Ryder is smart enough to know that Quinn's going to get him killed, but also because Quinn's descent into madness is spiraling faster and faster and Ryder wants to protect the legacy. Nothing to inherit if his dad burns the whole thing to the ground!

Long story short, Sunny turns on Quinn and stabs him and everyone thinks Quinn is dead and Ryder takes credit for it therefore succeeding his dad by becoming not only Barron of his father's lands but some other Barron that got murdered by another subplot that was pointless.

Now Ryder is determined to bring peace to the lands (not out of some noble obligation but because he just wants people to chill the fuck out). And for the most part... he's doing okay.

BUT THEN PLOT TWIST HIS DAD IS ALIVE AND CRAZIER THAN EVER.

Basically his dad storms Ryder's house, chases him down in the garden, and they fight. But Ryder's foot that was crippled when he was a child trips him up and the fight gets even messier. Ryder's sword breaks and Quinn points the sword to his own chest and tells Ryder to finish him.

Ryder hesitates and so Quinn takes the sword and stabs Ryder. You know like a rational father would do.

Quinn then asks Ryder why he hesitated and Ryder whispers "because you're my father" before he dies in Quinn's arms. Quinn is... horrified because he realizes that with the death of Ryder is the death of the last parts of his own humanity. He mourns Ryder but also like... takes no responsibility for killing him but neither did Ryder so he can't process it. Later on he's haunted by Ryder but again the man has a giant grapefruit sized tumor in his brain so it's all very reverse Hamlet if you will.

SO LOOK AT ALL THIS POTENTIAL!

THE REASON I RAGE:

Is because Ryder was set up to fail from the beginning. Which is great!....... If that had actually happened. The show worked so hard to tell us that Ryder was a failure and a coward but if you look at it from a story perspective... Ryder was the opposite of a failure. Every time someone told him he couldn't do something, he proved them wrong. Again and again and again. But that was never good enough for anyone. So that vicious cycle would've been amazing to see!

But instead of exploring any of that, we had to watch a storyline that was frankly ridiculous from the beginning that took up way more time than it should. There's a character named MK, who was supposed to be inspired by the myth The Monkey King, but if you don't know that story then you never would've figured that out. Hell, I knew the story and didn't figure it out until I had to google his name because I kept forgetting it. In comparison to everything else happening in the show, this magical mythical storyline just didn't fit and I'm not kidding when I say I watched a season and a half of this show and forgot about MK every time.

Now if you noticed my icon is Buck in a Box. That's an inside joke I have with a friend about this fucking show. The first scene starts off with Sunny stumbling onto a group of Nomads who go absolutely feral about this massive box they don't want him to look inside. Turns out MK was in this box for reasons that were too weak for me to even remember but again MK was entirely forgettable. My friend and I kept talking about how it would've been better if Ryder had been in the box because the Ryder and Sunny rivalry had so much unexplored potential that would've been incredible if we started from the very beginning instead of just being told over and over again that Ryder hates being compared to Sunny.

Sunny is the main character and Quinn, unlike with Ryder, was incredibly proud to have Sunny "in his possession" and Ryder hated him for it.

But did we get to explore that? NO! Did we get to explore the parallels of Sunny and Ryder chafing at being considered possessions by Quinn? NO! Did we get to explore the trauma Ryder was working so hard to shake off? NO!

Instead the show spent so much energy victim blaming Ryder essentially for being the son of a Villain and his Nonsensical Ambitious Mother who had the misfortune of being kidnapped by bandits as a child while telling the audience that Ryder was never going to succeed. That Ryder had no honor and was a coward and weak.

They spent way more time trying to tell us that we should hate Ryder and that he was a bad guy but didn't do ANY of the work to show the fall from grace to prove that. Ryder remained a tragic figure that didn't fall from grace but was rather pushed off by lazy writing because they wanted to focus again on this magical ninja boy with a penchant for getting in the way and ruining everything.

I rage because Antagonist and Villain are not the same thing. Ryder had the potential of becoming a villain and his death by the hands of his father would've cycled him back into the role of a tragic figure. But instead... it was just wasted.

THAT is why I rage. You had the material right there and yet you spent so long telling us that we, the audience, don't like Ryder instead of showing us anything that would make us not like him (besides the whiny white boy thing).

Instead I found myself rooting for Ryder. Like could you imagine if Ryder and Sunny went against Quinn together instead of having the weakest rivalry known to man? Could you imagine Ryder's fall from grace of wanting peace in the lands as it turned to greed? Could you imagine Sunny becoming actual competition for Ryder instead of being manipulated to do so?

WE GOT NONE OF IT.

THIS is why I rage.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from "Chapter Two: The Kithain" in Changeling: The Dreaming (20th anniversary edition) Part One of Two

"Humans define themselves by more than just species. They identify with certain races and cultures, separate themselves by generation or ideology, and express individuality while simultaneously looking for ways to connect with others like them. How they look, who they love, where they live, what they believe — these are all building blocks of identity."

"This desperate aversion to moving on does have its own consequences."

"Though the wisdom to temper the idea is sometimes there, the sheer excitement can sweep anyone off their feet quickly enough to disregard it."

"While these impulses aren’t usually much of a problem, it’s easy to forget that not every dream is a sweet one — nightmares can come to life, too."

"Every teddy bear protector is there to fight something,

after all."

"These things can be distracting at any age, especially for someone working in a dreary office or in a highly repetitive job."

"With little care for consequences or thinking through the details, they don’t consider the harm that will come to others, intentionally or unintentionally, in their pursuits."

"While they don’t have an inherently negative outlook, they are more likely to put their personal interests over those of others."

"Becoming jaded and unwilling to take risks is the death of childhood."

"Something may captivate them for a time, but once all the mystery is gone from it, they’ll just as easily drop one pursuit for another that still has questions to answer."

"Wonder lies in the discovery of a new species or an unexplored biome, and beauty in chemical bonds or lines of code."

