#insidious with his manipulation

[moompl]

A visual parallel I have noticed throughout SW is the image of a Palpatine goading his new apprentice to kill a defenseless person. He does it with Dooku and Yaddle, Anakin and Dooku, and finally Luke and Darth Vader (Anakin). Each time he encourages them to do something that goes against their morals (killing a friend, a defenseless person, or their father) and the choice they make is telling to who they will become in the future. Luke is the person to break this cycle when he refuses to kill his father after seeing Vader’s mechanical hand. He looks to his own hand and realizes that to destroy his father is to become him. He holds fast to his ideals in the face of Palpatines attempts to change them. It’s a nice way to keep consistency with Palpatine’s character and form of manipulation.

[vaguely-concerned]

sometimes I think of all the on-the-surface warm, well-meaning but deeply ineffectual advice and attention john gives harrow through harrow the ninth (make some soup and get some sleep! get a hobby! don't be so hard on yourself! self care harrow! as long as I need take no actual responsibility in this relationship whatsoever I would have loved to be your dad!) set up against the stark truth that with his other hand he has been staging her attempted horrific murder again and again and again like a living nightmare on the logic that it will 'put her down or fix her'. and then I find that I wish there is a hell. a special hell where twitch streamers turned necromantic death emperors go

[trans-xianxian]

I think that it's very interesting how wei wuxian and jin guangyao are arguably both very manipulative people but in drastically different ways. jin guangyao is very good at getting people to believe his lie. his skill isn't necessarily convincing people to do the things he wants them to, but rather getting them to believe that he's a certain kind of person, so they don't suspect him of certain things or connect dots that would make him seem otherwise suspicious, or even that he's trust worthy and should follow his advice

wei wuxian, on the otherhand, is just incredibly charming and emotionally intelligent. he's very good at being exactly who he needs to in a given scenario in order to achieve his goal, whether that's making somebody feel more comfortable around him or using the fact that people know he's dangerous in order to intimate them

and the thing is that, arguably, wei wuxians form of manipulation is More manipulative than jin guangyaos, but he often uses it to less insidious means. and part of it is that most of the time wei wuxian is being manipulative to other peoples benefit - he makes people feel comfortable around him because he just... wants them to feel comfortable, he becomes more intimidating to protect the people or things that he cares about, while jin guangyao is being manipulative in order to like. cover up all of murders and nefarious political polts

but the other part of it is that wei wuxian is almost Never hiding who he Actually is, with the exception of when he's pretending to be a completely different human being post res. he is a multifaceted character who knows when to display his different facets, most of the time without trying to hide the other ones. he knows when it's appropriate to be polite or intimidating or comforting or shameless. but jin guangyao is a multifaceted character who is continuously only showing one face. he has one persona that he puts on in order to manipulate people, and uses different tools, but not different facets, in order to get what he wants

it is extra interesting that nie huaisangs form of manipulation is most similar to jin guangyaos, the person he is seeking to take down, as opposed to wei wuxians, the person he is using as a tool to do so

[khalixvitae]

Yk maybe I’m not ambivalent about Sunday

[vaugarde]

just read the get out 2017 screenplay. man.

[great-and-small]

Do y’all know about Frédéric Thomas? He is a French parasitologist who heard a story about crickets in New Zealand leaping into the water even though they can’t swim, and immediately speculated this suicidal behavior was related to behavior manipulation from an internal parasite. This is before neuro-parasitology was a field at all, and before people really put much stock into parasite’s ability to control animal behavior.

Thomas was certain that studying these crickets would be a huge priority for the scientific world given the implications of a parasite controlling an animal’s actions in such an insidious way. Unfortunately, absolutely nobody would fund Thomas’ expedition to study the crickets, and his grants were all declined. In a wild move that showcases the balls to the wall, near- insanity level passion of a biologist, Thomas declared a hunger strike and wrote a letter to the president of France saying he would not eat until someone took the matter seriously and funded his study on the suicidal crickets. I feel like those of us in research can at least a little bit understand this impulse.

Well the French government actually got Thomas’ message and freaked out a bit at the negative publicity that could arise from a crazy worm scientist starving to death. So they send some government bigwigs to the university to pressure Thomas and his department heads into calling an end to the hunger strike. In the flurry of attention that resulted from this, a Swiss billionaire heard about Thomas’ plight and offered to partially fund the study. The French government was happy to get rid of Thomas and contributed funding as well so that Thomas could head to New Zealand to study his suicidal crickets. He was right about the parasites causing the behavior!

The hunger strike debacle is not even the wildest part of this story. I love biology so much

[diamondcitydarlin]

Just fair warning- I said on my personal post about this that I wasn't going to talk about Neil Gaiman anymore, but as it's becoming clear that him and his publishers and anyone else who makes money off of him is circling the wagons and trying to bury these allegations, as well as some fans still defending and trying to 'rationalize' this information, I feel like, actually, we need to keep talking about him (as much as I cannot stand him and feel physically disgusted now when I so much as see his face somewhere). Specifically, the fact that he's a liar, master manipulator and should not, under any circumstances, be given access to his fans like he has in the past. At the very least. (And if you need to blacklist his name or even unfollow me so as to not be triggered, I completely understand, but I will always try to tag these posts accordingly and I think it's crucial right now that the truth be put where people can see)

This post specifically is in response to those 'rationalizations' I've seen, some that have gone as far as to blame the young fans/groupies that hooked up with him for being 'golddiggers' or just making a mountain out of a molehill for something they now regret. It's not that simple, yall. (And, again, this requires some amount of completely ignoring the story about him extorting his tenant for sex under threat of eviction of her and her three young children, I'm not sure how you 'rationalize' that under the best of circumstances)

So let's be clear here. What we know is that NG has routinely, for possibly an upwards of 30 years, pulled sexual 'partners' from his fan groups, most of whom are 18-22 year old young women (though possibly younger, accounts are coming forward of 16 year olds having allegedly been inappropriately touched/flirted/propositioned by him, which ig is the age of consent in the UK but still?? 16 year olds!!). This wasn't one or two times in the course of three decades, this was a constant pattern of behavior for him and for a very insidious reason.

This isn't to try to infantilize those fans or young women/young people in general or try to suggest that they couldn't have consented to sex with an older person or famous person. In fact, the onus isn't on them at all. This is about an older guy with a lot of fame, power and wealth choosing to sleep with people that he had already conditioned to idolize him and using that power imbalance to coerce them into doing things they didn't want to.

Regardless of one's age or gender identity, it can be difficult to impossible to say 'no' to someone like that. After all, you've been 'chosen' by the chosen one, you're special and not like everyone else, and if you don't do what the popular person everyone trusts is telling you to do you could end up ostracized. Alienated. Or worse. And you know what? Gaiman knew that! He knew it when he was crafting his 'approachable dad' persona on tumblr. He knew it when he was cultivating a fandom of personality. He knew it when he was having huge meetups to try to ensnare more victims. I hate to even think it, but I'm starting to believe he knew it when he was writing children's books too.

It's been talked about again and again in separate issues, but needless to say something not being strictly illegal does not make it inherently, morally okay. It does not erase the fact that this man has been essentially grooming his fandom to feel safe meeting/speaking with him so he can coerce those he can snare into sexual acts they're not comfortable with. That is predator behavior, whether strictly 'illegal' in the eyes of a court or not (but ofc I think he should be criminally punished even if I'm not naive enough to think he actually will be, because this IS rape and rape should be criminally punished)

I'm not personally advocating for anyone to give up being in his related fandoms, but what I am personally advocating for is that people don't forget who he is and what he's capable of, especially when he tries to crawl back to where he was (I'm almost certain he will eventually, as I've said).

