#makes no sense AT ALL since she didn’t do it in Cult

[galeorderbride]

Forgiving the Flame for a Burn - Zevlor x F!Tav Fic Request

An angst/comfort/smut piece for @evocationwriter. Thank you so much for asking me to do this piece, I adore you! Xx

This is SMUT (tags/details below)

18+ MDNI

Summary:

One year after the defeat of the Elder Brain, Tav is trying to settle into daily life. But being a hero means the making of enemies, and Tav ends up on the wrong side of the city, with the wrong kinds of people.

That is, until a charming, former Hellrider steps in, saving her from the worst and taking her into his home for the night.

Tags: angst, comfort, smut. Unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), light orgasm denial, tail play, tiefling anatomy (infernal ridges, forked tongue), religious language used; some detailed depictions of a violent attack (beating to be specific)

Word count: 5k

Zevlor x F!Tav

No one talks about the end of a hero’s journey. Tav found herself thinking of that often, ever since the Elder Brain fell by the hand of her and her companions. Subjects of bard’s songs and children’s puppet performances, all of them bending to the whim of ‘thank yous’ and questions about adventures. All of them fading over time into nothing. People moved on, they had to, of course. Rebuilding homes, restarting businesses, schools and cleaning up parks. Life went on, and the looks of admiration as she’d wander the streets dissolved.

Needless to say, that wasn’t all bad. Walking around the city gave her a sense of anonymity she’d missed in the year since the brain’s defeat. While she had fond memories of children asking for autographs and telling tales at the Elfsong to curious attendees, the harassment and threats from those who felt nostalgia for the cult of the Absolute soured the experience. Every time she’d think about it, memories of Stone Lord exiles and concealed Banites taunting her with torture fled to mind.

Now, she could relax. Bask in the beauty of city living with no one to bother her (other than letters from her companions and comrades, which always excited her). Evening slowly began to fall, a wondrous sunset disembarking for the night as shopkeepers lit sconces outside their doors and brought in their signs. Fishmongers and tradesmen met in the streets to coalesce at either the Blushing Mermaid or the Elfsong. Parents corralled their children to follow them home after a day at the markets. Tav walked among them, smiling at the peace of normality she’d never forget again.

On nights like this one, Tav would look up above the Elfsong and see Alfira strumming her lute on the balcony. By now, she’d been giving lessons to children at her very own music studio for the last three or four months. Even then, she’d still go up to that rooftop and sing her heart out. Tav felt remorse every time she gazed upon the dazzling tiefling, guilt in her heart that, rather than enjoy the music, her soul yearned for the presence of a different tiefling entirely.

A year since she saw Zevlor at the final battle. A year since she’d discovered he survived. A year—and not a single letter. Everyone else reached out to her but him. In the weeks following, she wracked her brain for anything she might’ve said wrong. Any word that could be taken as an insult. Only he knew, and that would be just so forever.

She ignored the chest aches now, and the tingling in her abdomen that sometimes made her knees shake. Hoping one day they’d fade away like her fame. One outlived the other.

Was he even in Baldur’s Gate anymore?

Clearing her throat, she kept walking. Straightening her shoulders. New bottles of dye clinked against each other in her basket, held close to her stomach. In her daydream, the clock tower struck nine, startling her as she realized she’d been standing there for too long.

“Shit,” she whispered under her breath, forced to face her newfound fear of walking alone outside ever since anonymous former cultists began to harass her. She chastised herself for going today, irritated that she didn’t just wait until tomorrow morning.

Sticking to the main road, Tav hurried her step through the emptying streets. The end of a tenday, people looking for a rowdy night out were trickling into every space they could get drunk. Irrationality kicked in, everyone became an enemy, and no one had even noticed her yet. She repeated in her mind: Tav, get yourself together, you fought an elder brain. You can take anything a mere civilian can hit you with. Just walk.

Halfway home, things were normal. Everyone ignored her, and she felt her shoulders begin to calm as she neared her destination. The sky grew dark, only the light of the crescent moon peering behind the overcast lit her way. Little droplets of rain began to dot her face, she lifted her cape hood for shelter. Right as heavy footsteps trailed behind. The jungle of buckled boots and a person at least twice her size, she could discern that without even looking.

“The hero of Baldur’s Gate! Walking about these parts alone at night. Guess you don’t need brains to be a saviour, huh?” The voice behind her said. A man with a gravelly voice, slurred with drunkenness and malice.

Tav tried to ignore him, swallowing her fear as she kept walking at a brisk stride. One or two minutes and she’d be home. Counting the seconds, in tandem with the footsteps continuing to pursue her. Now in a quiet street, no one was around to help or witness whatever the man behind her had planned.

“Don’t run off so quick, sweet one! Sing me one of those ballads made about you! Bet it’ll sound sweet gurgling out of your throat when I cut it!” He chided, a growl so feral within him she could mistake him for a wild animal.

Another voice poked through an alleyway she passed, another men bumping her with his shoulder, rough enough to send her steps back against a wall. He said, “Father will love this at his temple doorstep, brother.”

Bhaalists. She should’ve known the ones to keep pestering her after all this time would be them. Likely a worse nightmare than anyone else, given their propensity for insane, maniacal violence. Were they even drunk? Or was that a farce to blend in with the city?

“Leave me be! I’ve killed more than you for less,” she said, sucking in her frightened breath.

Both of them cornered her, trudging towards her and beginning to push her around between the two. Smaller than both of them, she struggled to fight back as her basket of dyes shattered to the ground. Catching them off guard just quick enough for her to throw a punch in the face of one. He fell back, grunting in pain as the other smacked Tav against the brick wall. A sharp ache ran across her spine, the wind knocked out of her to completion when the one she punched slammed his fist into her stomach.

Gasping for breath, they let her collapse to the ground. Holding her abdomen tight, the roof of her mouth dryer than sand. Catching impossible air as the two paced around her, predators toying with their prey. That hit to her stomach so hard that she couldn’t find the strength to get up let alone fight back. Gods, was she really done in so quickly? Had she softened so much in just a year?

Most of the time, they were four at least. Now, she was one. And defeated in a matter of minutes. Dye stained her clothing as she twitched around the ground, feeling a harsh sting of hands clawing at her hair, pulling her back.

“Not so heroic now, are you?” The one that held her hair teased, giggles oozing with evil.

“Enough dawdling,” said the other, sheathing out a sharp, shining knife. “Tie her up to take her to the temple.”

Right when they began to tie the rope around her, a swing of a longsword sliced across one’s throat. Tav didn’t see all of it, still reeling from the punch. But the second one began to fight against her rescuer. Behind her writhing body, the sound of punching, stabbing and armour sliding against leather permeated the air.

And then nothing. Quiet air mixing with laboured breath, a few growling sighs to follow. Ones she recognized after a few seconds. A calming but assertive tone that used to excite her beyond belief.

“Z—,” she tried to say his name, but coughed instead. Recovering from the punch to the gut, breathless all the same.

Warm arms wrapped around her, lifted into an embrace healing her in seconds. Heat coursing within each injured vein, the tender flesh of a tiefling’s hold. Her head hung back against his arm, aching stomach muscles jolting. But the rest of her soul eased with the shelter of safety, letting him take her wherever he deemed right.

It could’ve been minutes. Or hours. Awakening in a soft bed covered in thick furs and clean sheets. Glowing candlelight against stone walls and the blurry flame of a burning fireplace. Sparks flew across the mantle as a broad shouldered, tailed man threw another log in. Trickling liquid poured from a clay pot, steaming scents of green tea and lemon soothing her into full awareness. No more pain, other than a small ache in her abdomen. For a second, she wondered if she’d died.

Tav shifted on the mattress, wincing from her sore muscles. At the corner of her eye were her dye-soaked clothes, hanging to dry after being washed. Bare arms and legs slid around the linen fabric of her ivory slip. Hair swept back from her face in a loose, well done braid.

“Am I dead?” She whispered, groaning out remnants of her voice as if she’d forgotten she had one.

The man turned from the fireplace, rushing to the bedside. Seating himself on the stool directly next to her, she could clearly make out the weathered, handsome features of Zevlor. Pouring tea like an old friend, not someone who’d been silent for a year.

“Not dead, Tav. You can’t imagine how glad I am that you’re awake. After those mongrels attacked you…I feared the worst,” he said, handing her the small cup as she sat up. Zevlor outstretched his hand as she winced, but pulled back before he could touch her.

Her eyes closed with the peace of green tea on the tongue. Pushing away the thoughts of the attack, burdened by yet another memory of pain. She chose another route, “You saved me. I don’t know how you found me but thank you, I owe you for such a gesture.”

With a cordial nod of a soldier, he said, “Think nothing of it. I—well, it’s a long story but I’ve made a living through private security. I was coming home from a job when I saw you in the street. Found you just in time before you slipped into that alleyway.”

She cupped the mug in her hands, resting on her cross-legged lap. A skipped beat of her heart went aflutter when she caught Zevlor’s eyes linger over her bare legs, and back to her face in a split second.

“I didn’t even know you were in the city,” she said, “It’s been so long since we’ve talked.”

Zevlor shifted, eyes darting away from her to every other corner of the room. The place was small, fit for a single man who didn’t want for much. Exactly him, melding in with the space as he paced around with his arms crossed. Keeping his distance as he always did even when they had fought together, even after the celebration…

“Certainly, I owe you an apology for that. There is still much agony in going into it but—I was in a bad way after the final battle. An injury of the mind, if you will. Times were hard, too hard to reach out to you with any confidence,” he explained.

“I expected no less, after all that happened. Only that, well I thought we’d become close. That maybe you’d find some peace through my support. But,” she trailed off as her hands shook, shock of what happened to her still dominant over her, “seems you supported me.”

Her feet hit the cold floor, trying to stand up while wobbling about. Just as her hips moved off the mattress, she stumbled downward. Zevlor strode over, hooking his arms around her, lifting her back onto the bed. In her panic, she clutched him without mercy. Holding him so close to her that he fell forward, knees landing on the bed as she lay under him. Hovering over her, he saw the quick rise and fall of her chest, struggling to properly exhale. Bringing him back to their moment alone at the Grove celebration, when he comforted her, held her as she wrestled with the fear she had to hide for her companion’s sakes. Here he was again, taking one, brave move to slide the strap of her slip back onto her shoulder.

“Zevlor…please don’t leave,” she said as she felt him move away, feeling his heart shred at the discomfort of being so close. No matter how much he craved it. Craved her.

He sighed, “You’re terrified, shocked from what happened. I don’t want to get in your way and make things worse.”

As he pulled away, she stabilized her tremored hand by grasping his wrist, “You haven’t made things worse. Remember when you sat with me at the party? When I confessed to you how afraid I was of everything? You helped me so much back then, how could now be any different?”

Zevlor faced away, staring into the firelight as Tav waited. He could not retreat from the visions of their last meeting. How she cried to him, and told him she felt safe in the comfort of his arms. Sitting in a grassy, humid corner away from the rest of the guests. Sheltered by fern leaves and flowers, he let her talk and talk about all that troubled her. Felt so touched by her vulnerability that he shared his own worries too. Two of them, absorbed in isolating fear and finding each other in the dark. Hands wandering around with each kind word, and then the arousing jolt of remembering her naked flesh against his. Tail wrapped around her ankle while they made love under the plant covered moonlight. So beautiful under him, sensations he never thought he’d experience again.

He thought of making her his again so many times after. But in between then and now, he kept failing. Falling into disorder and defeat. People dying for his mistakes. Who would want someone like that? A man so past his prime he verged on cowardice, next to the hero of Baldur’s Gate. How could that ever make sense?

“Both of us were vulnerable at that time. You’re recovering from an attack, and…well, I know you appreciate honesty. My body is so excited from the fight, and from seeing you again, that if I get close enough I might take you here and now. Even though I’d come to regret being so forceful,” he explained.

Hot shame filled every corner of his face just for saying it. Avoiding her gaze even as she took deep breaths, standing from the bed again. This time, with success. Still slow, but steady in each step closer to Zevlor by the fireplace.

“You were always so hesitant about what you wanted,” Tav said, close behind him. The glow of the fire warmed one side of her exposed arms, fingers tickling against the fabric of his cotton shirt. Brushing the tip of her nose against his spine, taking in the scent of brimstone and pine. Her strength regained with each graze of her palm against him, light and teasing.

“I venture to deserve the things I want first,” he said, head down towards the flame. Closing his eyes to the feeling of Tav’s hand sliding from the back of his arm to the top of his hand. Rested on the mantle as she gave a gentle squeeze.

“Isn’t that up to me to decide?” She asked, taking the strap he once adjusted in place and pulling it down again. “You saved my life today. And I missed you terribly, Zevlor.”

Hand in hand, she turned him to face her. Tall and soldierly in front of her, head craning up to face him in all his glory. Fire crackled before them, leading her hand guiding his to her waist. His nails craved to dig into her skin, pull her close and never let go. She tiptoed into his embrace, other arm around her back, forming a gentle, passionate hug. Feeling her skin against his again, he was happy to die that moment.

“Are you sure this is what you want tonight? It was not my intention when I took you in to do this,” he said, wondering if she heard a word he said. She pushed their faces closer, lips hovering around each other. Temptation already too difficult bear as his mouth opened to bite into her supple flesh, but stopped short. “I won’t be able to control myself if you allow me this.”

Tav’s cool breath danced along his tongue, a full body desire to sob over how much she wanted him. To do what they did last time and pretend the world didn’t exist.

“You make me feel safe, Zevlor. I’ve been on my guard ever since we parted. Do you know how wonderful it feels to just…relax? Please, I want you near me. Inside me all night. Just like at the Grove. Hold me, Zevlor,” Tav said, her voice a crescendo of emotion from whisper to yelp.

Words weren’t enough, he had to be shown. Tav ruminated that very idea ever since they last parted. How a commander of a group like the Hellriders could end up so unsure of himself. Maybe he wasn’t always like that, but he was now. And she wasn’t inclined to change a thing. She laced her fingers under the straps of her slip, letting the fabric slowly waterfall off her body. In the wake of her naked form before him, she swore she could hear his beating heart. Rapid and fiery like the burning glimmer of the room.

“Can you promise me one thing?” He asked, hands pressed against her cheeks, lifting her eyes up to him. Round and ablaze with desire, warm and cool at the same time.

“Anything,” she whispered.

“Do not leave in the morning,” he said.

“I’ll never leave if that’s what you require.”

It was a kiss like never before. A whirlwind heart attack imploding between the two of them. Zevlor’s soul rose out of his body, taken over by the beckoning ache of her open mouth, welcoming his forked tongue. Tav melted into him, relishing in the hot pleasure of pressing her bare body against his clothed one. She clawed at his belt, longing for the image of his warrior frame above her. Scarred and toned by years of combat. Tail swivelling back and forth, a supplicant tying around her supple thigh.

Their voices hummed into each other, a hymn of blossoming want. Walking in tandem to the bed as Zevlor climbed over her, shuddering at the pleasure of pushing between her legs. He sat up on his knees, stretching his flexed back muscles as he pulled off his cotton shirt. A tingling sensation spread between Tav’s legs, cool air biting at her wet, sensitive core. She couldn’t resist the urge to run her hands across his torso, savouring every scar and mark, repeating her movements when he’d moan. His belt jingled below, unclasped as the imprint of a large erection outlined his pants. He was an impressive man…everywhere.

“Pull them down slowly, I want to see,” Tav ordered, voice dark and wistful with lust.

“At your command, my beautiful goddess,” he said, a low growl vibrating from the back of his throat. Taking slow, painful time in pulling down his trousers. Tav bit her lip, the excitement almost too much. A little tuft of pubic hair opened the door to a long, thick shaft, bouncing against Zevlor’s stomach when it finally broke free. Her mouth watered, licking up the collection of desperate saliva at the top corner of her lip.

Her heart fluttered, body hot and assured unlike before. That was the spell Zevlor had her under since they’d met. Empowering her just from being close, reminding her of the strength she still had. Not a thing of the past, but something to be embraced. And now, she had a chance to stay with him for more than a night. Protect each other, and revel in their primal need to be attached.

Discarding his pants with the rest of his clothes, Zevlor lowered, kissing between her bare breasts and down to her stomach. Heartfelt, exciting tickles made her giggle with a flirtatious ring. Shivering at the scratches his nails left in their stead. Relaxing every nerve within as she lay in his embrace, letting him take the lead. She hoped he’d always give her a chance to let go this way, think about nothing other than the pleasure he’d cover her in.

Between peppered kisses and flicks of his tongue along her stomach, he whispered, “You’re mine, I’ve wanted you to be since the moment I saw you. I’ll protect you, keep you safe. Come here.”

With untold force, Zevlor swung Tav’s legs onto his shoulders, capturing her cunt in his mouth. Jolts of ecstasy wet and savoured with each slide of his tongue across her clit. Sucking, licking, moaning into her without any attempt to catch his breath. Driven each time he tasted more of her essence. Unbridled to the point where she had to hold his horns to keep balance. The temperature of his hellfire skin stimulated her even more, muscles tightening with every weakened, whimpering moan that escaped her. Assertive, but slow, gentle even as he became primal against her. Letting the rhythm take her exactly where she needed to be.

Tav’s moans fluttered like butterflies, one hand clutching his horn and the other falling over her eyes, focusing on the chase of that wonderful high. Vampiric biting down of her lip, containing her innate need to be even louder. There would be time for that. Tonight, she wanted to sink into him, fall into a calming, warm pool of passionate affection. Enjoy the sensation of his body becoming a vessel for her pleasure, moving his tongue in just the way she liked.

Between tiny gasps, Tav said, “Zevlor…you’re going to make me cum. Please don’t stop…please.”

He didn’t reply, too focused on slurping up every trickle of sex that dripped out of her. He simply moaned, muffled by the soft grind of her pussy against his face. Building up to a climax that bloomed throughout her body, arching her back as she rode out an orgasm she had no idea she craved so deeply until it happened. He’d refuse to let her stop a second early, continuing to circle his tongue around her clit until she shook with sensitivity.

She melted into the bed, a thin veneer of sweat combining with the dripping warmth between her legs as Zevlor took his mouth off. Positively beautiful over her, muscular back bent in a perfect curve when he began to suckle and kiss around her neck and collarbone. Travelling downward in a desperate need to cover every inch. Landing with satisfaction on her nipples, laughing for the first time in years, lost in the joy of her.

Zevlor stopped for a moment, lifting his head to face her below him. Tranquil and drunk with sinful pleasure, cheeks filled with rosy blush and eyes glazed over. Arms splayed out like the wings of a celestial Aasimar. He loathed the past, for so many reasons, but mostly because she wasn’t there with him. In her infinite beauty, a plush and wanton solace before him. How did he ever stomach being away from her since they’d met?

“I’m sorry for leaving you after that night. Forgive me?” He asked.

Tav laughed, spellbound to the point of forgetting she was ever upset. As if he’d never left. She said, “You may need to convince me a little more, hellrider.”

Something switched off within him, a zealous need to have her succumb to him. Forgive him for his misgivings. Praying to a new goddess and asking for redemption. Offering himself to her by inching his cock deep inside her, feeling the pull of her soft walls lock him in. Driven to eternal admiration from the sound of her shocked, euphoric moan, submitting to the stretch of him. An addictive sting, exposed to every synapse erupting within her sensitive, yearning cunt. She bit her bottom lip with a smile, shivering at the comforting wrap of his tail around her waist to keep her in place. No escaping the loving, dominant thrust of his hips deep into her.

“Forgive me,” he said, “Forgive me. Forgive me!” A passionate, hard thrust into her pussy each time he said it.

The might of him rendered her eyes at the back of her head, nearly unable to reply as he begged for her forgiveness. Her slick smacking against his pubic bone, gushing onto his cock in a lustful mess of an orgasm begging to come back. Tav snaked her arms across Zevlor’s shoulders for dear life, brought to the edge with his heavy grunts in her ear. She tightened around him, rocking back and forth on the bed, closer and closer to release.

He felt the contracting of her around him, unfulfilled by her silence on forgiveness. Just as she was about to finish, he pulled out of her, smacking the tip of his cock against her clit repeatedly. Listening to her whine and whimper, threatening tears. Then, before she knew it, he thrusted back in, hard and unmerciful. Pulling out again, repeating that pattern.

“Have I earned your forgiveness? Or shall I deny you until you use your words all night? Tell me, am I absolved, goddess?” He growled, voice husky and feral, the militant part of him revealing just enough of itself to command her to his whim.

By the fourth thrust and pull, she wailed, “Yes, gods above, I forgive you! There’s nothing to forgive, just make love to me!”

He pushed inside her fully, smashing his lips against hers at the same time. Holding her hips in line to use his infernal ridges as friction against her swollen clit. Locking his hand into hers, supported above her head while he thrusted and thrusted with reckless abandon. Both of them grunting in tandem, overcome with delayed pleasure. Tav found her footing quickly, edged so deliciously that her orgasm ripped through her with little effort, squeezing onto his cock. Her nails dug into his knuckles, mouth hanging open in awe over the intensity of her second climax.

Pulling from the kiss, he struggled against his own release. Mourning for the eventual time when he’d have to leave her cunt. Comfortable, warm and wet, a shelter from all harm. He couldn’t stand it yet, and used his tail around her waist to flip her onto her side, like fresh sand in the palm of his hand.

“Let me lie next to you,” he said, moving his body in a spoon position, chest pressed against her back, “I want to cum with you in my arms.”

Tav mustered a whisper thin ‘please’ under her breath, running her hands through his hair as he snuggled in behind her. The curve of her spine angled just right for him to sheathe himself inside her once more. Pumping slowly this time, arms and tail curled across her body like ivy against an ancient wall. Kissing the side of her neck, an endless waterfall of tenderness mixed with the possessive thrust of his cock. She was completely enveloped, safe and sound in his embrace, floating in the paradise he gave her.

“You’re with me, now. Right here, safe. Does that feel good? Am I pleasing you, goddess? Might I cum inside you?” He whispered in her ear, low and gruff. Intense bravado oozing from every part.

She was awash with sensual energy, captivated by him just like the first time. Although that was much quieter, fearing someone might hear them. Now, she felt as if they were sharing a home. In the privacy of their own dwelling, even if that was a fantasy.

“Oh, yes, you are perfect. I want your everything, Zevlor. Please, give me everything,” she replied, taking care to run her tongue up and down his bottom lip before she pushed them into a wet, feverish kiss. Flicking her tongue against his teeth, relishing in the sharp edge.

Their mouths were open to each other when he felt the stirrings of his climax. Languishing movements lost rhythm as he climbed ever forward into that much desired sensation. Possessed by the supple flesh of her lips and everything else. Hips, breasts, stomach, ass, everything. Falling into her deep, insane at the ache of his cock inside her. He breathed out a hard, rapturous moan before he let himself spill, soaking her cunt with the cum that twitched out of him. Dribbling out of the side as she lay before him with a wide, calm smile. Their muscles relaxed together, fusing into the bed.

Tav shivered, the slide of his cock pulling out sending a shock in her spine. Imbued with comfort immediately as Zevlor pulled a thin sheet over her. Tucking her into the blankets and the warm hold of him. Snuggling tight into her, yearning to find a way to fuse his body with hers. Kissing the top of her head, lingering to take in her scent.

“You did not smell of rosemary when we last saw each other,” he said, “That’s always been a favourite of mine. Rosemary.”

Tav grinned, turning to face him. A much needed distraction to keep her heavy eyelids from shutting for the night. To see him once more, maybe twice. Absorb all she missed in the year past. His handsome, aged face glowing under firelight. Sandy hair, messy and dotted with sweat. Strong hands stuck tight to her hips. All she imagined came to life.

Zevlor held her hand, kissing each knuckle, down to the bottom of her palm. A touch so ethereal, he could have been giving healing magic. Rescuing her both outside and in, cleansing her soul of all evil and wrongdoing endured before.

“We’ll replenish your lost supplies tomorrow,” he said, her hand close to his face, “If you’ll allow me to accompany you?”

She smiled, containing its ever widening stretch. “Well, we do have a great deal to catch up on.”

[rainrot4me]

Whispers In The Trees

Summary: Prepped your whole life to complete a ritual to hand yourself over to a monster, you demand the reason why. When he gives you the answers, he demands your body.

Characters: Slenderman x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Big size difference, rituals, tentacles, gagging, choking, suffocation, eating out, Slender has a big tongue, vaginal, tip fucking, forcing, blood, clawing

Words: 5.2k

The curse of Slenderman had been in your family for generations.

Since you were little, this curse-like entity crept on your kin and ruled their lives. Demanding sacrifices and obedience every decade; deeming itself a God over you. 

So as you trekked through the dense moonlit woods, you clutched the wicker basket so hard in your hands that it nearly cracked. You tried to think of your mother and her sisters, and her mother and her sisters, who have gone through this same ritual like generations before. The fog was dense all around you, the small flashlight in your hand doing little to breach the thick blanket. 

The nature around you was quiet, a dull whisper of insects and animals as you trudged through the underbrush and thick roots. You knew this path, having walked it often when you were little to help your mother and sisters prepare for their turns, their time to appease the creature. You didn’t understand then, but now that you were dressed in thin white robes and bare feet, reality quickly faced you. In other circumstances, the outfit wouldn’t be bad, a nice Halloween costume of some cute cult girl from Midsommar maybe. But as you neared the familiar clearing past the trees, you didn’t find the idea of being a sacrifice funny anymore. 