"Repetition can quickly become a rut, and make even the most wondrous work commonplace and mundane."

"Whether they fight to preserve or subvert the ruling class as it stands, they all long to make their mark in one way or another."

"Even when caught, they are unlikely apologize for their actions, and instead have a dozen ways to justify them."

"Some enjoy collecting art and creating galleries to inspire others, or amass vast libraries of literature or music to the same purpose."

"They have an innate knack of deciphering relationships and picking up “overheard” tidbits of information."

"They explore the world with wonder in their eyes and will talk to anyone who will sit still long enough to listen and put up with the incessant questions."

"Their reputation for being consummate craftspeople is well learned."

"This does not apply to a sworn enemy."

"Rowdy fools, the lot of them."

"Rowdy fools, the lot of them. Still, they can be quite entertaining. . .so long as you keep them from breaking the china."

"They make wonderful guests and tell the most delightful tales, but they never stay for long."

"Pay heed to their stories and you may learn something."

"Their obsessions tend to make them boring conversationalists."

"Never leave them alone in a room if you want to be able to find anything afterward."

"They are quite entertaining at parties, but never stick around to help clean up."

"Foul mouthed and rude beasties, they are."

"Be careful how much wine you offer them. They can become quite. . . err. . .enthusiastic."

"No place on land, no friendship, and not even love can hold them."

"A selkie’s heart belongs to the sea and to the sea they will always return."

"They still understand the old ways but they do not always understand our ways."

"Things have changed and they are going to need to learn to adapt."

"It seems that they value little other than honor and duty."

"They are strong, yes, but they are more than simple brutes."

"They don’t lie outright, but they do love to tell a tall tale, often embellishing the story for the sake of humor or to build excitement."

"A good donnybrook clears the air, breaks the tension, and reveals hidden passions and personality traits."

"Nothing wrong with cutting loose a bit now and then!"

"Don’t leave them alone with your prize possessions; you’ll never know what’ll come up missing."

"They don’t understand limits — their own or anyone else’s."

"What a bunch of bullies!"

"Don’t underestimate them."

"Graceful, beautiful, mysterious, and always just beyond reach."

"They stayed by us and fought. That’s worth something."

"What we do today will live long after us, carried in the stories told by our children and our children’s children."

"Nothing new to learn here."

"Anger and foul language doesn’t make for a very good tale."

"There’s joy to be found in their revels, but take care!"

"They think themselves the kings and queens of this world, but they’ve never walked its many paths."

"How can they rule what they don’t understand and have never really valued?"

" I’ve heard it said that the real hero is the one who stays."

"I know I know. . .I’ve worked on the damned thing all week and it’s still not right."

"Maybe if you stop breathing down my neck, or better yet, just leave me the fuck alone and I’ll get it done."

"When they are forced to have social contact they are eminently sarcastic with everyone around them, and blazingly critical of anyone in charge."

"Artists, builders, crafters, and even writers all know the torment of “knowing” that their work is not good enough, that it will never be understood."

"People are mercurial, have feelings that can be easily hurt, and once broken they cannot be repaired in the same way as a tool or device."

"They are willing to take chances in order to come up with the newest and most fantastic design, often resulting in catastrophic (and sometimes humorous) failures."

"Rather than seeking the newest and most innovative designs, they have a deep desire for perfection — which, much to their chagrin, they can never attain."

"Sometimes all it takes is a kick and a few harsh words to scare a machine into working again."

"They’re fast, so they’re either cheap or good, too. You don’t get all three."

"Drunks and power tools don’t mix."

"Sorry, was that insensitive? Bite me."

"They just don’t know when to shut up."

"Sometimes they have something important to say, but you have to sift through the meandering drivel to find anything useful."

"Unruly and reckless children."

"Useless furballs!"

"Dangerous folk, but sometimes useful, especially if you want to dispose of some unwanted evid. . .err. . .garbage."

"Hedonistic freaks, the lot of ‘em."

"Don’t fall in love with one."

"Damn dusty in here."

"They think they’re hot stuff, but they don’t understand this world and its workings as we do."

"They want to rule, and who are we to say no."

"They pay well and I’ll happily take their commissions."

"Buncha creepy a-holes, if you ask me."

"Skulking around, up to no good, I’m sure of it."

"They are the strongest and toughest of us all, but their hearts can be surprisingly tender."

"I don’t know how it found its way into my pocket. Of course you can have it back. . .unless you don’t need it right now. I’d be happy to hang onto it for you until you do."

"I can’t imagine being tied down like that."

"We’ll wander many paths together, but in the end, they are who they are, and we never really are anything quite that specific."

"What is truth, but something we all agree upon? So, if we all agree upon a lie, isn’t it then truth?"

"Anything they say is likely to be peppered with lies, half-truths, and misinformation."

"Humans have always dreamed of a better, more carefree life."

"Lazy and reckless. And they keep all of the cake to themselves!"

"Drunken reprobates, every last one of them."

"Not exactly the most even tempered folks. Playing pranks on them can be a lot of fun though."

"It must be wonderful to always be at the center of every political intrigue."

"They start the shit that we have to finish."

"Just don’t get them started on how they’re royalty or some crap."

"You want to pound back a drink or wild out on the town, they’re the place to be."

"Mmm, seafood."

"You’d think such pretty folks would be easy to intimidate, but make that mistake and you’ll bite off more than even you can chew."

"Those nearby may experience a brief frisson of pure lust."

"How can such a simple life be a truly satisfying one?"

"A fight’s only as good as the kissing and making up after."

"So sweet and innocent. Cover their eyes before they see something naughty."

"Their passions are too dark and frightening."

"Someone so beautiful should never want for passion."

"I will return. . .one day. . .I promise."

"The sea gives and the sea takes away."

"A person’s secrets should be their own."

"Sharks that walk on two legs. Trust them at your own peril."

"They too are gifted with great beauty, but they wield their allure like a weapon."

