#only enthusiastic dialogue

[hiemaldesirae]

The Hazbin Graduate’s Guide to Homicide (3)

HAZBIN'S MIDSEMESTER STUDENT REPORT Student: Vox Vanhal Supervising Staff: Professor Enoch Leviathan Sponsor: Not Applicable To the Board: Vox Vanhal may be one of the most brilliant students this school has seen in decades. In all my years of teaching at Hazbin, I have never met a student more insanely ready to learn and apply their skills- due in part, of course, to said student's own possible insanity. I mean this in a jovial way, of course, but I will admit that when young Vanhal's true identity was revealed to me that my first thought was along the lines of 'is this student insane?' Whether or not my student's reason should be called into question is something myself and my fellow professor Asmodeus have discussed in length, but there is one thing that we can definitively agree on: If there is any one student in this school who I would choose to place my bets on, it would be Vox Vanhal. There is nothing more to say at this time of report evaluation. Sincerely, Professor Leviathan.

May God's blessings be with you now and at the hour of our deaths, Amen.

[ 1 ] / [ 2 ] (<- read these first for context and more murder academy radiostatic content!)

Though Alastor may have thought that Vox was much more knowledgable in how Hazbin's Institution for Homicide worked, the truth was, Vox was still fully flying on the seat of his own coattails.

He had no damn clue what he was doing still, and although it'd been two weeks since he'd arrived, part of him still felt like how he did when he'd first arrived: hesitant, scared, not knowing where to go or what to do besides the want to make his boss suffer as he killed him.

That level of animosity might sound strange to anyone not a Hazbin student or alumnus, but it was perfectly normal for any student enrolled in the academy to have such feelings. After all, there was quite a rigorous process involved in the application, and for Vox, this application process (and what led to it) was perhaps more intense than most.

There had once been a time where Vox had dreamed of becoming a Hollywood starlet, one who lit up the silver screen and was blessed by hundreds of thousands of cheering, dedicated fans who would fawn over his every move and action. He'd wanted to follow in his mother's footsteps, at one point. But after taking on his first roles in Carmine Studios, the glamour of Hollywood had shattered like fine glass.

"Miss Vesper! Would you please look over here for a second?"

"Miss Vesper, when is your next movie coming out?!"

"Miss Vesper, is it true that you and your co-star on Anna Karenina, Valentino Vega had an affair-?"

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! That- fucking bastard!" Vox rushed into the privacy of his and Val's shared apartment, slamming the door behind him as he collapsed into the couch, head cradled in his hands. He couldn't even begin to start detailing the number of ways he'd wanted to fucking butcher and rip apart his boss.

Andrealphus Goetia was no stranger to the spotlight, naturally. One of Hollywood's top directors, the man had been an influential cornerstone in the history of movie-making, a real legend to light the days. But behind that picturesque platinum reputation laid a monstrous piece of shit.

It had been a complete accident that Andrealphus had found out about Vox's identity.

Vox himself hadn't even really planned out what to do about himself at that point, only that he'd known that the dresses he wore on screen were far more suited to his best friend than they were for him. Knew that the copious amounts of makeup flattened on him everyday made him feel more like a clown than a princess, that it was the most uncomfortable feeling to have to sit and play the pretty face for the audience's sake.

But he persisted, telling himself, one more year, one more year til my savings account has enough to supply Val and I with a comfortable life and we can leave.

But of course- of course Andrealphus had to ruin it for him.

The man had found out and immediately proceeded to blackmailing Vox with the information, holding things such as promotions, media gossip and rumors over his head. And now... now... Vox stared down at the script he held clutched in his hand, his knuckles turning white as he grasped it with an iron grip.

"Dieser verdammte bastard," Vox muttered under his breath.

Though he'd never loved the spotlight that came with his first taste of fame, he had loved acting. Had loved being adored for his skill, applauded for the emotions that he could evoke in crowds of people and the way he could twist people's hearts. He had wanted to be one of the best, a household name.

And now, he stared down at the script for a movie that Andrealphus knew would tank his reputation. It was absolute bullshit. The plot was held together by thin strings and a bit of glue, despite being an adaptation of one of the past decade's best selling books. Not only that, but the moment he left the safety of the apartment once more, he would also have to contend with the rumors that were steadily piling against him and dragging his loved ones and friends into it too.

All this, because Vox had refused to sleep with his shitty boss.

He could still hear the fucker's voice- come on, don't you wanna say that you got a piece of me? I'll even leave out the part about you being a transvestite, darling, just the fact that I got a piece of you is enough.

God. If only.... if only he could see that bastard's face when he crushed his fucking skull in between his hands. He wanted to see Andrealphus' stupid face contort in revulsion and terror when Vox finally did the deed, wanted to bathe in the the fotze's inbred blood. He'd do anything for the chance to just kill that piece of shit-

"Amorcito?"

Val's voice makes Vox jump on the spot, quickly shifting to hide the script from view. His friend comes around the corner, eyebrows furrowed with concern, and it's this that makes Vox break his composure, a single tear falling down his face as Val frowns, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "Voxxy, amor... tell me what's wrong."

And because he can never keep his mouth shut when it comes to his best friend, Vox tells him everything. Val nods along, pauses at the right moments, all of that stuff that friends do when they're trying to let you know that they'd rip apart your shitty boss if not for the law.

But- and perhaps this is something that Vox knew deep down to be true anyway- Val was a bit different in that aspect. He'd met the man under... less than legal circumstances, after all, and he knew that Val was the heir to quite the illustrous cartel career.

So when Valentino stops him with a firm hand on the shoulder and hands him an application paper for Hazbin, telling him to think it through, Vox barely takes even a second glance at it before filling it out.

Now, two months later and sitting in the auditorium of Hazbin's famed Music Hall, Vox doesn't find himself regretting the decision. Sure, it's a bit lonely without Val's supporting presence by his side, but the students he's met so far have proved to be some of the friendliest people he's had the pleasure of knowing: ironic, considering the kind of school they're studying at. And he's even managed to make a friend! Not that bad a start, altogether.

Vox absentmindedly doodles on the edge of his notes as Professor Leviathan's soothing voice lectures them on the importance of a proper alibi. "If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, looks like a duck, but it has an airtight alibi, it is...?"

"Not a duck," the auditorium echoes back to the professor, who nods, looking satisfied with the class's response. "So, then! The first step to alibi making is...? Miss Velvette, perhaps you'd like to answer this one for us?"

The girl sitting beside Vox shoots up in her seat, looking as if she'd just fallen asleep and was awoken by the professor's question. "Uh... the..."

After a moment of silence and stuttering, Vox takes pity on the girl, sliding Velvette over a slide of paper that she squints at before reading. "Make sure you're in a different place from the crime?"

"And how would I do that?"

"I... uh. Use an accomplice...?" Velvette stutters.

Professor Leviathan shakes his head, looking disappointed. "Not quite. One thing you will have to learn at Hazbin's is that you should never rely on any other person to carry your deed out for you. No hiring accomplices- after all, paid personnel's loyalty is shaky and they have no honor code preventing them from taking you to the police- and absolutely no committing crimes as lovers, unless you can guarantee that neither of you will be snitching. Would anyone else like to take a try?"

Vox raises his hand hesitantly. "Move the crime scene or otherwise obscure the culprit?"

Professor Leviathan snaps his fingers, "Yes! Absolutely. One of the best ways to make yourself an iron clad alibi is, if the pope is shot in the church at midnight, make sure that you are seen halfway across town in the bar at midnight; so drunk that you cannot even leave until your wife comes to pick you up at two- and no one will suspect you, even if he was actually killed right outside the pub and moved to the church instead. By moving the crime scene, you can make yourself an ironclad alibi. Obscuring the identity of the perpetrator and making it someone who couldn't possibly be you also works splendidly. After all, if the police believe the murderer to be a six foot tall adult man, then the actual perpetrator, a four foot tall young woman, would be able to pass by completely unnoticed. Thank you for that input, Vox. Now, onto the actual creation of such an alibi..."

When class ends, Vox is the first to leave his seat and head for the door, intending on leaving and getting to Track with Professor Satan as quick as possible when someone stops him in his tracks with a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Hey. Vox Vanhal, right?"

"That would be me, yes," Vox turns to face the person he's talking to, only to be met with the young woman that Professor Leviathan had called out in class earlier. "You were... Velvette?"

"Yep, that's me," the chipper young woman responds. "Listen, I know you don't know me at all, but I really need to get through this school year. Like- look, okay, I'm in a little bit over my head right now. I still want to go here and do what everyone here does, of course, I'd love to just go and plunge a damn butcher's knife into my cunt of an ex-friend's neck, but... well, you saw how I did back in class- look, what I'm trying to get at is I need someone to help me. And you're like, Leviathan's star student. So- I don't care what I have to do, I'll-"

Vox holds up a hand to stop her.

"I don't need you to do anything for me, unless you've got any tips on how to kill my boss and make him suffer during it. But I'll help you with whatever you need to study during your courses. Just..." He pauses, taking a moment to think out what he's about to ask. "Could you teach me how you did your makeup on your own?"