Standing just at the edge of the treeline, you took a deep breath, limbs shaking against the cold and fear that ran through you. It was late summer, well past midnight, and the night air brushed against your flushed cheeks leaving goosebumps. Closing your eyes, you stepped forward, leaving the dense forest behind you. 

A sense of dread immediately engulfed you. The fog suddenly fizzled out on the ground like it wasn’t just blinding you. The air was silent, not a bug or animal to be heard no matter how hard you listened. And the breeze just stopped. It was like the whole forest was afraid to move into this clearing, hugging close to the treeline curiously but daring no further. But you had to, no matter how badly you wanted to turn and run back home to the safe arms of your family. To keep the vengeful creature at bay, this was the price that must be met. Every ten years, you watched as another woman from your family disappeared for a night late in the summer, silently praying that she would make it home in the morning. They always did, but the haunting look that followed them shook you to your core. 

Reaching the center of the clearing, a dead spot in the grass was etched in a circular shape, the familiar pattern laid before you. Lying down your basket, you flicked off your flashlight, the moon illuminating a milky blue hue into the clearing bright enough for you to see. You shuddered, the silence creeping into your mind and making you look around quickly, paranoia gripping you. You huffed, rummaging through the items in the large basket and laying the contents out, preparing for the exhausting ritual. Your mother had taught you, every step perfect as she walked you through the routine. The symbol, the candles, even the perfect way to position yourself. It was like an art form for her as she taught you and your sisters.

Unwrapping the large bag of salt you packed, you began to follow the outline in the grass, pouring as you walked slowly. The symbol was forming nicely, a large circle with an x etched through it, the symbol of Slenderman, bore by anything he owned. As you closed the symbol, your heart pounded, the next steps coming quickly as you could feel the forest beyond the treeline begin to stir, its curiosity pressing. Setting candles along the salt, you spaced them evenly, lighting them as you went. It wasn’t nearly as perfect as your mother would have done it, but your shaking hands restrained you slightly, giving you little reason to care.

The candles flickered against the night, the warm glow surrounding you as you studied your work, praying desperately that it was good enough. You felt an impatience in the air, quickly cleaning up the rest of your items into the basket before sighing, and closing your eyes tightly. This was the part you dreaded. The part your family was reluctant to tell you when your time eventually came around. You hooked your hands under the hem of your white robe, the thin fabric almost see-through as you tugged it over your head, your bare body flush against the cold air. Your nipples had already perked, your nervousness making you squirm into yourself as you folded your robe neatly and laid it in the basket, turning back to the salt symbol. Breathing deep, your hands shook, goosebumps running all over your body. You took a step in, careful not to disturb the salt as you kneeled in the middle of the x, tucking your feet under yourself and straightening your back, placing your palms flat against the top of your thighs.

The salt was meant to protect you, a barrier that Slenderman couldn’t break. You were supposed to come out willingly, offering yourself to him without force. Was it for trust or some sadistic attempt at manipulation, you didn’t know. But as you breathed deep, you stared into the dark corners of the forest, eyes flicking nervously and watching for any signs of movement that you knew would come. You had only heard of Slenderman’s appearance, never seeing it besides what your family could recount. Terrifying, was the word they all used. It didn’t help as your heart pounded, the thudding echoing in your ears as you prayed he would never come. But it gave you a good time to reflect.

The specific reason why your family was enslaved to this creature was unsure, tracing back generations and lost with time. But like any of Slenderman’s victims, who's to say exactly why he did anything except for his own gain? 

As you caught yourself zoned out in thought, you were quickly snapped back when you heard the rustling of leaves yards ahead of you. Your eyes snapped wide, back straightening quickly as your tits perked, your naked body on display amongst the candles and decor. You studied the shadows carefully, watching for any sudden movements, your pulse quick. But finally, slinking from the shadows, the lanky creature emerged. The sheer height of him made your heart sink, his bony limbs long and awkward. If it wasn’t for his movement, he could easily blend in with the tall trees surrounding him, making you suspicious of just how long he had been watching concealed by the dense forest. Your nails gripped into your thighs, teeth gritted as you tried to hold down your tears. His presence is overwhelming and otherworldly, defying the logic and rationality you’ve always relied on. The air around you seems to distort, amplifying the surreal nature of his presence until it feels like you can’t breathe. He was closer now, it barely even seemed like he had walked but more like appeared before you, only a few yards away from the circle protecting you. However, the worst part about the encounter was the lack of a face. It was like someone had pressed a sheet against his face, features protruding against the pale skin but offering no obvious facial structure. It was purely terrifying, this creature far beyond what you could’ve imagined.

His dark suit contrasted against his terrifying appearance, his buttoned coat and tie making you knit your brows, your unease only growing. Slenderman just stared, his vacant eyes absently staring down at you. His faceless visage and elongated limbs exuded an unsettling yet compelling magnetism that you found yourself drawn to, eyes refusing to look away as you studied him. Finally catching yourself, you looked down at your hands quickly, cursing yourself for being so disrespectful. “Slenderman, sir.” You mumbled respectfully, keeping your body at attention even though embarrassment wrecked you internally. “I come, as my kin does, to offer myself to you. To fulfill our obligations to you. And to-” 

The speech you had so delicately rehearsed was cut short by a low grumble, the echo of the tall figure’s voice cutting you short.

“I hate to interrupt,” His voice was smooth, every word laced with the undertone of a darker grumble, like two voices were speaking at once, overlapping each other. “But hearing this same dedication every time I meet with one of you becomes rather tiring.” You sat shocked, unsure of what to do next as your careful instructions were quickly skewed. You kept your head down, eyes flicking against the grass as you carefully waited, shaky breaths the only noise between you. You felt so helpless against him, like if you made one wrong move that would be it. The only reason you weren’t screaming and running was the salt circle and the looming fact that if you did run your family would be massacred in minutes. 

“Forgive my rudeness.” He coaxed, pressing closer against the circle until you could see his black dress shoes come into the edge of your vision. You dared to look up, your eyes slightly edging up until you were staring at his face again, that odd sense of being drawn in coming over you again. Slenderman tilted his head, vacant expression examining you. “But, you and I both know what we’re here for. There is no need for formalities anymore.” You knitted your brows, embarrassment creeping up your cheeks as you remembered just how bare you were. You gripped your thighs, nervousness running through your every word. “But I thought there was a need for formalities. This being a ritual and all.” You mumbled, eyes roaming the tall figure, his long limbs clamped respectfully behind his back as he chuckled darkly. “All of this,” He motioned towards the salt circle beneath you. “This is only for aesthetics. You understand, to make the scene more appealing for us. Humans have such an odd fascination with beings like me, so to combat your fickle bravery: you created a routine. Something to take your mind off of just how terrifying encountering me may seem.” He explained calmly, his body hauntingly still as he talked, but there was barely a motion of his jaw, like the voice was coming from somewhere inside. 

You glanced at the salt circle, your efforts to make it look so nice thrown to the wayside. “So, the salt…” You glanced up, Slender nodding reassuringly. “I cannot penetrate it. Your protection is still guaranteed. However, I quite like it when you silly women step outside your protective ring and offer yourselves so willingly.” He was teasing now, his thin hands reaching around to adjust his suit before kneeling in front of you, his limbs awkwardly contorting to allow him in front of you. “But you are not like the others. I feel a very reluctant air from you. The others were a lot more… eager.” He cocked his head to the side. At this angle, you could clearly see the massive bulge beneath his dress slacks, the sheer size of the thing making your stomach twist. “I don’t find giving myself over to a cryptid demon so… appealing.” You huffed back, trying your best to conceal the dark tint against your cheeks. Slender only chuckled, the dark echo of his voice making your skin crawl. “But oh how fun it would be to show you otherwise.” He purred, tracing his pale claw against the edge of the salt, his actions impatient. You squirmed, nails digging into your thighs. 

You straightened up, your bravery low but overruled by your curiosity. “Tell me why. Why the decades of demanding our submission while we cower for the rest? Then, when I am satisfied, I will offer myself. No resistance.”  You demanded, eyes hooded as you tried to stifle your fear. Slender stood slowly, clasping his hands behind his back as he contemplated. Until he finally nodded, sighing. 

“Alright, little one, I’ll bite.” He cooed, that ominous voice seemingly coming from nowhere but everywhere simultaneously. You settled, brain running a mile a minute as your heart beat heavily in your chest. “When old cryptids and beasts still roamed rampant through the Earth, your family was desperate. It must have been more than eight generations ago now, but they sought me out, begging for my protection against the things that went bump in the night. I obliged, my only demand being an offering. I never specified, but you hormonal humans took it upon yourselves to offer your bodies. For all I cared you could have given me your leftovers, but I was more than satisfied with what I have been given.” His words were thick with this cryptic dialect, his accent unheard of. “No such creatures roam these lands, long hunted out or deceased. But your family continued to show up despite my resignation, paranoia convincing them if they didn’t I in turn would be the monster that preyed on you. But, I’m afraid I have more important things to deal with than any of you.” Finished, he leaned forward, his white face vacant, but you could tell what he wanted. 

“Then why do you still co-” 

“Ah, ah, ah. I was promised if questions were answered I would get what I came for.” He growled, the calm voice laced with a tone of demand as you scowled. He waited expectantly, his hands tapping quietly behind his back as you stood, the salt on your knees falling as you shook them off. When you looked up, you realized really just how tall he was. You stopped at his waist, your face eye level with the terrifyingly large bulge nudging against the slacks in front of you. He was tall, towering and matching the height of the trees around you. He stepped back, standing straight as he waited for you.

Breathing deep, you took a step, your foot halfway out of the circle as your heart began to race. You could just wait him out, lay here until morning. But you feared his peacefulness would turn to wrath under desperation. Clenching your fists, you stepped completely out, straining your neck to look him in the face. Slender chuckled, his demeanour instantly switching as you felt the air stir, the forest pressing in on you with such an intensity you thought you were hallucinating. It was like he was controlling the trees themselves, making their branches press in and suffocate you. With a hissing, you finally saw the reason for the sudden intensity. Several black groping tentacles shot from his back, their form close to tree branches with their edges and curvature. He seemed to control them as well, the long limbs reaching around his body and whipping at the air, stretches and tears of the odd black liquid molding into new shapes instantaneously. 

They encompassed your vision, the tentacles casting shadows across your face as they streaked across the moonlight. They slithered forward, sliding across the grass and in the air to grip onto your body. The tentacles were cool, like slimy tree branches that defied all laws of permeation. They slid around your ankles and up your calves, gripping tightly against your thighs before hooking onto your waist. They gripped your wrists, up your forearms and around your neck, tugging as they wrapped around your tits and waist. Soon you were completely secured, the tentacles curiously studying every inch of your bare skin, goosebumps rising everywhere they touched. It was electrifying, your body stiff under the chilled slime. Slender was quiet, his body just as curious as his tentacles as he relished in the way you squirmed under his touch. “So warm.” He mewled, his hands gripped tightly behind him. You shivered as the tentacles breached past your thighs, the slimy tips sliding against your folds, curiously spreading them open while you flinched. They slid further, pressing between your ass cheeks and making you hiss, the coolness sharp against your asshole. 

“Wait-” You whined, your hands straining to push the tentacles off your body but they held your wrists still. They engulfed your tits, the tips wrapping around your nipples and tugging lightly, making you whimper. Slender watched carefully, his face never letting any emotion reveal itself. “Relax, little one. You made this decision. Now let me claim what has been so graciously offered.” He grinned. The tentacles slipped between your folds, your nervousness making you clench your knees together but they held them apart easily. Slipping against your clit, you groaned, your stomach tightening as you stood. Pressing further, they probed against your entrance, tiny little tips tangling with each other to slip inside of you, your warmth contrasting with their chill. You whined, eyes slipping shut as the tentacles pressed further in, stretching you as they squirmed and whipped. You felt incredibly full, your clit throbbing against the intrusion as a single tentacle flicked against the hardened nub. 

Slender grunted, his eyes darker as he relished in the way you squirmed, your tiny noises making him strain against his slacks. “Go on, no one can hear you. Be as loud as you please.” You gasped, the tentacles in your cunt tangling together and pressing deep, stretching you wide. They began to pump inside of you, pulling out before pressing in quickly, your mouth falling open. Every inch of your body was covered in the cool slick of the tentacles, every inch sensitive as they glided along you. You felt a tug along your waist, the tentacles securing around you as they began to pull up, lifting your feet off the ground. You panicked slightly, the loss of stability unnerving as you were lifted to meet Slender’s face, your body angled back so he got a clear view of your cunt full of him. You whined, your face flushed and breathy as they trusted quickly, your slick coating the dark limbs beautifully. You found it terrifying how no expression or signs of interest flashed on Slender’s face, only the heavy breathing in his chest telling you how excited he was. Curling, you moaned loudly, throat straining as the tentacles pressed against your warm walls, squelching loudly through the quiet woods. 

You couldn’t speak, the air in your lungs restrained as the tentacles gripped your throat, choking you. Some more moved up, pressing against your cheeks and against your lips, nudging their way inside. The tentacles tasted grimy, unlike anything as they slid around your tongue, filling your mouth full of him. You choked, the tips curiously pressing down your throat, quickly following the pace of the tentacles in your throat as they began to thrust down your mouth. It didn’t help when you felt a single tentacle slide across your asshole, forcing its way inside and stretching uncomfortably. You were gasping and gagging, every inch of you overtaken by these slimy things as they pressed against every inch and the entrance of your skin. That’s when you began to hear Slender’s ragged breathing, his chest heaving against his suit as he watched closely, entranced by the whole scene. He felt every slide and movement of the tentacles, relished in every vibration and constriction that your body gave him. He pushed you, seeing what made that beautiful voice stir or what made you flinch. He loved every answer he got. 

Your senses were skewed. You forgot what direction you were facing or how high you were off the ground, everything becoming a blur as your body dissolved under his touch. Pleasure was racking your body, your resolve leaving you as Slender’s tentacles broke and pulled at every restraint you tried to use. No matter how hard you wanted to resist, these tentacles were quick to force embarrassing noises from your lips, pressing on all the right places. Squirming, the tentacles slicked against your cunt, pounding up into you at an inhumane pace. You couldn’t concentrate, every inch of your body was violated at his will. You couldn’t hold back anymore, your cunt throbbing against the thick tentacles inside of you as you felt your orgasm crash down. You gasped loudly, mouth full of slimy limbs as you came roughly, walls constricting around him. Your body thrashed, fighting against the restraint as you rode out your high, chest heaving. Your head was light when the tentacles slipped from your sensitive cunt, replacing themselves around your thighs as you were hoisted up higher, your brain too hazy to care. 

Your body was angled upright, legs spread wide apart as your clit throbbed, aching from the intensity. Your heavy eyes watched as you were lifted to Slender’s face, your cunt open and raw inches from him. You whined, squirming as the tentacles slipped from your mouth, gasping. The tentacles retreated to your limbs, holding you firmly as Slender’s claws left behind him and reached up, wrapping firmly around your hips, pinching the plush skin. “You have such a pretty face when you cum. I would love to see it again.” He growled, pulling you close to his face. You were confused, wondering what he meant until you heard this sharp tearing sound loud enough to echo through the trees. You tensed, watching fearfully as Slender’s face split where his mouth should have been. It was terrifying. His mock mouth split wide, jagged pieces of skin splitting to reveal a dark interior, his mouth pitch black. Emerging from the dark, a tongue, similar to the shape of one of the tentacles, slipped through the jagged skin, pressing close to your cunt. You squirmed instantly, unsure if you wanted this to happen.

You didn’t have much of a choice as he ran his large, thick tongue through your folds, a groan echoing through him. His tongue was long, black, and inhumane. It pressed through your entrance, the warmth a nice contrast to the coolness of his tentacles that still slid against your skin. His claws gripped tight, holding your cunt flush against his mouth as he slowly lapped you up. He moaned at the taste, pressing against your velvety walls until he heard those wonderful gasps again. “Delicious.” He grumbled against your cunt, tongue curling and filling you as he relished the sweet taste of your orgasm. It was all too much, your body squirming against the sensitivity until you were gasping for air. He was so skilful with his tongue, lapping at every inch of your inside until you felt your orgasm rocking you again, your eyes rolling as you cried your pleasure. It was all too fast, his touch too addicting as you stared at his blank face, pleasure struck across his knitted brows. 

“God… Fucking human.” The words sounded so vulgar following how polite he’s been. It caught you off guard. But you had little time to think as his tentacles were tugging you down quickly, laying you flat as they positioned your legs to spread around his hips, hips straining as the tentacles pulled. You whined, watching carefully as Slender unzipped his slacks and freed the bulge that had been haunting you from the moment you saw it. To say it was huge was probably an understatement. The thick length was easily larger than your forearm, not even two hands would be enough to hold the thing. You began to struggle against the tentacles, panic overtaking you as his cock twitched with excitement. “There's no way in hell that thing’s fitting inside of me! It’ll rip me in half!” You squealed, feet planted against his legs to hold yourself away from him.

Slender’s claws wrapped around your thighs, scraping the skin lightly as he tugged you towards him, his cockhead laying against your cunt. You cringed, fear riding up your spine. “I’ve never gotten this far with the others. Their voices and bodies were too annoying. But you intrigue me, little one. I’ll make it fit.” 

You tried to close your legs, but Slender was already wrapping his claws around your hips, his claws easily overlapping as he nudged his hips between your legs and held you open for him. You were breathing fast, heart pounding as you watched the head of his cock line up with your entrance, the head alone the size of your entrance. He dug his claws in, pinching your skin as he began to press against you, nudging his cock into you. The stretch was rattling, the sharp sting making you cry out as the head of his cock barely pressed inside, your entrance begging for relief. Your hands reached down, gripping his claws tightly as tears spilt down your cheeks, your babbles echoing loudly. The tentacles slid across your skin soothingly, pinching at your nipples and rubbing at your cheeks the further he tried to press. “Ple- Please- Oh, God, please-” You cried, your stomach tightening as his head popped past your tight entrance, your walls constricting against the intrusion, “Breathe, little one. You’re doing wonderfully.” He groaned, hips stuttering lightly as he nudged his head in and out of you. You were whining, breath catching every time he pushed back into you.

He couldn’t go further than the tip, but Slender didn’t seem to mind as he shallowly fucked you onto his cockhead. You were whining, back arched and hips grinding as the sting and stretch of his head slowly turned to painful pleasure. The nudge of his cockhead against your walls made you moan loudly, tentacles sliding down to tug at your clit as he fucked you onto him. You could tell he wanted more, his slimy tongue hanging from his mock mouth and lolling with every thrust. His desperation showed as he breathed heavily, gasps ragged as he held himself back. Even though your mind screamed that you couldn’t handle any more, you gasped, gripping your hands against his thin forearms. “Deeper…” You whined, staring up at him through heavy eyes and flushed cheeks, jaw slack. 

Slender’s body lit up, his claws gripping tighter as he groaned, brows knitting. He was reluctant, his movements nervous until his desperation overtook him, his shoulders crouching low to press his face close to yours. “Hold on tight, little one.” He hissed, your hands slinking around the back of his pale head as you gripped the collar of his suit. He breathed your scent in deep, tongue pressing from his mouth to slink against your neck, relishing in the taste of your sweat. You groaned as the tongue pressed against your cheeks, sliding across your lips before pressing inside. You sucked on his tongue, the long warmth pressing against your throat as Slender began to press your hips down further. It felt like you were tearing, the incredible sting making your eyes clamp shut, Slender’s tongue quick to distract you. His tentacles moved rapidly across your skin, pinching and pulling against every available sensitive service to help relax you. Slender’s cock pressed barely deeper, not even halfway inside of you, but it was all you could take.

You clawed at his shoulders as tears spilt to your cheeks, the fullness obstructing your breathing. Slender was moaning deeply, his ominous voice ringing across the trees as he began to thrust your body down onto his cock. You were both sporadic, hands and tentacles gripping onto every available surface as you stretched impossibly wide. You couldn’t believe the feeling, both painful, but so wonderfully pleasurable. You were so sensitive, so overwhelmed, but oh so full. It was nothing like you had ever experienced.

Slender was holding you tight, pressing your hips down roughly and pulling up quickly, just to nudge you down again. He was careful to read every signal your body gave. Every hiss of pain or sigh of pleasure, he was sure to adjust for you. “Sir- So full-” You groaned against his mouth, tongue slipping to glide against your neck. He groaned deeply, teeth gritted and brows knitted. “So good, little one. So good.” His tentacles flicked against your clit, tugging until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You couldn’t breathe as you felt your orgasm rush over you, hips jerking down against his cock until you were too tight to move. Slender still tried to thrust you down, but your walls constricted and kept him in place. You cried out, clawing against the back of his neck as he slammed his mouth back against yours, tongue invading your throat before you could catch your breath. Slender was quick to follow, warm seed shooting up inside of you in thick stripes as he groaned. His claws dug in deep, blood pooling around his pale skin until it was dripping down your legs. His tentacles lapped it up, pressing the thick liquid across your skin. 

When Slender’s heaving chest finally settled, he took a deep breath, slipping his claws under your arms. “Hold still, little one.” He hissed, pulling you off his cock slowly as you whined, the sharp sting stretching your sensitive cunt. You couldn’t focus when he finally popped out of you, thick black liquid leaking from your ruined hole. His cum was hot, a thick black liquid that bubbled and gooped against your folds. You whined, emptiness making your cunt throb as your head pounded. Slender sat on the forest floor, laying down on his back as he pulled you with him, laying you down on his chest as you both settled. Your limbs were weak, eyes heavy with exhaustion as Slender’s tentacles ran soothingly across your back. 

When you finally caught your breath, you braced your hands on his chest, leaning up to stare him in the face. His pale skin had fixed itself, with no sign of the mock mouth that tore across his flesh. The blank slate was all that was left. “I release you… Of your duties. There’s no need for you to come here anymore.” You sighed, resting your head against your hands. Slender reached forward, tangling his claws with your matted hair, sliding his fingers through the long strands. “But what if I want to come here? More often than just once a decade, that is.” He huffed, sliding his claws against your cheek. You sat stunned, glancing at his expression and searching for any tricks. “But why..?” 

“I guess now I’ve found a more enticing reason.” He grinned, pinching your cheek. He blushed, turning away. You traced along his chest, the fabric of his suit soft under your touch. “You’re still released from protecting us. No need to give you more work than necessary. I suppose you won’t be requiring the ritual anymore?” You smiled, resting your chin against your hand. Slender chuckled, rubbing up your sides. “Only if you would like to reminisce, little one…” He growled, holding you tight.

In reality, you never imagined the monster that haunted your family to become humane to you. You also never expected to meet with him weekly, in the same clearing, exploring each other and relieving the urges only the two of you could satisfy. 

Maybe it was a slap in the face to your kin, but as Slender held you close for another week, all you could think of was him. 

He may have been a curse, but he was yours to bear.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[sunaluv]

WAGs

WAG: A wife or girlfriend of a sports star

Featuring: k.sakusa, r.suna

[ushijima,atsumu] vers.

Note: happy new year! I love how I posted like 5 things then dipped but I wanted to write some more on here 😭 enjoy!

Sakusa:

You had met sakusa whilst he was making a name for himself. He wasn’t as big as he was now, but his name would be floating around the internet somewhere.

That’s actually how you first saw him. One of your friends had shared a photo of his in a groupchat, and the whole chat was going crazy over this insanely hot insanely talented upcoming volleyball star.

Of course you found him attractive, but you were absolutely certain he would be yours. There was no mindless attraction. You geniuinely believed your friend had just send your future husband directly to you.

She kinda did tho

Flash forward a couple months, you were doing some early morning shopping as one does. The store was quieter, everything’s was in stock. It was perfect. It was SO PERFECT.

because just as you were picking out snacks for your apartment, you saw a masked man dressed in a black hoodie that may have been a bit to small for him, seeing as you could make out the definitions of his muscles through the fabric.

You knew that man from anywhere, after all you had only been dreaming of him for the past few months.

Not wasting this opportunity, you bravely approached him, making small talk about the stuff you were buying.

‘This was no one and done situation though, ‘you thought.

The next store runs, you slowly grew closer, sometimes going to the shop only to talk to him.

He eventually gained the courage to ask you on a date and from there your relationship progressed until you took his last name.

By now, sakusa was bringing in BANK, not that that was the reason you were with him but still.

He vowed to spoil you like you deserved whilst you were in the talking phase, and boy did he keep his promise.

Eventually, you quit your job after your husbands persistent pleads that he makes enough money to support the both of you. All you had to do was support him in his games.

And with your new free time, you were seen at the majority of them, looking pretty on the Jumbotron with your hair done, dressed to the t with the finest jewelry, the most noticable one being the gold necklace with his jersey number on it that sat in between your collarbones.

Naturally, you gained your own cult following on social media, and you were often photographed at games and events due to your great fashion sense.

Speaking of

You met the rest of kiyoomi’s team at an MSBY exclusive event, aswell as the other wives and girlfriends of the players.