"You think nobility a privilege, and you envy and resent us for it, but you cannot see that it is also a burden few would truly wish to bear."

"They must learn that respect must first be given in order to be received."

"Tremendously useful and occasionally even trustworthy, but beware what you allow them to slip into their pockets. You may never see it again."

"Who are these strange creatures?"

"What they know is invaluable, but can you really be certain they are sharing their knowledge with you alone?"

[arashikitten]

Of Molten Gold and Frozen Silver- Part one

This is a collection of the first three chapters for my fic, “Of Molten Gold and Frozen Silver”, as celebration for me finally getting an ao3 account! Thank you to everyone who has read this fic, chapter 4 is coming along! Without further ado, here’s Of Molten Gold and Frozen Silver part 1.

   When Qi Xiaotian had gone to Flower Fruit Mountain that morning, he’d gone expecting either brutal sparring, grueling physical labor, or, if Sun Wukong was feeling particularly lazy, an hour or so of meditation.

   He had not been expecting to find Sun Wukong hunched over in pain, gripping his head and snarling like a wild animal. He also hadn’t expected to see a familiar bluish-white smoke slowly circling the Monkey king, accompanied by the very worrying sound of small, whispering voices that seemed to fill up the cave. Qi Xiaotian felt ice settle into his veins. He recognized this, he’d seen this before, just a week prior.

   Baigujing. The White Bone spirit.

   He should’ve run. The moment he’d seen the white smoke, he should’ve booked it to the hills, rushed back to the city to sound the alarm for everyone, to save as many people as possible from the oncoming rampage.

   But… he couldn’t. Sun Wukong, his mentor, his idol, was in trouble. He needed help, and Qi Xiaotian would be damned if he didn’t at least try to do something. Slowly, carefully, he reached out toward the shaking Monkey King.

   “Sun Wukong? Hey, um, are… are you-“

   “Run.” Qi Xiaotian froze, the air leaving his lungs as terror flooded his veins like ice. Wukong’s voice was raspy, tight with pain, and each syllable trembled in the musty air of the cave. This thing- this demon, it was hurting his mentor, and Xiaotian felt his heart wrench at the notion. He needed to help.

   “Wukong-“

   “Xiaotian, you need to run. I can’t… I can’t hold Baigujing back for much longer. It’s way...way stronger than before, I won’t last long. I thought, thought that I could handle it, but…” the monkey king gasped as his knees gave out, sending him to the hard stone floor. Qi Xiaotian rushed forward, even as Wukong began to growl like a rabid animal, tail lashing back and forth like an irate cat. He reached forward, almost touching Sun Wukong, when-

   “STAY BACK!” A pale gold force rippled out from the monkey king’s form, sending Xiaotian flying back. He winced as he slowly began to push himself up, a twinge of pain in his side confirming the presence of a quickly-forming bruise. He looked up at his mentor, questions on his tongue-

   When he finally saw Sun Wukong’s face. And every muscle, every nerve ending, went cold as terror crashed full-force into him like a tsunami, sending him plunging into the waves, too disoriented to know which way was up even as he was drowning in fear.

   Dark, empty shadows obscured to top half of Wukong’s face, leaving Xiaotian unable to see the familiar golden glow of his eyes. The bottom half of his face, the part Xiaotian could see, was pale and washed out, appearing a dusky gray-purple like that of a corpse. His mouth was twisted in an ugly snarl, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of the cave. But that wasn’t what scared Qi Xiaotian.

   No, the thing that scared Qi Xiaotian was the singular, glowing blue eye that pierced through the shadows of the Monkey King’s face, pale smoke leaking from the outer corner like tears. And, despite the cruel snarl and the tense, aggravated posture…

   That eye was shining with fear. Sun Wukong… was scared.

   Sun Wukong. Who had fought countless demons. Sun Wukong, who had thwarted death countless times, becoming immortal four times over in the process. Sun Wukong, who had gone up against the entire Court of Heaven, and was only stopped by the Buddha himself. Sun Wukong, who was strong enough to lift an entire mountain with ease.

   Sun Wukong, who had saved his life…

   Was afraid. Was terrified of whatever was trying to take over his body, trying to trap him in his own mind. His mentor, his powerful, wise, unflappable mentor was scared, and Xiaotian could only watch in horror as he began to succumb to the demon.

   “Kid… listen… to me. You… you need to- to run. Go- go and warn the others. Please, before… before it’s too late.” Gods, Wukong sounded so desperate, so terrified, and it made Xiaotian’s heart crack in his chest. His throat felt tight as he held back a sob, praying to whoever was listening to please, please put a stop to this, please don’t let this be happening.

   “Sun Wukong, please, no…” it came out a whisper, trembling with unshed emotion.

   “Kid… run. Please. I don’t… I don’t want to- to hurt you. Not when… not when you’ve done… so much for- for me. Please. Run.” Qi Xiaotian gasped softly as he saw tears slowly trail down the Monkey King’s face, even as he could see the traces of his mentor began to leave that one blue eye…

   And suddenly Wukong’s face relaxed, a small fond smile taking it’s place over the snarl, that glowing blue eye filling with affection and kindness and love-

   Xiaotian’s breath stuttered as he stepped back. His eyes burned with tears that he refused to let fall, trembling hands covering his mouth as he began to sob. Wukong cared about him, cared about him not just as his successor, but his-

   Xiaotian turned and ran as fast as he could, eyes screwed shut against the pain and wind as he finally let his tears fall.

   Sun Wukong watched him go, smile filling with relief. And even as the White Bone spirit finally won, even as pain flooded every nerve ending, even as his heart started to shatter…

   He knew his kid was safe.

————————————————————————

   Sun Wukong was falling. He had been for a while now, the pitch dark that surrounded him obscuring any view of a potential floor or walls or anything. At first it had scared him a bit, but now…

   Now it was just straight-up boring. One can only stare at nothing for so long before their mind begins to wander, and Wukong really didn’t want that to happen. Especially not after…

   Wukong felt the fur on the back of his neck raise as he flashed back to what happened in the cave. When the Baigujing had first appeared, he’d attempted to destroy it like he had over four millennia ago. It should’ve been easy.