Velvette blinks, clearly not expecting that response. She laughs, a shrill, sharp bark and grabs his hand to shake it firmly. "Yeah, 'course I can. So, do we have a deal?"

"We do," Vox smiles. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

[kadoodles-on-ao3]

Sickness update: Still coughing, but it's (mostly) dry coughing now, and my headache is gone! But I'm not at 100% back-to-normal mental capacity yet either :(

Writing update: I've been hard at work on my angsty longfic! I was going to work on something lighter (especially with my cold) but all of a sudden more and more ideas to add to my AU kept popping in my head and I just had to jot them down.

Before long I was finally organizing my outline by putting all my previous bullet-point came-to-me-at-random-times-of-the-night-and-put-in-an-equally-random-order concepts into plot-chronological order as they should be, and making headings/sections for the major location changes to find stuff easier, and getting down how exactly series-and-collection-wise I want to go about categorizing the fic and its sequels, and finalizing their titles (which are all names of songs on The Glitch Mob's Drink the Sea album, give it a listen with good headphones if you haven't before, it's great background music!!) and oh yeah I needed to go over the h2hs again better open that doc, and I definitely need to have the game's script and cutscenes on hand for reference as needed (which was very frequently) and now baby I've got a stew going

I'm having so much fun writing characters I haven't gotten to write before, and (minor/vague Xenoblade spoilers) digging into the details of the lore about Face Mechon and expanding on my take of what was happening on the Mechonis before the party got there, and fitting lots of little puzzle pieces that the game gives you but doesn't directly tell you they belong together which is why I love it so much, and getting into such a nice flow state with it all and gjshfhskfh I love Xenoblade 1 so muchhhhhh!!!

So all that is to say I will hopefully be posting the prologue tomorrow or the day after! :) No promises as it's gotten much longer/more-detailed than I planned for (although I really should have expected that, it's always how it goes with me when I'm having fun writing I just can't stop haha) but it is most definitely on the way to being published soon!

[lordsovorn]

Strange how people keep saying that "Shuro hates in Laios the same traits he supposedly loves in Falin", which is...

Seriously, look at him and his dialogue - does he hate Laios for being a monster freak? For being nerdy and weird and loving nature? For eating bugs? No, that's not it.

Shuro hates* Laios for being so profoundly socially inept (from his perspective).

The key difference between Touden siblings isn't that Falin is a pretty girl - the key difference is that Falin is caring and accommodating to other people, and Laios is awkward and unobservant, seemingly egotistic at the surface level.

(others have already written wonderful essays on why and how they grew up like that)

It has to be noted that Shuro is a sheltered noble from a land where proper etiquette is paramount - he is used to people being incredibly subtle AND incredibly observant around him. He comes from a high-context culture where everyone assumes things based on lots of social cues and shared understanding of context. That's not even a matter of being neurotypical, that's his culture (in addition to his personality and brain chemistry)

He is also rather introverted as person and doesn't have many friends. Even his attachments and emotions in childhood are expressed subtly, in a restrained and proper way. He is polite and refined, perfectly fitting into his house's expectations - even if that means repressing his childhood interests and little weird joys.

In that particular way, the opposite of Laios.

Shuro hates* Laios for being the opposite of the image HE was grown into. This strange man is so utterly insensitive and so open about it - he has no sense of shame (like Shuro), no tact and ability to shut up (like Shuro), no restraint (like Shuro). Look at him talking non-stop about things he wants to talk about and having fun (unlike Shuro) while completely overestepping Shuro's obvious boundaries!

The boundaries, I must say, that not only never before needed to be spelled out, but in Shuro's upbringing and culture would be as ridiculous to spell out as "I want to pee, so I'll go to the bathroom and remove my pants and sit on the toilet and release the sphincter holding my pee in my pee bladder"

Falin is not only awesome in his eyes for being weird and in touch with nature, but for being very delicate, observant and caring AT THE SAME TIME. She is a gem in Shuro's eyes, a miracle of his dreams.

In Falin, he not only sees a nerd-freak - he sees a hope for an introverted, polite, restrained person like himself to reconnect with that love for nature and nerdiness and freakiness.

Laios isn't like that. Laios is unobservant for subtle cues - and so a lot more loud, persistent, enthusiastic and unwittingly annoying. Yes, Falin has all that inside her too - but she restrains herself in order not to be a burden. And so does Shuro, in order to fit expectations. There's similarity between them in that regard, between two introverted and restrained weirdos. And a hope for a kindred, more open soul, from the more restrained Shuro's perspective.

* - I don't think Shuro's feelings to Laios are properly described as hate. Yeah, in his darkest moment he says that, but honestly it felt more like an accumulated stress from a continuous cultural and personal misunderstanding, rather than a profound personal hate.

...

What was the post about?.. Oh, yeah, Shuro loving Falin and disliking Laios. That's not him being too horny to think, that's him loving in Falin the defining difference between the two - they aren't gender-swapped clones, after all. Give my boy some respect and nuance.

[screeching-bunny]

Saw that requests were open, and maybe can you do this one? ⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄

Request- A master manipulator yandere husband that’s been with his wifey (us) since childhood. That’s right, we childhood sweethearts <3 He lovingly molded us into a dependent stepford wifey, cause what’d we do without him? He’s always been there to protect, provide, and care for us since we were young, why stop now into adulthood?

Love to have this as HC format with some dash of dialogue if possible to show some of his personality!

Also I loved your latest CEO yandere, what’s his name? He’s a favorite of mine now. Love the ones that spoil you rotten and can’t live without you!

Yandere! Husband Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: Yandere! Ceo currently doesn’t have a name rn but don’t worry he will soon!!! Thank you so much enjoying him!!!

🌟 Yandere! Husband has been friends with you since you were children. From the moment you got out of the car and started to get your things out of the moving van, he was absolutely hooked. He practically rushed his little legs over and started to enthusiastically introduce himself to you and your family. He was honestly so thrilled to learn that you were the same age as him and going to be attending the same elementary school as him. When you first started attending school Yandere! Husband made sure to hold your hand no matter where you went. Whenever anyone asked he would say that he was only doing this to make you more comfortable (he’s doing this for his own enjoyment). This is a habit that stays even in your adult life. No matter where the two of you are, he is always holding your hand lovingly.

🌟 Yandere! Husband in elementary school used to get so upset whenever someone would try to approach you to play with them. Whenever someone did this he would always try to do petty little things to them such as trip them, tattle tale on every little thing they did, and sometimes get even a little physical. At the time he wasn’t exactly sure why he was feeling these awful emotions but what he was one hundred percent sure on was that he didn’t want anyone to take your attention off of him.

Random elementary student: “You can’t keep doing this! You’re acting like they’re yours! They can play with whoever they want, so stop acting like you own them!”

Yandere! Husband: “...” Coming to the realization that he loves hearing that. The idea of you being solely his causes his heart to beat even faster. “Mine, I like the sound of that.”

🌟 Yandere! Husband made sure to protect you from any bullies that ever tried to harm you. He wanted to be seen as a savior in your eyes and would brutally beat up anyone who tried to harm you. If he wasn’t physically strong enough to beat them then he would do everything in his power to frame them for something and get them expelled from school. He definitely has some sort of savior complex when it comes to you. Yandere! Husband made it a mission to be your first kiss when the two of you were going to graduate elementary and go into middle school. He wanted to be your first in everything and felt this was the first step into making you his. Your first kiss had been with him in his bedroom while you were over to play videogames.

Yandere! Husband: “Come on, this is the first step we gotta take in order to grow. Our first kiss has to be with someone special and you're the specialist person I know!”

Just like that, the two of you were leaning in and that was how Yandere! Husband successfully stole your first kiss.

🌟 Yandere! Husband was still stuck to your side even during puberty. It was during this time that he started getting attention from a lot of people due to his looks. He made sure to always ignore or reject them due to only having eyes for you. Yandere! Husband makes sure that your classes are all with him. Believe it or not but Yandere! Husband is extremely smart and a model student. He will make sure to point out how you are lacking academically therefore you need someone to tutor you (even if you don’t) to both teachers and the principal in order to be in the same classes as you. Yandere! Husband will make small and very subtle passive aggressive remarks about how you aren't that academically intelligent and that you need him by your side. At some point you start to believe this and believe that you need him to tutor you everyday in order to survive school.

Yandere! Husband: “It’s okay if you’re not good at anything. As long as you have me by your side, I’ll take care of you no matter what. Even if we’re old and wrinkly.”

🌟 Yandere! Husband has successfully isolated you from making friends by the time you two are in high school. You basically have no friends but him. This was mainly due to the fact that he would always try to outdo the person you were trying to befriend in order to make them seem boring. Having romantic feelings for anyone other than him was off limits. If you ever did have a crush on someone then Yandere! Husband would absolutely destroy them. He would make sure to spread the nastiest rumor about them and cause them so much shame that they would have to move away from your town in order to avoid further embarrassment. It’s probably around highschool that Yandere! Husband officially asks you out to be his lover. He makes sure to go all out while asking you out in order to make you feel special.