Sakusa loves you dearly and will spoil you at every given chance.

SUNA

You and suna were highschool sweethearts

You had supported him ever since the inarizaki days and continue to to so as he plays for EJP.

People have known about you for YEARS. It was almost like you grew as he did.

But it was mainly because he still has the cheesy romantic highlights of you from inarizaki, so as he gained more followers, more people viewed the highlights.

Even if they didn’t, his actual feed is full of pictures of you.

When it comes to spoiling you, he sees gift giving as more as a thank you or appreciation for sticking with him all these years, because you played a big part in shaping his career too, looking after him when he didn’t.

That being said he really does appreciate you, shown by the various Swarovski crystals adorning your neck and wrists, the sleek sports cars he bought for you claiming ‘they’re our children’, or the random, but costly furniture you obsess over dotted around your shared penthouse.

The man introduced you into a world of luxury and endless princess treatment, and vowed to never take you out of it.

[saltylandland]

I want to draw this but idk how to draw nsfw plus, busy, so here is a list of ideas, also I’ve been following @weebsinstash for awhile and I just think you’d be into this :)

Your dearest friend (and co worker) confesses that she’s the main heroine of this world, she got randomly sent here from her world, in her world this place is a romance game. She says regardless of if you believed her she was telling you the truth and-

You nodded yes, and not because you were a loyal side character, but bc you knew. After her confession you get a flood of memories of a different world, and a detailed retailing of the world you’re in.

Your friend, though she is bland by design, she is radiant and an unforgettable presence, despite not being able to remember her face even after just facing her.

The story, about an emperor with a curse. The entire castle keeps the secret, all families have been working there since the empire was first founded. Cult like loyal to their (admittedly really competent) emperor

Your friend, what was her name again? No- that’s not the point. Her goal, the goal of the game, was to tame the emperor's curse by existing, something no one had ever been able to do.

Face multiple challenges like the jealous empress, make your way through the fanatical loyalists and get closer to the emperor. Rise from empress’s handmaiden, to imperial consort, to empress herself!

Your friend whispers to you that she can tame the beast that prowls though the castle at night, and that she’s going to soon.

(The emperor becomes extremely aggressive with sharp claws yada yada, unfortunately no monster fucking this time tho)

But when that night arrives, she fails. You find her corpse before anyone else does. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen, she was supposed too- her body was collected and buried and it was almost like she never existed. Not that she didn’t have family, but like a spell the mysterium of the heroine fades away seemingly with no impact, she was just another victim of the beast.

With a new sense of fear, and with new memories, no loyalty to this empire, you were hatching a plan to leave. The night you were scouting out a path, with the excuse of chores on the night shift, you run into the beast. He was supposed to be chained up?!?

you are tackled to the ground, the emperor is on top of you. Opening your eyes you see him nuzzling your neck, shallow breaths fanning across you. You panic, this was supposed to happen to your friend not you. You can predict it now, he’ll turn into like a lap dog how embarrassing-

RIIIIIIIIIIIP- suddenly he rips your bodice down the middle, exposing your breasts to the cold air.

————

You try to avoid it but he keeps hunting you down and mounting you.

One night you hide away in the deepest parts of the castle, since you had been searching for a place to hide all day (and the beast fucked you all night) you fall asleep

Waking up to a gentle rocking it takes you a minute to process that you were now under him taking his cock

—

Then on one of the nights he does it in front of servants and they tell the empress who then calls you into her office, reader who is already planning to leave is scared you’re gonna get executed

The empress tells you that this is your job now, using your body to ‘tame’ the emperor bc there has been no incidents otherwise

This is a complete 180 to the empress from the game. She also insists that the emperor cannot know that he’s fucking you every night, as he is a decent man and he’d feel guilty, and to prevent you from getting pregnant she will supply you with potions to prevent that. And there is no other choice (not said but heavily implied) Now you are being treated as the unofficial concubine which the empress seems to dote on, your official title is the empress’s handmaiden/confidant

It is later revealed to you as you unwillingly get closer to the empress that though she loves the emperor (they grew up together) she doesn’t really care for sex (either cuz she’s lesbian or just ace) and once she got pregnant with their heir, their sex life basically stopped, tho they didn’t have an actual conversation, the emperor could tell she wasn’t into it and didn’t push her

Bonus points if she’s telling you about what a good man/husband he is for not pushing her/making her take care of his needs like that while he rearranges your guts.

Later later you find out that the emperor realized what was going on, but since it prevented him from hurting anyone he went along with it. And now since you’re so close to the empress, both of them start to fall and become yandere and now you have the most powerful couple who want you for themselves ❤️

Also, quick idea for an ending, he starts regaining control of himself as basically his and the beast’s goals become the same, and he starts loving on the reader even before nightfall and so the two personalities begin to blend and he’s cured! How wonderful! But now you’re the official concubine congrats! What? You don’t want it? Too bad! They want you! Also good luck making it out of the castle as everyone their views you as the emperor’s saviour.

[misscherrys-world]

Welcome back to:

Random things I think about.

✨Starring✨from the tv show: AHS Cult

Kai Anderson

First I would like to thank the amazing writer who inspired me to create this list of random things as she was a huge influence: @fear-is-truth

Warnings: kai anderson bc he is a warning, cult, murderers, misogyny, any shit you can think about literally, transphobia, drugs, sh, sa.

I literally don’t know how to start. But I listen to this song on repeat while I wrote this.

Kai was the “easy kid” in his family as he grew up, he looked after his younger sister Winter since their big brother was basically an asshole.

When Kai dyed his hair he used the wrong bleach volume and he fried his hair off. It became elastic. My worst fears

So the grease you see on his hair isn’t actually grease, it was a hair treatment to make his hair a little bit better.

When Kai found out about Winter SH herself he forced her to talk to him and helped her actually to stop.

Although Kai is a misogynistic mf, he wouldn’t allow his men to SA a female in his cult, yet himself would do it. Because he’s an absolute asshole.

He’s transphobic. No further explanation.

He wished to have a tarantula as pet but his parents didn’t allow him when he was a kid.

He listens to Kurt Cobain, his favorite song is “Come as you are” and “Rape me” but secretly he listens to “Heart Shaped Box” and wishes his gf would have beautiful eyes.

When it comes to having a gf, he’s possessive, in a suffocating way. But he can be wrapped around her finger with simple gestures of physical affection.

He’s easily manipulated guys. When it comes to women, he’s blinded by his ego, so he’s an easy target for manipulation.

He takes ice baths.

Ally fucked up with his pills so he got his schizophrenic ass worse.

He didn’t smoke cigarettes in his life, but he smoked weed I can tell.

He’s got good sense of fashion.

He really wanted to be a dad, it’s not about the cult fucked up Messiah thing. He wanted to give his kid what his father didn’t give him.

And after Ally convinced Kai that Oz is his son, he made sure that Oz wasn’t a part of his cult business. And he started to hangout with him more.

He planned to take Oz to Disney Land one day.

It broke Kai’s heart when he found out Oz wasn’t his son because he got attached to him. That’s why he called Ally from the prison losing his shit.

Oz didn’t like Kai at all on the other hand.

He didn’t come up with the title “Divine Ruler” one of his men did and the rest just started to call him by it. It fed his ego.

He’s so charismatic I’d fall for him I won’t lie. 🤭

He 100% will kill for his lover.

He 100% will kill his lover.

If you caught his attention, he’ll do his best to drive you crazy, then he’d show up as the hero who protects you and cares about you.

There’s no such thing as privacy when you’re dating him. But his life is a big mystery for you.

Won’t let you involved with his cult if you’re not a part of it. You won’t even know he’s a cult leader.

Would definitely make you cut every single person out of your life, family, friends and coworkers.

He wants to be the only person in your life, he wants to manipulate you, to brainwash you.

After all if you’re smart enough, you’d be able to runaway from him, out of the state.

This is it everybody, this is my honest opinion on Kai Anderson. I hope you like it!

Have a wonderful day!

[honorarysimp]

Chapter 5: Black Magic

series masterlist

If you had a scale right now, you’d say the situation you’ve been ignoring has escalated from probably not good to really fucking bad.

You stand quietly in the makeshift doorway, arms crossed tightly across your chest as you observe Lorraine's reaction to the hidden room, the toe of your boot tapping against the wood anxiously.

Your fist covers your mouth as you take in her every move, watching as she carefully examines the items contained within the space.

Her disbelief and shock are palpable, visible in the way her eyes widen and her jaw drops.

You had to do something, exhausted of her continued refusal to reveal her secrets. You could tell that she was protecting something, something she thought you wouldn't understand or believe.

So, you made the decision to show her the hidden room you had discovered in your Pops’ study.

Match energy, one might say, meet crazy with crazier if anything.

You knew that seeing it firsthand would finally make her realize that you were serious about this. Lorraine stands frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief as she takes in the sight before her.

The hidden room remains as it was — filled with an array of cult-like items, including the altar and all the candles, ritualistic tools scattered atop it, and of course the gaping empty space in the middle.

Her mouth hangs open, trying to form words but failing. The reality of what she's seeing slowly sinks in, and a mix of dread and shame washes over her face.

Lorraine takes a deep breath, taking a moment to collect herself as reality sinks in. She turns to you, her eyes wide with disbelief, and exclaims “you waited until now to tell me this was here?!"

Her voice is tinged with incredulity, as if trying to wrap her mind around the fact that you hadn't told her sooner.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain your decision “I-I... I found it recently—" you stammer, a hint of defensiveness in your tone as you try to justify your actions.

"—and I didn't know what it was at first... I didn’t wanna believe it" your voice trails off, realizing that perhaps you should have spoken up sooner, but it's too late now.

Lorraine's frustration and disbelief reach a new level, and she throws her hands up in the air, gesturing towards the room of dark religious paraphernalia.

"I've been stayin’ here with you for days," she exclaims, her voice filled with incredulity, "and you were just okay with this?!" Her eyes widen as she tries to make sense of your nonchalance towards the situation.

You raise your own hand in a gesture towards the room, defensive and frustrated as you respond, words full of urgency and conviction "now you know why it's so goddamn important we get the hell out of here!"

You lock eyes with her, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation and the need for immediate action, "there's some messed up shit goin’ on here, and I got reason to believe your friends know about it!"

Lorraine falls silent, her eyes glazing over as if lost in thought. A sense of realization washes over her face, and her eyes flutter about the room as if trying to piece together a puzzle.

Her gaze sharpens as she takes in the room and its contents once more, a mixture of understanding and fear etched across her features.

You remain wary of the room, keeping a safe distance in the doorway. You shift your weight nervously as you call out to her, trying to pull her attention back to you.

"Lorraine," you say, voice urgent and insistent, "I need you to tell me what you know. I don't care how crazy it sounds, I know you know something."

You look at her intently, hoping that she'll finally reveal the truth behind the cryptic happenings that have been taking place since your return.

Lorraine fidgets nervously, wringing her fingers together and chewing on her bottom lip. Her eyes dart around the room, taking in the various ominous items scattered throughout. Her gaze lingers a bit longer on the unreadable yet foreboding writing on the wall, as if contemplating the meaning behind it.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before cautiously stepping into the room. The unsettling energy envelops you as you walk towards Lorraine, your footsteps heavy on the floor. You approach her, noticing how she's lost in thought, and place a gentle hand on her arm to get her attention.

Lorraine flinches away nervously as your hand touches her arm, and you quickly retract your hand, raising both palms in a gesture of surrender. She visibly relaxes a bit as you step back, muttering a soft "sorry” under her breath.

Lorraine looks at you uncertainly, her voice dropping to a soft, whispered confession. "I think I messed up, Rooks... I'm in deep shit," she murmurs, the weight of her words settling heavily in the air between you.

You stand there perplexed, your confusion evident on your face. You had already suspected that Lorraine was aware of the strange happenings, but now her confession confirms it.

Although your suspicions were correct, it still leaves you with many unanswered questions, and you don't quite what to make of her cryptic words.

You can’t be angry, because what good would that do? You might be more in the dark than Lorraine, but you’ll never know the truth if you just blow up on her.

"I already figured you knew what was goin’ on," you say, your voice tinged with both confusion and curiosity. "But what do you mean by being in deep shit?" you follow up, hoping to delve deeper into what she knows.

Lorraine's eyes flicker downward, and her guilt is evident in her body language. She fidgets nervously, her hands still twisting together and her shoulders hunching slightly.

She seems to already know that you're going to be upset with whatever she's about to reveal, and the thought of your reaction weighs heavily on her mind.

Lorraine takes a shaky breath before continuing, her gaze locked with yours. "There's somethin’ you need to see," she begins, her voice soft and tentative.

"But..." she pauses, a mixture of guilt and worry flooding her expression, “once you know, I'm worried you'll be just as stuck as I am," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.

You gesture to the room around you, your voice laced with sarcasm and disbelief, “pretty sure I already am, Lorraine".

"For god's sake, I'm startin’ to think my Pop was leading some devil's cult," you chuckle nervously, the absurdity of the situation sinking in fully.

Lorraine lifts her head, her face a maelstrom of complex emotions. She shakily exhales and nods once, a silent agreement passing between you.

"Okay," she concedes, her voice filled with a mix of fear and determination, “we have to go to my place then."

Lorraine quickly brushes passes by you, and you follow close behind, not even sparing a glance at the makeshift door disguised as a fake bookshelf.

As you both exit the room, you ask, frustration and impatience clear in your voice, "are you not gonna tell me what the hell is going on?"

Lorraine halts abruptly in the middle of the hallway, causing you to stumble and almost collide into her as you quickly step out of the room after her. She turns around to face you, her expression serious and guarded.

Lorraine's voice lowers to a hushed whisper, tinged with sorrow and regret. "This ain't easy for me, Rooks," she admits, her eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and sadness.

"It ain't been easy since they told me..." her words trail off and she shakes her head, her gaze fixed firmly on you.

"It'll be easier to explain when you see what I've seen," she repeats, her voice taut with tension.

Lorraine's eyes flicker hesitantly between yours, a silent plea passing through her gaze. She's searching for understanding, for a moment of solidarity before the storm. She wants you in the know, to understand her situation, but at the same time, she trying to suppress the emotions bubbling up inside.

The moment hangs heavy between you, the weight of her unspoken plea pulling at your heartstrings.

Lorraine looks intently into your eyes, her voice pleading and uncertain. "You trust me?" she asks, her eyes searching your face for any indication of your response.

The echo of the question you’d asked her a few days ago seems almost poetic, an anaphora.

You hesitate, a conflicted feeling stirring within you. The pain in her eyes is evident as your hesitation sinks in, but you also sense that she understands your wariness. The moment hangs in the air, neither of you moving.

You exhale softly, the memory of her words a few days ago fresh in your mind. With a steady gaze, you repeat her own words back to her, a hint of conviction in your voice.

"You'd never lead me astray," you reaffirm, your trust in her slowly beginning to resurface.

Despite Lorraine's initial lack of openness, you can't help but feel a sense of clarity. She's here, being honest even though it's difficult, and she's promised you the truth. There's a part of you that still harbors doubt, but the longer you spend in her presence, the harder it is to distrust her.

It seems to be a recurring theme when you're with Lorraine — the more time you spend in her presence, the harder it is to doubt her or maintain any suspicions you might have towards her.

There's something about her that just disarms you, making it near impossible to keep your guard up.

You haven’t decided if that’s a good or bad thing yet.

Lorraine nods once, a silent gesture of gratitude passing between you. She then turns and begins walking down the hall once more, her footsteps quick and resolute.

You follow closely behind, staying right on her heels as she leads the way. The regret begins to wash over you. Your mind races with thoughts of what you should have done instead.

You think about leaving the manor behind, burning it to the ground. You think about discarding the inheritance and walking away from this whole mess. It would have been so much easier to just pretend like none of this existed.

But then Lorraine turns to look at you as she touches the front door handle. A soft murmur escapes her lips, "thank you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Thank you for believing in me. For not... leaving again."

There's a mix of gratitude and vulnerability in her eyes, a glimmer of the trust and hope that she once had in you coming back to the surface.

Your guilt settles heavily on your chest as you reflect on your previous thoughts, your mind quickly shifting to more important matters.

“Of course,” you nod firmly in agreement, swallowing down any further regrets, "let's just get this over with”.

____________________________________________

The town square lies quietly before you, the few street lamps casting pools of warm light on the pavement.

As you kill the engine of your bike, a heavy sense of anticipation settles in the air. The silence of the night is nearly suffocating, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant sound of an owl hooting.

Lorraine carefully dismounts from the bike, the warmth of her arms around your waist leaves a ghostly feeling in its absence.

You remain seated for a moment longer, taking the opportunity to scan the deserted streets with a wary eye.

The town square stretches wide before you, the surrounding buildings looming in the shadows, their darkened windows staring like empty eye sockets. Your attention pulls at the sound of a wings flapping, a distinct chatter of beak, yet you see nothing.

The atmosphere around you becomes tense, and as you turn your gaze back to Lorraine, the air between you feels charged with anticipation.

She’s removed the helmet from her head and offers it back to you, delicate fingers slipping slowly from the leather strap as she hands it to you.

The moment Lorraine offers the helmet back to you, your fingers graze against hers as you accept it. For a split second, the sensation of her touch causes a jolt of electricity to shoot through you, almost as if you had touched something volatile.

The feeling is subtle, yet it serves to increase the suspense that’s been slowly building, creating a sense of heightened awareness between the two of you.

Lorraine's eyes meet yours, holding your gaze for a moment before turning away to look around the empty square.

Lorraine mutters softly, a hint of urgency in her tone, "let's get a move on," as she turns away from you and begins walking forward. You quickly slide off the bike, hooking your helmet onto the handle before following closely behind her.

The echo of your footsteps against the cobblestone pavement seems almost deafening in the stillness of the night.

As you follow Lorraine to the library, a sense of foreboding surrounds you, as if the night itself is holding its breath.

Both of you can't help but glance around cautiously, your eyes flickering to every shadow and corner before coming to focus on the tall glass doors.

Your heart rate inexplicably begins to pick up speed as Lorraine fishes for the keys in her back pocket to unlock the doors.

Your gaze is drawn to Lorraine's trembling hands as she struggles to steady herself, the keys in her grasp glistening under the pale glow of the streetlight.

She pauses, clenching the keys tightly in her palm, clearly trying to quell her nerves. It's a brief but telling moment, hinting at the internal turmoil she's attempting to hide.

Seeing Lorraine's struggle, you offer her a small but reassuring gesture. A light touch on her arm, a brief brush of your knuckles against the back of her arm.

It's a subtle way of letting her know that you're there, you see her fear, you’re mirroring it yourself, but you're ready to stand beside her.

Lorraine takes a deep, shuddering breath, her eyes flickering towards you briefly in a side glance before focusing on the door again.

The soft click of the lock as it comes undone echoes loudly in the silent night air, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand. The door gently creaks as Lorraine swings it open, the entrance of the library gaping like a dark, waiting maw.

You step inside after Lorraine, retrieving your phone from your pocket and flicking the flashlight on. The beam of light bounces around the room, casting shadows that dance on the walls.

Lorraine moves to the door behind you, the metallic jingling of the keys filling the air as she locks the door from the inside.

Lorraine steps up next to you, her body warm beside yours, closer than necessary yet not uncomfortable. She murmurs under her breath, "don't touch nothin’, you hear?”, voice taut and filled with tension.

Without waiting for a response, she moves forward, her footsteps purposeful as she leads the way deeper into the library.

You follow closely behind Lorraine, your phone's flashlight illuminating the darkened space in front of you. Despite the chill in the air, your leather jacket offers little relief from the cold that seems to have seeped into the very bricks of the library.

The shadows seem to shrink and stretch as the light dances across the walls, a sense of unease settling like a weight in your chest.

You follow Lorraine as she guides you through the dark and labyrinthine maze of stacks, keeping to her pace. Every so often, she casts a quick glance behind her, her eyes checking to ensure you're not falling behind.

She then turns a corner, disappearing from sight for a brief moment, only to reappear further down the aisle. She watches for a moment to make sure you're still with her before continuing forward.

As you're passing through the stacks, a figure flashes in your peripheral vision. The moment freezes you in your tracks, the sight so unexpected that it causes a jolt of alarm to run through you.

Your heart stutters, the momentary distraction causing you to pause, your eyes locked onto the area where you saw the movement.

The thudding is hard in your chest, you quickly swing your phone around, aiming the beam of light at the place where you thought you saw the figure. You peer around the shelves carefully, eyes darting, searching and alert, but the area is seemingly deserted.

After checking the area thoroughly and realizing it's clear, your muscles relax, attributing the movement to your own imagination.

With a relieved huff, you turn back around, fully intending to continue following Lorraine, only to realize that she's nowhere to be seen.

Fucking fantastic.

A shiver of unease ripples through you, your mind filling with the distinct sense that you're being watched. The silence of the library is now oppressively loud, the shadows seem to have eyes, and the air feels thick and heavy. Your heart rate picks up, your hand tightening around the phone in your grasp.

The silence of the darkened library is deafening, the shadows around you seem to come alive, shifting and moving in the corner of your vision.

You take slow, careful steps forward, your voice cutting through the silence as you call out her name.

"Lorraine?"

The sound of your voice is swallowed by the darkness, the only response being the slow, methodical ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere within the library.

Each step forward is slow and cautious, your eyes scanning the area. The beam of your phone bouncing off piles of books, shadows that seem to move with a life of their own, and the darkened stacks themselves.

Your heart beats faster in your chest, the sense of being watched growing stronger by the second.

"Lorraine?" your voice cuts through the silence once again, your call echoing through the dimly lit library.

The only answer being the soft rustling of leaves from an open window somewhere nearby.

At least, until a familiar caw from the open window sends a chill down your spine, your gut clenching in a sudden realization that you can't ignore what's before you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, your mind instantly connecting the dots. Your heart pounds as you slowly turn your head in the direction of the sound, every instinct telling you to trust your gut.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

You spot a shadowy figure down one of the stacks, the silhouette too far away for your phone's flashlight to fully illuminate.

However, even from a distance, you can tell it's someone tall, definitely taller than Lorraine. In an instant, your heart rate spikes even further, your fight or flight instinct kicking in.

What. The. Fuck. Is that?

The sight of the shadowy figure in the distance sets your heart racing, adrenaline pumping through your veins, every fiber of your being screaming to react.

It's the stature of the hunter, and a quiet before the storm.

With your nerves stretched taut, you grip your phone tightly, your mind torn between confronting the unknown or turning and running.

Its eyes gleam and reflect in the light from your phone, a cold, otherworldly glow.

A low, ominous vibration seems to fill the air, the surrounding shadows twisting and writhing, as if the figure itself is shifting and taking form.

Every cell in your body tells you to run, to flee from the danger that hangs in the air. But something keeps you rooted to the spot, your fear keeping you frozen warring with your survival instincts.

The shadow’s voice, when it speaks, is warped and unnatural, a low, guttural sound that seems to come from every direction at once.

It chants words you don't understand, syllables that send a chill down your spine, the meaning of them filled with a malevolent energy that makes your heart race.

Your instincts beg for you to turn and run, to get away from the source of the ominous vibration and the twisted voice. But your body is frozen, fight or flight stalled by an overwhelming fear.

Every instinct you have screaming at you to run, seems to register at once as your body finally obeys.

As the shadow lunges forward, you bolt in the opposite direction, adrenaline pumping through your veins, the fear and desperation igniting every muscle in your legs.

Your phone flashlight bounces wildly, casting fleeting shadows that dance and shift as you tear through the labyrinth of bookshelves and rows, the sound of your footsteps echoing loudly in the silent library.

With your heart pounding against your chest, you cut another corner, the sound of you pursuer echoing behind you, the sound of your boots thumping and rustling shadows filling the air.

“LORRAINE! LORRAINE!”

The thought of turning around and looking back never even crosses your mind — your focus solely on survival. The only thing you can bring yourself to do is to shout Lorraine’s name, hoping against hope that she can hear you over the pandemonium.

Just as you thought you might be trapped, you turn a corner and there she is — Lorraine, the glow from her phone lighting her face as she looks at you.

“Rooks?” her worried and confused look mirrors your own, her eyes wide, the question on her lips.

"What the hell are you—"

But her voice is cut off as loud footsteps and guttural chants fill the air behind you, the shadow being close on your heels.

Acting quickly, you grab Lorraine by the arm and pull her out of sight, the two of you squeezing into the tight space between the two bookcases.

Your heart pounding, you shove both her phone and yours into your jacket, the light immediately extinguished.

With your adrenaline still spiked, you stand there, your body blocking Lorraine's, the sound of the entity's heavy footsteps and the guttural chanting almost upon you.

With Lorraine safely hidden between the bookshelf and your body, your hand comes up to cover her mouth, muffling any sound she might make.

Your other hand raises, your fingertip pressing against your own lips in a silent plea for her to stay quiet.

Her wide eyes meet yours, and you can feel her body tense against your touch. Her confusion is evident, and you know there's so much she's probably itching to say, but her fear and your trembling hand keep her silent.

You hold your breath, the muscles of your body tensing as you cautiously glance to the side, out of the small space between the bookcases. The silence that follows is thick, the only sound the rapid beating of your own heart in your ears.