   But… something had changed. The Baigujing had vanished as Wukong had attempted to strike it, only to reappear right behind him. He’d attempted to leap out of the way, to fly out of its reach.

   He hadn’t been fast enough. Before he could even turn his head, the White Bone spirit had flown into his chest, drenching him in ice that seemed to fill his lungs. His vision had become a haze of blue and white, blinding him while insidious little voices whispered in his ears all of his doubts and insecurities-

   And then the kid had shown up. His kid had shown up. He hadn’t even noticed until the kid’s voice had cut through the whispers, sounding worried and confused.

   He’d been terrified then, terrified that the White Bone spirit would take him over then and make him hurt his successor, hurt Qi Xiaotian. So he’d begged the boy to run, to warn everyone in the city to evacuate. Of course, the Baigujing hadn’t taken to kindly to that, and another surge of it’s power had sent him to his knees.

   He recalled, vividly, the raw overwhelming terror on Xiaotian’s face as he’d turned to face him, recalled with painful clarity how tears had begun to form in the kid’s eyes as he pleaded with Wukong, begging him not to go. And when he had realized the fear in the kid’s eyes wasn’t because he was afraid of him, but rather for him…

   Wukong grit his teeth as he remembered his final words to Xiaotian, and the feelings that had accompanied them. There was pain and fear, yes but- there was something else, something that was new to him. It had roared within him like a blazing fire, sending beams of light through his soul like a miniature sun, a sudden need to protect his kid-

   Wukong was jarred from the memory at that. His what? He’d called Qi Xiaotian his- his what?

   My kid, and there it was, that warm feeling in his chest that screamed at him to find Xiaotian and wrap him up in a blanket and protect- Sun Wukong blinked. When the hell had that happened? When had he become so attached? When had he stopped viewing Xiaotian as his successor, and started viewing him as his kid?

   Sun Wukong thought back. These feelings… they’d been strong during their last encounter in the cave, too strong to be entirely new. But he couldn’t remember any other-

   Wukong’s head shot up. The Macaque. When he’d seen Xiaotian being pinned to the mountain by his own staff, the Six-eared Macaque looming over him, he’d felt that rush of protective instinct roar within him, screeching at him to get the kid out of there, to get him to safety, to get him away from that monster-

   Wukong shook at the memory, Xiaotian’s look of terror and betrayal from that day had been burned into his retinas. He hated that look, hated that the kid had been subjected to that kind of terror not just once, but twice now.

   But most of all, Sun Wukong hated that both times, Xiaotian had been put in danger because of Wukong’s own shortcomings. His kid, his kid, had been put in life threatening danger, and Sun Wukong had either been almost too late, or the direct source of that danger.

   And now he was stuck here in this endless void, a prisoner in his own mind, unable to protect the one person in the world that he cares about.

   “Well, well, well. This is certainly new.” Wukong started, head whipping around to see-

   The Baigujing’s glowing blue-white eyes stared out at him from the darkness. It took the form of a thin, pale woman in a flimsy sheer white dress, light blue markings in the appearance of bones marring otherwise smooth, uniform skin.

   It looked like a corpse.

   The Baigujing grinned, mouth stretching far too wide, showing off it’s rotten gums. Wukong felt ice flood his insides.

   “I never took you for the fatherly type, but three thousand years is plenty of time for change. Although, I do have to wonder: why him, of all people? He’s so… immature. Easily distracted. Demanding. Sloppy. The kids… pathetic.”

   Fury burned in Wukong at the words. Yes, Xiaotian was a bit immature, and he didn’t have much in the way of an attention span, but he was a good kid. He was smart even if most people didn’t notice, and he had a drive unlike any that Wukong had ever seen. And Xiaotian was far, far from pathetic.

   However, the fire of rage was quickly doused by the cold realization: Baigujing knew.

   It knew about Qi Xiaotian (the protective feeling started to grow in his chest).

   It knew about his relationship to Qi Xiaotian (that feeling grew brighter, hotter in his lungs like a bonfire).

   And it knew that hurting Qi Xiaotian would break him (the feeling was overwhelming him, consuming every other thought until the only thing that mattered was Xiaotian Xiaotian Xiaotian Xiaotian-

   Sun Wukong was consumed by golden light that shattered the obsidian dark like a mirror, and the Baigujing flinched back to shield it’s eyes from the blinding light. It felt it’s will being pushed back by the Monkey King, his bright white light stinging the dark tendrils of it’s control.

   For just a moment, Wukong was able to see. For a split, vital moment, he was in control.

   A moment was all he needed. He knew he wouldn’t last long. Already he could feel the Baigujing starting to take back control, could feel himself slipping from his own mind. He needed to slow the Baigujing down, just enough for Xiaotian to get help.

   Enough so his kid could be safe. He would not let him down this time.

   Sun Wukong braced himself as he grabbed a sharp rock and raised it above his head.

   He could hear the whispers of the Baigujing now, getting louder and louder-

   He saw Qi Xiaotian’s face, looking up at him with a happy little smile, eyes shining with warmth and admiration in a memory long past-

   Wukong slammed the stone into his knee, snapping it in two, right as he slipped back into the obsidian void.

———————————————————————

   Red son restlessly paced the unfinished halls of the new lair, dark red coat silently fluttering as he did. It was a nervous habit of his, something he’d developed fairly recently, and he felt as if he might explode if he stopped.

   The events of the past week were still fresh on his mind, and now played a starring role in his nightmares whenever he tried to sleep.

   His father- his dear, beloved father- had attempted to kill him. His father, whom he was absolutely and unshakably loyal to, had called both him and his mother traitors. His father had called him weak. Useless. A disgrace. And even though Red son knew his father wasn’t in his right state of mind, even though he knew now that his father had been possessed…

   It had begun to plant these seeds of doubt in him. After all, he’d had yet to reclaim the staff from that infernal Noodle boy, and the few victories he had were only achieved with the help of his mother or father.