🌟 Yandere! Husband is proposing to you the moment the two of you graduate highschool. Don’t worry about funds, he’s a Nepo baby and will inherit his dad’s company. He definitely wants you to be his housespouse when he’s ready to go to college and work a job. He wants you to depend on him and hates the idea of you being independent without him. In order to make sure this never happens, he manipulates you into thinking that you can’t do anything without him and around. So why don't you sit still and look pretty for him when he gets home.

🌟 Yandere! Husband picks out everything when it’s time to get married. He’s a complete groomzilla and wants everything to be absolutely perfect. When he sees you in your wedding attire for the first time he definitely tears up a bit. You’re just so beautiful. Domestic life with Yandere! Husband is peaceful and calming. Yandere! Husband imagines you all the time while he is at work. When he drives home from work he likes to imagine how you would be waiting for him. Would you be waiting at the door for him or would you be asleep sprawled on the couch. He makes sure to always come home as fast as he can in order to wrap his arms around you. The sight coming home to you and a home cooked meal absolutely melts his heart. This is perfection to him and he’ll make sure to do everything in his power to protect it.

[oikasugayama]

YOU TELL HIM THAT YOU'RE H0RN¥

PREMISE: You're just friends, but you wanna test the boundaries. How does he react when you tell him that you're horny?

INCLUDES: Akutagawa, Dazai, Nikolai, Poe, Atsushi, Ranpo

No smut, heavy on dialogue. These are goofy!! One part only.

Akutagawa

That gif is the horny taking over his body.

"Akutagawa."

"Hm?"

"I'm horny."

He looks up at you, face somewhere between horror-stricken and confused.

"Why would you say such a thing to me?"

"Obviously because I want you to do something about it."

"What?"

"I said--"

"--No, no, I heard you the first time."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Sooo, do you want to have sex, orrr?"

Akutagawa stares blankly at something nearby for a solid minute, completely silent, and then stands up abruptly.

"Yes. Let's go to a love hotel."

Dazai

"Dazaaaaai. I'm horny," you whine, an over-exaggerated pout on your face.

"Ohh? Shall I help you take care of that?" He purrs, exaggeratedly flirting. "I'll treat you reaaaal nice." He winks, ready for you to say something like "ew no, freak" and laugh it off like usual. Except...

"God, yes. I was gonna ask."

"Huh?" He short-circuits. He pauses, trying to figure out if you're fucking with him or not. Usually you'd start laughing after two or three seconds, but you're standing up and walking toward him--

"Holy shit. Oh my god, you're serious?!" He jumps up from his chair, eyes lighting up, and horny stirring in his pants. "If you're joking you have to tell me right now."

"Why don't you come with me to the broom closet and see if I'm joking?"

"This is the greatest day of my life," he says as you pull him along.

Nikolai

"I'm really horny, so you're gonna have to stop looking so hot or I'm gonna have to leave."

The grin he already wore spread wider across his face.

"Is that so?"

He summons and portal and in the blink of an eye is crowding you in your space, laying a hand on your thigh, breathing on your neck.

"What's doing it for you, dovey? Is it the beautiful, luscious hair? My devilishly handsome smile?"

"It's those fucking thunder thighs in the striped pants is what it is," you huff, trying to push him back, but he takes your hands and moves your arms to be around his shoulders.

"I can keep them on while I fuck you," he says lowly into your ear. "Would you like that?"

You pull him against you.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Nikolai."

Poe

"Poe, I'm having a really nice time hanging out with you and all, but I have to be honest: I'm really horny, so I probably need to go home before I start trying to fuck you."

He is so flustered that he can't even form a sentence. What you can see of his face is beet red, and he scrambles for the door. You think he's going to open it and usher you out, but he presses his back against it, blocking your exit.

"No," he finally says, "Don't leave."

"Poe, you're in the danger zone. If I don't relieve some tension I'm gonna get really grouchy."

"I can help," he stutters out.

"Huh?"

He starts trying to apologize, but you laugh and cross the room to him.

"I didn't expect you to be into it," you admit. "I definitely said it to get your attention, but I thought you'd say no."

"Then I have not made my feelings known enough."

Atsushi

"Can I ask you a stupid question?"

"Sure!" Atsushi responds enthusiastically. Your head is laying in his lap and you're staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Do you ever get horny when you hang out with your friends?"

"Uhh, I don't think that's something that happens with your friends," he says, and you turn to look up at him.

"It doesn't? Like, you've never gotten horny while spending time with me?"

"Uhh..." His face slowly starts turning red.

"I've gotten horny hanging out with you. I'm kind of horny right now, honestly."

"UMMMMM..........."

"So you're saying that right now my face being near your dick isn't turning you on?"

"I wouldn't say that..."

"I sure hope you wouldn't because I think I can literally feel you getting hard against my skull. Do you wanna stop talking and start making out now?"

Ranpo

"I'm horny."

"I know."

"What? How do you know?"

"You keep squirming in your seat, you're trying to arch your back when you lean your elbow on the table, and you keep biting your lip when you think I'm not looking at you."

"But you must be looking at me because you noticed all of that. But I haven't seen your eyes on me."

"I'm watching you from the corner of my eye like I usually do."

"Oh? And why would you be watching me, Ranpo?"

"Because I like to?" he says like it's obvious.

"Do you have a little crush on me, Ranpo?"

"Wouldn't you like to know. If only you have my super deduction you'd know."

"I don't think I need super deduction to know. I think I can figure it out in one question."

"Oh? Try me."

"When are you going to fuck me?"

He tries to bite back a smile but he can't. He finally looks directly at you, and it tells you everything you need to know.

"Your place or mine?"

[honeyhotteoks]

under his eye (lnds; sylus)

summary: sylus puts you under his thrall and takes exactly what he wants from you and your body.

note: this is my first love and deepspace fic, and definitely one of my more intense fics thematically for my regular readers who may dip into this one too. i have a few lnds ideas knocking around, so i may post more at some point. ♡

warnings: actual vampire!sylus, fem!reader, mc!reader, this is entirely smut but please mind the warnings here: heavy dubcon (there is enthusiastic consent explicit in the fic just not at first), cnc, use of thrall/mind-control, dollification, fingering, oral (f receiving), actual somno, rough sex, allusions to primal play, blood play, actual vampire behavior, orgasm denial/orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected sex (he's a vampire tho get real), creampie, praise and shame in equal measure, a LOT of dirty talk from sylus, heavy use of pet names like good girl, sweet girl, kitten, sweetheart, darling, etc., some implied size kink with the use of 'little' but it's meant more mean teasing from him than anything, tenderness, consent talks, check-ins, aftercare, sylus literally loves her in this dw

pairings: vampire!sylus x hunter!reader

genre: smut, porn with very little plot

word count: 5.6k

for my fellow sylus fans, you can probably tell this was fully inspired by his secret times audio 'midnight warmth' - i basically hit level 35 and then went fully insane when i first heard it..... so a few lines of dialogue are borrowed from that.

It’s hard to imagine what it feels like to be in a vampire’s thrall unless you’ve experienced it before. You don’t think you’d ever be able to find the words, not properly. You’ve heard it described, in training, in books, in your own personal research, but it all pales in comparison to what it’s actually like. The slow, hypnotic build up into the haze and the sudden descent into a deeper, darker place where your mind resonates at a lower frequency, fixed on one singular sound. One voice.

Sylus. 

His rich, honeyed tone had pushed you under before you could even process it. 

You try to remember where you were before this moment, who you were, but there are only flickers. The hotel room around you is large and unfamiliar, outfitted decadently in the dark jewel tones he favors so much. The black silk sheets under your back is the only sensation you have other than the slow pulse of your own heartbeat in your ears. If you focus hard enough, you think you can remember a joke, something you quipped over your shoulder about how there must be laws in place in the N109 zone, how ‘vampire’s lair’ must be the only legal style of decor in this sector of space. 

He had laughed, a real, genuine laugh from deep in his chest before he wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled into your hair. 

You don’t like being in a vampire’s lair, kitten? 

You can still hear his words, swimming around your foggy brain, his voice so low and warm in his chest. 

I thought you liked being my pretty paramour. 

Sylus’s hands had wandered, playing with the buckles of your hunter’s leathers and letting his fingertips ghost over your collarbones, up your throat, and pass gently over your lips before stepping back and away from you entirely. You felt strange from that moment on, disquieted. 

You made excuses in your own mind for how you were feeling, weeks of investigations and sleepless nights, that’s why your body felt like it was dragging itself through butter just trying to eat dinner. 

You apologized, you wouldn’t have called him if you had realized just how tired you were.

But he just smiled at you, appraising you with his sharp red eyes in that way he often does, nodding along to your staggered attempts at conversation. 

You realized what he was doing in the last split second before your mind became his. 

His gaze turned darker, searing into you, and with one word you felt the world drop out from underneath you. 

Sleep. 

You don’t remember how you ended up on the bed. 

Now your head is swimming as you try harder and harder to focus your mind and recall the little details.

“Stop resisting, darling,” Sylus murmurs, and you feel the mattress dip. 

You can’t respond, you can’t even really move, and a nervous panic starts to work its way up your spine.