The footsteps have stopped, and the entity’s guttural chants have fallen quiet. The air feels like it’s hanging in suspense as you wait for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

No movement, not a sound. The air hangs still, the silence deafening. You and Lorraine are both frozen, your bodies pressed so close that you can feel her trembling against your chest.

Your eyes remain locked on the space between the bookcases, searching in the darkness for any sign of the thing that was so close to catching you just moments before.

Her trembling fingers reach up and wrap around your wrist, the one covering her mouth. The feel of her touch breaks your focus, causing you to turn your attention back to her, your own adrenaline still high.

In response, you slowly remove your hand from her mouth, giving her the freedom to finally speak.

As she does, her voice a trembling whisper, the sound barely audible over the beating of your own heart.

"What the hell is goin’ on?" she asks, her body still pressed close to yours, her fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

Your mind is a whirlwind of chaos, your thoughts bouncing around in your head like a ping-pong ball in an empty room.

The adrenaline is draining, leaving you feeling dazed and a little disoriented. You can feel your brain struggling to focus, the familiar clouded feeling starting to set in.

It's a feeling you haven't experienced in days, and the sudden return of it is enough to send a pang of frustration through you.

Lorraine, observant as always, catches sight of the dazed look on your face and immediately recognizes what's happening. Her hand squeezes your wrist gently as she whispers, her voice soft and understanding.

"You're seein’ things again, aren't you".

Her words cut through the fog in your mind, the truth of them sinking in.

Every instinct inside of you wants to deny it, to push aside the truth as you've had to do so many times before.

But when your eyes meet Lorraine's, the usual defensiveness fades away, replaced by a mix of vulnerability and resignation. The sight of her concerned but understanding gaze makes it impossible to deny it.

You open your mouth to speak, the words stuck in your throat for a moment before you manage to whisper “it started up again when I came back, it’s only gotten worse”.

Lorraine nods, her understanding evident in the small gesture. Her expression is calm, albeit slightly uneasy as she gently prods at the question on her mind.

“Okay, well... what’d you see just now?"

She never gave you a hard time back then for your hallucinations, but she never indulged in it either, it’s strange to have someone asking for once.

You take a deep breath, the image of the tall, shadowy figure fresh in your mind. "It was tall," you respond, your voice quiet yet filled with a hint of lingering fear.

"And it had these glowin’ eyes, like a cat's, and it was chantin’ somethin’, but I didn't understand what it was”.

Lorraine's worry deepens as you describe the figure, her grip on your wrist tightening slightly. "Did it touch you?" she asks, her voice tense.

You shake your head quickly, the memory of the creature's almost-touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"No, it didn't" you reply, your voice still somewhat shaky, "I was able to run before it could get to me... but it was close."

Lorraine nods solemnly, “as if shit couldn’t get any worse”, her expression becoming more serious “we need to hurry," she reiterates, her voice firm but low.

When she asks “can you still see it? Is still here?”, you close your eyes and focus inwards for a moment. You concentrate on the space around you, on the air, listening for any sound or feeling that might suggest its proximity.

After a few moments, you look back at her and shake your head. "No," you whisper, "I can't feel it anymore".

Lorraine's body relaxes slightly, a sense of relief passing over her face. Your words, however, seem to trigger a different response in yourself.

"No. No, it's not real," you whisper once again. "It never was. It's just in my head, right? Just a hallucination, that's all."

You attempt to explain, to convince yourself —and her — that the figure was just a hallucination, that you're just seeing things.

It has to be, because if it’s not, it means something you aren’t ready to face. That you have been seeing things that are actually there your whole life.

That means it’s all been… real. All of it.

Lorraine stands there, her mouth moving soundlessly for a moment as she considers your words. Then she lets out a small sigh, her eyes searching your face.

"To be honest, I don’t know what to believe anymore, either," she confesses, her voice soft and filled with a hint of resignation.

You can see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle to reconcile the rational with the irrational.

Lorraine's eyes dart around, her instincts pushing her to check their surroundings once more. Seeing it clear, she turns back to you, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

And for a moment, you both just exist, like planets caught in the gravitational pull of something between you. But then you’re clearing your throat and taking a step back, just as she’s exhaling and tearing her gaze away once more.

"Let's just get upstairs," she mutters, her voice tense but resolute.

With a nudge from her, you both start moving forward from the cramped space between the bookcases and out into the hallway.

Lorraine stays close to your side, her body barely a few inches from yours as you navigate the dimly lit hallway.

In the chaos, it's not until you reach the door to the stairwell that you realize that her delicate fingers are intertwined with yours, her hand holding yours in a firm yet reassuring grip.

You follow Lorraine up the creaking stairs, your locked hands hanging between the two of you.

As you reach the top, Lorraine lets go reluctantly, her hand reaching out to turn on the light switch. The loft is momentarily illuminated with a soft glow, flooding the room with a warm, familiar light.

It's a cozy living space, a reflection of Lorraine's personal style. The walls are a soft cream color, accented with tastefully selected artwork. The space is neat and tidy, with a mix of modern pieces meshing seamlessly with vintage finds.

There's a small but elegant couch facing a vintage television, the walls lined with bookshelves that are a smorgasbord of different genres. The entire space is clean and minimalist, with just a hint of whimsical.

Figures. Fitting.

As you look around the loft, your eyes taking in every little detail, a small smile unconsciously tugs at the corners of your lips. The simplicity and charm of the space pull at your heartstrings, and for a brief moment you find yourself lost in the surroundings.

The tense atmosphere from the encounter fades to the background, replaced by a temporary sense of comfort and familiarity.

You hadn't noticed it at first, but something catches your eye — a pendant hanging from a hook on Lorraine's vanity.

Curiosity piqued, you're about to take a closer look, when Lorraine's voice rings out from the other room, calling your name.

Your eyes linger on the pendant for a moment, your desire to investigate it strong, but Lorraine's voice pulls you away from it.

You cast one last glance at the piece, promising yourself you'd inspect it later before turning away and proceeding into the next room where Lorraine's voice issued from.

You enter the makeshift kitchen, the space cozy and compact yet functional. Lorraine is bent over the small kitchen table, her attention fixed on something in front of her. Curious, you step closer to see what it is that engrosses her interest.

As you approach Lorraine's side, your eyes fix on the leather-bound book sitting on the table in front of her.

A sense of foreboding washes over you as you realize what it is, and you start to inquisitively ask, "What—" but the words die in your throat.

Lorraine continues, her eyes locked on the book, "Maxine and Bobby-Lynn got into a real nasty fight over this just a few days ago. They demanded I leave, but I was just so curious..."

She pauses, her fingers nervously fidgeting with a loose thread on her sleeve as she casts a sidelong glance in your direction.

"So… I took it when they thought I'd left”.

You glance back and forth between Lorraine and the book, an uneasy feeling settling over you. You mutter your question, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What... what is in it?"

Lorraine hesitates, her eyes flickering back to the book. She seems reluctant to say, her voice soft.

"Dark magic. Rituals, spells... some truly nasty stuff."

Your brow knits together in confusion as you step back from the book, “so... they are fucking around with witchcraft after all, and you've known this whole time?"

Lorraine looks up at you, her expression conflicted. She glances back at the book, then back at you, her voice defensive.

"Yes, but... I didn’t think it was gonna to go this far. I thought they were just curious, playin’ with harmless things they didn’t understand..."

Lorraine starts talking quickly, her words coming out in a rush as her fingers twist and fiddle with each other anxiously.

"They came to me with it one day — said they needed a third person to make it work. They did a few party tricks and I... I believed them."

She looks up at you, her expression somewhat pleading. "They were the first people in a long time to want to include me, became my only friends, and I stupidly went along with it without question—“

Your thoughts race as the words ‘I was your friend’ linger on the tip of your tongue, the memory of the past clouding your mind. Yet before you can utter the words, reality hits you.

Technically, you were the one who left. You were the one who distanced yourself, who abandoned her. You pushed her away without even intending to.

Lorraine moves to the book, her fingers trembling slightly as she starts to slowly flip through the pages.

She continues speaking, her words spilling out in a rush, “—but then I started to realize that there might be more to it. That it could be something serious... and dangerous."

Lorraine pauses, her fingers coming to a halt on a specific page. Without saying a word, she then crosses her arms, fingers nervously biting at her thumbnail. She steps back and gestures towards it, a contemplative look in her eyes.

Your eyes flicker back and forth between Lorraine and the page, curiosity and concern etched on your face. You take a tentative step forward, approaching the book, gaze fixed on the page she’s gesturing to.

As you take a closer look at the page Lorraine has turned to, your eyes scanning over the text.

The words ‘prophecy’, ‘dormant curse’, and ‘descendant of a powerful bloodline’ catch your attention, the cryptic message intriguing and ominous.

You hesitantly pick up the book, your eyes flicking back and forth across the words as Lorraine speaks aloud, summarizing the passage.

"There was a pact between a town ancestor and a malevolent demon, power in exchange of sacrifices," she begins, her voice carrying a hint of unease, "but… there’s a curse in the original bloodline that carries within their lineage”.

You break your gaze away from the book to look at Lorraine, your expression a mixture of trepidation and intrigue. She continues speaking, her voice trembling slightly as she goes on.

"The curse activates after a certain amount of generations, triggered by specific conditions..."

You interrupt her, your curiosity getting the best of you, “what is the curse, the conditions?" you ask, your voice edged with tension.

Lorraine shakes her head, her expression one of frustration. She continues biting her thumbnail, her voice filled with uncertainty.

"I don’t know," she mutters, her eyes fixated on the book, “the next page is gone."

You look back down at the book, your fingers flipping to the next page to find that Lorraine is correct. The page is in fact missing, and a few specks of dried blood can be seen lining the gutter. The sight sends a chill down your spine.

“And you just thought having this, knowing what’s inside it, and NOT telling me was a good idea why?”

The incredulous look she gives you almost gives you whiplash, fairly so as she shoots back “consider us even, or do I need to remind you of the devil room in your Pops’ study?”

Your eyebrows knit together as you open your mouth for rebuttal, but the words die on your tongue, a small exhale replacing it as you process.

Yeah, alright, fair enough.

As your eyes dart from the missing page to Lorraine, a cold realization settles over you.

Of course, it all makes perfect sense.

The pieces of the puzzle start to slot into place, and the atmosphere in the room seems to grow heavier. You begin to describe the atmosphere, your voice tinged with a hint of dread.

"Are you thinkin’ what I'm thinkin’?"

Lorraine tilts her head to the side in response, a sense of resignation crossing her features.

"I think I might have an idea," she admits, her voice betraying a tinge of trepidation. "It's not good."

Lorraine jumps slightly as you snap the book shut, startled by the sudden sound. You point a finger at her, your tone firm. "Go pack a bag, right now. We're leavin’ in ten”.

Without waiting for a response, you drop the book to the table and begin digging through her kitchen drawers, searching for something.

Lorraine starts to protest, her voice coming out in a pleading tone, “Rooks we don't know for sure, maybe—"

Before she can finish her sentence, your fingers close around a decent-sized kitchen knife, and you hold it up for inspection.

As you do, you grunt out “you said lineage, Lorraine — a town ancestor — you and I know damn well who the foundin’ families of this godforsaken place are”.

Lorraine lurches forward, her hands grasping at the leather of your jacket as she tries to convince you. Her voice is full of desperation and uncertainty.

"It might not be what we think," she pleads. "This is all speculation, please, look at me and let’s talk about this?”

You lower the knife back onto the counter, turning to gently grasp her shoulders, gently looking at her.

"Lorraine," you start, your voice filled with a mixture of concern and determination, "they're not good people. They’re messin’ around with dark forces and I wouldn't be surprised if they got that damn book from my Pop..."

You then suddenly stop, the realization of something dawning on you.

Even if you don’t come from a founding family, your Pop was deeply rooted in this community, which means…

You speak aloud, brow knitting together, “my Pop... that explains how he must have known too," you murmur, the implications of your words sinking in slowly.

You shake your head, pushing aside the thoughts to focus on the present situation. Turning back to her, you speak with urgency.

"Please, Raine — let me just get you out of here. We can figure things out once I know you're safe," you say, gently squeezing her shoulders, your gaze earnest imploring.

As you utter her old nickname, it hangs in the air between you. The five years apart fade into the background, overpowered by the weight of the familiar term.

Her eyes widen slightly, the muscles in her face tensing as she processes the nickname. You can already see the emotions battling behind her eyes, the nostalgia and familiarity flooding back.

You assure her with a firm voice, your grip on her shoulders never faltering. "I promise, I'll keep you safe. We're getting you out of here before they can hurt you, I won’t let them” you say, your gaze unflinching.

Lorraine's eyes shine with a mixture of fear and resignation as she nods in agreement. "You were right all along," she admits, her voice wavering slightly.

"I should have listened to you sooner. I should have left when I had the chance," she says, her words filled with a hint of regret.

Your brow furrows in confusion as your hands adjust, still holding her shoulders, your gaze never wavering. You murmur, your voice thick with concern.

"What do you mean? When did you have the chance to leave?"

Lorraine hesitates for a moment, her eyes darting around the room before settling back on yours.

There's something in her gaze that you can't quite read, like she's contemplating whether to reveal something. She opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it again, like the words are caught in her throat.

You step closer, concern and curiosity etched on your face. "Raine, what is it?" you ask, your voice gentle.

"You can tell me. Whatever it is. Whatever you're not saying."

Lorraine shakes her head, her eyes flickering away from your face to gaze down at her hands. Her fingers continue their restless fidgeting, twirling and twisting together. You gently reach out to cover her hands with yours, attempting to soothe her tremors with your touch.

Lorraine takes a deep breath, her eyes still fixated on your hands covering hers. She then whispers, her voice barely audible, "okay”.

You feel a flicker of confusion in your mind.

What was she okaying to?

Lorraine looks up at you, her soft brown eyes meeting yours. The vulnerability and trust within them are clear, and you know intuitively that she's agreeing to go with you, no questions asked.

Her decision is clear and unwavering — whatever secrets she's holding, whatever obligations she has, none of it matters now.

You ask her, your voice filled with a tinge of uncertainty, “we're on the same page here, right?"

Lorraine's eyes never waver from yours as she nods slightly, a small, determined but terrified smile on her lips. "I'm with you," she affirms, her voice steady.

In that single moment, a silent understanding passes between the two of you. Screw the town, the dark prophecy, the secrets. Screw it all. All that matters is that you're leaving together, and nothing is going to stop you.

You're in this together, and whatever comes next, you'll face it head-on.

Together.

____________________________________________

You've been keeping watch from the window, your gaze fixed on the streets below, eyes scanning for any signs of trouble.

The minutes seem to stretch out as you stand there, anxiously waiting and watching. Silent. Empty. Not at all reassuring in any sense.

Meanwhile, Lorraine is in her room, hastily throwing essentials into a bag, her mind focused on the task at hand.

The sound of Lorraine moving around in her room serves as background noise as you continue your vigil by the window, your eyes constantly surveying the street below.

You can hear the rustling of clothes, the soft thump of items being packed away. Time seems to move both agonisingly slowly and yet also too quickly at the same time.

All you can do is wait and watch, anxious for the moment when Lorraine emerges from her room with her bag packed and ready to go.

The will be damned, you don’t care about that bullshit anymore. You have plenty to keep you both going for a while, plenty to get you both far enough away.

Plenty to keep her safe.

After what feels like hours but is probably only a few more minutes, the sound of footsteps in the hallway snaps you from your thoughts.

You straighten up, turning your attention to the hallway, watching as Lorraine steps out of her room with a backpack slung over her shoulder.

You stride over to her, your eyes scanning over her, ensuring she brought everything she needs. You then look up at her and ask, "you ready?"

Lorraine nods, her backpack slung over her shoulder. "Yeah," she replies, her voice resolute.

Seeing the way her hands are trembling just a little, you gesture to the backpack and offer, "I can carry that for you if you'd like”.

Lorraine shakes her head, her hair falling in her face as she does so.

Her eyes are a bit dazed, her mind clearly grappling with the realization that she's about to disappear off the face of the planet with you.

It’s clear she’s combed through everything during her solitude while packing, trying to logically process the escalation of events.

The parallels aren't lost on either of you, and it's clear she's struggling with the same emotions you both felt the night you left, five years ago.

Lorraine looks up at you, her eyes wide and a mixture of emotions swirling within them.

Suddenly, she asks, "why?"

Her voice is soft, but there's an undertone of desperation there, a plea to understand. It's clear that she needs clarity, a reason to go along with you.

You stand there, your mind a mixture of emotions. Confusion, sadness, frustration, longing — it all mingles together, forming a tangled web of thoughts and feelings.

As Lorraine implores you, her eyes begging for an answer, you remain silent while you grapple with your own inner turmoil.

Lorraine presses further, her voice laced with both hurt and confusion, “why now? Is it guilt? Huh?"

Her words cut through the air like a knife, hitting you square in the chest.

"Why didn't you ask me to go with you five years ago?"

The question hangs in the air between you, a stark reminder of the past choices that led you here.

You attempt to shut it down, trying to steer the conversation back on track, “we can talk about it later, we don't have time for this—"

However, Lorraine cuts you off before you can finish.

"I need to know before I just up and leave the goddamn state with you," she says firmly, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and vulnerability.

You feel a pang of guilt and discomfort as she pushes for answers. You can feel the familiar fog threatening to creep in, trying to cloud your thoughts. Your jaw clenches as you struggle to keep a clear head, mentally wrestling with your inner turmoil.

Lorraine's voice takes on a stern tone as she demands again, eyes locked onto yours, “I need an answer. Now."

You can feel the pressure mounting, the weight of her question, the urgency in her voice. The cloud in your mind thickens, making it harder to concentrate.

You meet her gaze, your voice coming out in a measured, controlled tone. "I felt... somethin’ comin’," you begin, struggling to find the right words to express what you're feeling. "It was like a warnin’, and it scared the shit outta me. I couldn't control it. I acted on instinct”.

The fog in your mind thickens further, making your words sound distant and hazy.

You take a shaky breath, your words coming out in a strained whisper. "I... I didn't think you'd be willing to leave everythin’ behind. I didn't think I meant enough to you for you to do that for... with me”.

Admitting all that out loud, expressing the doubts and insecurities you'd harboured for years, feels like a weight off your chest.

Yet, it also feels like a trade for a noose instead, invisible rope coiling around your neck.

Lorraine looks at you, her eyes wide with surprise and disbelief. Her jaw hangs open slightly as she processes your words, clearly taken aback by your confession.

All this time, she had no idea what you'd been holding back.

Lorraine's surprise morphs into a mix of confusion and frustration as her voice drops to a shaky whisper.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks, her eyebrows furrowing.

"You're acting like you—"

She stops herself, unable to finish the sentence, the realization slowly dawning on her face.

The air between you is thick with tension as the truth, laid bare and raw, fills the space. You hold your breath, the reality of the situation crashing over you.

It's as if you're both seeing each other clearly for the first time, realizing the depth of emotions and feelings that had been hidden all along.

Lorraine's eyes stay fixed on yours, a mixture of shock and understanding slowly dawning in her expression.

Her mind is trying to compute everything, the gravity of what you've just confessed sinking in. Her hand tightens around the strap of her backpack, knuckles turning white with the force.

Your voice comes out in a broken whisper, a mixture of desperation and determination.

"We don't have time for this," you say, your mind focused on the task at hand. "I have to get you out of here, I need you safe."

The urgency in your tone breaks through the tension in the air, pulling Lorraine's attention back to the present situation.

“You don’t mean that,” Lorraine's demeanor changes, her eyes hardening as she mutters in disbelief, “you think you get to leave for five years and say something like that — play the hero, and expect me to just go along with it like it’s not bullshit?"

The hurt and anger in her voice are palpable. The revelation of your feelings has thrown her off balance, making her question everything she thought she knew about your friendship.

The realization hits you like a truck, a wave of understanding washing over you. It's not just her absence you've been feeling for these last five years, but something far more profound.

You've been missing a part of yourself, a piece that completes you, and that piece is her.

It pains you, knowing that it’s taken all of this, to find a sliver of clarity amongst the ruins of chaos.

You realize now that all those memories you've been clinging to, the ones that bring you happiness and contentment, all revolve around her.

They're the moments where you felt whole, alive, and real. And now, standing in front of her, you feel that same completeness again.

How have you never noticed? How could you be so blind to something that’s been right in front of you?

Wow. Can you even blame trauma on this one? You’re just a fucking idiot, apparently.

Now begs the question, are you open to change? Growth? Being healed?

Can you come back from this?

You take a deep breath, the weight of your realization resting heavily on your shoulders as the answer to your own question comes without a second thought.

"Raine," you begin, your voice steady but filled with emotion, “I never meant to hurt you by leavin’. It's just... I couldn't stay, I couldn't stay in a place where I felt trapped, suffocated, broken."

You pause for a moment, gathering your thoughts, trying to convey the depth of your feelings.

"But now that I've been away, I see that the reason I still felt so empty, so incomplete even after leaving, was because I was missin’ a vital part of myself — you."

“Stop,” Lorraine shakes her head, her anger and frustration evident in her expression. "I won’t — I can't believe you," she says, her voice taut with frustration.

"You're sayin’ all this, that you felt empty without me, and yet you still chose to leave without a word!"

Her anger is palpable, the bitterness in her voice cutting through the air, “you just up and left, without a single word, and now you're standin’ here telling me that I'm the piece you were missing?"

Lorraine's shoulders are tense, her hand clenching the strap of her backpack even tighter “do you have any idea how much it hurt, how much I missed you, how broken I felt when you left?"

“Now all this shit happens,” her voice is a tangled mess of confusion and pain, “and you get this whole idea in your head — this need to escape, to save me to repent against your own guilt — but you didn't think to ask me how I felt about it? You just expected me to follow you without question?"

You're quiet for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air between you.

Finally, you nod once and mutter a single word: "Yes."

The admission is simple, blunt, but honest. You were so focused on your own thoughts, your own plans, that you hadn't stopped to consider how Lorraine felt about it all.

“I’m sorry, you’re right, you’re absolutely right.”

You steel yourself and turn fully to look at Lorraine, your eyes locked onto hers, “what do you want, Lorraine?" you ask, your voice steady but filled with emotion.

Your eyes search her face, your expression softening as you continue, “if you choose to stay, to face this bullshit for whatever reason — it'll rip me apart if something happens to you”.

Your words hang in the air, and Lorraine's eyes are focused on you, her emotions warring on her face. The space between you is filled with tension, the silence heavy and charged.

She's thinking, trying to process everything you've said, everything you've admitted.

Lorraine's voice breaks slightly as she whispers, the pain and longing evident in her shaky tone "I wanted you..."

There's a bitter pause, and when she speaks again, her voice quivers ever so slightly.

"I wanted you here, five years ago, and you weren't here”.

You take a deep breath and step forward, closing the distance between you and Lorraine. The regret and remorse in your voice are palpable as you offer an apology.

"I'm so sorry," you say, your voice quivering ever so slightly, "I know I'm late, I know I wasn't here when you needed me, but I am now. I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."

Lorraine's expression softens slightly, some of the anger and bitterness ebbing away in the face of your heartfelt apology. She looks at you, trying to read your expression, searching for sincerity in your eyes.

There's a hint of vulnerability in her gaze, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you mean what you say.

She doesn't respond immediately, but the harshness in her stance softens, her shoulders loosening just a bit, and she lets out a shaky breath.

With caution and care, you take another small step closer to Lorraine, your movements slow and gentle.

Your gaze stays fixed on her face, watching for any reaction or sign of discomfort.

She doesn't move away, doesn't shrink back. Instead, she stands her ground, holding your gaze as you approach. Her expression is a mixture of uncertainty and something else, her eyes never leaving yours.

Another step. The space between you continues to shrink, the air between you crackling with tension.

You're close enough now that you could reach out and touch her, but you don't, waiting for her next move, whatever it might be.

Lorraine's shoulders rise and fall with each breath, her chest heaving ever so slightly. Her gaze flickers down to your lips before snapping back to your eyes, the intensity of the moment palpable between you both.

The tension between you is almost unbearable, a thread ready to snap. You can feel your heart thudding in your chest, the sound deafening in the silence of the room.

Now or never. It’s not even a question anymore: real or not real.

It’s the only real thing you’ve ever felt.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to reign in the intense emotions swirling inside you. Then you take a shaky breath and start to recount everything that's happening, the words coming out in a rush.

"We're in the middle of a nightmare, Lorraine," you begin, your voice strained.

"Black magic, cursed families, a prophecy, demonic pacts—it's all insane”.

You pause for a second, struggling to get the words out. The admission you're about to make feels even crazier than the whole situation you find yourselves in. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"And yet, the craziest part to me is it took me this long to admit how I feel about you. It feels more insane than any curse or prophecy”.

Lorraine's expression is a maelstrom of emotions, hesitation warring with a desperate need to bridge the gap between you both.

In a sudden, almost instinctual move, she drops her backpack to the ground and closes the distance between you. Her body collides with yours, and you’re meeting her half way.

The moment Lorraine’s body crashes into you, your lips meet in a desperate, fiery kiss.