   He’d have yet to win a fight entirely on his own.

   The thought stung, more than Red Son was willing to admit.

   Then there was the actual fight. The one against the Demon Bull king. The one with Qi Xiaotian.

   Qi Xiaotian. The Noodle Boy. The one who currently wielded the Monkey King’s staff. He had crashed into Red Son’s life with all of the reckless force and chaos of an out-of-control freight train, upending all of his hard work with a practiced ease. He frustrated Red Son to no end, and yet at the same time, Red son had found himself anticipating every fight against the Noodle Boy with a giddy, childish excitement.

   Of course, he’d still hated him. Despised him for even thinking that he could stand up to the might of the Demon Bull family, regardless of whether or not he had the power and yes, fine, skill, to back it up. It was an insult, for a mere mortal to even consider the idea that they could even begin to compare to him, the great Red Son!

   But now, everything Red Son had felt toward the loud, excitable man had been thrown into turmoil. And the worst part was that, looking back, Red Son could tell that this wasn’t just from the team up against his father. No, these complex feelings had been there, as far as Red Son knew, since the race for the immortal peaches. They had just been overshadowed by frustration and his preconceived ideas about the Monkey King’s successor. The fight a week ago had simply brought these feelings to his attention, strengthening them in the process.

   Which, considering what exactly these feelings were, and who they were directed toward, was not good for Red’s already strained relationship with his parents.

   Red son blushed as he remembered the fight against the Demon Bull King. He and his mother were crouched in a fighting position, his mother summoning her massive fan and Red Son already calling flames to his fingertips. His father, locked in the possession of the Baigujing, had charged at them, roaring like a wild animal…

   Until Xiaotian, in true Noodle boy fashion, came careening full-speed smack-dab in the middle of the Bull King’s path, not unlike their first meeting. Red son, despite past experiences with Xiaotian literally dropping in on him and his family, had been surprised.

   He’d been even more surprised when, without even thinking about it, he’d sworn to fight alongside the very person he’d been trying to kill not one week prior. He hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t even been suspicious of Xiaotian at first. It had been a knee-jerk reaction, completely instinctual. That in itself was concerning, because his first, instinctual reaction to Noodle Boy showing up in their lair to fight his father should not be “let me help fight with you”, regardless of the circumstances. Granted, his mother had also agreed to help Xiaotian fight, but she clearly hadn’t been happy about it.

   Red son, on the other hand… despite his history with Xiaotian, despite their numerous past conflicts, despite the VERY IMPORTANT FACT THAT HE AND XIAOTIAN WERE SUPPOSED TO BE FUCKING ENEMIES, Red Son had felt his heart leap at the prospect of fighting next to the monkey kid, instead of against him. And he’d found that he’d actually really enjoyed fighting with Xiaotian, made even more alarming when, hours after the fact, Red son had found himself daydreaming about fighting alongside Xiaotian again, of sparring with him on the rooftops or in the mountains, of talking about old stories and myths and shows they like… of just being together.

   Of course, when Red Son finally caught himself, he’d denied absolutely everything, blaming it all on the leftover adrenaline and anticipation from the battle, telling himself that it was a one time thing, and nothing more.

   That argument had been torn to fucking pieces when, that night, Red son dreamt that he and Xiaotian had become friends, sparring together on the rooftops of the city and sitting together at a small cafe, chatting leisurely over coffee and tea. They had rented out a small apartment together, in between the old lair and that little noodle shop he knew Xiaotian worked at. In his dream, they had gone to the apartment and sat on a small, gold and red couch to watch some nonsensical movie. They had talked about something that Red son couldn’t remember, when suddenly he’d found the noodle boy leaning up against him, head resting on Red’s shoulder, fast asleep. It felt so… so normal, so calm and happy and warm, it felt like home. It made his heart race, made his stomach flutter like a hummingbird’s wings, and he couldn’t help the rising joy and affection and love-

   Red son had woken feeling more content than he had his entire life, and yet he still ached for more. Then he’d fully woken up, and that warm, brimming satisfaction was replaced with cold horror. This went beyond leftover adrenaline, beyond a stupid passing thought. This was real, this was serious. He liked Xiaotian, really liked him if that dream was anything to go by.

   But he couldn’t possibly like the Noodle boy like that: they were enemies, constantly fighting each other, constantly at odds. There was also the very important fact that Red son despised the Noodle Boy, and the noodle boy more than likely felt the same way about him.

   But even as Red son tried to argue, he knew that the first part, at least wasn’t true, and that it hadn’t been true since… since…

   Red son blanched. When had he stopped despising the noodle boy? When had the fiery, burning rage softened into something less, had become simple annoyance as opposed to withering vitriol? Most importantly, when in the fresh, ever loving fuck, did the idea of living with Qi Xiaotian become more appealing, more tantalizing, than the idea of ruling the world alongside his father and mother?

   It made no sense. How could he go from despising someone with every fiber of his being to… to… to whatever the fuck this was??? How could he go from wanting to from wanting to kill someone every time you saw them to wanting to live with them??? To wanting to spar with them, to wanting to go to coffee shops together, wanting to watch movies together, wanting to hold their hand and hug them and talk with them and….

   Red had been so caught up in his head, so caught up in his thoughts about the Monkey kid, that he hadn’t even noticed that he had been walking to his makeshift room until he was standing at his new desk (there were already some darkened scorch marks from when he’d caught himself daydreaming about Xiaotian again, as Red had caught himself wondering what it would feel like to kiss the spiky-haired younger man. The memory still brought a harsh flush to his cheeks.), holding a small messy sketch that he’d done a couple of days ago. It was of Xiaotian, who, in the sketch, had the staff leaning against his left shoulder, one hand in the pocket of that gaudy orange hoodie, and a wide, easy smile on his face.