Again, at the very least, we need to use what little influence we do have to keep him from infiltrating fan spaces again. He should not be on tumblr yukking it up with young people, he should not be at public appearances hitting on teenagers, he should not be given the unrestricted access to fans that he's 'enjoyed' for the past 30+ years because he is not a safe person. While I wish there was more in the way of restorative justice that could be done, I think at very, very least we should do what we can to limit his proximity to people he could hurt in the future. Make sure no one forgets, because sweeping this under the rug means Gaiman gets to hurt more people.

Lastly, no one is the wrong for having been manipulated by him. Let's make that very clear. What we're NOT gonna do is blame ourselves, each other, the victims, etc, for evil acts that Gaiman chose to do himself, time and time and time again. It doesn't help the situation and it certainly doesn't protect future potential victims. We were all duped because we're human and we attach and a lot of us want to believe there are good people out there, particularly those who make art that means so much to us.

And there are. But let's also use this a teaching/learning tool about how much faith we place in famous people in the future, regardless of how 'approachable' and 'safe' they might seem. Let's remember to have a healthy suspicion of creators/famous people that are oddly immersed in fandom spaces- yes, even the ones you still currently like that seem fine, as difficult as that may seem.

At the end of the day, we don't know them or what they're capable of doing or what they might be plotting to do to us. Support victims. Amplify their voices. Don't forget.

[tofixtheshadows]

You guys really need to stop and consider the ways you're talking about Kabru I am dead fucking serious. Like I know that flattening characters is just what fandom does to a certain extent, but Kabru's actual personality is getting lost to the fandom hivemind insisting that he's aggressive/cruel/sociopathic/hateful, and these are particularly concerning takes to see leveled at the only brown character in the main cast day after day. "My poor sweet golden child Laios needs to be protected from this scary brown man" is not a good look! Like, it's very telling that the bulk of the hate and bad faith readings are reserved for Toshiro and Kabru. Everyone else's flaws get to be discussed and validated and forgiven (or erased), meanwhile people are straight making up things to be mad about with Toshiro and Kabru but patting themselves on the back for being smart.

The worst part is how undeserved it all is. I'm trying to lay off anime-onlys because we're still kind of in the red herring stage of getting to know Kabru, but I would still like to gently suggest that even if you think Kabru is up to something, you don't gave to get in the tags of every fan creator's post and bring up how you hate him or You Can Tell he's totally evil. Sometimes I think Kabru's blue eyes give people license to say things about his appearance that they know would sound completely racist otherwise, but referring to his blue eyes acts as a get-out-of-racism free card. The jokes about the dog with brown contacts are getting old, by the way.

For people who have read the manga, it's disappointing. Kabru is one of the most complex and important characters in the story, and if you base your interpretation of him and all your fandom interactions on shallow first impressions you are completely missing out.

I know part of this is because Dungeon Meshi is a comedy, but the story also wants to be taken seriously. For example, it's admittedly really funny when Chilchuck calls Laios "sick in the head", but that doesn't change the fact that the way Chilchuck casually belittles Laios caused him to hide the fact that he was "hallucinating" from his friends for weeks. Those feelings matter.

Like, this

is funny.

But this?

Is not. This is just a very clear example of a brown boy with PTSD. As someone else with PTSD, just looking at this fucking sucks, man.

The only reason why Kabru thinks about killing Laios is because he is in the middle of a flashback. He's struggling through a panic attack. If he truly wanted to kill Laios because he's violent or because he finds Laios inherently annoying, he wouldn't otherwise talk with Laios normally. Notice how he doesn't act this way at any other point in the story- it's just because he's triggered by monsters. Even when he's thinking about his plans to "deal with" Laios later, he's reluctant to actually kill him and only considers it to prevent another tragedy. Despite his deadly skills, Kabru relies far more on "soft" power- insight, persuasion, diplomacy. He's a rare example of a character who absolutely is, or at least can be, manipulative, but seems to use his abilities for good. He's not a pathological liar, he isn't looking down on everyone behind a smile. He's someone who is extremely emotionally intelligent, and he's willing to put aside all his own basic wants and needs to stop the cycle of dungeons devouring humans.

I'm going to cut a potential thesis on his character short and just give some examples of things that fandom should consider about his personality more:

Racism in fandom isn't just about whitewashing in fan art, or using racial slurs. The insidiousness of bad faith readings, reductions to racist tropes, lack of fan content for characters of color, and dismissal of a character's complexity are far more common. You can believe yourself to be completely neutral or even positive about a character and still churn out low-grade bile about them into fandom's collective unconscious. Fandom reflects real life.

And I have been around fandom long enough to see how these behaviors (mostly from my fellow white fans) affect fans of color, how it makes a fandom feel hostile and unwelcome to them. It's fun to make jokes and memes, I'm absolutely not saying that everything needs to be a deeply nuanced take, but we need to be careful that it doesn't veer into toxicity. Please think about how our contributions to fandom come across, and what sort of vibes they cultivate in this communal space.

[sunsburns]

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

part one

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares. 

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep. 

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door. 

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp. 

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering. 

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you. 

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it. 

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night. 

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind. 

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight? 

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool." 

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?" 

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow. 

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure. 

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?" 

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you. 

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—" 

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight? 

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly. 

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

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[iconchae]

DRAGON’S TEMPTRESS ➽ S.JY/JAKE | 18+

pairing: dragon ! jake × temptress ! afab! reader

synopsis: in a world where mystical beings existed. the dragon knight jake found himself lost in the mystical forest with the temptress he absolutely disliked.

genre: fantasy + smut

warnings: smut so mdni, mentions of killing, cruelity, contains cuss words, uses of terms like (seduction, etc), nsfw, kisses, unprotected sex, not proofread so i'm sorry if there are any mistakes, pet names, teasing, overstimulation, rough sex, marking, unrealistic sex (?), everything is consensual! lmk if i missed anything.

word count: 7.47k

a/n: damn- it's kinda embarassing seeing my last two fics because they're so low effort made, but here is one high effort fic as apology. also, I do accept requests, don't hesitate to send in. though I might only pick if I have ideas about what to write in it, thank you :3

Jake's heavy eyelids fluttered closed, the warmth of her core pressing against his groin through layers of clothing. His hands gripped her thighs, firm and toned beneath his touch, as she rocked against him.

"You..." he moaned, his voice husky with desire as he struggled to maintain consciousness. His heart raced, pounding against his ribcage like a wild animal, as the sensation of her pussy grinding against him became overwhelming.

With a final, shuddering breath, Jake's body convulsed. He spilled into his pants, the warmth spreading through the fabric as he let out a guttural moan. His limbs grew heavy, and he slumped back against his pillow, eyes flying open to take in his familiar, empty room.

"No..." he whispered, disbelieving. He ran a hand through his disheveled, dark hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands. His gaze darted around the room, searching for any sign of her presence, but finding only shadows and the faint glow of his bedside lamp.

In a world where mystical creatures like unicorns, mermaids, and dragons roamed freely, Jake stood out as the kingdom's most revered dragon knight. Yet, despite his esteemed position, he faced a challenge unlike any other.

In this seemingly perfect realm existed temptresses—enigmatic beings who could manipulate minds. Their power was insidious; they would seduce their prey, leaving them vulnerable and disoriented, only to fulfill their dark desires. These temptresses thrived on the torment and eventual destruction of those they ensnared.