Sylus sits on the edge of the bed, close enough to you now that you can see him in your vacant line of vision, and he nods, “Just relax,” 

Your muscles soften. 

“Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we?” Sylus leans closer, his fingers tugging at the buckles and straps of your clothes. 

You watch as he meticulously undresses you, peeling away layers of your uniform, a satisfied groan whispered from his lips as he parts open your blouse, another when he does away with your tight leather pants. All the while, you’re boneless, trapped by his last command and fully at his mercy. The Hunter’s Academy never prepared you for this. 

“You really are a pretty thing,” Sylus hums, his cool hand drifting up and down your body from the base of your bra to the top of your underwear, “so soft,” 

Nerves pulse through you again, your body twitching under his hands. 

“Shh,” He soothes, “it’s only me, relax,” 

Your muscles melt further, any lingering tension bleeding out of your body at his words, your head rocking softly to one side, your cheek against the silk pillowcase. 

“That’s a good girl,” 

You sigh, a sudden needy tug deep in your belly at his words. 

“Mm,” His hand drifts higher, dancing over your chest and passing over your breasts, the rough drag of your cloth bra against your nipple pulling a tiny whine from your lips. 

He chuckles softly, repeating his motions and you whine again. 

“How lovely and responsive you are,” Sylus says, pulling the fabric of your bra down until it catches under the swell of your breasts, “what other little noises can I pull out of you, kitten?” 

He rolls a thumb over your nipple, drawing it up to a tight, almost painful peak, and you whimper at the flood of sensation through your chest and down your abdomen. 

“And this?” He pinches, a tug that leaves you involuntarily jerking. 

“And here?” You can’t see him with the way your head is turned, but you feel his fingers ghost over the hem of your panties and you suck in a sharp breath. 

He adjusts one of your legs, opening it up at the knee to widen his access, and then he presses two fingers a little more firmly at the top of your cunt, expertly locating your clit through your panties and applying steady pressure. 

You moan softly and you hear him release a tight exhale. 

“My,” He lets his fingers slip down, pushing lightly against your slit, “are you wet already?” 

You know you are, your body responding naturally to his voice, to his tender touch. 

“I asked you a question, sweetheart,” Sylus leans over you, his breath against your cheek, “when I ask you a question, I’d like a response.” 

Your heart is fluttering, a thunderously fast pounding in your chest. 

His fingers hook under your chin and draw your gaze up, and gently he pushes the hair away from your face as he regards you, his dark eyes full of mirth and a little half smile on his lips. He nods at you, pleased as if you had turned your own head, “Now,” he says, “I asked if you’re wet already?” 

Your knotted up tongue loosens instantly at the question, “Yes,” 

“Good girl,” He coos, leaning over you to press his cool lips to yours. 

You can’t kiss him back, he hasn't told you if you’re allowed to move, but he peppers you with kisses until you feel his fingers slide under the hem of your panties. 

You gasp under him, heat pooling in your belly. 

Sylus dips his fingers into the dripping slickness of your cunt and groans into your ear, “You like this,” he nips at your earlobe, “you’re a mess between your thighs for me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” The word slips out, your voice breathy and taut.

  “My pretty little hunter,” He slides his fingers up to your swelling clit and circles his fingers, “does that feel good?” 

You moan a little, his fingers pressing more firmly as he circles, “Yes, Sylus,” 

“Spread out for me,” He presses his head against your temple and turns so he can watch your body twitching as he works his fingers over you, “Wet for me,” 

A hot rush spreads up through your body.

You shouldn’t like this. You shouldn’t want this. But you asked for this, a confession of your fantasies whispered between the sheets at his apartment, and he peeled them apart one by one, teasing you with questions and collecting his information, strumming you to orgasm after orgasm all the while.

You just didn’t know it would be today, weeks and weeks went by without so much as an innuendo. The sudden onset of his thrall and his control over your body shouldn’t be this alluring, but it is. You can’t move, you can’t speak unless he allows you, but every touch of his skin on yours has you ready to throw every instinct out the window because you’re pretty sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been. 

His fingers speed up and your hips buck just a little into the sensation.

  “Dirty girl,” He hums, “you like the way this feels, you like that you can’t move,” 

He twists your dark desires back around on you, a flutter of shame in your chest at the truth of it. 

He explores your cunt with his fingers, toying with you and gathering more wetness to torture your clit with, “You like being helpless, completely in my hands,” he goads you as he works your body up to release, “unable to stop me, or tell me no,” 

Your core throbs, every inch of your body a live wire, shame twisting into a tight knot of need in your belly. 

  “Don’t you?” 

You gasp as he pushes two fingers deep inside you, “Yes, yes!”

”Are you close, kitten?” He purrs in your ear, thrusting his fingers hard and fast, his knuckles rhythmically connecting with your clit. 

  “Yes,” You whine, your body trembling.

  “That’s too bad,” He pulls his hand free and lets your underwear snap back into place. 

If you could move you’d be a whining mess, throwing yourself at him and begging for him to finish the job, but you can’t. He’s stolen your orgasm right out from under you and you can’t even ask him to finish the job. 

“Hmm,” He stands, and you hear the sound of his shirt dropping to the floor, “does it hurt?” 

“Yes,” You manage. 

“Poor baby,” He teases, mocking your little sob, and his thumbs hook under the sides of your panties to yank them roughly off your body, “should I kiss it and make it better?” 

“Please,” 

He drops back down to the bed, this time sliding in between your thighs, and when he speaks again you feel his cool breath whisper across your throbbing center, “Ask nicely,” 

Your voice is shaky when you finally find the words, “Please, Sylus will you touch me?” 

“Touch you where?” 

You whimper, the slightest involuntary jerk of your hips pulling a chuckle from his lips. 

“I said,” He reminds you, “touch you where?” 

“M-my clit,” You beg, “my pussy, please,” 

“Was that so hard?” You can practically see him smiling. 

You open your mouth, ready to respond, but his mouth closes over your clit and all thought and reason you had left disappear. He’s going to ruin you for any other man, you know it. 

Sylus hums, pushing your limp legs painfully wide and laps at your center. There’s no teasing left in him, no gentle licks and featherlight brushes of fingertips, there’s just him, needing to feel you come just as badly as you do. 

The knot in your gut is back with a vengeance, and every impulse in your body is to squirm away from his mouth and let him drag you back down, but you can’t. Sylus takes and takes and you have no choice but to let him. 

When he lifts his mouth to take a quick breath he gives you another command, “Watch me,” 

The tether between you draws your gaze down, and you gasp at the sight of him. He’s shirtless, his broad hands holding open your trembling thighs, and he eats at you like you’re a meal. Your breath comes quicker, blush lighting up your chest. 

“You taste so sweet here,” He groans, barely lifting his mouth, his tongue carving a line up from your entrance to your sensitive bud and you choke out a breathy moan. 

He knows you’re about to come before you do, and you see him smile into your wet heat before he shifts focus, lips closing over your clit and sucking hard, his hand sliding to push two fingers back inside and crook them just right. Within a few sharp pumps of his wrist and a steady flick of his tongue you’re moaning sharply, your release snapping in your belly so hard you see stars. 

You can’t move on your own, but your body crackles apart in rhapsodic shakes and he carries you through the crest of your orgasm with lazy licks. 

“Beautiful,” He murmurs, and you feel the sharp pin prick of pain at your inner thigh. He licks you there too, taking just a little taste from the vein, and then sighs pleasantly and squeezes your thigh. 

He kisses you here once, and then pulls himself up, arranging your legs back down before sliding next to you in the sheets and tugging you close to his chest. 

You rock into him, your body spent and boneless, unable to move to wrap your arms around him or press kisses to his chest. Instead you just are, and he pulls your body up until you’re in the perfect spot in his arms. He tucks his cheek against yours and palms your backside. 

“When you wake,” Sylus whispers low, “it will be on my cock.” 

You shiver, your core pulsing again. 

“And you’ll stay nice and soft and wet for me,” He kisses the hollow of your ear, “my sweet doll,” 

Your eyes start to grow heavy, your head lolling into his shoulder. 

“You’ll let me have my wicked way with your sweet cunt,” His hands flex tightly on your skin, like he’s restraining himself from taking you now, “and when you’re close, right on the edge of coming, you’ll tell me, do you understand?”

  “I understand,” Your words sound lazy, malformed in your cotton mouth but you answer him nonetheless.

“Good,” He murmurs, “and when you come, your hot pussy squeezing my cock, my thrall will end.” 

A hazy question forms in your mind, but you’re so foggy now. 

“But until then,” he sighs, his hands relaxing and his voice softening, “you’ll rest,” 

Your eyes drift shut, a relaxed sigh on your lips, your body indistinguishable in your mind from the sheets wrapped around you. 

Sylus presses a gentle kiss to your hair and strokes your back, “Sleep, little crow,” he says softly, “you’re safe with me,” 

Just like before, the world falls away. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There’s no telling how long you’ve been asleep, not when Sylus wakes you the way he does. You come into consciousness incredibly slowly, as if you were out of your body and watching the scene in slow motion. The first thing you register through the muffled world of dreamless sleep is his voice. It doesn’t matter how deeply under you are, still encased in darkness, you hear his voice reach out to you and tug on the invisible tether tying your consciousness to his. 