   He’d hidden it in the small, hidden drawer on his new desk, to ensure that his mother didn’t find it. He’d been unable to bring himself to destroy it, and had taken to storing it in one of the pockets of his trench coat. He often found himself taking it out to stare at whenever he was feeling particularly stressed, or when he felt as though his parents were whispering about him behind his back, scorning him for being weak and a disappointment and-

   No, Red Son growled to himself. They do not hate you. They do not think that of you, they love you, they support you, they are proud of you. But there was still that doubt, that lingering fear that the Baigiujing had planted, and for some reason, that little, shoddy, rough sketch of someone that should only serve to inflame those feelings of inadequacy was now his main source of comfort.

   How strange, that his family was now the cause of his fear while his enemy was his source of comfort and warmth? But then again, Xiaotian had been turning Red son’s world on its head since that fateful day, when he’d fallen from the sky as though the Buddha himself had plucked him up by the hood of his hoodie and plopped him right into Red son’s life.

   Perhaps he had. After all, Xiaotian was the Monkey King's successor, and he’d shown up at the exact moment that the Demon Bull king had been freed, and the staff along with it.

   Red Son sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shoved the Xiaotian sketch into his coat pocket. Clearly, he’d been cooped up for too long.

   Perhaps a nice walk through the edge of the city would do him some good. Besides, what were the chances of him running into the noodle boy there?

—————————    —————————   —————————

   His lungs burned as he ran, heart pounding in time with his footfalls. He couldn’t stop though, not until everyone was safe. And that meant running with everything he had, if only so he could get to the city in time to warn of the incoming threat.

   Tears stung his eyes again at the thought. His mentor, his idol, had become a monster right in front of him. And the worst part, the worst part was that there was nothing that Xiaotian could’ve done to stop it. In that moment, he’d been nothing but a bystander, unable to do anything but sit by and watch as one of the most powerful beings in all of China, his mentor, was possessed by a demon.

   Gods, Wukong had been so scared in that moment. Xiaotian had seen the small tremble in his paws, the way he’d recoiled from Xiaotian’s touch like a wounded animal.

   And then there was the screaming. Xiaotian had gotten maybe 10 miles away from the mountain when it had started, loud and high and pained, a polyvocal screech that dipped between Wukong’s lower roars and the high raspy cries of the Baigujing. It had been close, too, no more than a few miles back, sending terror shooting through Xiaotian so hard and fast it had made him nauseous. He’d been rooted to the spot, eyes wide and hands clenched into trembling fists, tears starting back up and making his vision blur. He had stumbled back, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs that burned his lungs and made his throat tighten almost like a noose around his neck.

   Wukong was hurt, and if the polyvocal quality of those screams was anything to go by, he trying to fight back for control. But eventually, Wukong’s voice had died out, submerged under the raspy, high voice of the Baigujing, and Xiaotian had to turn and run toward the city. The Baigujing was coming after all, and this time…

   This time Xiaotian wasn’t sure he could win this fight.

   So he’d continued to run, the constant mantra of don’t let them catch you don’t let them catch you the only thing keeping him from collapsing where he was. His mind kept playing tricks on him, too, with small wisps of translucent blue-white teasing the edge of his vision, and every dark shadow and oddly shaped log appearing like Wukong to Xiaotian’s tear-blurred eyes.

   By the time he could finally see the edge of the city, Xiaotian’s nerves were raw and frayed, his lungs burning like they were on fire. There was no time to stop though. The possessed Wukong couldn’t be that far behind, and there were so many people he needed to get out…

   But even as Xiaotian barreled toward the skyline, he had a realization that made his stomach drop like a stone: even if he was able to evacuate everyone in time, how in the hell was he gonna get anyone to believe him? Sure, the Gold and Silver demon brothers caused some issues every now and then, and the Demon Bull family had wrecked the city on more than one occasion, but Sun Wukong hadn’t been seen by anyone but himself for at least the last 300 years. On top of that, Sun Wukong was supposed to be one of the most powerful beings in all of China, preceded only by Guanyin and the Buddha himself. Something like the Baigujing, which had been considered a low level demon before now, should not have been able to take control of Sun Wukong so easily, or at all really.

   So how, how was he going to get anyone besides Zhu Dachu, Long Xiaojiao, Tang Shifu, and Sha Wujing to believe him? And once he did that, however long it would take, how was he going to be able to evacuate the entire city before the Baigujing got here-

   Xiaotian’s train of thought was abruptly derailed when he slammed into someone at full speed, bowling whoever it was over and sending Xiaotian himself skidding a good few feet in the dirt. He gasped in pain as his already bruised side slammed into the ground, no doubt aggravating the injury even more. He winced as he sat up, head spinning slightly as he did. Xiaotian lifted his hand to his forehead to assess the damage when the person he’d slammed into finally spoke.

   “I ought to burn you to a crisp, you filthy peasant! Look what you did to my coat! How dare you- wait a minute. Qi Xiaot- I mean, Noodle Boy? What are you doing here?” Xiaotian froze as dread flooded him. No. No no no nononono. Why, out of everyone in the city, did I have to run into the one demon that tries to murder me on a regular basis?

   Of course, out of the 20+ million people that Xiaotian could’ve bumped into, Red Son was the one person in his way.

   Great.

—————-  —————-  —————  —————-

   Of course, out of everyone that Red Son could’ve encountered, it was the damned Noodle Boy who had come barreling into him like a bat out of hell, jacket and pants torn and muddy (there was also a small red stain on his side that Red chose not to think about at that moment). The force at which the boy had slammed into him had sent Red Son flying, landing on his back with a thud and tearing up his once pristine trench coat.

   That alone had incensed Red Son enough that he didn’t realize who had run into him at first. It was only when he turned to see that familiar orange hoodie, that signature bright red headband, that he had realized that it was Qi Xiaotian.