Jake was currently under the spell of one such temptress. She had invaded his dreams, weaving illusions that blurred the line between reality and fantasy. As he slept, her seductive visions preyed upon his deepest desires, weakening his resolve and leaving him at her mercy.

Perched high on a branch in the enchanted forest, you munched on the forbidden fruit with a nonchalant air. The forest below bustled with the movement of various mystical creatures, all oblivious to the seductress watching from above. The fruit’s sweet, tangy flavor contrasted sharply with the tension you felt simmering in the air.

As you prepared to leave, intent on avoiding any unnecessary entanglements, a sudden jolt yanked you from your perch. The net, expertly crafted and nearly invisible among the foliage, ensnared you before you could react. The world spun as you tumbled down, the net tangling around you and tightening with each movement.

You landed with a thud, the net’s constricting embrace rendering you immobile. A pair of strong arms swept you up effortlessly, cradling you in a bridal hold. The sudden proximity left you disoriented, your heartbeat quickening not only from the fall but from the undeniable heat of the contact.

Jake, the famed dragon knight whose armor bore the fiery emblem of his order, was your captor. His grip was firm and unyielding, his muscles tensed with purpose as he adjusted his hold. You attempted to wriggle free, your efforts hampered by the net’s confining weave.

“Let me go, you bastard,” you spat, your voice laced with irritation and defiance. You glared up at him, feeling the heat of his body through the thin layer of your clothing.

Jake’s eyes, hardened by countless battles and encounters with creatures like you, softened slightly. He didn’t release his hold but adjusted you carefully in his arms, his breath warm against your skin.

“Just keep quiet, and I might spare your life,” he murmured, his voice low and gruff. The tension in his tone was palpable, mingling with an undercurrent of something more—something that neither of you fully understood.

The net fell away, rustling softly as Jake laid you gently on the grass. The lush, emerald blades cushioned your fall, contrasting sharply with the harsh reality of your predicament. As you lay there, the remnants of the net still clinging to your limbs, you made a deliberate effort to mask your frustration with a sultry smile.

"Can you take this off?" you asked, your voice a soft purr laced with temptation. Your eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and challenge as you gazed up at him, your fingers lightly brushing against the cool grass.

Jake's expression hardened, his jaw tightening with resolve. "Stop talking in that tone," he commanded, his voice a low growl that brooked no argument. The firmness in his tone was as unyielding as the grip he had on the net moments before.

His gaze swept over you, taking in the sight of your revealing attire—fabric that clung to you, accentuating every curve and movement.

The other knights, standing a few paces away, stared openly. Their eyes, filled with a mix of lust and admiration, roamed over your form. Jake’s eyes darkened as he took in the scene, and his protective instincts flared.

"Anyone who looks at her will have their head chopped off," he threatened, his voice sharp and commanding. The knights, well accustomed to Jake’s authority and reputation, averted their eyes immediately. They knew better than to defy the dragon knight, whose stature and prowess were renowned across the kingdom.

Jake knelt beside you, his movements deliberate and careful. His armor clinked softly as he moved, the fire symbol on his chest gleaming in the filtered light.

As he began to remove the net from around you, his fingers brushed against your skin with an unexpected tenderness. The contact was fleeting but charged, sending a shiver down your spine.

You watched him with a mixture of surprise and admiration. Despite his evident disdain for your kind, there was a hint of something softer in his actions—a conflict between duty and a grudging respect. The softness in his touch as he disentangled the net seemed at odds with the harshness of his words.

As the last of the net fell away, you stretched out on the grass, feeling the cool earth beneath you. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the usual sounds of rustling leaves and distant birdsong momentarily stilled.

As you perched atop Jake in his dragon form, the world below was a shifting blur of greens and browns. The forest stretched out endlessly, its vast expanse a tangled maze of trees and shadows. The sensation of flying was exhilarating, but also slightly disorienting as the wind whipped past you, ruffling your hair and catching in your clothes.

Jake’s powerful wings beat rhythmically, sending gusts of wind that tugged at you. His scales shimmered in the dappled sunlight, a blend of deep emeralds and brilliant golds, each movement a testament to his formidable strength. The sensation of his warm, scaled body beneath you was both thrilling and oddly comforting, though the situation was far from ideal.

“How long is it gonna take till we reach the kingdom?” you asked, your voice carrying just above the roar of the wind. You tried to steady yourself, your fingers gripping the thick, ridged scales along Jake’s neck for balance.

“Few days,” Jake rumbled, his voice a deep, resonant growl that vibrated through his body. His irritation was palpable, though he made a concerted effort to mask it. The dragon's form shifted slightly as he adjusted his flight path, the trees below becoming a distant, swaying sea of green.

His wings flared out, catching the wind to give him more lift, and you felt a sudden surge of speed. The rush of air was invigorating but also made it harder to hold on. “Can you hold a little tighter? I don’t want you to fall,” he added, his tone more commanding than before.

You obliged, wrapping your arms securely around his neck. “As you say, master,” you replied with a playful lilt. You patted his dragon head affectionately, a gesture that felt more like a tease than a comfort. The sarcasm in your voice was unmistakable.

Jake huffed a low, rumbling sigh, a sound that reverberated through his massive frame. “Gosh, I can’t help but want to kill you the second we reach the kingdom,” he muttered, his frustration barely masked by the wind. His eyes, fierce and focused, scanned the horizon.

“If you want to kill me, then I’ll just jump off from here,” you said, your tone light but laced with an undercurrent of challenge. You glanced down at the dizzying height, your heart skipping a beat as the ground seemed to shift far below.

“Go ahead,” Jake retorted, his voice indifferent but with a hint of something darker. The other knights were a distant speck in the sky, visible only as tiny figures walking through the forest beneath.

You shivered at the thought, your bravado faltering as you peered down. The dizzying drop was more intimidating than you had anticipated. “Nevermind,” you muttered, a touch of fear creeping into your voice as you tightened your grip around his neck.

Jake let out a throaty chuckle, the sound echoing in the open sky. “Is the temptress scared?” he teased, a mischievous edge to his tone. The playful challenge in his voice was a stark contrast to his earlier irritation.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, though you were thankful Jake couldn’t see it. “Maybe a little,” you admitted, though you tried to keep your voice steady. The wind was now a gentle breeze, cooling the sweat on your brow.

The vast forest below seemed endless, and the realization that you were still lost made the situation feel even more surreal. Jake’s powerful form cut through the air with ease, but the dense canopy of trees below made navigation challenging.

The other knights, having stopped to rest, were visible only as tiny, distant figures, their presence a reassuring reminder that you weren’t entirely alone in this vast wilderness.

As Jake adjusted his flight path again, you snuggled closer against his neck, finding some semblance of warmth and security despite the bizarre circumstances.

Jake’s scales were warm against your body, and despite his gruff exterior, there was an undeniable gentleness in his movements as he maneuvered through the air. The forest below seemed to open up slightly, hinting at a possible path forward, and you could only hope that the journey would soon come to an end.

You nestled closer into Jake’s shoulder, the cool night air wrapping around you as the canopy of trees above rustled gently in the breeze. Jake’s human form was a striking contrast to his dragon self, his muscles tense beneath his dark tunic. His eyes, normally fierce and commanding, now held a hint of weariness as he looked out over the vast expanse of the forest.

The knights had settled into their tents below, their murmurs and the occasional clink of metal barely audible from your elevated perch. The firelight from their campfires flickered, casting long, eerie shadows on the forest floor. The tranquility of the moment was abruptly shattered by the sudden appearance of one of the five knights.