There’s a raw, primal hunger behind it, years of pent-up longing and denial now exploding into a moment of undeniable heat.

Your arms wrap around her, pulling her close, your body molding against hers eagerly.

The kiss deepens as her fingers curl into your hair, your mouths moving together with a frantic urgency, as if trying to make up for lost time all at once.

The kiss is a potent mix of apology, anger, fear, and desperation. It's everything unsaid, every regret, every emotion pent up and finally coming to the surface in a flurry of movement and heat.

Finally. Finally. Finally.

You pour it all into the kiss, the way your lips move against hers, the way your hands grip her hips, the way your body presses against hers, conveying more than words ever could.

The feel of her nails digging into the back of your neck sends a shiver down your spine, but you barely register the slight sting. Your focus is solely on the feeling of her lips against yours, softer than anything you'd dared to let yourself imagine.

Something that’s been coiled tight inside you releases, a heaviness you didn’t know you were harboring, and suddenly everything just feels… real.

With a silent groan, you press yourself flush against her, your hands roving over her body as if trying to memorize every curve and dip, your touch hungry and desperate.

The heat between you is escalating, the intensity of the kiss growing more frenzied with each passing second.

Her hands hook under the lapels of your jacket to push it off you, roaming over your chest, her fingers dancing over the contours of your abdomen over your shirt. She pulls and tugs at the fabric, her actions becoming more urgent.

You respond in kind, your own hands becoming bolder, sliding up her slender waist, over her hips, and up to her back under her shirt.

When Lorraine moans softly into your mouth from the feeling of your fingers along her bare skin, the sound sending a jolt of something hot straight through you, you know you’re a goner. The sound echoes in your head, adding gas to the already roaring fire in your gut.

You pull her closer, thumbs hooking her shirt as your hands roam freely over her bare back now, your touch both possessive and worshipful.

A loud abrupt banging against the front door jolts you both, breaking the heated moment abruptly.

You both pull away from the kiss, hearts racing and faces flushed, and try to regain your composure. The loud noise has shattered the bubble of intimacy you’ve enveloped yourselves in, and now reality comes crashing back in.

You pull away reluctantly, your body missing the heat of Lorraines against yours, gaze locked on hers.

Both of you are breathless following the intensity of the moment, the room still heavy with the weight of what's just happened.

Another sharp bang on the front door startles you both again. The realization that someone — or something — is at the door sends a jolt of adrenaline through you.

You instinctively nudge Lorraine behind you, the harsh banging growing more insistent, the door visibly trembling with each impact.

Your heart hammers in your chest as the realization sinks in — whoever is on the other side is trying to kick the door in.

A surge of protective fury ignites in you. You stand ready, bracing yourself for whatever might happen next.

Lorraine is gripping your forearms tightly, her voice a soft, strained whisper “I need to know, Rooks please—“

Another harsh crack, the door is giving in, but you look over your shoulder to her and suddenly all that matters is those wide brown eyes.

“That— was it real?“ she says, her words interrupted by the sudden crash of the door giving in.

Wood splinters and the old hinges creak in protest as the door is kicked open, revealing an ominous, imposing figure standing in the doorway.

Your heart skips a beat, uncertainty and confusion blending with the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You stare at the figure in the doorway, shock flooding your system as you recognize the man standing there.

“Wayne?” you call out, your voice slightly shaky. The realization hits you: this is Wayne, one of the last people you expected to find standing here, kicking in the door.

Wayne stands before you, but something is… off about him.

His usual confident composure is replaced by a disconcerting blankness. His features are dulled, his skin looking paler than usual, the life behind his eyes seemingly sapped away.

It’s an unsettling sight, one that sends a chill down your spine.

Lorraine — still standing behind you — calls out meekly to Wayne, her voice trembling with trepidation. “Wayne?”

His empty gaze slides over to Lorraine, and he takes a halting, unsteady step forward. The sight is uncanny, his uncoordinated steps and vacant expression creating an unnerving atmosphere.

Wayne takes another slow, lurching step forward, approaching you both with a jerky, disjointed gait. His gaze, normally astute and sharp, is now dulled, the whites of his eyes stained red and bloodshot, giving him a crazed, unhinged look.

His usually neat and tidy attire is disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and partially untucked, his hair ruffled as if he’s been running his hands through it over and over.

As Wayne gets closer, you can’t help but whisper under your breath, voicing your concern.

“Something ain’t right with him,” you murmur, not taking your eyes off the man.

Lorraine’s grip on your arm tightens, her fingers digging into your skin, a silent testament to her own growing unease.

The situation takes another foreboding turn as Jackson suddenly appears to follow Wayne in, his demeanor mirroring Wayne's eerie state. Like Wayne, he moves in a slow, almost zombie-like way, his usually sharp and focused eyes now unfocused and listless.

The sight of the two men, both of whom you’ve known for years, in such an unsettling state is enough to drive up your sense of fight or flight.

Lorraine's voice is barely above a whisper, her fingers clinging to you tighter as dread seems to ripple through her.

“Oh god…” she murmurs, her voice steeped in horror, “what did they do to them?”

Her tone suggests she might have some idea, hinting at a hidden knowledge that you’re not privy to.

As Lorraine's words sink in, a chilling realization hits you like a punch to the gut:

Maxine and Bobby-Lynn.

previous, next

————————————————————————

Tag List: @thatshyboy1998

[avxtarlz]

Betrayal || Luke C. X Fem Reader

Warnings: Y/n Gets hurt but that’s all

Summary: Luke and Y/n are dating and she finds out about His plan working against Kronos.

Please leave in Requests if you guys can!!!

—————

When Percy Arrived back at camp successfully achieving His Quest Y/n,Luke, and Annabeth pulled him aside to Catch him up on what was happening in camp.

Now all 4 Demi gods stand inside the Hermes cabin while Y/n,luke, and Annabeth are on one side and Percy on the other. “Clarisse stole the Masterbolt.” Percy started. “It’s complicated.” Y/n spoke. “How is it Complicated?” Percy looked at her raising his eyebrows. “Everyone was Ready to join the war here.” Luke stated backing Y/n up. “To start fighting each other. An accusation against Clarisse-“ but as he was about to finish Annabeth cut him off.

“Without proof.” All three of the demigods now turned their heads to Annabeth. “Exactly.” Luke said. “Without proof,it would have lit this whole place on fire.” Luke continued “but the good thing is your back.” Y/n smiled. “You stopped the war.” Luke looked at Percy smiling. “You saved the world, Now it’s safe to tell Chiron and finish cleaning up the mess. I told him we needed to meet him away from the celebration, so we can’t talk without any of clarisse’s supporters noticing.” He finished.

“Me and Y/n Will keep an eye on Clarisse while you two are gone.” Annabeth spoked. You raised your eyebrows. “Why can’t I go with you guys?” You pointed to Luke and Percy. Luke looked at Percy and back at you. “It’s better to stay like this. Plus Annabeth might need another pair of eyes for lookout.” Luke walked up to you and put his hand on your shoulder. “Fine.” Y/n agreed. Luke smiled as he turned to Annabeth.

“Great. And we’ll meet back here.” They all nodded agreeing. He turned back to you He pecked a kiss to your cheek. Luke then sighed as he turned his head to Percy. “Ready?” Percy then nodded.

———-

It was now Dark as The rest of Camp Half-Blood was celebrating and setting off Fireworks. “Talk about a celebration.” Luke nudged Percy looking up at the Fireworks. They really pulled out all the stops for you.. Cmon you’ve said, like two words since we left the cabins.” Luke looked at Percy while they were still walking thru the woods. “Just…Thinking about what the oracle said. That I’ll fail to save what matters most in the end.” Percy stopped walking, so did Luke.

“Thinking about your mom. I get that.” Luke told Percy as he turned around and set the lamp on a stone. “Believe me, I do.” He now Turned back to Percy. “But prophecies? Those things are so Vauge.” Luke scrunched his face. “The quest is over, and everything the Oracle said had either come true of makes sense.” Luke tilted his head. “Has it?” “You shall go west and face the god who has Turned.” Percy explained. “Ares. Okay.” Luke shrugged “find what was stolen and see it returned.” “Clearly the Bolt.” It went silent as Percy spoke. “And you shall be Betrayed….by one who calls you Friend..”

It was now silent at Luke and Percy were just staring. “Well the reason Clarisse is still here is because…you never said anything to Chiron about her.” Percy then broke the silence. “Did you.” He then spoke again. Luke looked shocked trying to speak. “You couldn’t… because you knew Clarisse didn’t steal the bolt…..you did.” Percy now put all the pieces together.

“You worked with Ares to plant it on me. So when the shoes you gave me pulled me down into Tartarus, The bolt would be delivered right to Kronos.” Percy now looked shocked as he looked up at Luke. “I didn’t think you’d give ‘em to Grover to wear…” Luke then finally spoke.

Percy’s eyes widened. “I am your friend. Percy, none of this was meant to betray you. The gods are my enemy. You.. I’m here to Recruit.” Luke started to explain. “Recruit? Does Y/n Know about this?” Percy asked. Luke just ignored him as he turned around. Percy heard a sword Un sheathing as he quickly Unsheathed riptide. “Easy. I don’t wanna fight.” Luke put his hand up.

“This is what I wanted to show you. This…is our way out.” Luke smirked. “Way out of what?” Percy questioned him still tensed. Luke looked at him as he turned around as he started to cut a Large pillar. “Camp.” As he cut a streak a portal started to form. “And their Control. Backbiter can open Secret doors. We can stay on the run as long as it takes.”

Luke started to walk towards Percy. Percy saw as he started to back up. “Stop saying “we”.” Luke continued to walk closer. “It’s the word Zeus fears the most. The gods want us to fight for them. Worship them, fear them. And they couldn’t care less what we want. They’re bad parents, Percy. And they’ve gotten away with it for far too long.” Luke explained. “No. this isn’t you. It’s Kronos. He’s got to you.” Percy tried to reason with him. “No, he opened my eyes to the truth.” Luke turned back around. “A golden age.” As he started to continue to cut into the pillar.

That’s what they called it when he ruled. We’re gonna help Kronos bring the Golden age back.” Luke turned back and walked back towards Percy. “Stealing the bolt and the Helm was easy. For what comes next..we’re gonna need all the help we can get.” Luke stopped explaining as he turned back. But when he was about to finish cutting Percy stopped him with his sword.

“Our parents aren’t perfect, but they’re trying their best.” Percy put his sword up and Luke did too. “What would Y/N think of this.?” Percy stopped. As Luke heard him mention your name he got angry as he swung his sword at Percy.

————-

Y/n and Annabeth were near a table drinking punch as they were still on lookout for Clarisse. But Y/n seemed that they weren’t up to anything as She saw them enter back Area cabin.

“You don’t think they’ll do anything?” Y/n questioned as she turned to Annabeth. “No I don’t think so. We should-“ but as she was about to finish you raised your hand to shush Annabeth. Y/n heard metal clinging onto one another. “Do you hear that.” Y/n looked at the woods and then back to Annabeth. As they looked at each other for 1 sec they started to run into the woods.

___________

While Percy and Luke were still fighting Percy accidentally cut Luke in his torso.

“I’m sorry.” Percy quickly apologized. Luke groaned as he had enough and turned around and swung his sword to Percy. He fell down looking at Luke with his eyes wide. As Luke started to raise his sword and swing, Percy closed his eyes waiting for the impact. All he heard was metal clinging on to each other. Percy looked up to see Y/n infront of him stopping Luke’s impact.

She turned around to see Percy on the floor. “You okay?” Percy quickly nodded. Annabeth quickly went to Percy’s side lifting him up and pulling him to the side. Y/n looked back to Luke after gently pushing him back. “Luke, what are you doing?” Y/n said. Luke looked sad. “Y/n, you have to listen to me..” He tried to explain. Percy looked up. “Y/n, don’t listen to him. Alright.” Percy tried to warn you

Luke ignored Percy, walking towards you. You backed up alittle gripping at your sword. Luke stopped walking and stood there. “Kronos. He has plans for us Y/n.“ Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “Kronos? Luke, what are you talking about?” Y/n said. “He can give us a better life than the Gods can.I need you to understand Y/n, we can finally be free. Free from the Gods, Camp, rules.“

Y/n now looked at the Boy she thought she had known. “I mean come on Y/n when was the last time you spoke to your mother.” Luke pointed at you now starting to get agitated. “Luke it doesn’t matter at this point. What you’re doing is wrong.” Y/n spoke. “Y/n why can’t you understand that I’m doing this for you. For us!” Luke started to pace around. “Luke. This isn’t you, you’re not the man I fell in love with. Whoever… this is, is not my Luke. You can still turn back.” Y/n told to him.

The words Luke knew were accurate but didn’t wanna hear. But now his sadness turns into pure anger. He would’ve thought you would move from the impact but as he swung his sword to where you were. Y/n didn’t expect it but she gasped as she felt a sharp pain in her arm. She looked as she saw a huge gash. “Y/n!” Annabeth now ran to your aid.

Once his anger was gone he saw what he did as he looked scared. “Y/n… I’m sorry. I’m sorr-“ He tried to comfort you but backed away as he looked at Y/n one last time as he ran into the portal. Blood was now spilling all over your arm. “Let’s get you to the infirmary.” Y/n didn’t say anything. She was just taken aback how Luke could ever do that to her. That was not her Luke.

_________

[benevolent-yoon]

CUT from the Same Cloth [Series] Ch. 1

☆theme: Hybrid/Supernatural!AU

♡pairing: wolf!Hyunjin & leopard!Reader (Gray Wolf & Snow Leopard)

✧genre: Romance/Angst/Slight!Thriller

⚠︎warnings: |Death/Suicide/Religion/Cult|

❀summary: Hyunjin could never put his finger on it or describe the feeling perfectly, but something always felt off with his life… A little different from the rest of his clan, he manages to find solace with you. But the more he learns, the more he realizes who his family really is…

✑word count: 2.6k Author's Note: I am slow to upload but that's because I quadruple check what I write just to make sure it makes sense cause sometimes I can miss details that I definitely meant to put in

[TITLE PAGE]

|Chapter 1| The Girl in the Snow

“Try being responsible for once.” Chan sneered at Hyunjin.

The two boys were in their cottage currently hashing it out on the couch, “I didn’t even leave your sight.” He defended himself. 

“That’s not the point, you know how the elders feel about us walking off territory without their permission.” Chan rebutted. “I know you meant no harm, but you can’t just do what you feel like.”

“And don’t you think that’s weird, hyung?” Hyunjin looked up at him. 

“Listen, I don't make the rules, I follow them. And they are for our protection; there are other hybrids.”

“We haven’t even seen any other hybrids other than the leopard kind that lives across the pond from us. And they aren’t even violent.”

“Yea well, they don’t stick together now do they?”

“What does that have to do with my point?” Hyunjin asked, irritated. “My point is that the only ‘threat’ is across the lake, and they aren’t even that threatening.”

Chan sighed. “Hyunjin, I get your point. My point is that we must follow the rules. That’s all.” Chan got up and walked over to the kitchen to get himself a drink while Hyunjin pouted. “Also, you’re on spring-well duty for a week.”

Hyunjin whined loudly and playfully while flailing his body around on the couch. “It’s because of the elders, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” Chan replied.

He groaned even more, and Chan just laughed.

“Hyung, you talk to the elders sometimes. Did they ever mention why we can’t interact with the other clan?”

Chan sighed. “Yes. There are a lot of reasons but the main one being they’re ultimately afraid of us.”

“Why?”

“They find us intimidating since we’re always in packs, and because we’re stronger.”

“And faster?” He questioned.

“Nooo~” Chan said in a high-pitched tone while tilting his head. “If I’m not mistaken the leopard-breed is about as fast as we are.”

“So, what do they have?”

“They’re great swimmers and climbers.” 

“Yea... I can’t climb for shit.”

“It’s just how we’re set up Hyunjin. Wolves just can’t climb; penguins can’t fly and they’re part of the bird species so….?”

Hyunjin hummed in agreement. 

“Why are you so interested in them now? You weren’t before.”

“I saw one of them at the lake, where our treaty line is about a couple of days ago. She didn’t seem to notice me; we were only about 10 meters away from each other. I wanted to approach her out of curiosity, that's all. She seemed friendly and I don’t know what else to tell you other than she sparked my interest.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’m guessing she was cute.”

“Couldn’t tell.” Hyunjin said unamused. “It was just the first time I saw snow-pea so close.”

Snow-pea was the nickname the wolf clan gave the leopard clan, since they were technically snow leopards and even asked the wolf clan to refer to them as such. The wolves found this a little funny and came up with the nickname, snow-pea. At first, it was used to slightly insult them for being so sensitive, but being the gray wolf clan, aka the common wolf kind of made them understand where they were coming from. Wolves don’t refer to Alaskan wolves as just wolves, they call them the Alaskan-Clan. So eventually the word became an easy nickname since ‘snow leopard’ was such a mouth full. 

“Her ears were smaller than mine,” He continued, “and her tail was longer, but ultimately… it was just a sense I got from her. Shy, sweet, sad?” He tried to remember correctly. “I can’t really remember the rest, but I know she’s on the shy and sweet side.”

Chan smiled and shook his head, “You’re too curious. And you know curiosity killed the cat.”

“I’m not a cat.” Hyunjin huffed, he didn’t like being referred to them. 

He was always more curious, more balanced and more anxious than the rest of his clan, so yes, he’s always had cat-like tendencies, but he isn’t a cat. And he hates being separated from his clan like that, especially since they’ve done it to him his entire life. Plus being an orphan at birth didn’t really help with his identity issues. 

“Sorry, I forgot it was a touchy topic.” Chan apologized.

“It’s fine.” Hyunjin waved his hand as he dismissed Chan’s guilt. “I know you don’t mean it like that but the others… I just hear it too often.” He whispered the last part, but Chan still heard it.

“I understand.” 

Chan came out of the kitchen to pat him on the back. Hyunjin smiled at his hyung’s effort to comfort him. 

“Are you done scolding him now? Can we come inside?” They hear a muffled voice from the other side of the door. 

“Yes Seungmin, you guys can come in.” Chan sighed. 

The door swung open, and the rest of the clan busted through, “Thank god! I’m hungry and Jihyo noona said she’d come over and cook for us since all we can seem to make is fire and ash.” Seungmin smiled and sat next to Hyunjin. “How bad did you get it?” He ruffled Hyunjin’s hair.

“Shut up, I just got well-duty for a week.” Hyunjin pushed Seungmin’s hand off.

“Lame.” He whined. “Why are these punishments so weak?”

“Because the elders have a soft spot for Hyunjin.” Minho said loudly while in the kitchen. 

“They do not!” Hyunjin defended himself. 

“Yes they fucking do!” Jisung chimed in, “I’ll never forget when we were 15 and both Hyunjin and I got caught for the same prank, and they let his ass off with a warning while I got watch-hours.”

“To be honest you were a little shit, that had nothing to do with them favoring Hyunjin and everything to do with how much you they thought were a pain the ass.” Chanbin teased. The rest of the pack ooh-ed, while Jisung glared at Changbin.

“I mean this nicely Jisung, but as a teen... the elders hated you.” Chan agreed. 

“What the hell?” Jisung asked him. As Hyunjin, Seungmin, Felix and Jeongin were all on the couch now laughing to themselves. 

“See, you were just a rabid dog, that has nothing to do with me.” Hyunjin teased more, causing the rest of the clan to laugh more. 

His comment ticked something in Jisung. “Oh shut up, at least I act like a fucking dog! Can’t say the same about you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Hyunjin challenged.

“Oh, you know what I mean Hwang.” Jisung smirked. 

Hyunjin stood up and growled in his face. “You want to get specific with your words or are you just gonna keep running your mouth like always?”

But before anything could happen Chan intervened. “Out! Hyunjin go to the well with Jeongin and Felix! Jisung, sit down and shut up!” 

They both glared and scoffed at each other but nevertheless followed instructions. Minho gave Hyunjin the bucket to the well and the empty jug to fill the water in. Hyunjin stormed out first with Felix and Jeongin following behind, he could still hear their conversation though. 

“The hell is wrong with you!?” Chan shouted at Jisung. 

“What? He started it!”

“No he didn’t, technically Changbin started it and you took it out on Hyunjin! You’re going to apologize when he gets back.”

“As if!”

“This isn’t up for discussion Jisung, you let your feelings get the best of you and ended up lashing out at the wrong person for the wrong thing!”

And that’s when Hyunjin tuned the rest of the conversation out as he was getting further and further away from the cottage. 

“Hey you okay?” Felix asked, catching up to him. 

“Yea.” He said, still not wanting to talk about it. 

The boys walked to the well in silence, the walk was far, and they took their time. The boys could tell Hyunjin needed to cool off. As they were finally getting closer to the well, Hyunjin threw the bucket. He was aiming for the snow around it, but he guessed his strength and anger got the best of him, because that bucket was long gone on the other side of the woods.

“How did you even-” Jeongin started.

“I don’t fucking know.” Hyunjin interrupted and face palmed. 

“That’s definitely in the neighbor’s yard.” Felix simply said. 

“Yep.” Hyunjin sighed to himself, pushing his hair back.  

“We’ll buy you time, just don’t get caught.” 

“Thanks Lix.” Hyunjin smiled and ran into the forest while being on guard. 

He knew how bad this would look if he got caught, but luckily for Hyunjin his senses were the best in his clan. He could sense the whole territory if he wanted, which was rare and exhausting to him if he was honest. It took a lot of focus, blocking out your emotions, emptying your mind of all thoughts, centering on your surroundings and then pinpointing on the energy levels in those surroundings. And unfortunately for Hyunjin sometimes he had a lot of emotions. 

He tried to be quick and silent at the same time. He noticed a presence not too far from him, but he also noticed it was extremely stagnant. So as long as it didn’t know he was here, it probably wouldn’t move from its spot. He found the bucket easily, and decided to walk slowly, calmly and quietly towards it, still being cautious, then with the same grace picked it up. 

But before he could turn back, he heard sniffing, his ears perked at the sound that was coming from in front of him. It was that same presence, not too far, maybe 3 meters away. He knew he wasn’t supposed to… but his interest got the best of him, and he walked closer to the sound. 

His eyes widened at what he found. It was the same girl he just talked to Chan about, but much closer. He leaned against the tree to get a better look at her. She was sitting in the snow with her back turned towards him. Her gray spotted tail was long, her ears fluffy and short, her long curly hair covered most of her back. The scent he got from her was enticing something he’d never smelled on his side before. As he put more of his weight on the tree branch it snapped causing him to slip tumbling forward and landing right behind her…

You turned around frightened and shocked you didn’t notice anyone before. You were drowning in thoughts so no wonder you didn’t notice. You stared at him in fear noticing his ears and tail. Wolf. 

He raised his head from the snow, trying his best not to frighten you more than he already had. After about a minute of staring at each other, frozen in both areas he decided to speak. “Are you okay?” 

You nodded your eyes still on him. Cute, he thought. He slowly sat up as you were watching his every move.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, he leaned towards you. 

“Yea why?” You asked. 

“Because you haven’t stopped crying.” He pointed out.

You didn’t even notice you were still crying. You quickly wiped your face, managing to scratch yourself in the process. “Ow!” 

“Are you okay?” He asked again, but for a different reason this time. His hand reached out to you, impulsively, but he pulled it back when he noticed your scared expression. “Sorry.” He mumbled as his ears fell down. 

You fluttered your hands. “No... it’s okay.” You felt bad. 

He dug in his jacket pocket and took out a folded handkerchief, then wiped the blood off your cheek. He gave you a small smile but your face was blank. He noticed you weren’t really all there. “Got lost in your thoughts?”

His voice snapped you back into reality. “Huh?” You blinked.

“Lost in your thoughts?” He repeated.

“More like... my thoughts... consume me.” You bitterly stated. It was something only you struggled with. Your family stated you were too much of a daydreamer, it wasn’t like you could control it though. 

“So, your survival skills must be shit huh?” Hyunjin joked with a smirk. 

You sighed. “Please... don’t patronize me...” You whimpered slightly. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I know what you meant...” You huffed and stood up, immediately pacing left to right. The stress of it all, unfortunately made you blurt out. “I’m just tired of everyone in my life looking down on me. God– a rope looks so good right now.” 

Hyunjin jolted at your comment. “I-”

“Calm down doggie,” You stopped him. “It was a dark joke.” You lied, looking down at your feet. You played with the snow, to distract you. “Bad joke, I guess.” 

“Do you maybe, want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

It took you a minute to process his question. “Excuse me?” You asked, offended. I don’t understand this boy.

“I said-”

“No, I heard what you said, I’m confused as to why you said it.” Your hands on your hips looking down at him. “Why do you care?”

“Why can’t I care?” He challenged. 

“That’s not what I asked.” You growled. 

“I’ve noticed you okay.” He confessed, realizing you were completely misunderstanding him. “I saw you across the pond years ago, and obviously I didn’t pay you any mind then, but I’ve been seeing you more often lately. And as the years went by... I happened to notice how you’re always alone; excluded from your kind and I know that leopards aren’t close to begin with, but you just looked lonely...” The look he gave you was so genuine. “Your family always seemed to be yelling at you and I don’t know... I’m not trying to play with you I swear. I’m just weird and sensitive and... I guess... I’m just trying to be someone you can confide in?” 