Needy girl. 

Hands on your thighs, cool air on your cunt. 

Rutting yourself on my thigh. 

Were you? 

Don’t you know I’m the only one allowed to make you come?

A soft moan. Yours, you think distantly. 

Sylus chuckles and hums, no doubt appraising you once again with his hungry eyes. You still feel under the deep water of sleep, your body disconnected and pliant in his hands, his influence so impacting that you remain his plaything even now. 

Fingers dance across your skin, skating lines of ice over your flesh. Sylus studies your body with his touch, a brush against your collarbones, the curve of your shoulders, down your arms into the ditch of your elbows. A brush of lips against your palm, a reverent kiss to your chest, his mouth nuzzling against your belly as he searches more of you with his precious touch. 

Your skin turns sensitive, prickling goose flesh, and he sighs pleasantly into your skin, “So beautiful,” 

His voice feels clearer now, and somewhere in your brain through the membrane of your closed eyelids you register the cool blue of early morning light. 

“My darling,” He hums, another kiss, the shifting of the sheets as he moves, “my sweet girl,” 

You feel the weight of him above you, his legs between yours and his torso radiating a chill as he holds himself above you. Sylus slips one hand into your hair, cradling your head for a moment before he tightens his hold and uses his grip on your scalp to draw your head back, neck stretched long and exposed. 

He drops lower, body ghosting yours, and he buries his face in your throat, pushing his nose into your pulse point. A panicked thrill lances through you, your heartbeat fluttering faster. 

“Shh, shh,” He whispers against your throat, “don’t be frightened,” 

A sharp exhale leaves your lips. 

Sylus kisses your throat, letting his lips linger, “You wanted to play with a vampire, sweetheart, this is what you get,” 

Even in this false sleep, you feel your core flutter, heat pooling again. 

His tongue darts out, tracing a line from your thumping pulse up your vein to your ear and he groans pleasantly, a flutter of breath across your skin, “Next time,” he shudders, “maybe I’ll make you play my favorite game,” 

Your breath quickens. 

“Vampire,” He nips at your throat, his fangs still sheathed, “and vampire hunter,” 

The ache between your thighs melts into a throb, a pulse in time with your heart.

Sylus moves lower, lavishing open mouthed, messy kisses on your skin as he talks. His voice still a whisper, his fantasies muttered out from himself more than for you as he loses himself in your touch.

”You’ll come to me,” He teases, “ready to kill the big, bad, vampire,” he punctuates every word with a sharp lick to your breasts.  

A whimper passes through your slack lips. 

“Only I’ve played this game before,” His hand slides out of your hair and he settles his body weight over you, “and I never lose,” 

You shiver, his words, his cold touch, it hardly matters. 

“And you’ll run from me,” His hands drag over your skin, cupping your breasts, “and I’ll chase the frightened kitten into the woods,” 

Your breath hitches. 

He smiles against your skin, lips closing over a stiff nipple and flicking until you shudder beneath him. He hums, kissing across your chest, “Red and ripe as strawberries,” he observes, latching onto your other nipple and sucking, “I can feel how much you’re aching for me even in your sleep,” 

You’re dripping, you can feel it, making a mess of the silk sheets underneath you. 

He shifts, maneuvering your body to tilt your hips up and open, legs spread wide, and then you feel him. Sylus slides his impossibly hard length over your slit, rocking himself back and forth against your wetness, his velvet head nudging at your swollen bud. 

Your body is trembling, fluttering under his hands. 

“When I catch you,” He returns to his garish fantasy, “I’ll strip you bare,” 

You feel your stomach clench at the thought. 

“I’ll pin you right down to the ground,” He says it like a promise, rolling his hips harder, “and fuck your hot little cunt until you’re so cockdrunk you beg for more,” 

A pained whine bubbles from your mouth, hips arching involuntarily at his words. 

“Mm,” His hand drags down your chest, skimming over your body, “have I denied you too long, love?” 

You want to beg, to plead, to shift your hips into the exact right position so that his next thrust pushes his cock inside. 

“You’ve been so good,” He adjusts, finally nudging at your wet entrance, his hands finding yours in the sheets and drawing them above your head, fingers twined together, “just a little more,”

He inhales sharply and then with a forceful thrust he sheaths himself inside you, his hips connecting hard with yours. 

You moan sharply, your pussy clenching around the thick intrusion of him. 

He chokes a groan, “O-open your eyes, sweetheart,” 

Your eyes snap open, and the sight of him naked above you, inside you, is enough to send your mind spiraling out of control. 

“Your body was made for me,” He snaps his hips, setting a brutal pace as he ruts into you, “divined by gods for my cock,” 

Pleasure rolls up through your belly and your body tightens.

  “You’re mine,” His hands tightens on yours, his eyes boring into you.

  Tears gather in your eyes, a hot sensation through every inch of your body at the way his thick length spears you open with every draw of his hips. The knot inside you pulls again, a taut cord threatening at any moment to snap. 

“Say you’re mine,” He commands, his voice faltering into a moan.

  Your mouth opens, straining against the sure drop of your orgasm but you nod, “I’m yours, S-Sylus, I’m all yours,” 

“Good girl,” He pants, “there she is,” 

The praise on his lips sends you higher, and you suck in a sharp breath, “I’m… Sylus, I’m close!”

He descends, moving in a flash of nearly inhuman speed, and suddenly your head is pulled to the side  again and you’re cradled tight as he rolls his hips into you. 

“Come,” He directs, one more command on his lips before you fall to pieces beneath him, and his sharp fangs descend into your throat. 

“Sylus!” You jerk, true consciousness and feeling rushing back as the thread between his mind and yours severs, but you don’t have a moment to parse how it feels to be out of thrall when your orgasm rushes into you full force and the hot pain of his teeth melts into delicious pleasure. 

He groans, shuddering above you and stopping his thrusts as he feels your walls spasm and flutter around him, the taste of your blood on his tongue grinding the world to a halt at his feet. Nothing exists but you and him and your blood on his teeth and his cock buried to the hilt inside you. 

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, one hand threading into his hair, “Sylus,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his silver locks, “all yours,” 

Euphoria doesn’t begin to describe it, your orgasm feels never ending. Every suck at your tender throat spurns another wave through you, and you rock yourself against him, grinding up against his pelvic bone to draw out every ounce of your pleasure. 

When he pulls away, he does so with care, gentle with the skin of your neck to ensure he doesn’t hurt you anymore that he has to. Pushing up on the mattress he finds your face and you roll right into another aftershock. His eyes are brighter, wide in desperate awe of you and somehow an even darker shade of red, and that with the smear of your blood across his lips has you keening, arching and gripping against him as you babble out his name between moans. 

“That’s it,” He softens, gathering you close to press his forehead to yours, “come for me again, that’s my girl,” 

“Sylus,” You’re a whimpering mess, your body a pool of ecstatic pleasure, and all you can do is repeat his name and hold onto him through the wave of endorphins and emotions. 

“Shh, shh,” He hushes you softly as you ride through the last flush of pleasure, “I’ve got you,” 

Your skin is slick with sweat, and your legs are shaking, breath coming in shallow pants as you finally come back down. 

Sylus holds you, bracing you to his chest and he makes short work of rolling you both without disconnecting your bodies. When he settles he’s on his back with you perched on his hips, his fingers carving a line up and down your spine to settle you. 

Flush and trembling, you find his eyes again. 

His brows draw together, a knit line of tender concern, and he brushes his thumb over your jaw, “Don’t bite your lip,” 

Your mouth relaxes, you hadn’t even known you were doing it, and your eyes flick away. He says something, words you can hardly hear through the dizzy rush of your brain trying to catch up with the past few hours.

“Sweetheart,” he smooths his thumb over your cheek, “look me in the eyes, answer me,” 

Your head snaps back up. 

“Was I too rough?” He asks softly.

You don’t have words yet, you can’t reach them and string them together, but you shake your head.

”Are you sure?” His hands draw up and down your body slowly like he’s checking you for something, his broad hands finally coming to rest over yours where you brace yourself on his chest. 

You nod to his answer his question, “I’m sure,” 

He relaxes under you, pressing your hands into his chest over his heart, and it would turn you to romantic putty if he wasn’t still seated fully inside you and if your blood wasn’t staining his mouth. Your eyes keep flicking down to his mouth, crimson across his plush bottom lip, smears on his chin, a drip that made it to the edge and slipped down his neck. 

”Hmm,” His lips turn up into a smile and you sheepishly look back up, “are you still hungry, love?” 

Your stomach clenches, his voice turning husky again the moment he spies your renewed arousal. 

This time though, you’re awake. The heavy fog of his control and your barrage of orgasms has started to lift, and you need something more. 

You let your body melt, relaxing against him and letting his cock shift inside you, “Are you?” 