The knight emerged from the shadows of the tent, his face pale and drawn. His footsteps were hurried and uneven, a stark contrast to the usually composed demeanor of the king’s men. “Master,” he called urgently, his voice trembling slightly as he approached Jake and you on the branch. “I think we’ve entered the Blood Forest.”

Jake’s body went rigid, his expression morphing from relaxed to alarmed in an instant. His head whipped around, eyes locking onto the knight with a sharp, predatory focus. “Huh?” he muttered, his voice low and concerned.

You lifted your head from Jake’s shoulder, a frown tugging at your lips as you took in the knight’s anxious demeanor. “Blood Forest?” you echoed, your voice tinged with confusion and a touch of unease. The name sounded ominous, but you had no context to understand its full implications.

The knight swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously around the forest as if the trees themselves might suddenly come alive. “I’m not sure, but we’ve crossed the line from the Mystical Forest into the Blood Forest. It’s supposed to be dangerous… extremely dangerous.”

Jake’s expression hardened, a scowl forming as he processed the information. The Blood Forest was a place of brutal, untamed wilderness, known for its vicious creatures and treacherous terrain. The stories of its cruelty were legendary, told to scare even the bravest of souls.

“You’re telling me we’re in the Blood Forest?” Jake’s voice was taut with barely suppressed frustration, his eyes flashing with an intensity that made you shiver. “The forest that’s notorious for its savagery?”

The knight nodded, his face pale under the dim light. “Yes, Master. I’m afraid so. We’ve passed the boundary. The trees here are not the red ones the tales speak of, but we’re definitely in the Blood Forest.”

You couldn’t help but mutter under your breath, the sarcasm evident in your tone. “I knew this dragon knew nothing about his own kingdom’s mystical forest. Entered the wrong arena, wow.” The comment was a reflexive jab, meant more to amuse yourself than to provoke Jake, but he shot you a fiery glare in response.

A wave of tension surged between you, palpable and heavy. Jake’s eyes, usually so controlled, now blazed with a mix of anger and stress. The thought of impending danger was clearly weighing on him, though he tried to mask his anxiety. You met his gaze with a sheepish smile, hoping it would diffuse some of the tension.

The knight’s voice trembled as he spoke again. “What should we do, Master? Do we leave now? We’re at great risk here, especially with nightfall approaching.”

Jake’s jaw clenched, his mind racing through the options. He knew that leaving the safety of the tree canopy in the dead of night would increase their chances of encountering the forest’s dangerous inhabitants.

His decision came after a long, tense pause. “We’re staying for the night,” he finally said, his voice firm and resolute. “Tell the others to keep their ears open for any threats. We need to be vigilant.”

The knight nodded quickly, relief mingling with his fear as he bowed deeply to Jake before retreating back to the camp. His footsteps were hasty, eager to escape the daunting presence of the dragon knight and the temptress.

As the knight disappeared into the shadows, you glanced back at Jake, noticing the slight tremor in his hands. His formidable exterior masked the uncertainty that lay beneath. You could sense the weight of the situation pressing down on him, a pressure that seemed almost too great to bear.

You turned towards Jake, who was seated beside you, his form silhouetted against the dim glow of the fire below. “Hey, dragon,” you said, a playful smirk on your lips.

Jake’s eyes narrowed, his expression a mix of irritation and tired resolve. “It’s Jake,” he replied, his voice clipped and firm.

“Whatever, dragon,” you dismissed with a nonchalant wave of your hand. You rose from the branch, preparing to climb down and head towards the tent where the other knights were settling for the night.

Before you could make your descent, Jake’s strong hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a surprising firmness. He pulled you back towards him, his arm wrapping around your waist in a way that kept you close against his chest. The closeness was unexpected and intimate, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“You're sleeping with me,” Jake declared, his tone brooking no argument.

You arched an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Woah, you’re so straightforward, aren’t you?”

Jake’s brow furrowed, realizing that you had misunderstood his intent. His irritation was palpable as he shifted his gaze to you, his eyes cold and steely. “I want you to sleep with me in the tent because I don’t want to wake up and find you escaping.”

His smirk held a dark undertone, a reminder of the king’s decree and the danger you were in. “After all, the king would like to kill you,” he added, the edge in his voice unmistakable.

You rolled your eyes, a sarcastic smile playing on your lips. “Whatever you say, dragon.”

Jake’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “I said, it’s Jake.” His voice was low and dangerous, the irritation clear in his tone. His gaze was a mix of exhaustion and growing annoyance, tired of the constant disregard for his name.

From their positions around the fire, the other knights watched the exchange with barely suppressed amusement. A few chuckled softly, their laughter muffled by the tense atmosphere.

The moment their laughter reached Jake’s ears, his head whipped around, his eyes flashing dangerously. The knights quickly fell silent, their expressions shifting to one of anxious respect as they met the dragon knight’s fierce glare

The next day, the blood Forest loomed around you, its twisted trees and crimson leaves casting eerie shadows as you and Jake continued your perilous journey.

The air was thick with an unsettling silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant cries of unseen creatures. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to press in on you from all sides, adding to the growing tension between you and Jake.

You clung to Jake’s back, your arms wrapped around his neck as he carried you through the dense foliage. The discomfort of being trapped in the forest combined with the constant gnawing of your own urges was beginning to take its toll. As a temptress, the prolonged deprivation was becoming unbearable.

In a moment of impulsive need, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Jake’s neck. The sensation of your lips against his skin sent a shiver through him, and you noticed the area where your kiss had touched began to take on an unusual hue—an eerie yellowish-orange that seemed to radiate warmth.

Jake stumbled slightly, his powerful wings faltering as he let out a frustrated growl. “What... What the hell are you doing?” His voice was a mix of anger and confusion, his eyes flashing with both irritation and something more complex.

You pulled back slightly, feigning innocence. “Sorry, I couldn’t control myself,” you said, your tone soft and sheepish. But the glint in your eyes betrayed your lack of genuine remorse.

Jake’s frustration was palpable. His wings flared as he tried to steady himself, the unusual color on his neck making him more agitated. “You think this is a joke? We’re in a perilous situation, and you’re—”

His words trailed off as he caught a glimpse of your face. Despite his irritation, there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—an almost helpless frustration mixed with a begrudging attraction. His jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain his composure.

You remained close, your hands gripping him tightly as you tried to suppress a smirk. The kiss had done its work, igniting a complicated blend of emotions within Jake. The yellowish mark on his neck, though unusual, seemed to only intensify the volatile mix of irritation and desire.

“I didn’t mean to distract you,” you said with a teasing lilt, though your eyes softened slightly. “But you can’t deny that you like it a little.”

Jake shot you a sharp look, his expression torn between anger and reluctant amusement. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though the edge in his voice had softened somewhat. His wings steadied, and he resumed flying, albeit with a tense energy that hinted at the internal struggle he was facing.

As you settled back into your position, the tension between you crackled in the air. Despite the dire situation, the undeniable chemistry between you and Jake created an unexpected undercurrent of attraction.

The forest might have been a dangerous place, but it was also forging a connection between you and the dragon knight that neither of you could ignore.

At night, it cloaked the Blood Forest in an even deeper darkness, the trees casting elongated shadows under the dim light of a crescent moon. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, interrupted only by the distant, eerie calls of nocturnal creatures. Inside this tense atmosphere, the interplay of desire and danger was about to unfold.

You approached one of the knights, the king's favored protector aside from Jake. Your seductive gaze was a weapon of its own, capable of ensnaring even the most disciplined of men.

The knight, already somewhat susceptible to your allure due to the influence of your natural temptative fragrance, felt the pull almost immediately. His eyes softened, and a smile began to form on his lips as you traced your fingers along the contours of his well-defined muscles.