You desperately were trying to process this blabbered information that he just gave you. He’s noticed me? Now that I think about it, he does look slightly familiar. 

“Can I smell you?” You asked for permission first.

“Of course.” He smiled and titled his head upwards.

It was a slightly unfamiliar feeling to Hyunjin, having you so close to him. And when your whiskers touched his, he felt something electrify in him. Sadly, you pulled back too quickly for his liking.

“Were you that wolf I sensed a couple of days ago?” 

“Off the trail, near Dahlia Mountain?” 

“Yes!” You know remembered.

“Yea, that was me.” He cheeked. 

“Oh!” You suddenly remembered a couple of moments where you felt a certain presence comforting you. “That night... A couple of months ago, with the veal… was that you?”

“Yes…” He smiled shyly. “That was me too.” 

You sat back down in front of him, at little in disbelief. “Why?” You had always felt you weren’t alone in the woods, but you knew it wasn’t a member of your clan.

He shrugged. “Can’t a guy just be nice? Maybe it’s just a wolf thing, you look out for one another.” 

“Maybe it’s just a you thing, I don’t think the other wolves are like you. You seem to be the most sympathetic out of your clan.” You smiled. 

“Oh shit, my clan.” Hyunjin jumped up. His spike in energy startled you a bit.

“H-How long have you been gone?” Realizing the situation he was in.

“Over 10 minutes, I have to go. See you around?” He grabbed the bucket.

“Eventually.” You smiled and waved goodbye. 

That was a ‘yes’ in his book. He ran as quickly as he could and when he made it back to Felix and Jeongin, their faces washed with relief. “What took you so long?” Felix asked. 

“It was buried in the snow, took me forever to find.” He lied. 

And that was the first of many…

[slickchickchocolatier]

T̴̶̨̨̢̛͇̱̙̭̳͚̼͍̪̮͔̯͍͎͔͔̽̿͊ͥͨ͗ͬͧ͑̓̌̓ͫ͋̇̂̈́̀͘͠͞͠ḩ̵̶̧͈̜͇͖̮͚̟͉̝̤̘̹̬̎̍͊͑̋͌͂̏͒̾̇̌ͩ́͂͛͊̾̂ͩ̀͆̓ͮ̚̚͢͢͠ë͍́̾ͭ O̶̼͚͐̌́ͦ́͆͋̌͡t̷̴̴̩͓͍͔̣͖̟͈͕̰̱ͨ́͛̾̎͐̽͐͑͒̏ͮ̃̀͂ͧ̔̾̚͘͘͢͠͝͡͡ͅh̥͉͂ę̜̮̱͕̟̘ͧ̄̃ͣ̋ŗ̢͔̖͎̪͚͇͕̩͖̹͒ͮͬ̎̃̽͆ͫ̏ͩ̀͆̇ͬͣ̃̄̚͟s̸̴̶̨͇̣͈̪͕̯̺̮͇ͦ̏̓ͤ͛ͥ͑̆̋̏ͦ̀̊̃͢_̢̛͍̖̩̞̬ͨj͇͓͚̝͑̇̊̒͐ͥ́̚͞ḍ̵̵̸̡̨̧̢̛͉̣̜̗̦̫̮̪̰͂̌̃̌̽̀̌́͑̏̑̂̊ͯͩ̀̊͌͆ͬ͛ͧ̑ͦ̉̕͟͝͝ẽ̸̸̢̖͕͙̦̄ͭͪ̈̊̈͐̂͝

CHAPTER SIX

Warnings: Mentions/hints of murderous rituals, hints of cannibalism, grave digging, cults, mentions of death, cursing. This chapter isn’t really for the light hearted and it’s going to get a bit gory from here on out so please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable. I also need to update the TO Masterlist. Also none of the chapters will be proofread since I don’t have the time to do so. 😭

Taglist: @nshmrarki , @lprww , @baekxo07 , @m7omo@nikstrange@heeshees@moonmoongi@heesitation@heeseung-min @nctsslut @heeseung-min @addictedtohobi @strxwbloody

“Y/N! Hey! Wait up!”

You turn your head around and take in the sight of your co-worker, Jessica. She always seemed to be so friendly, despite hardly knowing you. Since you both were part-time workers, she would constantly take the opportunity to ask about hanging out after your shift ends. Unfortunately time never permitted you to have that luxury since school and homework was taking up the majority of your free time. But what luck! Since you were on Spring Break, you finally had the chance to secure that bond and make a new friend.

“Y/n, let’s hang out today, yeah? Some friends and I are going to this get together at a very cool spot, come with us! It will be fun!”

You initially shook your head; the idea of you joining a random group of people whom you’ve never met didn’t sound so appetizing, yet Jessica was so eager to get your approval, you could almost see the tears forming in her eyes.

“Okay, I’ll go just for tonight.” You caved in. She jumps jovially as she claps your hands within hers. “It will be so much fun girl! I’ll text you on what to wear.”

“What to wear?” The perturbed sense in your voice sets her off to quickly justify her reasoning. “Well yeah, we gotta look good because there will be some cute guys.” She winks. You hardly could care about boys. Between work and school, there really wasn’t much time for anything else. Honestly, having a puppy would be much easier than having a boyfriend.

As the evening progressed, you met up with Jessica and sure enough, she brought you to a house party where a group of her close and personal friends greeted you. They all seemed very friendly but it was odd that they all wore black, as did Jessica. What was even more strange was that she had texted you to wear white, preferably a dress. Upon questioning her about it, she laughed softly as she informed you that you looked splendid in white, and that it complimented your skin tone the best. She also added that the likelihood of her and the group wearing all black was just a matter of coincidence. You felt a little strange about her response but her hand holding on to yours gave reassurance.

“Hey, it’s a nice night. Let’s take this party outside and have a nice bonfire.” A male voice speaks from the center of the crowd and everyone chimed in with a tone of approval. You didn’t want to ostracize yourself, so you followed suit. It was only for an hour or two before you would head back home anyhow. Jessica even stated that she would drive you back.

Walking through the woods, you questioned the whereabouts of where you all ventured into. “It’s all land that belongs to my grandfather. He’s got over a hundred and twenty acres.”

One of the guys spoke out as he overheard your question to Jessica. The latter looked back and flashed a smile over to him as she continued to hold onto your hand. “It’s really pretty here. Maybe we’ll come back during the daytime so you can see it.”

You nodded seldomly as she swings your hand and skips along. The group was split into two, sandwiching you and Jessica in between.

“Ah, we’re here.”

Your eyebrows frowned together as you squinted to view under the dark conditions of the current atmosphere. Once you fully configured what it was that you were seeing, you stuttered out as you pull Jessica’s hand to your side. “Is that a…tomb?”

“Hm? Oh yeah—well, before the land was bought by his grandfather, there were several acres that were dedicated as graveyards—“

Her voice is gently interrupted as the same young male chimes in. “It was the whole reason why he bought this land in the first place. These tombs honor the lineage of my ancestors.

You didn’t bother acknowledging his words. The entire venue was too uneasy and you huffed under your news that you wanted to leave, to which Jessica simply stared wide eyed in response.

You stared right back with an expectant look, raising a brow in annoyance at her silence. “Jessica, I’m not kidding. Let’s go back, now.”

“Unfortunately you can’t leave, y/n.”

The man’s voice peers from behind as you turn back and issue a nervous but steadfast glare. You should have known this was all too shady, from the choice of attire to the location of the gathering, it was enough to leave a nasty taste in your mouth.

In a blink of an eye, you felt your arms pinned to your back as four random group members restrained you, Jessica disappears into the crowd; her stoic countenance allows her to fully blend in with the other members, signifying that she completed her part in getting you out, which seemed to be the main mission behind whatever intentions the group had.

They dragged you over to a man made altar, one that was made of concrete and steel, spiral rods. It was rustic and industrial in appearance, with a pair of chains in various sizes hooked onto the sides. You whimper out, saving your breath as you try your best to shrug and fight off your captors. Screaming seemed to be pointless as you configured that you were so deep into the woods, completely evident that no one would be nearby to hear you. You did your best to save all your energy but alas, it was all useless as you felt the clasp of the chained cuffs locking onto your wrists and over your waist.

“You see y/n, my family has been participants of a long lived ritual, one of Pagan originals. We believe that in order to honor the recently deceased, blood and organs are a necessity for them to feast as they become reborn.”

Your eyes grow glossy as you shake your entire figure trying to break free. “What the fuck are you on!? What fucking cult is this!? You all are delusional!”

You screamed out as you witnessed the group members digging up various farming blades. To your dismay and utter sense of betrayal, you watch as Jessica arms herself with a farming hook, while the others take on various types of scythes. A feeling of hopelessness overwhelms you and you nearly feel it is too late to do anything. What could you do?

Fear swarms and takes over as you feel your heartbeat escalate. How could this happen? In a blink of an eye, your whole night is becoming murderous as you begin to sob. They can’t do this to you. They have no right.

“The blood of one such as you, with the glowing complexion of the Seeded Goddess. Hair as deep as a raven's feather, and lips the color of peach blossoms.”

The man’s words spoke as he edged his blade against your skin, barely pressing as the flat part dragged along your chest. The tip is tucked under your chin tightly, you refrained from swallowing as you feared the traveling lump would slide against the sharpened edge, piercing your skin in the process.

“You might wanna close your eyes, unless you want to watch as you scream.” The man chuckles condescendingly. The others stood around, encircling the altar as they preach out their animalistic chants. Four torches at each corner of the stone bed were lit up, allowing for you to witness the faces of your murderers. Unable to handle what was about to transpire, you squint your eyes when someone from the far back speaks rather timidly.

“H-hey…who's that?”

The nervousness in the young man’s voice catches the attention of the leader as he remains standing above you, but turns to face the direction the group member pointed to. “What is that? W-what the FUCK is that?”

A member flashes the light, and a slight bit of hope mixed with curiosity causes you to open your eyes, but the position forced on you prohibits your sight from gaining full access to see what it was everyone was looking at.

“Hey…hey! This is private property!” The leader shouts out. You can see the flaring of his nostrils and the frustration built up from the interruption. “Hey man! I’m talking to you!”

The leader breaches the shorthand distance of whoever it was that ignored his warning. The group all followed closely with Jessica standing behind and guarding you from escaping.

“Look man, if you don’t fucking leave I’m going to cut you in half. Get out no-“

You hear his words cut short, though a vibing sense tells you that it was by his own halt. “What in the fuck…”

The group members all stand in shock and semi-disgust as they witness a young man, shadowed in the heavy badness of black coveralls and hat. He paid no mind to the forewarning cult and continued with his overt butchering.

“D-dude…is he…” the voices stutter, shaking in fear and disbelief as they piece together what the intruder has done. “Did he dig up your sister and…cut her to pieces?”

The leader's eyes stretch in anger as he watches the young man cut the deceased’s body into quads. The passing of his elder sister was already too much to bear for him; seeing her body being switched up as if she was cattle was infuriating. The nudeness of her flesh, or whatever was left of it, displayed the numerous marks sketched on the skin, outlining the amount of souls that had been taken under her hand. It was all a part of the ritual, and being that she was an active participant of the sickness that infested this family line and its followers, she was just as delusional as the rest. The car accident was a blessing for the world, but for the cult members, it was a tragedy.

“W-what have you done?! Get your hands off my sister!”

The leader screams in anguish. Another chop and out went a piece of the torso, then a thigh, and the arms. The head was the first thing he had packaged, sealing the identity of the lifeless body. He ignored the screams as he made haste, the body was still fresh, but barely. Normally he would have had the meat harvested and freezed within a twenty four hour period, yet the autopsy provided delay by an added day. There was still time, but none of it could be shared with the blubbering idiots who were screaming obscenities his way.

“Mother-fucker!” The leader lunges forward and prepares his scythe to strike. He was so sure that he was going to lop off the head of this invasive intruder that desecrated his sisters gravesite, but a sudden movement on the intruder's part is followed by a painful sting to the chest. The cult stands confused and shocked upon seeing the display of violence happening before them. With a lighter blade, the stranger managed to slash through the man’s chest before he could even swing the heavy scythe. Quick with his movements, it almost seemed as if the stranger committed the deadly deed motionless as he stood unfazed and calm. With the young man choking on blood and groaning in pain, the victor stands aiming his vision at the other members. With two machete blades in his grip, he narrows the tip point of a blade upwards against the bill of his cap. With it, he flicks the cover off, completely removing it and revealing the beauty of his noble face. Blonde locks gracefully frame his Asiatic features and compliments the ivory pale complexion he inherited. Stabbing the ground, he stabilizes one of his blades to free a hand. Raising it delicately, two elongated fingers gently hook his plump lips, stretching it to a forced smirk. There, the members all witness a shuttering image of the beautiful man showing his deadly warning through the display of sharp canines. Flaring a sense of vampirism, goth, and gore, the man eloquently releases a soft chuckle right as he oozes his words.

“Run along kids. Never get in between a dog and his bone.”

[dr0wnmyselfinwhiskey]

No one asked for this, but I need to get it out of my system, so here are my thoughts on Rite Here Rite Now (mostly in regard to the lore and what I noticed during the movie, as far as I can remember). This turned out way too long, you’ve been warned.

Seestor must have known for quite a while that she’s gonna die, and prepared for Copia to take over her position

Maybe she invited Mr. Psaltarian to overlook the orderly transition and keep an eye on C when she’s gone. That might also explain his grumpy attitude towards him, I bet playing nanny to a 50+ year old autistic man isn't exactly Psalty's idea of a dream job

Would also make sense if the additional coffin in “Tax Season” was meant for her

Speaking of “Tax Season”, where Copia plays ‘Driving Miss Daisy’. Could that be another hint that Psaltarian is supposed to be the calm and wise character guiding the now ‘widowed’ Copia? Interesting parallel

Another thing about Psaltarian (now that we know his name is written like that): most of the Psalms stem from King David, who, among a lot of other things, is considered the patron of the Meistersinger (master singers) and in the Dies Irae announces the approach of the Final Judgement 👀

Anyway, Sister’s illness was kept hidden from Copia, or maybe he knew but deliberately ignored the signs, and I loved how this was solved visually by having Sister sitting in a baroque chair in all shots from Copia's perspective, but in the counter shots from her perspective you can see the back and the backrest of the wheelchair 💔

During the father-son-conversation between Nihil and Copia (I didn’t cry, you cried), Nihil tells him how he always wanted to entertain people, and he can even do that after he died and then says something like "Do you think I imagined it like this?". Perhaps this indicates that Nihil, now that he's reunited with Sister in the afterlife, is ending his stage career for good and Miasma will be retired from the set list? I hope not, but to me, it sounded a bit like that. Overall, the movie felt to me like a farewell to many characters, especially Sister and Nihil, whose story is concluded by the scooby-doo-esque part during MOAC

Would also fit the overarching theme of the film: letting go, not clinging too much to the ephemeral, coming to terms with the fact that everything in this world is subject to change (a beautiful message, tbh, I totally wasn’t crying about that 🥺)

Speaking of change, I guess by now everyone and their aunt got the hint that Copia is apparently a fucking twin?!?

With this new information, can we just talk about how cruel Copia's naming is? It literally means "copy"? Hello?? Seestor, wtaf?!

Anyway, going by the visuals provided, I’m leaning towards fraternal twins (one blonde, one dark-haired) and there are a lot of theories about who the twin could be

I’m not a fan of the Defroque theory, because I just don’t see how he would be the frontman of the band, as he has an assigned actor with his own face and voice. But on the other hand, I was certain he would play a bigger part in the Ghovie, since he was featured in the JHKM Video and in the teaser-thing they did for Download. But he wasn’t even mentioned?

I love the Terzo theory, although I don’t think that one very likely, given TFs reluctance to repeat things. BUT, I always thought Terzo and Copia looked quite alike, and they are around the same age. And we’re talking about a fictional satanic cult here, there would certainly be ways to bring him back from the dead, so why not?

However, I think this twin storyline is the perfect opportunity to introduce a completely new character, like they did with Copia back in the day. Imagine the door opening and a man standing there with Copia's old face. And Frater Imperator is like ????? (But that might also be just my love and nostalgia for his old look speaking, OG Copia is my babygirl, I don’t think TF will pull that off, again because he doesn’t like to repeat things and C’s old mask was changed for a reason, so why go back?)

TF also said in an interview that he doesn’t want to just have Papa after Papa after Papa. What if the new guy is something else? A bishop? They also wear mitres. Or the whole shadow in the door thing is just TF trolling us again? Or the Romulus & Remus reference was meant literally and Copia and the new guy will try to kill each other? Damn, I’m so excited for whatever that silly swedish man has cooked up in that silly head of his! 🫶

Just one last thing I noticed because on my second viewing I paid close attention to the backstage set and all the trinkets and knick-knacks. Whenever Sister, Copia or Kevin looked at one of those control monitors or TVs, there were VHS boxes in frame. Most of them were titled after the chapters, I saw a “Meanwhile in Dublin” one, and “Tax Season”. But there was also one titled “Ghost in the Trees”. My research only brought up a song from the band “Thee Oh Sees” from 2008, but I couldn’t really make any connection to something Ghost related. Maybe it’s just a song that TF likes that has “Ghost” in the title?

Okay, I think that's it for now. Maybe I'll do an update when RHRN is available digitally, maybe not. This has already taken way too long for nobody to read it anyway.

[saturn-star-light]

im bored on the bus so have a tangent about melanie king because i love her (spoilers ahead)

melanie’s character is so beautifully complex and tma really pulled it off so so well, especially her relationship with jon.

they didn’t ever like each other, not once in the whole podcast. BUT they were forced into a situation where they had to cooperate. neither of them liked it, but the bond they formed through their traumas was definitely a strong one. i really enjoy the fact that at the end he goes to melanie for help, and she essentially says she’d help with literally anything else except what he was asking. she knows herself and her limits by the end, but would also be willing to forgive and even be friends with jon if there was no element of supernatural danger involved.

also, a lot of her anger throughout the story is completely justified, even if her ways of expressing it are extreme- but then again, the situations she found herself in were extreme, so no one can really blame her for acting that way. melanie didn’t quite know what she was dealing with but she knew it was bad and that it needed to stop, so she tried her very best to do just that. there’s a difference between bravery and sheer hatred for a situation you’ve been forced into, but melanie displays a perfect mix of these things in different ways. especially post-impromptu-surgery by jon, her bravery is in her vulnerability. she apologizes for stabbing him, she wants to go to therapy, and she wants to help herself not be so angry- even if that anger had helped her get where she wanted to be in the past.

and her anger is through much more obvious points, ones impacted by the Slaughter- trying to poison elias, killing all of the bone thingies, stabbing jon, yelling at people to make her points. she still was taking action in attempt to better her situation.

we get to see these things mixed a bit with her cult. she definitely is not opposed to taking violent action, but we also get to see her vulnerable side more. whether it’s georgie, the admiral, or strangers she’s given shelter, she knows there’s something she can do to help, and she does it because she cares. not just because she’s angry. even when jon and martin came and she knew they could be a risk to everyone there, she tolerated their presence because she didn’t want them to die.

aaand idk i love her idk if this makes any sense, lemme know if you’d like me to continue it tho :)

if anything in here strays from cannon it’s cause it’s been a few months since i finished tma and i don’t remember everything so pls be kind 😭

[reallypleasanttree]

I need a one shot of Obani x Misturi! I want to see the struggles of them as parents! Probably add Planned Pregnancy and Angst/Fluff!

Do you even do requests? I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you! I just really need it!😞

No worries! I’m open to hearing requests, but it depends on the individual prompt. I actually have a WIP related to this prompt I'll share. It's mostly modern domestic fluff. ☺️ Hopefully, it fits the vibe you want. Please enjoy!

The morning light cast shadows over his wife’s face. Her eyes were shut, lost in a dream. He ran his hand over her long hair, making her sigh. His eyes traveled from her face to her swollen stomach. He loved seeing her pregnant. It was the first dream she had told him when they became friends telling one another their hopes for the future. She wanted a large family with three kids at least. At the time, he had been under the impression they were only friends despite his growing feelings for her. She was someone who deserved the world and then more. 

He had little to offer her. His family was filthy. Full of criminals, murderers, thieves, and occult members, sacrificing their newborns for rituals. Their goddess was a snake woman. From paintings she was half snake with a human torso and face. Her golden eyes haunted his childhood dreams. Two golden eyes shimmering in the darkness, her tail dragging across the wood floor. 

He would have been a sacrifice if he didn’t have one golden eye just as their goddess was depicted. They revered him and decided to wait to sacrifice him to their deity. When he was seven years old the cult was discovered and his family was taken into custody. He on the other side was put into foster care. 

Mitsuri rolled over and bent her legs up. Obanai turned with her and wrapped one arm around her. His hand rested over her stomach. Her skin was smooth from all the creams and lotions she used to help prevent stretch marks. It still stunned him thinking they would be holding a baby in four months. The upcoming scan would reveal if they were having a boy or girl. He did not care what gender they were. He only wanted them to be healthy in body and mind. Their baby would have a loving mother and a father who would try his best. 

For whatever reason Mitsuri picked him. He held her a moment longer before sitting up. He went down to the kitchen with two cats trailing after him. A pair of red tabby brothers Mitsuri named Matcha and Chai. He still confused them despite living with them for three years now. Obanai grabbed their food and poured it into bowls. He set them down on the mat and cats raced over. 

He started breakfast. Pancakes were always in demand. The first time Mitsuri stayed over she started chanting pancakes when he asked her what she wanted for breakfast. He had no idea then that it would become a tradition. Every Saturday morning he would cut up fruit, mix the batter, and deliver them to her while she was still in bed. 

Once he had two plates piled high he set them on a serving tray. Syrup, fruit, butter, chocolate chips, and everything in between. Mitsuri’s appetite had always been large. He had been worried before they found out she was pregnant. Her appetite became nonexistent for a week. He thought it was the flu since he had it the week before. They took her to the doctor when she couldn’t hold anything down when she did eat. 

The doctor was the first to mention the possibility of pregnancy. He and Mitsuri looked at each other and he facepalmed. Why hadn’t they thought of it? A blood test confirmed it and she was given medication to help with her morning sickness. They had been trying for a month. He never expected it would happen so quickly. 

Obanai sighed and picked up the serving tray. He walked back into their bedroom and set the tray down on Mitsuri’s nightstand. Sitting down on the side of the bed, he gently rubbed her shoulder. 

“I know you’re awake, Mitsuri,” he said. Her sense of smell heightened with her pregnancy and there was no way she would miss the smell of vanilla and fresh pancakes. Mitsuri smiled and opened her eyes. He leaned down to kiss her forehead before grabbing the tray to place over her. She sat up with her back resting against three pillows to prop herself up. 

“It smells so good,” she said, picking up silverware and cutting into the pile of pancakes. Obanai grabbed a strawberry to eat. He glanced at the foot of the bed and saw her wiggling her feet under the blankets in her own version of a happy dance as she ate. 

“Hey, so I was thinking about baby names. What do you think about Sora?” she asked. 

“No, I knew a kid in high school named Sora and he was insufferable,” Obanai answered, shaking his head. Mitsuri pouted. 

“You’ve said that about every name I suggested, so what names have you come up with?” Mitsuri asked. 

“Hikari for a girl. Riku for a boy,” he answered immediately. Mitsuri took a second to register the information. 

“Those were my grandparents’ names,” she whispered. Her bottom lip trembled. They passed away in the past three years and Mitsuri felt their loss deeply. 

“They were the first ones to welcome me into your family. I want to honor them,” Obanai explained. Her green eyes blinked rapidly, trying to prevent herself from crying. “If you don’t like the idea-”

“No, I love it,” Mitsuri interrupted him. She tried to reach for a tissue, but if she turned then her belly would tip over the serving tray. Obanai grabbed a tissue and handed it to his wife. She dabbed her eyes. Obanai ate another strawberry and rubbed her leg in quiet comfort.

[surgepricing]

RWBY Final Thoughts: Legacy

Very rarely would I ever consider a fandom on its own worth its own section of a Final Thoughts. ... [Basically,] they behave like a cult.

This is a repost of a post I made February 1st, 2024 on another site. At the time, it was the final post of a deep-dive recap of RWBY and the history of the show, its fandom, and its direction under Rooster Teeth.

I felt this out with some of my peers and the feedback I got in relation to posting in on Tumblr was that, well, why not? It was my main haunt to begin with, and I may as well, since Rooster Teeth is closing its doors. I'm posting this mainly as a shot in the dark just to see how it gets received. Only minor edits have been made; I'm sure there's some stuff in here that would make people mad, but that applies to pretty much anything someone could say about RWBY. Click the read more to get a glance at how my time with RWBY ultimately wrapped up.

Nine years ago today, Monty Oum died of an allergic reaction. Today is a day of mourning for fans of his work, including RWBY. There’s no sense in waiting. Let’s finish this and heal.

The Showrunners

Miles and Kerry often received the brunt of the attention when it came to RWBY. As the writers of the show, they bore responsibility for the largest chunk of why it eventually went into the shitter, and fan anger against them was almost certainly not helped by the damn near idolization heaped on them by fervent stans. They are, undoubtedly, the focal point of RWBY fans’ parasocial relationship with the show.