   He’d been so shocked that he’d almost accidentally called him by his actual name, a slip up that he made sure to rectify quickly as possible. Couldn’t have the Noodle Boy thinking that he was important enough for the great Red Son to know his name, after all.

   He watched as Xiaotian froze upon hearing his voice, and worry started to knaw at him when the usually confident and boisterous delivery boy started shaking, dread filling his eyes like tar.

   It made something in his gut clench, seeing that look on Xiaotian. It reminded Red of war refugees, with their wide eyes that weren’t seeing anything that was truly there, lost in a world ravaged first by fire, then machine gun fire, then missiles. It was a look that spoke of horrific, monstrous things, things that would take even the most resilient of men and empty them until they were nothing more than husks, their spirits broken by the relentless waves of death and destruction.

   It was a look that Xiaotian never should’ve had to wear, but here he was now, right in front of Red Son, beaten up and covered in dirt and bruises and cuts that he did not know the origins of.

   Red Son was shaken from his musings when the Noodle Boy had jumped up, one hand reaching back for the staff and the other hand reaching out flat in front of him. He had already started to back away, and Red Son was struck again by just how haggard the usually energic boy looked then.

   “Listen Red Son. I’m not here to fight right now, ok? I know you probably couldn’t care less, but there’s a very powerful demon coming at the city right now, and I don’t know if I’m gonna have enough time to evacuate everyone as is, so if you could please just-“

   “What do mean, ‘a powerful demon’? Shouldn’t you be able to handle it, what with having all of Wukong’s powers and whatnot?” At that, an almost pained look flitted across Noodle Boy’s face, and the hand that had been going for the staff suddenly went to his side.

   “That’s…. that’s the- the problem.” Dread turned to alarm at that. What the hell did that mean? Surely there wasn’t a demon powerful enough to take down Sun Wukong in their own, right? Not even his whole family could claim that, and they were one of the most powerful demon families around.

   “It’s… the Baigujing, it…. it escaped to- to Flower Fruit Mountain.” Red Son’s stomach dropped like a stone. Shit. Shit. His father had been a tough fight under the influence of the White Bone Spirit, and had it not been for Xiaotian’s arrival, there was a very good chance he and his mother would not be alive today. If the Baigujing had possessed Sun Wukong….

   “When I… when I got there this morning for- to train, with, with Wukong, it was already…. it was….” Xiaotian was shaking now, and Red Son hated just how much he understood the pain in Xiaotian’s eyes. After all, hadn’t he been in the Noodle Boy’s exact position not even two weeks ago? Hadn’t he known the terror, the betrayal, of seeing the person he looked up to more than anyone else on the planet turned against him, becoming a monster under the influence of some monstrous demon?

   Hadn’t he watched as his father, his loving, caring father, for whom he had dedicated his life toward, came rushing at him with the full intent to kill?

   If Xiaotian hadn’t shown up then, Red would be dead. As much as he hated to admit it (his heart jumped in spite of himself), he owed the Noodle Boy. He owed him so, so much, more than he would likely ever know.

   Sun Wukong had been possessed by the Baigujing. Xiaotian had, more likely than not, seen it happen. Sun Wukong, possessed by the Baigujing, was most likely heading toward the city with the intent to level everything within a 10-mile radius, and then some. If they wanted to limit casualties, then they either needed to evacuate everyone…

   Or, Xiaotian would have to face Wukong outside of the city. On his own. Where he would most likely die, scared and confused, murdered by his idol.

   Absolutely not.

   Before Red Son could reconsider, before he could even begin to think about the implications of what he was about to do, Red Son held his hand out to Qi Xiaotian. Determination burned in him, chasing away the icy tendrils of dread and replacing them with the barest glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could do something good for once. Maybe he could fix his mistakes, become better than what he was

   Maybe he could become someone worth loving.

   And it was with that final thought that Red Son reached out to his enemy-turned-rival-turned-something else, one hand gripping the small sketch still in his pocket, and said

   “Let me help.”

[thetypedwriter]

Imaginary Friend Book Review

Imaginary Friend by Stephen Chbosky Book Review 

This is undoubtedly the weirdest book I have ever read. 

You might be thinking… but, thetypedwriter you read fanfiction! This can’t be the weirdest thing you’ve ever read! Things like ABO universes exist!

You would think that, wouldn’t you?

But no. 

I shall endeavor to give you a spoiler free synopsis of the book first followed by my thoughts and criticism, but note that this is an endeavor for a reason. I have now explained this novel in depth to two different people, and both times I have found myself completely and irrevocably stuck on how to even begin, let alone end. 

With that forewarning, here we go. 

The novel surrounds a single mother and her young son moving to a small Pennsylvania town in order to escape the tragedies of their past that include the passing of her husband and her current abusive boyfriend. 

However, while things in their new home start out well-they find solutions to unemployment, poverty, the son’s dyslexia, etc, things start to go awry when Christopher, the son, is lured into the Mission Street Woods at the edge of town by a voice only he seems to be able to hear. 

As Christopher continues to listen to the voice in the form of a cloud, or a plastic bag, or even inside of his mind, he starts recruiting his friends to build a treehouse in the woods that will transport him to a different time and place. The voice, lovingly called the Nice Man, instructs him to finish the tree house by Christmas Day. 

Or else everyone will die. 

As Christopher struggles with newfound powers and responsibilities, coping with two different worlds, his mother struggles with her son’s sanity, the town struggles with anger, blame, and temptation, and what follows is the chaotic descent of a small town into the throes of good versus evil, love and loss, and most importantly, trying to differentiate what is real versus what is imaginary. 

In the simplest terms possible (a facetious statement if there ever was one), I thought this was going to be a thriller mystery book about a single mother and her young seven-year-old son Christopher leaving their home and her abhorrent abusive boyfriend in order to start a new life with hope and potential. 

And it….is? 

But it doesn’t stop there. Chbosky crams so many genres, themes, motifs, and messages into this book that when you think about it, it’s unsurprising that it’s over 700 pages long with the tiniest, most miniscule font I have ever had to squint at. 