“Hey,” you said sweetly, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of innocent curiosity. You wrapped your arm around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The knight’s hands instinctively moved to your hips, drawing you closer with an eager grip.

Before anything further could transpire, a sudden and forceful intervention disrupted the scene. Strong arms, unmistakably familiar, yanked you away from the knight.

Your back collided with a solid chest, the arms around your waist securing you with a possessive firmness. You felt the heat of Jake’s body through the layers of your clothing, his presence radiating an intensity that eclipsed the previous encounter.

“What did I say about looking at her?” Jake’s voice was a low growl, his tone charged with anger and a hint of possessiveness. His skin was glowing an ominous yellow, a stark indication of the rising fury within him.

The knight, startled and slightly disoriented, stumbled back, muttering an apology before retreating to his tent, the unspoken truth of his desire lingering in his wake.

Jake’s grip on you tightened, he turned you to face him. His body pressing you firmly against him. The closeness was electrifying; your breasts brushed against his chest, and you could feel every rapid beat of his heart. His hand, warm and commanding, traced the line of your jaw with a possessive tenderness.

“What were you trying to do? Seduce him?” Jake’s question was a mixture of frustration and something deeper, as he stared into your eyes with a demanding intensity.

“What else?” You replied with a scoff, looking up at him with a challenging glint in your eyes. Your temptress fragrance, now unleashed and potent, mingled with the tension in the air, creating a heady mix that seemed to amplify the emotional and physical proximity between you two.

Jake’s yellow-tinted skin seemed to burn even brighter as he buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He pressed a heated kiss to the sensitive spot, his lips grazing against your collarbone. The contact was both possessive and intimate, a stark contrast to the earlier encounter with the knight.

“hmm?” you said, your voice a sultry murmur. “Just because I'm getting killed soon doesn’t mean I don’t feel dull because of not seducing anyone.” You wrapped your arms around Jake’s neck, trying to draw him closer, hoping to ignite a reaction.

But the dragon pulled back slightly, a chuckle escaping his lips despite the lingering frustration. “Suffer then,” he said with a scoff, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and defiance. He turned away, heading toward his tent with a deliberate nonchalance, leaving you to wrestle with your own conflicting emotions.

As he walked away, you muttered under your breath, “Worst dragon I’ve ever met.” Your eyes rolled in exasperation, but the underlying tension between you two was unmistakable. The blood forest might have been perilous, but it had also become a crucible for a complicated blend of attraction, frustration, and unresolved desire.

A few days passed of trying to find a way out of the blood forest and you couldn't help but think that this dragon was simply stupid to not be able to find it easily.

Your tempting scent was dangerous for even you, if it wasn't washed quickly even the creatures creeping in the blood forest would've lured in and who knows, might've killed you?

After all from what you knew, dying by the hands of the king was better than dying by the hands of the cruel creatures in the forest.

Today tho the moon cast a silver glow over the tranquil lake, illuminating the water's surface and making it shimmer like a thousand diamonds. The camp of knights was nestled in the nearby forest, their snores barely audible above the gentle rustling of leaves.

They were all sleeping and you made a plan to just wash your scent in the nearby lake.

As you quietly extricated yourself from Jake's possessive embrace, you could feel the heat of his body dissipating, his arms relaxing around your waist. He muttered something incoherent in his sleep, his brow furrowing slightly, but his slumber remained undisturbed.

Standing up, you stretched your arms overhead, arching your back and releasing a contented sigh as you walked out the tent.

The cool night air caressed your bare skin, making you shiver slightly. Your long, curly hair cascaded down your back in dark waves, and your full, perky breasts bounced slightly with the movement.

Turning towards the lake, you walked slowly, the soft grass beneath your feet silent. As you reached the water's edge, you sank to your knees, the cool liquid enveloping your legs up to your thighs. You closed your eyes, letting the soothing warmth of the night wash over you.

With deliberate slowness, you unbuckled the leather belt cinched around your waist, letting it fall to the ground with a quiet thud. Your fingers then traced the laces of your corset, loosening them until the garment gaped open, revealing your naked flesh to the moonlit night.

The night air grew cooler as you removed your corset, and you shivered again. But this time, the chill had little to do with the temperature. Rather, it was a thrill that ran down your spine, knowing that you were alone and vulnerable in the stillness of the night.

You let the corset slide off your shoulders, allowing it to drop to the ground beside your belt. Your breath caught in your throat as you reached up to cup your breasts, the weight of them heavy in your hands. Your thumbs brushed against your peaks, hardening them to taut nubs.

Stepping fully into the lake, you waded out until the water reached your waist. The liquid warmth wrapped around you, caressing your skin like a lover's touch. You leaned your head back, letting your hair fan out behind you, and began to wash your body.

Your hands moved slowly, sensuously, as you cleansed your skin. You ran your fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp, before scrubbing the sudsy water over your arms, your shoulders, your breasts.

After all it had been so long for you without a man's touch. So, even if it was your own touch for now, it was bearable than nothing.

As you cleansed your lower abdomen, you paused, your fingers brushing against the soft curls at the juncture of your thighs. A surge of warmth pulsed through you, and you bit your lower lip, torn between the desire to continue washing and the urge to touch yourself more intimately.

The decision was made for you when a twig snapped nearby, the sound sharp and unexpected in the quiet night. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as you strained your ears to listen. Footsteps echoed through the trees, heavy and deliberate, approaching the lake's edge.

You step out of the water as if to reach out and dress up before any creature sees you as you stand there, your body radiating heat despite the cool night air. Your arms are crossed under your breasts, which are pushed up and together, highlighting their generous size. But then you stepped back in water again after making sure everything was alright.

Your fingers are curled into tight fists at your sides, as if you're struggling to keep from reaching out and touching yourself again. The nails of one hand dig into the skin of your arm, leaving small crescent moon imprints in their wake.

The only sound is your ragged breathing and the soft rustle of your clothes as you shift slightly from foot to foot, trying to ease the ache between your legs without actually touching yourself. You're a vision of frustrated lust, standing alone in the darkness, desperate for relief that you can't give yourself.

Behind you, the lake waters lap gently against the shore, the sound almost mocking in its calmness compared to the turmoil within you. The trees stand tall and still, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze, as if they're whispering encouragement for you to give in and touch yourself.

Jake though now awake was taken back to not find you in the tent, he almost thought you were eaten or probably dead because of that scent which you almost always carried to lure people and even some creatures. So he stepped out of the tent and searched for you before he walked towards the lake.

Jake's jaw slackens as he takes in the scene before him. The moonlit lake shore serves as a backdrop to the most intoxicating sight he's ever laid eyes on. The silver light casts long, dancing shadows, illuminating the curve of her back as she bends slightly forward, washing herself off.

Jake's eyes widen as he steps out from behind the trees, taking in the sight of you standing naked by the lake's edge. The cool moonlight bathes your body, highlighting the fullness of your breasts, their peaks tightening in the night air.

You hear the rustle of leaves and turn to see Jake emerge from his hiding place, eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and raw desire. The silver glow of the moon follows him as he approaches you, but it's your enticing scent that has completely captivated him.

Jake's gaze locks onto yours, darkened by an insatiable lust as he closes the distance between you two by walking towards you and pulling you towards him and out of the water. Each step mirrors his increasing heartbeat, his breaths shallow and hot against your skin. He swallows hard and whispers, "I can't resist you any longer."

As Jake reaches you, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you against his chest, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as he walks backwards towards the water's edge, the cool lake breeze rustling the leaves above.