Of course, despite sharing about the same credits space as his partner in crime, Kerry tended to fly under the radar a lot, with it being Miles who received the brunt of the fandom’s fury with each successive volume. It’s not hard to see why; the character Miles voices has been consistently over-exposed and is in many ways an obvious creator’s pet, with denials as to this fact falling on deaf ears as Jaune’s screentime continued to balloon past its merits, whereas the character Kerry voices could just about wrangle an average of ten seconds of screentime every three years. Certainly Miles has been in trouble with fans more often than Kerry for the shit he’s said and done. The Ruby body pillow and the Tifa Lockhart ‘prostitute’ comments come to mind. Oh, and the slurs, that one too.

But perhaps the reason Miles gets so much more flak than Kerry is that Miles just...acts like an asshole a lot of the time. Even aside from above examples, Miles’ flaws come out in his writing: he’s petty, holds grudges, can’t take criticism, and just overall has way more power over the story than someone of his caliber should. He’s very poor at disguising his real feelings and often lets them bleed through, and when he actually decides to voice them on purpose, things get ugly—refer to that Cameo about Ironwood.

But as tempting as it is to treat Miles as an out-of-control cockwaffle on the rampage and Kerry as his sympathetic ineffectual shadow, the reality is that they’re co-writers, have been for ten years, and anything Miles gets away with doing is as much Kerry’s fault as his. If the Gray Haddock situation has taught us anything, it’s that more people tend to harbor blame than the one individual that makes an easy scapegoat.

Since aside from aforementioned n-word business, Miles and Kerry are almost never connected to moral outrage, this makes it easy for the stans to uphold them, since all they really have to defend them from is accusations that they didn’t honor Monty’s “vision” for the series. This is only easy because the stans are fucking insane, but that’s for later on down the page.

“Vision” is in quotes because that’s how fans treat it, we all know they don’t really care. Miles and Kerry’s vision matters, and we know that much because of Calixyn’s interview where she all but begged to be told that RWBY Volume 5 was as bad as it was because the “good bois” had control of the show ripped from them. Nope, turns out all that racism, homophobia, and plain shitty writing is all on them. But at least they’re nice!

(Miles was 26 when he said the n-word. I’m 26 now when writing this. I think it’s pretty fair to call him an asshole.)

But the truth is that it’s objectively stupid to think that the direction of RWBY hasn’t changed since Monty’s passing, it’s impossible for it not to have. There are more writers on board than before, and it’s been a long time since he was alive to contribute his thoughts. The real question is whether they at least tried, and I don’t think they did.

I mean, Shane Newville never names Miles and Kerry in his letter, but he does state several times that the choices made for the show were not only not what Monty wanted, but “straight up just shitting all over what Monty made”. I find it very difficult to believe that that insinuation, and all of the people caught up in the net it casts, wouldn’t include those two. And like it or not, but the person who is able to compile tons of clips and interviews over the years as some sort of seeming immutable proof that “CRWBY” are good-hearted people determined to preserve Monty’s vision, isn’t really looking at any more evidence than the person who’s come to the conclusion, based on what they’ve seen, that that the opposite is true. And they’re certainly looking at less evidence than the people who actually did work there around Monty, Miles, and Kerry. The facts sometimes boil down to ‘if it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, and is implicated in the walls of text like a duck, it’s probably a duck’, guys.

Even in the best case scenario in which the work of Monty Oum turns out to have been treated with dignity and respect (and was just really shittily written from the beginning), the fact remains that Miles and Kerry did not put a quality product into the world. I will be very surprised if either of them manages to get a lead writing position ever again, because once the popularity of RWBY fades, so too will the goodwill they’ve somehow amassed among its fans. RWBY, much like Twilight, is inevitably going to taint the people who were in charge of writing it.

But Miles and Kerry are just two dudes. What exactly is going to happen to those fervent fans who hung on their every word and insisted they were the embodiment of everything pure and innocent? What, exactly, is going to happen to the RWBY fandom that once seemed to be unavoidably populous on the internet?

F, N, D, M

We already went over “constructive criticism” and “worldbuilding”, so let’s add another eternally-misused word to our roster. You know, something I’ve occasionally thought about in terms of online spaces is that no one knows what a “comfort show” is. It’s one of those terms that became too popular almost as soon as it was introduced, to the point that it became meaningless, much like “hyperfixation” and “anxiety”. I see people refer to RWBY as their comfort show and I’m just like...how? A comfort show is supposed to be the show that always puts you in a good headspace, a show you rest easy with because you’ve always connected with it because the love was always there. A comfort show is a show that you watch in your down moments to feel better, not a show you think is just the greatest thing ever, the bees’ knees if you will.

A comfort show is not a show you force yourself to like, it is not a show you defend at all costs, and it is not a show you only still cling to because enjoying it once coincided with a time when you felt popular and among friends. Which, increasingly, seems to have been the case for RWBY fans.

RWBY’s Fandom

Very rarely would I ever consider a fandom on its own worth its own section of a Final Thoughts. But I’m doing it now because the RWBY fandom, though now it’s a shadow of its former self, is still a sizable chunk of people and took a lot longer to die than most other fandoms.

The RWBY fandom itself was an especially big and very online fandom, and the show produced an abnormally large amount of big name fans who continued to use their own influence to push its success and keep its momentum going. As I’ve said before, the RWBY fandom is something that Rooster Teeth were able to extract an excessive amount of praise out of for minimal effort; it simply seems to be in RWBY fans’ nature to speculate and theorize and over-analyze and fill in blanks, and to perceive good writing and animation where there is none. But you know how fandom operates—the bigger its size, the more infamous it becomes.

Long since famed for being especially toxic, those who are in the know consider RWBY fans a different breed, really. They create and move narratives at high speed and act quickly to correct any perceived dissent in the ranks, casting out anyone that feels disillusionment with the product and insisting everything is peachy even as their world crumbles around them. To RWBY fans, the “CRWBY” are always separate from the “problematic” aspects of Rooster Teeth (which is basically the whole company) and it doesn’t matter how many of its flaws get highlighted; RWBY and the people that make it are always great, innocent of any harm done and fantastic, and anyone that dislikes them is a villain—even if those people were at one point part of the “CRWBY” themselves. Loyalty is everything. In other words, they behave like a cult.Those acronyms themselves have always bothered me, and I’ve grown a strong distaste for them. Originally they were just a quirk of the show; a format for team names that spawned the name of the show and eventually stopped being relevant altogether. But RWBY fans are simply unable to not use them. It’s not “the fandom” it’s “the FNDM”. They’re not “the RWBY team” or “the RWBY crew”, they’re “CRWBY”. Even people that the fans are actively trying to shame, shun, and harass don’t get to simply be people—they’re “RWDE” and, when that became an actual community of sorts unto itself, was switched to “HTDM”, short for “hatedom”. They remind me distinctly of code words that get formed and passed around in cult movements, identifying terms that quickly provide boxes to put people in and make it easier to sort loyals from disloyals. “Hatedom” itself is another one of those terms that spread and got so prolific it really doesn’t carry any meaning anymore. Real hatedoms are surprisingly rare, guys. Every fandom that becomes big enough for its respective product to become criticized eventually comes to believe it has a ‘hatedom’ because how could someone dislike something I like so much? But a hatedom on its own arises out of very specific circumstances and environments, and causes the spread of hate for a product based on broad foundations that are often unfair to the product and which creates perceptions that spread faster than the work, so that the work is often talked about in mocking reference rather than true dissatisfaction.

RWBY doesn’t have a hatedom guys, it never did. The Last of Us doesn’t have a hatedom. Fairy Tail didn’t have a hatedom. Blackpink doesn’t have a hatedom. Even Marvel doesn’t have a hatedom.

Paris Hilton had a hatedom. Nickelback had a hatedom. Hell, the website Tumblr itself had a hatedom. These were examples of people or products whose reputations spread too quickly and eventually swallowed rational perception of them, with people who have never experienced them or their work dismissing them and the fans who enjoy it wholesale.

Using the term “hatedom” is understandably common because (and in spite of the fact that) it allows for easy miscategorization. A hatedom is not composed of people that were actually exposed to the work, found it lacking, and expressed that. A hatedom does not occur in the wake of a product that was so bad it pissed off its fans and caused them to walk. People don’t hate Metroid: Other M because they can’t stand the sight of a woman being vulnerable and don’t understand challenging drama, they hate it because it was poorly written, badly designed, and tarnished a long-running and highly cherished gaming heroine’s reputation. People didn’t hate Fifty Shades of Grey because of some bias against women expressing their sexual freedom, they hated it because it was a wildly misogynistic and badly-written piece of dreck. People didn’t hate The Last of Us Part II because of homophobia and transphobia, they hated it because it was a misery fest with a tired moral theme that posited itself far more deep and compelling than it really was. And just because people with the above disingenuous views also hated these things does not discount the fact that the works got the reputations they did because they were getting back the exact amount of love and respect that was put into them.

Similarly, RWBY doesn’t have a hatedom. It does, in fact, have an ex-fandom. Those are also things you don’t see very often, but when you do, they almost always follow the same pattern, don’t they? A work which got wildly popular very quickly, took really deep nosedives afterward, and became disowned by the people that had formerly propped it up.

But that’s a discussion for later. What exactly makes RWBY’s fandom so toxic and cult-like, and why and how did it get that way? I think it’s a combination of several key factors that were baked in and collided badly.

The first was ease of access. RWBY was sold extremely well early on, and shared enough similarities with both anime and video games that it attracted many curious people from those communities. Combine that with vibrant colors, an attractive visual aesthetic, an air of badassery, and good music, and it gained a lot of loyal fans quickly—fans of anime and video games, specifically, being fans that tend to get more attached than to other mediums and are known for spending a lot on merchandise. These, in turn, morphed into nostalgic elements ripe for misremembering—people often have difficulty acknowledging that something they once liked isn’t good anymore even on its own, and I think RWBY fans in particular put way too much energy into the show to be able to admit that all the time they spent defending it (and harassing people who criticized it) was for nothing.

That skyhigh rocket to fame early on, of course, was attached to the reputation of Monty Oum, and once he died, he quickly became a martyr, which galvanized the loyalty of the show’s most toxic fans even further. To this day, talking about Monty at all, even for the right reasons, is seen as disrespectful or distasteful unless you’re trying to use him to prop up Rooster Teeth, a double standard I’ve unfortunately run into even in seeming safe spaces. I think if we’re comparing RWBY fandom to a cult, then Monty Oum and his memory can be compared to a central mythologized figure, the center around which are formed all of the pretty lies the members of the cult will tell you. Monty’s name is irreplaceably tied to RWBY, and as such, in order to defend Monty, its fans have to defend RWBY...and you can see where this leads. Attempting to talk about the mistreatment Monty and his family went through at Rooster Teeth is seen as using his name as a weapon—nevermind the fact that Rooster Teeth and their fans regularly use his name as a shield.

Of course, what this really reveals is that many such people don’t care about Monty, who he was, or who he went through, but rather his name alone. In fact, I’ve straight up seen RWBY stans say that people shouldn’t “take Monty’s name in vain”, as if Monty were in fact some sacred religious figure. It’s both bizarre and harmful.

A third factor was popularity. For a lot of the same reasons as, say, Supernatural, the perception of RWBY skews much more broadly between fan and ex-fan than that of the typical over-hyped show. The truth of the matter is that when a show gets popular, or really any work gets popular, enjoying it becomes a cliquey sort of thing. People that enjoyed being into something well-respected and widely known and basically the hottest trend are far more prone to become overly attached, put too much of themselves into it, and remain unequipped to deal with the fact of that trend’s eventual passing, especially if it’s a fall into disgrace rather than a quiet entrance into history. You can still find certain especially toxic big names from the RWBY fandom active and posting, pretending not to notice that their audience has become smaller and smaller over the years. Let’s face facts here, a lot of people that enjoy being part of the “in” crowd never manage to figure out how to accept losses and will do anything to try and regain lost popularity, or fool themselves into thinking they’re still on top of the world.

But we can reason and explain all day. Another truth of the matter is that it shouldn’t be other people’s problem that fans can’t accept reality and adjust, and that the RWBY fandom quite honestly deserves its reputation as abysmally toxic. The way terminal fans of the show have treated anyone who dissents, most prominently Shane Newville and other ex-employees, let alone other ex-fans of the show, is quite frankly disgusting. RWBY stans are difficult to look at in all of their bewildering, teeth-gnashing toxicity and forgive...so I’m not going to. People that still insist there’s nothing wrong with this show or the company making it are, as far as I’m concerned, beyond help, and are part of the problem. Many an ex-employee certainly thinks so.

In a lot of ways, you could call the fandom one of the driving forces of the show’s failure, mostly because they had an abnormally large amount of influence over the show. Pleasing the fans has always been a major goal of the RWBY team (unless you like characters Miles Luna doesn’t, I guess), but it’s almost disturbing how the Rooster Teeth strategy has been to lead them along and bat their eyelashes at every turn and how the fandom laps it up.

Of course, Rooster Teeth feeds the parasocial engine by engaging with the fans as equals, and I was given a disturbing reminder of how many of the people who worked on the show—the ones who aren’t pissed and digging themselves out of trauma ditches—behave exactly as the fans do, tweeting twenty times a day about their favorite ships and memes. By creating the perception that RWBY’s team is just like the RWBY fanbase and wants the same things they want, they tap that line of excess energy that’s kept this fandom going so long despite how far it’s fallen. It’s that “hey! my friend said my ship is going to be canon and he works on the show” feeling.

Of course, a probable reason as to why so many employees who worked on RWBY behave the way RWBY fans do is because a lot of them started out that way. As in, student hires. This has long been an open secret of Rooster Teeth’s M.O. for a while now, hiring people who look up to them and engage heavily with their content. Many an ex-animator has lambasted this tactic because it’s insidious, and purposely designed to make the incoming staff feel honored and indebted and excited so they won’t notice how they’re being fucked over. Arryn Troche, who made the ‘gays greenlighting volume 10’ tweet, rings up as a particularly eerie example considering they have the same rather-uncommon and unconventionally-spelled name as the voice actor for a ship they’re obviously very attached to. A quick search reveals them to have been a longtime fan and cosplayer for the show before being signed on as a junior animator.

And it is the fandom who ultimately makes the legacy for any given work or body of work. So what is RWBY ultimately going to be remembered for?

Legacy

I thought about it for a little while and found five things that are most likely to be associated with RWBY in the public’s memory after its death. The first should come as no surprise to anyone.

Bumbleby

The only part of RWBY that will likely be carried on by fans who stuck with it until the end is, of course, the only part of it that mattered, to many of them. You’ll know from my earlier recaps that shipping was always a big deal in fandom, but due to key choices (or if you prefer, mistakes) made during Volumes 2 and 3, one ship grew larger and more promoted in fandom circles than any others.

This is a combination of the unique features of the RWBY fandom and their one-track mind. The fans are well-known, as I said, to fill in the blanks in a pattern that best suits their narratives, and this works out with Rooster Teeth because it means that any sudden changes in direction they make will always be excused and praised rather than critically examined. Unsurprisingly, Bumbleby’s fandom, now that their victory has been cemented, have doubled down on their narrative that this was the intended goal from the beginning, despite it being plainly obvious that early RWBY was angling for Sun Wukong as the love interest and threw the occasional bones to Blake/Yang shippers to try and play nice.

This used to be one part of the fandom, of course, but as the show continually bombed with viewers and made more and more decisions that pushed them away, all competitors were slowly filtered out as their fans left, until Bumbleby shippers were the fandom. It’s no coincidence that Blake and Yang suddenly started acting unusually touchy and sentimental in Volume Six, following on the heels of a volume of RWBY so wildly unpopular that it woke up the company execs and forced them to acknowledge that the biggest part of their fanbase was only going to remain loyal in exchange for one thing: their ship.

The sad thing is that you can tell Rooster Teeth wanted to explore other options. Volume Five features a rather sudden shift into Yang and Weiss interactions in what I remain positive to this day was an attempt to sway shippers into a potential second choice while Black Sun was still in the oven, and this really represented one of the major errors of Rooster Teeth, in that they failed to understand the audience they were trying so hard to please.

Bumbleby became what I call a “Big Red Button” ship, and it is only the second of its kind that I’ve seen. The first? Destiel.

Yes, there’s a reason I kept comparing RWBY to Supernatural whenever Blake and Yang’s relationship came up. I admit I wasn’t a part of the Supernatural craze in its heyday and have never really enjoyed the show, but I’ve watched enough of it to connect the dots from what cultural osmosis I had to the eventual downfall we saw in November of 2020.

Both Bumbleby and Destiel were held up as the gay ship that would change everything, the biggest ship in the fandom and the one that would’ve been a major push for LGBT visibility, at least during their heydays. The problem was that its fans were not really that interested in LGBT visibility and were simply obsessed with the ship itself, applying it value as a win for LGBT audiences purely to bolster its perceived importance. Fans like this were not ever going to accept any alternatives regardless of the sexual orientations or gender conventions involved. Hence, the metaphor that is “the big red button”. You have a big red button that says “canon gay ship but not the ship you want” and ask the fans you’re trying to court whether they’d press it or not. Whatever they might say out loud, you know none of them is pressing that fucking button, ever.

Both of these Big Red Button ships became what they were due to showrunners being forced into courting an audience they really didn’t care for, and how could you blame them when both were infamously very, very over-active and annoying in general. Just like with RWBY’s well-intentioned but misguided Freezerburn phase in Volume 5, Supernatural also tried to gently shut down fans who then managed to obliviously ignore any and all hints that their ship was not meant to be endgame, and I can say that because “he’s like a brother to me” in any fandom but Supernatural would’ve been a tactical nuclear strike that sent the shippers packing. Once it failed, the gay bait came out in full force. It’s well known by now that, contrary to what one would imagine, the CW was not pulling a profit off of Supernatural’s minor mainstream success pushed by a cult following, so it’s no wonder they eventually resorted to desperately baiting the one audience that was going to stick it out no matter what, provided they had the right relationship dangled in front of them. RWBY went through the same thing.

The main problem with these two ships is that for all its diehards insisted that it was all about the gay representation, their respective shows teased and baited for so long that the world outside the little bubble these shippers lived in had moved on by the time they came to fruition. Gay visibility in media these days, at least western media, is easily available, to the extent that sometimes people believe homophobia is totally over when it really, really isn’t. If you’re looking for gay representation, you can find it plenty of places, and the first place you look probably isn’t going to be Supernatural or RWBY. So the huge wave of viewers that these shippers expected upon their victories was never going to occur, which might could’ve been avoided if the writers had simply grown a pair and made moves towards canon much sooner than before the shows were on their last legs and due to be scrapped.

Or, you know, just been honest. Diversions and alternatives were never going to work. The only thing that these shippers were ever going to understand was a hard no, a “sorry, this ship isn’t going to happen”. But the execs in charge of these shows were never willing to take a hit like that, so instead they dug their own grave.

And where does that leave the shippers, those people who devoted their whole lives to these fictional characters, only to find the show that bore them into the universe dead in a ditch? Well, nowhere good. Much like Supernatural, RWBY is heavily associated with its booming period, the heavily online portion of these shippers’ lives in the early and mid-2010s when it was all the rage, and yet in modern day, it’s seen as a bad neighborhood to hang in, an abandoned mansion at the corner of the street where awful things happened. These shippers don’t have many friends except each other.

Just like RWBY, Supernatural also exists primarily as an ex-fandom now. Much of its former fanbase remember the good days fondly but make no secret that they stopped following it once the writing tanked, and this left the shippers without many allies to associate with since so many of them had been pissed off with the way their shows ultimately became the Destiel Show and the Bumbleby Show, respectively. Contrary to an unfortunately popular idea, these shows did have actual LGBT fanbases, only a lot of their LGBT fans were not on kool-aid and avoided being sucked into a trap called “if you don’t ship this, you’re homophobic”.

You will find that the Bumbleby fandom are often looked on with disdain by quite a number of viewers of RWBY who have accused them of speaking over minorities, sexual and otherwise. Many fans have noted that, aside from Blake’s bisexuality being a seemingly late addition (Arryn Zech is noted to have cast her as straight when discussing Ilia Amitola’s ill-fated crush on her as late as 2019), Blake was very swiftly removed from all faunus characters who held romantic connotations in favor of Yang, implicitly saying that Blake was better committing to a white human woman than to an ethnic faunus male. There are obvious reasons why this left a bad taste in peoples’ mouths. Not to mention, other LGBT fans that invested in the show were not exactly welcomed with open arms.

Fair Game, or as I tend to call it, Qrowver? Qrow x Clover? Yeah, that was huge in Volume 7’s airing days. It very much experienced a rapid ballooning in fans and fandom love...but we all know how that ended. Many a fan who felt heartbroken and, importantly, betrayed by Clover’s sudden and rather pointless death turned on RWBY and Rooster Teeth and accused them of gaybaiting, which is of course exactly what happened. They received no sympathy from Bumbleby shippers—because of course they wouldn’t. If Rooster Teeth would gaybait with Qrow, a popular male character, that would mean they could potentially be gaybaiting with Blake and Yang, too. That was unacceptable, and so ironically the part of the fandom that had always crowed about the importance of extending a hand to LGBT viewers turned on LGBT viewers, valiantly defending Rooster Teeth as they always had.

And because Bumbleby fans had no room in their hearts for anything about RWBY except Bumbleby, and were hostile to anyone who didn’t ship it, they ended up being their own best friends and everyone else’s bad memories. When RWBY has faded from the public’s memory and is no longer a source of active income at all (so, basically right now), one of the only relics you’ll find of this show will be the two women making out in all the fanart you’ll find on the occasional Tumblr blog.

The Bigotry

You could call this section “the Racism” since that’s the biggest part of it, but we’d be remiss in neglecting the harm done to other minorities as well. We’ll get to them in a minute, but race is the thing that’s going to pop to mind when we talk about one of the other things RWBY left behind in the common memory.

One of the longest-running subplots that RWBY ever went through with was the racism subplot. Its basis is one of the things that so severely dates RWBY: creating an in-universe stand-in for people of color through the existence of people with animal traits was something you would absolutely not get away with after 2020, and even by 2016 was something liable to be seen as tacky. Nonetheless, RWBY openly used the faunus as stand-ins for black Americans and the struggles they faced in a white world.

Except that the company, based in Texas and headed largely by white staff, did not feel the importance of that. What slowly started out as a main character’s attempt to redeem an organization she felt had been driven too far and was no longer her home was slowly transformed into a means by which some incredibly racist people could spout off about what they felt were the real issues to be talked about, which were the condemnation they felt was deserved by activists that turned to violence, labeled, a little too quickly, as terrorists.

The 2010s saw a shift in social values, and much as with gay audiences and gay characters, black audiences and black characters—as well as other racial minorities—were experiencing something of a renaissance, with efforts to put the voices of these people into the public’s feeds. It wasn’t just George Floyd in 2020—the unexpected and frankly traumatic reign of Donald Trump as president of the United States galvanized the divide in America and social awareness became a bigger thing than ever, and since Trump was a flagrantly racist person with racist beliefs who enacted racist policies and was uplifted by racist Americans, people pushed back as they felt their lives and existences being threatened by a racist establishment...an establishment which Rooster Teeth came down on the side of very firmly.

No quarter is given to the fictional stand-ins. Sienna Khan’s policies are never examined in-depth, and the only close looks we get at the sorts of activism the White Fang does are at Adam, who is obviously condemned by the narrative and made into everything but a mustache-twirler, with delusional and frankly baffling beliefs of faunus superiority spelled out at length. No matter what concessions Rooster Teeth might’ve tried to make with Sienna’s beliefs before they stuck a sword in her, the fact of the matter is that their beliefs came through in the voices of Ghira and Blake, who made it very clear that the individual motives and experiences of people like Ilia, Corsac, Fennec, Yuma, and the rest simply don’t matter in the face of what they’d been driven to do by them. The whole ‘blacks can be racist’ tone of the final scenes involved in this subplot are both miles removed from the more cautious and neutral tone of early RWBY, and also just a very alarming red flag overall.

I went over this in my Volume 5 Final Thoughts: the shoddiness of the volume does not lie solely with the animation department. Miles and Kerry are known to have had generally sole control of the show up until Volume 7—but we also know that they didn’t have to, if they were writing anything company execs felt wasn’t to their tastes. The sudden twisting of Adam into a homicidal incel ex-boyfriend, along with his mutation into a faunus supremacist, when he was the face of the faunus movement as a whole, along with Sun’s blatant ill will towards the White Fang when he’d previously been willing to give them a chance on Blake’s word, all imply that Miles and Kerry endorsed the worst possible interpretations of racial activists and felt free to condemn them and place responsibility onto the faunus—and by extension, the real-life minorities they represented—to take a stand against the bad seeds within their causes, and the fact no one stopped them from airing this implies the higher-ups felt the same way.

People didn’t just leave RWBY after Volume 5 because of some really badly animated fights—they left because they’d felt too much of the authors’ racism coming through in the narrative and couldn’t comfortably continue watching. Every member of the faunus that had “bad” views was either killed (Adam, Sienna, Fennec), arrested (Corsac, Yuma), or “redeemed” by choosing to fight the first two (Ilia). All of these combined factors, with no room for charitable interpretations…not a good look.