He almost laughs at your expression, one brow raised to challenge him as you push up to straddle him. His eyes rake over you and you feel his cock twitch, “You’d think I would have had my fill of you,” he says, hands moving to your hips, “but I find you make me insatiable, the more I taste you, the more I fuck you, the more I want,” 

“A vampire who’s never satisfied?” You tease him, “how original,” 

He exhales softly through his nose, smiling, “You’re the one still grinding on my cock, kitten,” 

You blush, but make no effort to stop unconsciously rocking your hips against him. 

“I was wrong, you’re the insatiable one,” He says appreciatively, and he smoothly slides his hands up your back to brace you so that when he sits up you stay with him. 

“If I was I’d never admit it,” 

He smacks your ass lightly with his palm and you wrap your legs around him, the position change sinking you back down onto his length and you sigh. 

”After what you just let me do to you?” Sylus shakes his head, his voice dropping the teasing tone when he presses his lips to your chest, “That’s admission enough,” 

He takes both hands to grip your backside, pressing into your soft flesh, and drags you forwards to coax you into motion. 

Holding onto his shoulders you follow his lead, working your hips back and forth, letting the press of his hands guide your speed. The feeling is dizzying, his cock feeling thicker and more filling in this position, and you can’t help the stammered moans and pants that bubble out of you with every downstroke connecting your hips to his. 

Sylus mutters a curse into your skin, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises, and then you feel his tongue. 

“Fuck,” You whine, “Sylus,” 

He pulls at your hips harder and you pick up the pace, grinding your heels into the mattress for the right leverage, losing yourself to the steady wet sound of him inside you and the heat building back up in your belly. 

You shiver at the sensation of his tongue traveling, dragging a line up your chest from the swell of your breast to your collarbone, and when he groans and huffs a needy breath at your throat, you realize what has him so flustered. 

“T-take more,” Your hand in his hair again to direct his head, pushing him towards your throat. 

“Mm-mm,” He shakes his head and drops the flat of his tongue over the bleeding teeth marks at your throat. 

You hiss sharply, a familiar roll of pleasure through you and you grip his hair, “Please, baby, please,” 

“Not tonight,” He laps at you again, “just cleaning you up,” 

“God,” You moan, your pace faltering for a moment until the pressure of his hands pushes you back into action. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, pulling away from your throat and using one hand to tug you close by the back of the neck, “you feel…” 

You have to hold on, you need him to come after all the work he’s put into pleasuring you, and you can’t let yourself fall apart until he does. You lock eyes with him and his expression, almost pained, his mouth open in silent pleasure and still painted red, pushes you through the ache in your hips and the burning in your thighs. He’s so close. Nearly, nearly there.

”Sylus,” Your voice breathy, “kiss me,” 

There’s a flicker of a smile across his mouth but he surges up, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. His tongue catches against yours, and you taste the iron of your own blood, you feel the sharpness of his fangs, but all it does is drive you closer and closer to delicious release. 

“My sinful little thing,” He pants against your mouth, “you never stop surprising me,” 

Your eyes flutter shut, your nails tight against his shoulders, “Please, I need it,” 

“What do you need?” He croons, hungrily at your lips once more. 

You moan against his mouth, tugging his hair sharply, “Come,” you pant, nearly out of breath, “I need your cum,” 

He shudders, groaning.  

“Sylus!” You whine again, “Inside, please, please,” 

His hand slips from your hair, and the equilibrium changes things back to Sylus in total control. With both hands secured on your ass he takes over, dragging you fast and hard on his cock and meeting every thrust with a hard jut of his hips. He’s fucking into you with reckless need, the head of his cock connecting over and over again with your cervix, and you arch and cry out in his arms. 

“No,” He pants, pulling you back to him, “eyes on me,” 

“Please,” You beg again, your cunt spasming and fluttering, “I-I’ll come if you just,” 

He loses himself immediately, pulling you down hard and choking out a moan, spilling his release deep and grinding you down to prolong his own pleasure, but you’re falling apart right behind him in a breath. A final, dizzying orgasm taking your body like a soft wave, languid and warm, and Sylus nods as you ride it out, coaxing you through every last moment. 

When you settle, you feel how much your body is trembling, and he releases his tight grip on your hips to gently massage your skin, soothing touches as he softens inside you. 

“Oh my god,” You laugh softly, your forehead pressed to his, “that was,” 

“Good?” He asks, a soft, quick kiss to your lips. 

“Perfect,” You sigh, “you were perfect.” 

He nods, drinking you in for a moment more before he exhales and relaxes, leaning back and meeting your eyes.  

“I must look a mess,” You press your cool knuckles to the warmth of your flushed cheeks. 

“A beautiful mess,” He counters gently. 

You smile lazily at him, feeling boneless and sated and delicious. 

Sylus takes the pad of his thumb to the very tip of his razor sharp fangs and pierces his skin, a bead of his own dark blood rising up from the puncture on his pale skin. 

His fangs retract and he reaches for you, smoothing his bleeding thumb over the bite mark at your throat. You hiss sharply at the sensation and grip his shoulder, the burn of your skin knitting itself back together something you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to. 

“I was too rough with you,” He comments, like he’s filing away that information for himself for next time. 

You shake your head though, resting your hand on his wrist, “You weren’t, I wanted every bit of it,” 

His thumb sweeps a final line over your skin and he kisses you again, “I’ll keep that in mind,” 

You smile against his lips, and then Sylus gives you one final, quick peck. 

“I think a shower,” He says, sliding you both smoothly off the bed and keeping you tucked in his arms, “and a nap,” 

“I think that’s a perfect idea,” 

“And I’m hardly hungry anymore,” He teases as he carries you into the bathroom, “but we’ll order something up for you,” 

You nod, relaxing into his care. 

“Perhaps a movie,” He suggests, sliding you onto the counter so he can start the shower, “or I could always read to you?” 

“Or you could tell me more about next time,” You say slyly, “what was it? Chasing me down in the woods?” 

He shakes his head, testing the warmth of the water on his fingertips. 

“Having your way with me?” You stretch out your leg to reach him, dragging your foot down his thigh, “Should I struggle? Beg you to stop?” 

His hand snaps up, closing around your ankle and he turns towards you, “Be careful, sweetheart,” 

“I’m simply curious,” You tease. 

“Mhm,” He scoops you back up and walks you straight into the shower until your back is against the chilly tile wall, “Curious?” 

You feel him hardening again against your belly and you nod.

“Kitten,” He smirks, “you know what they say about curiosity, don’t you?” 

“I think I need a little reminder,” You sigh, holding onto his shoulders again. 

He kisses you again, pressing you into the shower wall, a smile on his mouth as he nips at your lip, “I’ll bet you do,” 

[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Shut up for me, love, |

Toji Fushiguro x Wife!Reader

Toji finds out you're pregnant! (with Megumi)

Word Count: 1.5k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, pregnancy, Toji has a job, slightly suggestive dialogue

A/n: I have an idea for a Part 2 (this was so fun)... also opening to take requests if you have any.

It was like floating on cloud nine, where everything was beautiful and happy. You couldn’t help but curl up into a ball on your bed, digging your fists into the covers while clutching the test. Why? Because it came up with two lines. 

You had always wanted kids, that was something your husband, Toji, knew very well. However, there was still something daunting, that translated into a sinking feeling in your gut. Something that you had wanted for so long, something bigger than yourself, was going to happen, and the two of you would face it together. 

There were so many things to look forward to while pregnant. Wearing cute dresses that emphasized your bump just right, a sign to yourself and the world of your lovely marriage and relationship with your husband. Family photos, pregnancy milestones, and finally, the birth that would happen in a bit under nine months. You were so happy to start your family with Toji, and the little bundle of joy that was growing inside of you.

That feeling of euphoria didn’t leave after laying there for five minutes. In fact, it probably never would. It was another version of the feeling you got when you first met Toji, and the one from when you married him, and you still couldn’t believe that it had happened. But, Toji would be home soon. 

Knowing your husband, still as frustrated with your finances as ever, the one thing you could decide was that balloons and cake would not be appreciated on this occasion. Though he knew of your desires, he never explicitly said he wanted a baby either. That was what scared you the most. 

Toji always humered you, when you visited little clothing boutiques and stores, and something in the maternity section caught your eye. Or, when you couldn’t help but offer to take care of your friend’s baby whenever you got the chance, and had the biggest smile he had ever seen on your face, when you held her. 

What you didn’t see, however, was that while you perused the racks of baby clothing, his eyes drifted over to the green dinosaur onesie, with dark green spikes covering the head and going over the back and the tail. He chuckled under his breath, starting to get ideas himself seeing how invested you were. 

When you mentioned getting pregnant, Toji said he wasn’t opposed, though the look on his face showed more that he was uninterested. While you trusted your husband, he was wonderful to you, that sinking feeling didn’t go away either. Part of the reason you were so enthusiastic, after all, was because you’d be raising your child with Toji, and that idea was the embodiment of perfection in your mind. Without him in all the way, would it really be the same?

Toji wasn’t a big fan of fuss anyway, his proposal and your wedding had been small and pretty simple, and you were fine with that. In all honesty it was nice, to not have to worry about every little thing being perfect anyway. For news like this, thinking about decorations would only be a distraction from figuring out what to say. 