"Has the dragon finally given in?" You asked with a little giggle, relieved that you'd finally receive the touch of a man that you'd been craving. Watching as the dragon undressed out of his armor until he was left naked too.

It was evident he was aroused because of your deadly scent.

"The dragon has... fallen prey," Jake growls against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. The cold water laps around your waists as he pulls you closer, his arousal evident and throbbing against your stomach.

"Mmm, you're so eager..." You mumble. Jake chuckles darkly, his hands roaming over your curves possessively. He lifts you out of the water and carries you to the rocky shore, laying you down on the warm stones.

As he looms over you, his eyes blazing with dragon heat, he grabs your thighs and spreads them wide, the rough stone digging into your back. "I'm going to fuck you so hard on these rocks, you'll be feeling me for hours,"

Jake leans down, even in his human form he keeps his dragon tail wrapping around your arms and pinning them above your head as he buries his face between your breasts. He nuzzles and kisses your tender flesh, his rough scales lightly abrading your skin. You arch your back, pressing yourself closer to him, eager for more.

"J-Jake...please..." You whimper, your voice hitching as he suctions his mouth over one peak, his tail tightening around your wrists. The pressure is exquisite, bordering on pain, and you squirm beneath him, the rough rocks further heightening the sensation.

"Shh, be still..." Jake growls, his voice muffled against your chest. He switches to the other breast, lavishing equal attention on the neglected peak. You try to writhe underneath him, the need to touch him overwhelming, but his tail holds you fast.

Jake finally releases your wrists, leaving red marks where his tail had held you captive. His amber eyes bore into yours as he reaches between you two, his clawed fingers finding your wetness before plunging deep inside of you without warning. "You're so fucking wet for me..."

"Aaah! Jake!" You cry out, your back arching off the rock as he finger-fucks you ruthlessly, his claws scraping against your inner walls. He adds a second finger, scissoring them inside of you, stretching you open in preparation for his massive cock.

"Please... Jake... I... I need..." You babble incoherently, your hands clinging to his broad shoulders as he continues to work you with his hands. His tail slowly coils around your thighs, spreading you wider, lifting your hips off the rocks so he can delve even deeper.

His hand withdraws, and you moan at the loss, only for that sound to be swallowed as he crushes his lips to yours. His tail slides beneath you, tilting your hips up, and you feel the monster bulge of his flesh press against your slick, unready hole.

"Look at me," Jake commands, his voice low and growly. Your eyes flutter open, meeting his intense gaze as he slowly enters you, his thick girth stretching your hole wide. You gasp, your nails digging into his arms as the pressure becomes almost unbearable. "You can take it,"

He speaks, and with that, he thrusts forward, burying his entire length inside you in one brutal stroke. You scream into his mouth, your body struggling to accommodate his immense size. Jake breaks the kiss, his head thrown back as he savors the tight, wet heat that envelops his cock.

Time seems to slow down as he begins to thrust into you, each movement eliciting a new wave of pleasure and pain from your abused body. Your mind becomes a fog, lost in the sensation of him inside you, filling you up in ways that should not be possible.

"J-Jake...it's...too...much..." You whimper, tears streaming down your face as he pounds into you mercilessly. His tail tightens around your thighs, lifting you higher so that he can drive even deeper. "Shhh, baby. You can take it."

His tempo increases, his hips jerking forward as he buryes himself to the hilt inside you, his tail coiling and uncoiling with the motion. The sound of wet, slapping flesh and your broken cries fill the air as he takes you on the rocky shore, his passion unbridled.

Just when you think you can't take anymore, Jake's knot swells at the entrance of your pussy, stretching you to the limit and locking him inside you. He growls, his hands gripping your hips as he holds you in place, his knot pulsing with his heartbeat. "Mine,"

"Oh, God... Jake... it's... so big..." You gasp, your body tensing as his knot slowly inflates more, stuffing you fuller than you've ever been before. Your fingers claw at his arms, your face buried in his neck as you struggle to breathe through the intense sensation.

"Shh, breathe for me," Jake murmurs, his voice gentle despite the iron grip he has on your hips. His tail strokes your hair soothingly, the contrast between his tender touch and the brutal stretch of his knot making your mind swim. "That's it, just feel me inside you..."

As his knot finishes inflating, Jake starts to slowly thrust into you again, his tail tightening around your thighs to keep you in place. The dual sensation of his movements and the pressure of his knot against your overstimulated entrance sends waves of pleasure through your body, making you shudder and moan.

"J-Jake... it's... it's too... intensive..." You whimper, your arms wrapping around his neck as he picks up the pace, his hips slamming against yours in a steady rhythm. His tail around your thighs tightens further, keeping you spread wide and helpless to his touch.

"Shh, just let it overtake you," Jake purrs into your ear, the soft rumble of his voice sending vibrations through your body and adding to the intense sensations flowing from your core.

As you feel the pleasure cresting inside you, Jake nuzzles your neck, his hot breath and the gentle scrape of his fangs making your eyes roll back as wave after wave of pure ecstasy crashes over you. The room spins around you, your mind hazy with pleasure.

Jake buries his face in your neck, his hot breath washing over your skin as he breathes heavily from the effort of holding back his own release. His tail tightens around your thighs, his grip possessive as his hips jerk against yours, his knot pulsing inside you.

With a final, powerful thrust, Jake's knot pulses violently inside you, flooding your insides with rope after rope of thick, hot cum. The sheer volume of his release is staggering, and you can feel it leaking out around his knot, dripping down your thighs as he continues to pump load after load into you.

Jake's breathing is heavy as he nuzzles your neck, the two of you still joined together as he finishes releasing inside you. His knot slowly begins to deflate, but his grip on your thighs remains tight as he savors the feeling of being deep inside you.

With a gentle tug, Jake pulls out of you, his knot slipping free with a soft pop. He turns you around and pushes you forward, guiding you towards the lake. "Look at you," he says, his voice filled with affection as he stares at the mess he made on your thighs.

Jake gently pushes you down onto the lake's edge, the cool water lapping at your thighs. He drops to his knees behind you, his fingers parting your folds to inspect the damage he did. "Such a pretty mess," he murmurs, his thumb swirling through the cum leaking out of you.

Jake's touch is gentle as he cleans you up, his fingers slowly pushing back into your puffy, overheated folds. "You took me so well," he whispers, his other hand smoothing over your backside soothingly. "Such a good girl for me..."

"J-Jake... it's so sensitive..." You hiss as his fingers slowly clean you up, the gentle touch making you squirm. You lean back against him, your eyes fluttering shut as he murmurs praises into your ear. "It..."

"...it feels like my insides are still spread open," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. Jake's fingers pause for a moment, his thumb pressing gently against your entrance before continuing to clean you. "I can feel everything so much more... intensely,"

Jake hums in approval, his fingers moving with deliberate slowness as he cleans you. "That's because you're so full of me," he says, his voice low and possessive. "My cum is still inside you, stretching you out and making everything extra sensitive."

Jake lets out a low chuckle as a thought enters his mind, his hand still moving gently over your backside. "What if the temptress had to bear kids of the dragon? Would she still be as seductive and cunning, or would she be too busy tending to her young?"

You blush at his words, your mind filling with images of a pregnant you, heavy with dragon eggs. "W-well... perhaps... she'd be even more alluring. After all, she'd have the power of life itself, growing within her..." You toss back your hair, grinning mischievously.

The dense canopy of the Blood Forest gradually thinned, revealing the first hints of dawn breaking through the treetops. The cold wind rushed past you, but the sensation of freedom was exhilarating as you straddled Jake’s back, his dragon form gliding effortlessly through the sky. The powerful beats of his wings created a rhythmic rush of air, and the forest below blurred into a sea of dark green.