However, make no mistakes like I did, this book is horror. 

Yup. You read that right folks, horror. 

To preface, and I might have mentioned this in another post for another book at some point, but I vehemently dislike horror of any kind. This extends to books, movies, shows, etc. 

I understand that horror is a great joy and pleasure for a vast amount of people and that it contains its own literary merit, tropes, and rules, and I can appreciate that for what it is from afar, but I personally take very little enjoyment from consuming anything horror related (I apologize to all the Stephen King fans out there in the world). 

I did not fully realize the extent to which this book was a true horror. 

This is entirely my own fault. I was very much blinded by the rosy colored glasses from college when I first read The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Chbosky’s first and only other novel. 

Perks is wonderful. It is a tragic, yet fundamentally hopeful and loving bildungsroman that shows the beauty and the pain of growing up and accepting yourself. The movie with Emma Watson is what dreams are made of. 

I committed author fraud when I picked up Imaginary Friend based on the pure speculation that I would most likely like it since he had written Perks, a book I adored as both a reader and a teacher. 

I’ve warned readers against this in the past, but it seems like I should have taken my own advice: just because an author has written one good book or one book you like, does not automatically mean you will like their second book, or any of their other books for that matter. 

This cannot possibly ring more true for Stephen Chbosky, as not only are his two books completely different in narrative and structure, but also vastly different in genre and purpose. 

I should have stuck with my gut and realized that I probably wouldn’t like this book based off the synopsis, the genre, and yes, even the cover (it looks scary to me, okay?), but I said noooooo, it’s Chbosky, you have to read it!

And this is where we ended up. 

First of all, I didn’t hate the book. 

I can recognize that it is extremely well written, well crafted, and well developed. I can enjoy a slew of characters, and oh boy are there a multitude to pick from, and I can give credit where credit is due. 

Chbosky is a talented writer. There is no doubt in my mind about this. The way he crafts words, the way he plays with texture and space, and with fonts and sizes, is nothing less of sheer brilliance. 

He undoubtedly is also masterful at motifs, foreshadowing, and symbolism. Notably, there were so many recurring objects, colors, metaphors, and so on that were sprinkled out so consecutively and intentionally throughout the novel-some I didn’t even pick up until the end-that I was left reeling from how immensely talented and brilliant he is. 

Things like his use of baby teeth, blue moon, and fogs/clouds/mist struck me in particular. I know this seems like gibberish, but Chbosky truly came across as understanding what he wanted to portray and how he wanted to deliver it. 

However, the biggest compliment I can give to Chbosky is the sheer magnitude of his imagination and creativity. This book almost overwhelmed me through the use of ideas and concepts I had never really thought of before. 

Alternate dimensions? Check. 

Supernatural powers? Check. 

Incredible use of diction and figurative language? Check and check. 

Chbosky had so many wild and tantalizing beautiful turns of phrases, expressions, and descriptions that it left me with the same sort of gasping epiphany that Maggie Steifvater’s writing always leaves me with, the feelings that writing can be so utterly beautiful and compelling, that it can be all-consuming as well as never ending with its potential to stun, to create, and to warp to unique needs and purposes. 

It definitely was a reading experience quite like any other I’ve had. 

Be that because of the horror genre or because of Chbosky’s odd, yet addicting writing style and this has definitely become a book that left me more than a bit dumbfounded. Although I’ve sung its praises and admitted to my own faults at this point, this book isn’t without flaws. 

To me the horror genre itself is just not my cup of tea like I’ve stated. Strike number one. 

Second, the book was...abysmally long. Atrociously long. As I’ve also said before, I do not mind large books. In fact, big books when you’re reading something you love is a true blessing. Finding that fanfiction at 3am that hooks you immediately and you look up to see its 300k? Amazing. 

Starting a new book series that you fall in love with body and soul and realize you have several installments left in the series to gorge and devour? Ecstasy. 

Sloughing through a single book that starts to drag on and on repetitiously for what seems like forever? Borderline hell. 

This book could have been 300 pages shorter and still contained everything Chbosky wanted to accomplish. It could have had the same brilliant writing, messages, and motifs, but without all of the never-ending back and forth between worlds and battles that just kept popping up time and time again. The abominable length considering its content is strike two. 

Last, the ending was a bit of a cluster. At this point in the novel, so much is going on, you are being exposed to so many pov’s that it’s almost stress-inducing, and events taking place are cataclysmic and 10/10 on drama. Chbosky bit off more than he could chew here. 

The book choked itself at the end, which, after reading for 700 pages is not the feeling you want to have. The ending left me befuddled, disappointed, and also bereft of a conclusive end and explanation for the shitstorm that had just rained down. It was not the ending I wanted, could understand, or could even really grasp. Strike three. 

This book has a plethora of merits followed by three enormous criticisms. If you like horror, then you’ve already crossed hurdle number one. If you can accept it’s repellant length (let alone have days upon days of free time to actually ingest said behemoth) then that’s hurdle number two. 

Hurdle three is up to you. Perhaps you would like the ending where as I found it lacking in structure, content, and answers. I like my endings tied up with neat little bows. I don’t like to be left thinking...hmmmm what does this mean? 

If I am going to read your massive book, I deserve an ending that satisfies the journey. Authors telling readers that it’s up for interpretation makes me want to strangle something. It comes across as enormously pretentious to me and oftentimes lazy. 

In the case of Chbosky, I think he had given himself so many loose threads that the neat little bow I desired was next to impossible. 

So he didn’t even try. 

Score: 6/10

Recommendation: If you love The Shining, are lacking bouts of creativity and imagination, have lots of free time during Quarantine, and don’t mind having an Inception-esque ending where you might not get all the answers you want, while being tasked with concocting it for yourself, Imaginary Friend might be your new best friend. 

Bonus: Here’s a pic of my kitty photo bombing this book shoot. Hope she brightens your day!