“Toji, honey, I’m pregnant,” you repeated to yourself in the mirror, holding the test to give it to him, trying to present it like a gift of some sort. “I have some news for you, Toji,” another option, “It’s great news, I’m really excited,” you tried to make the perfect smile, to show him just how happy you were. But you just threw yourself back on the bed, covering the flush on your cheeks with your hand. 

Everything sounded fake when you tried it. Knowing Toji, if you said any of those things, he might think there was something wrong instead of the truth. And of course, you couldn’t knock that stupid grin off your face for more than a few seconds, butterflies fluttering around your stomach so much that you had to ground yourself. 

Your face heated up at the mere thought of your husband walking through the door, though he would be tired and bothered as per usual. How would he react? Would he be as happy as you are, or… and the sinking feeling was growing again. You lifted your knees, planting your feet flat on the bed so the hem of your dress laid right above your ankles, as you sat in thought, preparing yourself for the inevitable. 

In a way you had given up, on facing Toji head on. Instead you decided to lie in wait, and figure something out on a whim if it didn’t come to you before he got home. You tucked the test under the blanket next to your legs, trying to relax as best as you could. 

The click of the front door was a familiar sound, something that usually excited you. However on this particular day, it was a little bit too exciting, so much so that you couldn’t urge yourself to get up and move your hands from their comfortable spot covering your face. 

Toji made his way through the kitchen and the living room, missing the usual sound of you, his wife, running around doing whatever it was that you were doing when he came home every day. The occasional joking “Honey, I’m home,” something he had grown to secretly enjoy, couldn’t be said despite his relatively good mood - for his ‘honey’ wasn’t there. 

Heading into your shared bedroom, where he typically pulled off his stuffy work clothes and changed into something more comfortable, was where he found you, curled up and about as out-of-it as ever. 

Toji laid down behind you on the bed, leaning over onto his side to see you. He pulled one of your hands off your face, smirking as you opened your eyes and met his gaze. “Hey, stupid,” he laughed as you pulled your hand back, smacking his away. “Why you coverin’ that pretty face, huh?” he asked, settling down with his hand resting under his neck. “What happened to ‘wife’, or something,” you tried to pout. “I called you pretty,” he reasoned, “and I can see that stupid smile on your face, somethin’ happen to ya?” 

Toji reached his hand over, with more force this time, pulling both your hands off your face. The flushed red of your cheeks and cute little protests made him smile. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so flustered, wife?” he kept your hands lightly pinned beneath his. “Couldn’t help yourself from thinkin’ about me while I was at work… really is stupid to be embarrassed,” you shook your head as best as you could. 

“Toji…” you murmured out, trying not to look him in the eyes. You pulled your right hand away from him, reaching into the covers to where you shoved the test. “I’m just… really happy, okay?” you choked out meekly, biting your lip you threw the test back at him. 

Catching it in his hands, he stared at the two lines. “You don’t say, huh?” he breathed heavily, as you eyed his expression with worry. “I just found out…” you blushed as he looked back at you, listening intently. “And… I know we didn’t talk that much about it,” you whispered, feeling his hand tighten it’s grip around yours. “But I really want to be a mother, Toji,” you sighed, still anticipating his reply. 

“Didn’t realize we weren’t on the same page about that,” he turned away, with a smile on his face. “I don’t want to make you unhappy -” he cut you off with a kiss, leaning down as your heart raced even faster. “How ‘bout you shut up for me, love,” your face contorted into a look of surprise. “Am I that bad of a husband? I thought you knew I was on board,” he chuckled. “But you said you didn’t really care,” you whined, as he moved his hand to hold yours more comfortably. “Yeah, that was my way of sayin’ it,” you rolled your eyes at him. “Besides, who do you think did this to ya, I’m not that much of an idiot,” he held up the test again, the surrealness of it all was sinking in.

“So, do you know the gender yet?” he asked, as you squinted. “Toji, I just found out a few minutes ago,” you replied. “Yeah, but I figured you had some kind of mother’s intuition on that stuff,” he yawned, the tiredness from work starting to hit him. “Well, what do you think?” 

“A girl,” he stated quickly, as you thought about it. “Your final guess?” you asked, to which he agreed. “Well knowing your losing streak, it must be a boy then,” you laughed as he frowned, “I should put that on paper… How’s that for mother’s intuition?” You looked back at Toji, who was fully laid down with his eyes closed. “Pregnant women should get a lot of sleep, I’m just setting an example,” he yawned again, pulling your waist to turn you next to him. You snuggled in closer, the sinking feeling was gone though the butterflies were only getting worse by the minute. “Fine, but only for a little while. I have to make dinner,” Toji hummed in response. “G’night, future mama.”

(Part 2)

[colleendoran]

Thank you for maintaining boundaries

I am extremely happy that so many of you are enthusiastic Good Omens fans. It is wonderful that this delightful book by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman has touched so many hearts, and it is wonderful that everyone loves the show.

However...

I can't read fanfic.

I can't look at fan art.

I did not secure rights to the Good Omens adaptation with my wicked cartoonist wiles. I was approached by Pratchett/Gaiman about doing the adaptation a year ago.

I am not the boss.

Everything I do goes through an approval process.

Everything I do is BOOK based, not SHOW based.

In order to keep my head clear, I haven't even been able to watch the show for months and months. Which is sad, because I love it, and during COVID it kept me very happy. I watched it dozens of times.

I know how personal head canon can affect memories of a beloved book or show. I cannot possibly satisfy everyone's head canon.

I'm not going to try to.

I have to continually check and recheck what The Book says about each scene to make sure I'm not straying too far from the source.

I make what I consider to be only minor changes re: acting and staging so that a scene may work better in the static comic art medium. I make cuts where necessary to fit the format. I make only the most minor dialogue changes.

All of this means a lot that is in the show is not in the book because it wasn't in the book in the first place.

I am not the boss.

Everything I do goes through an approval process.

I can't look at fanfic or fanart.

I do appreciate your enthusiasm and love.

I'm going back to work.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Bestiary (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Your husband and you do not speak the same language. During your wedding night, you find out that High Valyrian and the Common Tongue pale when compared to the way your bodies allow you to communicate.

Warnings: Heavy smut, not much dialogue. P in V sex. First time.

A/N: Who would have thought the most enthusiastic consent I have ever written with Daemon would be in a fic with nearly no dialogue?

Being coached through your wedding vows is not a good omen for your marriage. At least, that is what your husband must think, by the thunderous look on his face. You fight the urge to scream at him that you have practiced for this moment and that you do not need to be coached through the vows. It would be no use. The two of you do not understand each other.

Everything is strange to you in Westeros, from the language to the wedding ceremony. They make you cut your lips and hand, in a procedure you do not enjoy. Your husband does the same. Your blood flows into a goblet, from which you will have to drink later on.

It's barbaric. You suppose it must symbolize the joining of bloodlines in the crudest way.

At least Daemon kisses you at the end, a cold brush of his lips against yours that tells you he is still mad. He had probably felt betrayed, being forced into this arrangement you entered willingly.

If you had known he was that petty, you would have not shown your hand so fast. Your father had wanted dragons, which meant becoming part of House Targaryen. Daemon was the only one available for you to ensnare in your web.

As any good hunter, you had watched your prey first, taking notes of his behavior. Only an afternoon was needed to understand you started the race with a disadvantage. His eyes followed Princess Rhaenyra, Princess Rhaenys and her little daughter, but never lingered on other women.

While you might have lacked the silver hair, you did not lack the wits and charms necessary to be taken in consideration.

You had needed a few days to ready your song, but you had approached him not even a week later. He had been sitting in the library, so you had knocked on the table twice to draw his attention.

Daemon had lifted his eyes from the scroll he was reading, annoyed. He had a handsome face, decorated with age lines that only served to make him look more regal. He looked more the part of the King than his brother, a decaying corpse that you had heard had also acquired his own nubile bride.

Such was the fate of the daughters of powerful men. Sold to other powerful men, old enough to be their fathers, birthing them their own litter of sons and daughters. Sons that would grow up to become powerful men in their own right, daughters that would become pawns to establish dynasties. On and on it went.

Daemon had spoken then. His words were much harsher than those of the language you were used to, lacking the airy song of the languages similar to the one from the Rhoynar. You had not understood. You did not speak a lick of the Common Tongue.

No silver hair, no words, but plenty of resources. You had placed the book you had brought with you on the table, and looked at him.

His eyes had lit up with curiosity. He recognized the title. He spoke again, intrigued.

Despite his tone sounding much more auspicious, you had no other option than to shake your head and speak, with a tremulous voice.

“Bodmagho.” It's the only word you know, one that you have prepared especially for this. But just in case your pronunciation is not perfect, you open the book and mimic the gesture of passing the pages.

Daemon looks stunned. He says something else, still in the Common Tongue. You were able to tell from the intonation he was asking a question, but you didn't know what it was about.

“Bodmagho.” You repeated, stubbornly. You placed your book down and pointed to it.

Daemon sighed. He pointed to the chair. You sat, happy as a clam.

“Prince Daemon.” He pointed at himself. Then, to you. “Lady…?”