“Slow down,” you whispered breathlessly, fingers clutching tightly at the scales along his neck, your grip as firm as your resolve. Despite the urgency of their escape, your heart pounded with a different kind of anticipation, one that wasn’t purely driven by the thrill of fleeing danger.

Jake glanced back at you, his serpentine eyes gleaming in the early light. “Will you still let me get killed?” you asked, your voice softer now, laced with a hint of vulnerability you rarely let show. A pout formed on your lips as you leaned forward, your breath warm against the back of his neck. You knew the answer, but still, you needed to hear it from him.

“After all that?” Jake rumbled, his voice carrying the weight of everything you had been through together. “Definitely no.” His tone was gruff but honest, a reluctant admission wrapped in the cadence of his powerful wingbeats. He banked gently, tilting his body upward to climb higher, as if trying to escape the last remnants of the forest’s menacing grip.

Your hand instinctively reached up to touch the dragon mark on your neck, a vivid, swirling pattern that seemed to glow faintly against your skin. It was a symbol of possession, one that marked you as his.

The implications of that mark were profound—it tethered your powers to him alone, rendering your once-dangerous allure useless against anyone else. You had lived your entire life seducing and disposing of those who crossed your path, and now, this single mark ensured that the only one you could ever affect was Jake, the dragon.

“It’s both cute and terrifying,” you mused aloud, running your fingers over the mark. It was a constant reminder of your bond, a mystical chain that linked your fates inextricably.

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” you accused lightly, though there was no real anger behind your words. More than anything, it was a curious observation—a realization that Jake had found a way to keep you, and in doing so, had also spared you from the king’s wrath.

Jake’s lips curved into a smirk, though in his dragon form it was more of a baring of teeth than anything else. “What if I did?” he challenged, though his voice held a note of playfulness.

He descended slowly, landing gracefully on a large, sturdy branch that jutted out from one of the tallest trees at the forest’s edge. He lowered himself to allow you to climb off before landing himself, shifting back into his human form in a smooth, fluid motion that spoke of practiced ease.

You watched as his knights, who had followed at a distance, emerged from the trees, casting wary glances at the surrounding terrain. There was a collective sigh of relief; the Blood Forest was finally behind them, and the dawn promised a new beginning.

Jake straightened, his posture still commanding even without his scales and wings. He looked at you with a mixture of fondness and the cool detachment of someone who knew they couldn’t afford to get too close.

“See you, then. Don’t get killed,” he said, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. There was an unspoken truth in his words—he couldn’t take you with him, not when the king’s eyes were always watching.

You didn’t hesitate. Stepping closer, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of defiance and longing, of everything unsaid and everything understood. For a moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you suspended in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

When you pulled back, you could see the flicker of something like regret in Jake’s eyes, though he quickly masked it with his usual bravado. You offered him a small smile before you turned and disappeared into the trees, your form blending seamlessly into the shadows as if you were a part of the forest itself.

Jake watched you go, a strange emptiness settling in his chest. He knew he couldn’t keep you, couldn’t protect you in the way he wanted, but the mark on your neck was a small comfort—a reassurance that you were his in a way that no one else could ever change.

“Goodbye,” he muttered softly, his voice almost lost to the wind as he turned away, his figure vanishing into the morning light along with his knights. He knew, as surely as he knew the feeling of his own heartbeat, that this wasn’t the last time your paths would cross. The bond between you was too strong, too intricately woven by fate and circumstance to be severed so easily.

And so, with the dawn breaking over the horizon, the dragon and his temptress parted ways, each carrying a piece of the other with them into the unknown.

[cringefailvox]

alastor is such an insidious dealmaker because he's so reasonable. he doesn't ask for anything outlandish, especially not right out of the gate—he agrees to make a commercial so long as he's never asked to engage with anything tv-related again. he turns down charlie's soul and readily concedes to the stipulation that her favor doesn't have to hurt anyone. from the way husk describes their deal ("when you're down on your luck, you turn to anything to keep you afloat"), it heavily implies to me that husk went to alastor, not the other way around. alastor gets his foot in the door by making himself freely available, and by making it easy to tell him no the first dozen times he nonchalantly offers a deal, so by the time he starts angling for a deal he actually does want, you're less likely to notice immediately how predatory he's being, or how he's backed you into an inescapable corner. he makes himself an inevitability. you know he's a monster, you know that he's manipulating you—but he's also become your only choice, and so you don't even get the consolation of being able to say he tricked you, because you chose it

[revvethasmythh]

You know, I think there's something so, so insidious to the idea that Orym's perspective of the Vanguard is "flawed/human" or that him repeatedly reminding his friends what the Vanguard does (kill innocents to achieve their means) "blocks nuance" in the conversation, etc, because it implies that, in this mythical "objective" perspective that apparently exists, the Vanguard aren't so bad. If only Orym could put aside his petty grievances, such as the murder of his father and husband, and let people be nuanced about this situation, he'd see there's two sides to this story. And why discount the Vanguard's perspective just because *checks notes* they're a massive, manipulative cult that preys on vulnerable people to join their ranks and turns them to violence, or that they work with a centuries-old fascist eugenicist literally mind-controlling psychic government with the goal of freeing a creature that could very well destroy the world as we know it and even if it doesn't, will leave an enormous power vacuum for that fascist government to potentially occupy when they invade Exandria?

I think there's some misconception people have that they think war shouldn't ever be personal and if it does become personal for someone then their logic is too clouded by their feelings to see the situation clearly, just automatically. And perhaps sometimes, in some contexts, this can be true! But not here. It's actually quite cut and dried that Orym's "flawed, human" perspective is the one reminding everyone of the human cost to Ludinus' grand plans, all in the name of so called "progress"

[legobiwan]

Book of Bill spoilers

I am so not over this. Especially since it can be said that of all the humans throughout history Bill tricked or tried to manipulate, the person who brought him closest to achieving his goals was Stanford Pines.

Look, I love Ford. I really love Ford. I can empathize with a lot of his character.

He came so close to becoming an outright villain. A Bill-Two, so to speak. Even in his notes "warning" the reader about Bill's book, there's this undercurrent of wistfulness that I don't think Ford will ever truly shake. The man is wildly complicated and his moral compass is far more of a roulette wheel than his brother's, despite Stan's extensive criminal record.

Bill's description of him is fascinating.

"Ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak."

Bill looked through Ford's possible futures and giggled. It's safe to say that in more than one of those futures, Ford willingly helped bring along the apocalypse. Maybe the majority of those futures. (Remember what he said about Dipper and Mabel? Granted, Bill lies, but when it comes to Ford and his potential, that's one topic I don't think Bill is bullshitting).

Ford is not always a good person. He's a wildly complicated person and one of the things I would love to explore is that lingering potential for evil that I think Ford has to actively fight. There's an essay in here somewhere about Ford's predilection for being the bad guy - a literal villain - and contrasting it with Stan's outright and obvious criminality.

Like I said, I love Ford but oh wow. Between this and Journal 3, me thinks Ford and Stan are going to be having a lot of late-night conversations in the Arctic.

And that's not even getting into the insidious and malicious nature of Ford and Bill's toxic obsession with one another.

[liulith]

We as a fandom need to open our hearts to the insane comedic potential of Sir Pentious being included as a background character in stories taking place in the "old days" before Vox and Alastor's falling out. AND the comedic potential of one-sided Sir Pentious -> Vox.

Why?