And once Adam was defeated in Volume 5, and the White Fang reformed, that was the last anyone saw of that subplot, which had taken five years to wrap up and somehow still ended too early. Miles and Kerry had washed their hands of it, and references to Blake’s place in society were sparing from then on. This subplot’s inescapable presence throughout the show, combined with how it was dropped out of existence, left no room for redemption, either. No one was going back and saying “maybe this looks really, really bad”.

And so, that’s what a lot of people carried with them as their final and most relevant memories of RWBY: it’s astounding levels of racism. This is a bitter subject for many an ex-RWBY fan, many of whom aren’t white and, even among those that are, it’s simply inexcusable. Meet someone on social media who talks about RWBY at all, and isn’t one of the Bumbleby stans we’ve already discussed? You will find some mention or other of RWBY’s racist elements somewhere within their sphere. And so, that becomes a part of RWBY’s legacy, as a feature of the show that was simply too big to ignore and too poorly-handled to forgive. People don’t get over this shit, man.

This is of course not to mention the well deserved shitty reputation RWBY has for its other bigoted elements, as well. Bumbleby, as we’ve discussed, encompassed pretty much every RWBY stan left standing by 2020, but that left quite a few ex-fans that were fed up with the company’s obvious ploys when it came to sexuality and gender. Remember when I talked about Qrowver up above? Its ballooning and immediate fall from grace was a much-condensed version of RWBY as a whole, and pretty much featured as Rooster Teeth blowing their last remaining patience from LGBT fans to smithereens. The fact of the matter is that when you get down to it, every RWBY volume after Volume 4 was not a good time to be a minority. If you were gay, the show seemed to either ignore or despise you—between the background gays that warranted mockery, the mixed reception Ilia generated, and the outrage that finally boiled over when Clover bit it, part of RWBY’s legacy is how utterly unpleasant it has been for LGBT fans who expected and deserved better.

And so despite entering the scene in 2013 as a supposedly progressive show all for being led by four women, the show died known as a low-effort half-baked cringefest whose politics were always on display and always several years behind the trend.

The Good Days

Of course, another major part of RWBY’s legacy is the early days when everyone actually liked it. This is, again, something the show creators brought on themselves and something fans assisted with. I did mention the nostalgia for the Good Ol’ Days as a significant part of the RWBY fandom’s more cult-like elements, after all. The fact of the matter is, on some level, everyone knows that RWBY has spent several years going downhill. The ex-fans lament this fact, and the diehard stans insist that it’s all just as good as it used to be, primarily by doing what they do quite a lot, and linking completely coincidental elements back to things characters said or did in previous volumes as some sort of evidence that this has been the plan all along.

I’ve run polls on this matter before; even though I’ve recapped Volumes 1-3 thoroughly and shone lights on some pretty significant flaws, you ask anyone what they think the best volume of RWBY was and they’re gonna tell you Volume 3. Yes, even with all of the stalking incel Adam and the deaths of Penny and Pyrrha. It’s the last time RWBY felt cohesive and even though some obvious derailing was in effect, and Shane Newville has openly said that the behind-the-scenes matters were pretty ugly, it’s still the golden child. Shane’s only one person, and it’d be a while before RWBY scandals would become consistent and begin to overshadow the show as a whole.

The RWBY team themselves have certainly nurtured that very much on purpose. That tactic started with them, of course. Many elements that were either unpopular or predicted to ruffle feathers were stated to have originated in earlier volumes, even in situations where this wouldn’t have made sense or where it’s an obvious lie—such as Maria Calavera. They know full well their seasons post-Volume 3 were unpopular and receiving blowback, and tried to minimize it by linking them to more well-respected seasons. Suffice to say that this simply didn’t work. But it does make people remember those earlier volumes. Because so many ex-fans lost their energy for RWBY after its most active period, much of the hype from the hype era is all that you’ll see when you encounter one. Nostalgia wins out in the end, and at least RWBY can say that, as a show, it had enough of a headstart to leave an impression that lasted in a positive way. Although that’s only one side of the coin...

The Scandals

Let’s face facts here, the biggest part of RWBY’s legacy, period, is that it fucking died. It didn’t die instantly, but rather took hit after hit, blow after blow, and slowly had its image tarnished alongside that of the company, which failed to contain repeated scandals as ex-employee after ex-employee after ex-employee spoke out about the abysmal ways they’d been treated.

RWBY is Rooster Teeth’s biggest IP by far and, really, their only one worth talking about. Every other show was either eclipsed by it or unofficially canceled after bad reception. So when Rooster Teeth suffered the consequences of their actions, so did RWBY. It really can’t be overstated how the last few years of RWBY’s existence have been absolutely bombarded by a barrage of terrible Glassdoor reviews and bombshell exposure letters. Fans managed to stay strong through the first few rumblings of ill will, but after Volume 5 shook the fandom loose, discontent entered enough of the fandom sphere to be normalized, and once that happened, it was all downhill. Once people were actually allowed to talk about not liking Rooster Teeth’s content, they sure as hell weren’t going to be dissuaded from talking about not liking Rooster Teeth as a company or its practices.

Separating the art from the artist is a very difficult thing to do and only really appropriate in certain situations. Don’t fall for any kool-aid, guys, it doesn’t make you more mature or ‘above all the drama’ to actively ignore the damage done to real people in the process of getting fictional content out into the world.

If you’re still able to enjoy the Harry Potter books and look back on the good times they gave you in fondness, then fine. If you actually purchased and played the Hogwarts Legacy game programmed by antisemites and which puts money in the pocket of the transphobic owner of the franchise, then yeah, people will be right to give you shit for it. There’s a difference between quietly enjoying a product in a manner that doesn’t hurt anybody, and actively ignoring the people hurt to make that product while feigning concern. The gap in the fandom widened as the repeated leaks and scandals continuously ate away at the protective bubble around Rooster Teeth and it became clear that whatever fans might bleat, Rooster Teeth wasn’t going to ‘learn their lesson and do better’. The habitual cycle of using whatever recent scandal had occurred to cast disappointment and anger on a particular figure and uplift the rest of “CRWBY” (see also: the Gray Haddock issue) gave diminishing returns as the bombs kept dropping. This is part of why RWBY has such an ex-fandom, because if they aren’t enjoying the product and people were hurt to make it, why stay?

Crunching employees so hard they struggle to sleep and suffer debilitating health issues? Writing the n-word on a white board knowing a black employee will see it? Goading someone into trying to kill themselves? Calling an LGBT employee a slur and then making up a public-friendly nickname in place of that slur just to get away with continuing to call her that? Laying off people without warning or a means of letting them stay afloat until another job is found? Not paying or crediting employees and cultivating an environment where those in charge do what they want and those in the public eye reap all the benefit while those without a consistent spotlight get treated like dirt?

Just some of the things I thought up off the top of my head. There’s plenty more in the details. And you can’t blame Fullscreen, you can’t blame Warner, you can’t just write it off as something that happens at animation studios, because it isn’t. Yeah, the work environment in general for animation studios in America is lacking because, ya know, late-stage capitalism hellscape, but that’s dismissive of the point. Rooster Teeth are a bad company and hurt their employees and lie when called on it. It’s impossible to separate RWBY from Rooster Teeth (despite stubborn stans’ best attempts, which themselves have been called out by these same ex-employees) and because of that, RWBY’s legacy is one of corporate abuse and utterly vile behavior towards people that just wanted to make something cool.

People have refused to associate with the show over these things and honestly, they’re right to. RWBY’s ultimate legacy, if we’re honest, is the show that became a shadow of its former self, still trying to dazzle with reminders of its former glory and promises of gay relationships, all while trying to squeeze money out of both the employees who made it and the fans who upheld it. It’s the show that cost hundreds of people their physical and mental health and didn’t even have anything to show for it at the end of the day. It will live on in history as the most bitter of pills to swallow, that something you once liked and wanted to succeed can and will be ruthlessly twisted for profit margins and might actively hate you on the side. And speaking of…

Monty Oum

The biggest travesty of RWBY’s legacy is that Monty Oum is ultimately only the smallest part of it. He’s there, but barely—he’s a name in the credits that quite frankly is only there to keep up the facade of loyalty, when the show had stopped being Monty’s show before he even died and by now can be safely said to resemble nothing he would’ve made.

It’s a shame that for all that Monty was held up as a genius of his craft and a genuinely good man who inspired so many people, all he’s going to be remembered for is...this. A show people only attach his name to in an effort to insist it’s actually worth sticking by. Yes, Monty did other things, had other works, but none of them ever achieved even a fraction of the fame and respect that RWBY had from its first baby steps in 2013.

Maybe this could’ve been avoided if the real carriers of Monty’s legacy—Sheena, his wife, and Shane, his pupil—hadn’t been cast off as they had.

Shane seems to have found a new life and is working with Dillon Gu on animation, but I think we’ve all noticed his name hasn’t gone mainstream yet. I’ve tried to get in touch with him; from what I’ve gleaned, I frankly just advise leaving him alone. He wants to move on and I don’t think the RWBY fandom, which was so awful to him for telling the truth, is ever going to be a place he can feel welcome.

Sheena has mostly been quiet and done her own thing, cosplaying and watching anime and hopefully enjoying herself, although I notice posts on her Twitter feed from last year calling for a New Deal in the animation sector and castigating corporate abuses.

She also plays Hades, a much better product than RWBY with more love put into it and much better LGBT representation, which means her taste is excellent. She has a site now that you can go to, and the about section doesn’t mention Monty, her late husband, at all, for obvious reasons: Sheena doesn’t want to be connected to RWBY. Though, there is something there that’s noteworthy, in the last paragraph:

Still desiring a social element to her career, the animator turned professional cosplayer also has a history in the live stream world. Past broadcasts have included creating costume pieces, playing games with community members and subscribers, RPGs and more. No matter the project, peers or problem, Sheena strives to keep moving forward.

That powerful phrase we all associate with Monty.

It’s a shame that this show had to be Monty’s legacy, and that years off from now, his name isn’t going to mean anything to the public because the project he was passionate about and died making outlived him and his passion. It feels like his legacy was stolen, and his own part in the show’s legacy is held up purely as a pedestal on which the show should rightfully shine.

Every time I think about Monty, I think about how much I don’t want that to be me. For all the years I’ve spent here, with my graphics certifications being wasted since I earned them while I slave away in retail, I wonder if I’m the lucky one. If I were to enter the workforce and do what I loved, would it be worth it in the end? Would what happened to Monty and Sheena and Shane happen to me? Not sure I wanna know.

Snipped here.

[charmedreincarnation]

https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/715801428071972864/hey-maya-what-are-your-thoughts-on-the?source=share

Not this anon but wait that means I can manifest a certain afterlife? Like there isn't one destined afterlife but it can be whatever we want it to be?

I wish there was a voice audio setting because I would tell you guys so many stories! but anyways I’ll tell you guys about a specific occurrence that happened when I was around 13/16 that changed my perspective on everything.

Basically I used to go to church often . My family is pretty religious, and at the time, I wasn’t even really religious, but I still followed Christianity. I had gotten into manifesting but I still believed in god pretty avidly (and still do just not in a religious way) so I didn’t mind going.

Anyways there was this super religious girl who I would talk to everytime I went. guys I mean she was giving cult. Cross tattoos, Bible reading club everyday, and she could read the Bible word for word backwards probably! I don’t really like super avidly religious people who make their entire life abt god and every conversation abt it, but idk for her I could tolerate it. She was super sweet and her passion was admirable.

I remember she stopped coming to church and I knew something was wrong because this girl would rather die than miss service. Turns out she was in an accident and was probably going to die, so we held a huge fundraiser for her family. At the time I didn’t know what happened to her because no one talked about it after the fundraiser and I didn’t have her phone number so I just assumed she died.

Then when I was 16, so atp pretty into manifesting and not into church anymore I saw her at a tarot shop.. that she owned. Now it’s a general consensus astrology, tarots and stuff is against Christianity. (not that I cared regardless I still was into that shit) but The Sarah (fake name) I knew Would never step foot into what she called a “devil worshipping temple”

But it was definitely her and she looked so different. She used to have long brown hair, wore traditional clothing, would never show skin etc. this girl had a pixie cut with black hair, so many tattoos of sigils and zodiac stuff on her body, so many piercings, and was wearing booty shorts!! I almost didn’t recognize her but she said hi to me and I was in shock. This bitch owns a crystal shop.. Holy Sarah owns a crystal shop!! atp I believed the rapture was about to start bc what the hell

Anyways I asked her how she was and what happened, because I assumed she was dead. And she said she was. She had been officially dead for 5 straight seconds, but was “brought” back with those machines. I told her she looks good but why the change in lifestyle. she said when she died, she was in a black space of nothing but still had thoughts. She didn’t see Jesus or the purgatory or whatever, all she had was herself. She was crying to herself in this void like space as she knew it was the end, and the atheists were right. We become nothing when we die. Then she just wished to come back, and she said she would do anything to come back, and then she did. She awoke again and when she did she got into spirituality and it changed her life.

16 year old me at this point was pretty deep into my spiritual research and she basically confirmed what I had believed since I was 8. We choose what happenes when we die and we can do the same for our life on earth. I pretty much talked to her for hours, until I had to go because my mom doesn’t want me in those “weird” shops either. Anyways I assume the “space” she was in was the void state, but I didn’t know what that was until the end of 2021 ofc so I couldn’t make the connection at the time.

But I mean it makes sense. we have free will, so if we can decide every aspect of our life while alive, why would that change at death. death isn’t the end, just a beginning of whatever new chapter you want or believe it to be. Just my belief ofc :) you’re inclined to believe whatever !

[emolooswrld]

The Other Woman

part two

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, angst galore, unrequited love, jealousy, allusions to sex, cheating, eddie being an asshole, reader kind of being a home wrecker but who could blame her🤷🏻‍♀️ (i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything)

summary: you have had a crush on eddie munson for years. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you that he was dating chrissy cunningham. one thing leads to another and suddenly you’re the other woman, but after all, something’s better than nothing, right?

note: this has been sitting in my notes, collecting dust. i barely ever see any soul crushing angsty eddie fics so i made one myself😌pls enjoy and grab some tissues cuz this one hurts. (play the other woman by lana del rey if you’re brave)

You had no idea how you had gotten yourself into this situation. Well you knew how, but you didn’t know why you let yourself get into this situation. You knew you shouldn’t have started any of this in the first place, but you just couldn’t resist him. You couldn’t say no to him.

You and Eddie had been secretly hooking up for months now. Secretly because he was dating Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham of all people. You were surprised, to say the least, when you first found out about the couple. Given Eddie was known as the freak who ran a “sadistic cult” and Chrissy being a popular cheerleader known as the “queen of hawkins high.” It didn't make sense to you, let alone anyone else.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you. The seed of jealousy had already been planted deep inside you. You had been harboring a secret crush on Eddie ever since you first saw him. He was so confident, fearless. He didn't care what anyone thought about him. He carried himself in a way you couldn’t help but admire. There was just something about him that captivated you.

You had only spoken to him a few times. That was until you were paired together for a history project. You shouldn’t have been excited as you were to have an excuse to spend time with him, but he didn’t have to know that.

You both had agreed you would go to his trailer after school on friday. So when Friday finally came, you were a nervous wreck. You kept finding yourself staring at the clock, watching it tick with every second that passed. By the time the final bell rang, you practically sprinted to the parking lot, heart hammering in your chest as you got closer to the parking lot.

When you finally opened the doors to exit the school, you immediately spotted him. Eddie was leaning against the side of his van, cigarette hanging from his lips. As you made your way towards his van, your mind instantly started to fill with the dirtiest thoughts imaginable. You had to physically pinch yourself to silence them.

“There she is!” Eddie said with a grin. “Here I am” you said as you walked around to the passenger side of the van. As you settled into the boys van, you could feel his eyes on you. He was quick to turn his attention back to the road when you turned to look at him.

It was so wrong, you knew that, but you decided to test him a little. To see if he would go for the bait. You spread your legs apart slightly, at first. You slipped off the cardigan you were wearing, exposing the tight tank top you wore underneath.

When you turned to look at Eddie, you immediately noticed the grip he had on the steering wheel, his knuckles completely white. You could see his chest rising and falling faster than it had been before. Noticing the effect you had on him only caused you to go farther.

You spread your legs wider, arching your back. The sound of Eddie’s harsh inhale caused you to turn back and look at him. “What’s wrong Eddie?” When he only shook his head in response, you decided to tease him a little. “What? Cat got your tongue?'' Eddie didn’t like that.

He pulled over on the side of the road and turned to look at you. His hand wrapping around your throat as he spoke, “If we do this, you can’t tell anyone. Got it?” you nodded furiously, his grip on your throat only tightening. “I need words y/n.” his voice low and firm. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” you panted. “Good girl.” He hissed as he leaned in to press a needy kiss to your lips.

That’s how you got here, crying yourself to sleep almost every night. It was such a cliche but yet here you were, the other woman. All the promises Eddie would whisper in your ear, on a loop in your mind. “I promise I'll leave her” or “It’s you and only you, I promise.” It's been just about 6 months since you had started this “affair.” All of those promises turned into shattered glass, broken.

You swore your heart shrunk more and more every time you saw Eddie and Chrissy together. Watching them hold hands as they walked down the hallway, the way Eddie would whisper something in Chrissy's ear, and even worse, watching them kiss. It was all just too much for you to handle.

You kept promising yourself “This is going to be the last time.” Though, it never was. No matter how much it hurt or how much guilt you felt, you just kept finding yourself in the back of Eddie's van, in his bed, or in the woods bent over the picnic table.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to end this. You loved Eddie, as much as it hurt to admit. You loved the feeling of his hands roaming your body, the sweet nothings he would whisper in your ear. You loved it, you lived for it. It was the only thing you looked forward to. Those special moments between the two of you. When you were with him, everything just fell into place. All those thoughts, those feelings, those voices inside your head were silenced. It was as though the world went quiet and it was just the two of you, no one else mattered, no one else existed.

Eddie Munson was like a drug, an addiction. No matter how many fixes you got, no matter how many times you told yourself this was the last time, you always found yourself needing more, craving more.

One day you finally managed to muster up the courage to give Eddie an ultimatum of sorts. You had a whole speech prepared. You were going to tell him how you felt and if he really meant those promises he whispered in your ear then he would have to follow through if he wanted this to continue.

You had written Eddie a note asking him to meet you at your spot in the woods. You handed it to him during history class. The smirk he had given you in response to the note caused even more anxiety to rake through your entire body. You knew he thought this meet up was just going to be like all the others, which was going to make this even more difficult than it already was.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you made your way through the clearing in the woods. You already spotted a glimpse of familiar brunette curls from behind the bushes. Your confidence significantly dropped as soon as you saw Eddie. He was leaned up against the picnic table with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“Hey princess” he beamed as soon as he saw you. He made his way towards you, cupping your face in his hands once he reached you. He started to lean in for a kiss and you were about to give in until you remembered why you were here.

You stopped him with a hand to his chest, pushing him away. Eddie gave you a puzzled look to which you responded. “I asked you to meet me here to talk.'' The disappointed look that struck Eddie's face made your heart sink. “Talk about what sweetheart?” he had asked.

It was now or never. You knew you couldn’t keep putting yourself through this. You had to break it off. You silently prayed Eddie had really meant it when he said he’d leave chrissy for you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “I can’t keep meeting up with you like this. At least not while you’re still with Chrissy. If you really mean everything you tell me, then you’ll leave her.” You slowly started to open your eyes. What you saw immediately made you regret everything you just said.

Eddie's eyes were wide, not with excitement, but with surprise. There was the slightest hint of a frown on his lips. He had started to fidget with the rings on his fingers, twirling them around. He was speechless, to say the least.

You waited impatiently for him to say something, anything. The uncomfortable silence that had formed between you two became unbearable. Finally, you heard a sigh come from Eddie. “Listen, I do mean everything I tell you. I just- I can’t break up with Chrissy." All the hope you had vanished.

“Why? I mean you obviously aren’t happy with her so why can’t you leave her?” you could feel the sting of tears, threatening to escape your eyes. “I never once said I wasn't happy with her.” Eddie’s tone became defensive, something you’d never heard in his voice. “Then why are we doing this?” you shot back at him.

Nothing could have prepared you for what Eddie said next. “God- because Chrissy doesn’t wanna do the shit we do. I knew you had a thing for me and you’re- just different. It's a change of pace.” It was silent for a while after those words left his mouth. It took everything in you to pull yourself together. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“So you were just using me? This whole entire time, everything you told me, everything you did, it all meant nothing?” you didn’t even give Eddie the chance to respond. “I should’ve known. Your own girlfriend isn’t even good enough for you so why should I be.” you turned on your heels, making a bee line for the trail that led out of the woods.

You could hear Eddie calling after you, but you didn’t care. The familiar salty taste filling your mouth as you sobbed. You practically ran to your car, pulling out of the school parking lot so fast that if you weren’t a complete wreck right now, you would’ve scared yourself. You drove home in silence, the only noise being your own sobs.

Eddie Munson had broken you, beyond repair.

[wikimb]

Devil Trigger 3.0 for Michael!

A 3rd attempt at designing his DT since 2021 when I made Michael (or rather revived and remade/fleshed out his character from a DMC fanfiction written in 2019...).

I could explain in length the ideas behind this DT, why such a theme, why so... tall. The ramble includes serious explanation of the origins of demonic powers he has as well. If you like to read about it then just check what's under the cut.

Below you have some drawings of his face and also his brother's (name's Gabriel) reaction to his DT form. Michael was more scared of Gabriel's reaction than he actually was and the relief he felt was quite overwhelming.

More in depth below. It includes links to the 2 older versions of his DT for fun comparison.

The theme of his DT is very birdy. The first time I designed his DT it was rather heavily inspired by pre-existing DT designs of our main characters. Nothing wrong with it but it didn't stand out and I also never really vibed with it. It didn't help that I had no experience with any kind of monster design to begin with. I still kinda don't but I can see I got slightly better seeing the 3rd version of his DT. You can check my 1st and 2nd attempts here.

Anyway there are a bit more specific reasons why it's so birdy-looking or angelic-looking (and not just because of his name). Michael was born a human in a family, which was never exposed to anything demon-related. They didn't know demons existed (to a degree... when it comes to his father but I think that'd deserve a separate post as his backstory is a bit wild and how it affected Michael in the end).

As a teenager he got lured into a cult and manipulated into abandoning his family eventually. He didn’t know how evil the cult was and didn't even realize they were a cult to begin with.

It was a cult worshipping Mundus with a leader being one his generals. Her name was Lilith and she was great at making Michael feel that she truly cared for him like a mother figure. She manipulated him into believing his family didn't care for him. Sadly, it was all a game and ever since he escaped the cult, he deals with a lot of guilt and regret. He is not sure if they're even still alive... and if they're dead... what if it's his fault?

The cult's purpose was to turn humans into demons, who would serve Mundus. To ensure that they were forced to undergo a ritual stripping them of all of their humanity, their human personality and replace all of that with Mundus overwhelming power. The power, which was great but taking away all of their free will they could have. These people were technically demons at this point. If the ritual failed then it was usually fatal. Thing is, the ritual was a stolen concept from the time when Lilith infiltrated Fortuna's Order of the Sword. In a way she influenced Agnus to come up with such a ritual, then she took the idea and modified it a bit.

Michael's case could be qualified as a failed ritual after, which he should have died but the amount of demonic power he received was not big enough to kill him (because human body would be able not to handle more) but instead keep him alive. And as a result it continued transforming/mutating him into a demon-hybrid like Dante or Vergil, but artificial.

Even if using demoning powers was causing various unpleasant side effects for him but with each use, it hurt less and less. He was reluctant to use his powers actively, fearing that they could make him loose his humanity. He still used the passive abilities such as sensing demon magic.

After certain events he unlocked his Devil Trigger. As a side note I do have 2 ideas for what these moments were but for now I am not sure which one is better.

Anyway, yes, Michael underwent a modified version of Ascension Ceremony! That's why he has such an angelic look, just like the guys from Fortuna. The demonic powers are originating from Mundus but failed to take away his free will, his personality, his humanity, his memories. In other words, he is the same like before - just juiced up with Mundus power (which he is afraid to use anyway). Certainly a result which a Demon Lord would actually hate to find out about as it has a potential to backfire. Not like he has to "worry" about three Sparda descendants already. But if you saw Mundus himself, he also looks rather angelic too. Or at least that "statue form" if that orange weird blob is meant to be really him.

Compared to DTs already seen, he is quite massive. I think it can be simply a feature of Mundus power, in which Devil Trigger state makes one much larger than in human form. Mundus is a titan-sized demon himself, while Sparda was shown to be rather human sized. Heh, maybe if Michael had Sin Devil Trigger form then he could be Mundus-sized.

Though, Michael has the ability to go Berserk (but it's not controlled by his will and it triggers under strong distress), which enhances his power in human form and in DT form. It manifests as blue fire instead of orange fire. Maybe Berserk DT can get this big maybe. Could wrestle demons like Goliath then xD