Canon!Sir Pentious is attached to his era's aesthetics but he also wants to be "hip and cool" (see pilot episode; Sir Pentious as the how do you do fellow kids meme) and join the "Almighty Vees". When did he start wanting that? He's not a media demon trying to keep up with his audience and be a likeable public figure. He's a mechanic trying to conquer Hell by force thanks to his machines and obviously relishes in acting like a villain (fear me! I'm so evil! I'm the architect of destruction! etc. etc).

This is very different from the Vees' approach - maintaining a perfect public image, insidious manipulation tactics... Vox threatens Alastor in the show, but the Vees clearly haven't built their power through turf wars, which is and has always been Pentious' one and only strategy. All the machines we've seen him make are war weapons (+ the Egg Boyz who do his bidding, and help him operate those very weapons). Voxtek probably sells weaponry too but that is more Camilla's domain, so it would be more logical for Pentious to try and join her.

Pentious' and the Vees agenda and interests aren't aligned, so why is Pentious so desperate to join the Vees?

there are many reasons why Pentious could want to be part of the Vees besides the one I'm gonna talk about but you know what MY agenda is:

Vox is Pentious' idol. Pentious is an inventor, an innovator. He would have loved waking up in Hell with a mechanical body he can upgrade however he wants and finds the whole concept fascinating.

He's not against new technology, as his creations clearly go beyond what people could have had invented in his time despite their "steampunk" aesthetic (see: the effing death ray). So I think his current "limitations" are more a matter of him having to stick with what he knows best because it's hard to keep up with the constant stream of new tech. This is why he's more than impressed with Vox's extraordinary ability to adapt to change and master new technologies again and again. He's a fellow innovator! That's one reason for Pentious to be obsessed with the guy.

And if you think obsessed isn't the right word, think about this: Sir Pentious repeatedly challenges Alastor to fights even though he's clearly outmatched and it's an incredible risk to take considering what Alastor does. Pentious is OLDER than Alastor, he was there when he broadcast the most powerful Overlords' scream all over Hell. Plus, losing always leaves him in a very vulnerable position (without his best weapons). Is it madness? Hubris? An obsession for Alastor? No!

Sir Pentious to Alastor: Silence! Now Cower! For when I've slain you, the Almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me!

Sir Pentious thinks defeating Alastor is the only way the Vees will finally acknowledge him. No matter how dangerous it is, he has to try, for the Vees (Vox). Just like he took the risk of angering the Princess of Hell to get in Vox's good graces. This says a lot, for someone as paranoid as him, who doesn't trust anyone who is "too nice" to him.

If Hazbin had more episodes there should have been one about Pentious struggling with the fact he disappointed his idol and told to KHS 👀

(btw this is old news but we know that one of the Hazbin episodes that Viv originally pitched was about a science contest organized by Voxtek in which Pentious and Baxter competed against each other! Pentious could have done that after ep2!)

Anyway, back to the comedic potential of it all & Vox's arrival in Hell. Can you imagine his reaction as a newly fallen Sinner, when he's hanging out with Alastor (aka following him like a lost puppy?) and he meets Sir Pentious for the first time? Like sure, Hell is full of insane people but Alastor obviously has a Reputation and no one ever challenges him. And suddenly... Hm... Alastor?? There's an airship with a giant cannon pointed right as us?? Firing a DEATH RAY?!

It's also so funny to imagine Sir Pentious being obsessed with Alastor and considering him his archnemesis back in the day, only to slowly become obsessed with Vox instead and only caring about defeating Alastor because he thinks Vox will like it. It starts with Sir Pentious trying to "gather intel" on Alastor's new "ally", spying on them or sending his Egg Boyz to do so (and we already know great he is at spying so you can guess how that goes lol), and the rest is history.

Alastor loves attention so he probably let Pentious spy on him behind bushes from time to time if only because it's very entertaining to watch him try to be discrete and make his shadow tap on his shoulder. How hilarious would it be if Alastor noticed Sir Pentious' growing crush on Vox but not Vox's crush on him? Also, Vox misunderstanding Pentious and Alastor's relationship and thinking Pentious is a weird obsessive ex... The world is a stage and the stage is a world of entertainment!

[mew-cake]

One of the best moments in Chainsaw Man is Denji touching Power’s boobs. He genuinely believes that all his dreams will come true if he can touch a girl’s boobs because that’s what he thought would make him happy. What he grew up believing would make him happy. But it wasn’t.

What he wants isn’t to touch a girl’s chest. What he wants is intimacy with other person. He wants a genuine human connection, which is something he’s never really had.

Which is what makes Makima’s manipulation all the more insidious. She knows he wants a close relationship with another person, and she uses that to control him. The way Makima explains intimacy with another person isn’t wrong. In fact, I think it’s one of the best explanations of sexual relationships in media. That kind of stuff only means anything if it’s with someone you actually care about. The fact she’s right makes the manipulation even worse!

God this series is so good.

[valtsv]

i would love to hear more of your thoughts on michael shelley!!! 🌀🚪✨

you're in luck because i've sat on thoughts about him for years and i finally feel like i can articulate them. because michael shelley is such a well written case of tragic horror in the horror tragedy podcast. and, despite my criticisms of season 5, it really did do an excellent job in concluding his character arc with the gertrude backstory episode. in a podcast where a common in-universe theme is that knowledge, and the pursuit of knowledge, is dangerous, michael is a subversion in that his ignorance of the horrors of the world he lived in not only didn't save him, but was intentionally engineered to make him vulnerable to exploitation and harm (which, on a broader scope, emphasises the futility of the world of the magnus archives - regardless of whether you participate in or turn a blind eye to the systems at play, involved or uninvolved, you are not safe).

furthermore, i really appreciate the subversion of traditional tropes of the sacrifice as a typically female figure taken advantage of by a male father, brother, or lover, whose tragic and horrible death is used to motivate him (whether to greatness or self-destruction), with michael being a son sacrificed by his mother (or grandmother) figure, who never actually loved him and whose 'frail' and 'nurturing' qualities were weaponised incompetence used to gaslight and manipulate him - and who continues to operate successfully (at least in terms of what can be said to be 'success' in a world like the magnus archives) without being haunted by any apparent doubt about the decision she made, or any hesitation to use others in similar ways, following this betrayal. which makes the fact that he's sewn into the fabric of a being that represents lies in their most insidious form, used as a weapon to devour people and destroy their lives, all the more abhorrent in hindsight - he is forced to not only relive his trauma in an endless loop (or spiral, if you will), but to become the mechanism which enables it. michael is taken to the edge of something evil (at least from a human perspective), and pushed over the threshold with no hope of recourse. there's almost a reverse orphic quality to it - he descends into terrifying other world, one which exists side-by-side with but fundamentally seperate from his own, against his will, and looking back will only cause him pain as he's assaulted by memories of a life he will never be able to reach.

i think a lot of people forget to look past the surface with michael, despite there being an entire episode dedicated to doing so. which is understandable, he's a very outwardly expressive character - but this is intentional obfuscation to hide an incredibly damaged victim whose hatred of this part of himself is integral to his entire reason for being, and which the rejection of causes him to be unmade, incapable of existing as this contradictory nightmare any longer. it's a mercy killing, and yet it is violent and painful, because michael cannot and should not exist, and excising that graft used to muzzle the distortion is as agonising as latching it into place was in the first place. when michael-the-distortion says about michael shelley "he was born. he was pointless. and he should have died." there is an implicit longing there, a rage at the way he was used, his decisions made for him and used to imprison something else instead of ever being allowed to exercise any measure of free will. because michael shelley probably would have died for the archivist, given the opportunity, but he never got the choice.