You told him your name. He nodded.

“Daor.” He shook his head. “No.”

You stared. He shook his head again. You understood that no, daor and shaking head meant the same.

“Daor. No.” You shook your head. Daemon squeezed your shoulder, a proud smile on his face.

Your father told you that afternoon that you were to be married to him. Just as you had made efforts to catch Daemon, your father had been setting his trap.

Daemon did not oppose, nor encourage the match, but he was angry at you. Angry that you knew before him and tried to charm him into doing your bidding.

Men like him, you learn, like to be the ones pulling the strings. They hate being treated like hounds, even if that is what they are.

You get no further lessons.

This is how you manage to get to your wedding feast only knowing two words. Teach and no. It makes you the most riveting company, and so, it's no wonder you are soon ushered into a chamber with your new husband.

You had not noticed before, but it is the first time you are alone with him since the morning at the library. To you, it had been a matter of no consequence. You had to marry a powerful man, one day. Your father decided it should be him because he wanted dragons. It was as simple as that.

As a rich man, your father had known rich men only get richer at times of unrest. And unrest was coming for the Seven Kingdoms. He could smell it in the air, hear it in the whispers of the common folk. Princess Rhaenyra wasn’t going to inherit without issue.

Your family moved here for that reason. An opportunity to get richer could not be dismissed. Your father had taken one look at the dragons and decided that they were the key to turning his legacy into an empire.

Giant war machines that could level castles in one afternoon. Raze a city to the ground in mere hours. Fire so hot it could melt stone. They could not be bought, you had to be a Targaryen to have them. It was only natural to turn into one, then.

Your children would get dragons. You would provide funds and as many children as you could, and House Targaryen the magic in their veins. Simple business transaction. But apparently, Daemon disagreed.

His face is thunderous. You can tell he is about to berate you. He starts talking, brows pinched together and an accusing finger pointed towards you.

Has he forgotten you do not speak his language? You step closer and poke his arm, hard.

It was the wrong choice. Daemon's face turns even more murderous. His lips twist into a snarl, teeth bared. His posture turns aggressive. He puffs up his chest, he advances on you. The Prince tries to intimidate you through his body language alone.

You are not a small woman. But you are young, and you do not train as much as he does. His looming over you feels menacing, and it reminds you once again of the fate his late wife was rumored to have suffered.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Daemon is forcing you to walk backwards, pushing your forehead and nose with his. You either move, or get a broken nose and a concussion.

Daemon is terrifying. You will not cross him again, you think to yourself. Only a fool goes around poking dragons with a stick. You feel your palms starting to sweat, a knot forming in your throat. You fight the urge to cry.

The back of your knees hits the mattress, and you fall into the furs with a small noise of surprise. Your husband does not lose any time. He gets right into your face, trying to intimidate you even more.

But if you hope to survive this marriage, to make it work as your father has requested, you can't bend. Daemon will never respect you if you do. He will see you as no more than a frightened girl, who will not disagree with him and serve for little beyond warming his bed. You are not that. You will build an empire, a dynasty out of his dragons and your wealth. The only thing you can do is persevere or break trying.

Daemon scowls at you. He notices the change in your eyes, the fight coming back to you.

“Daor.” You say, staring him down with all your might. It doesn't matter if you are lying down, and he is hovering over you, pinning you under him. You will triumph.

Daemon doesn't heed the warning. He starts tugging at the buttons of your bodice, tiny pearls sent flying all over the room. The gesture is as brutal as it is calculated. It is meant to remind you of your place, always under him from now on. Daemon has a right to your body, and he intends to exercise it as he sees fit. You are no more than an object, and if you cry or scream, it is not relevant.

Despite knowing why he is doing it, you can't avoid grimacing. He looks more beast than a man, snarling over you, ripping your clothes. It's a sight that would scare any woman, no matter how cold.

You look up at him. You give him your own little snarl. Daemon pauses. It's not the reaction he was expecting. He wanted you to cry. You would never give him the satisfaction.

It's a balancing act. You will have to bring him to heel, but soothe his pride in the next act, less he turns on you. Push away a man too much, and he will think you are disrespecting him. He will call you names, thinking you are the problem. Daemon feels entitled to you. You need to show him he is not, but that you are giving yourself to him. He needs to value you. The treasure to his dragon.

“Daor!” You say, firmly. You push him away. Whatever he anticipated, you giving him a fight wasn't something he was prepared for. It shows in the way he folds, stunned by your behavior. You give him hard little slaps to the chest, until you manage to get him off you.

Daemon's scowl turns more confused than angry. He looks at you as if you are a particularly challenging riddle to crack. He rightens his clothes and starts to retreat.

“Daor.” You repeat, grabbing at his shirt to keep him in place. You do not want him to leave.

Daemon wretches free from your grip on his arm. He mutters something, angered.

“Daor.” You use his trick against him, stepping right into his path and forcing him to back off. You use your body to make him advance backwards, toward the bed.

He sits on the edge of it, still scowling. You giggle, making Daemon madder still. You look at him with what you hope is a seductive expression and pull your bodice down.

“Bodmagho?” You ask him, as your dress pools around your feet, leaving you in a sheer shift. Daemon's eyes darken. His expression changes into an amused smile, and he gestures for you to come to him.

You do. You step closer and get on his lap. His hands envelop your waist, warm and calloused.

Then, the unexpected. Daemon grabs your hair and pulls, forcing your head back. You moan, pain and arousal mixing into an unknown emotion that makes the place between your legs slick.

You can feel his breath against your neck, making you shiver. His face comes closer, and closer. Daemon stares into your eyes, lips slightly parted. You mirror his expression, feeling as if you are being consumed by your lust.

He arches an eyebrow. Never been one to shy away from a challenge, you brush his lower lip with his thumb. Daemon parts his lips and sucks it in his mouth.

The shock must have shown on your face because he laughs, giving your thumb a playful bite. You squirm, instinct overpowering modesty, and roll your hips against his.

The two of you stare at each other. Closer, and closer, until his features blur, until two purple eyes turn into one. A dragon turned cyclops by the mere force of lust. There is hunger and want, and confusion. Both of you are so close that you are sharing the same air, the same breath. And Daemon pulls, and you are kissing, and you shake in his arms, feeling like how you think the gods must have felt when the cyclopes formed the lighting.

His hands go to greedily knead at your thighs, slipping under your shift. His palms feel rough against your skin, impatient. The shift rides up, up, up. You mewl against his mouth, desperately reaching for something unknown to you but that you know Daemon will help you reach.

You are restless as he pets you, biting at your mouth, hands sinking in his hair. You tug him towards your neck, knowing his kisses, scorching hot, would burn even sweeter along your nape and ears.

Daemon, though, has other plans. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips. “Vūjigon ” He says. He touches his mouth. “Vūjigon”

You kiss him, softly. “Vūjigon”

He pets your hair.

“Vūjigon.” And he points to his collarbones. You frown in confusion, thinking perhaps the word doesn't mean what you think it does. He sighs and leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the space between your collarbones.

“Vūjigon.” You perk up, and start kissing his shoulders. Your hands pull his shirt more open, letting you bite and lick more of his flesh. The urge to consume and be consumed is overpowering, making you desperate to touch him.

Daemon laughs. He pulls you upwards. Can't he see you are starving?

“Daor.” He says, when you try to go back to it. You give him your fiercest pout. Daemon tuts at you.

He squeezes one of your breasts, making you moan, before cruelly twisting the bud. You gasp, your nails digging on his naked shoulders.

“Shhh.” Daemon soothes you, his hand going to squeeze your breast tenderly once more. “Daor?”

You don't know how to tell him what you want, so you grab his hand and make him pinch the tender bud again. Daemon smiles. He kisses you, muttering something fervently on your lips.

He lays you down on the bed, despite your attempts to sit up. Daemon pins you down with a growl, hand on your chest.

You can't help it. No matter the warning, you squirm as if you were in pain. It certainly feels like it. There is some sort of hunger in your belly, making you want to rub your core against him. You can feel your shift starting to become wet right above your tailbone. Daemon has you so bothered you are dripping into the shift and the bed.

Daemon gives you another growl and leans down to bite your breast over the fabric of your shift. It's meant to be punishment, but you arch into it, gasping.

He laughs. He takes as much of it as it can fit in his mouth, sucking greedily. The noises are obscene. The sight must be, too. Your mouth, open, moaning yourself into a frenzy. Daemon, nipping, biting, sucking, like a man starved. Your shift with two giant wet spots, one at the chest and the other by your arse.

You moan, surprised at the feeling. You had never thought bodies could be used in such a way before. Nor had you hoped for him to please you so eagerly.

His lips close around your bud. His tongue twirls around it, lavishing it with attention. You grab at his hair, his nape, desperately trying to hold onto something. Daemon just sucks harder on your breast. You moan, and moan, and moan some more. Desperate little sounds, gathering in the air around a desperate girl.

He switches to your other breast. Your shift feels sticky on your skin, so you start trying to take it off. The task distracts you enough for his hand to find its way to your core, and you squeak at the first sensation of his fingers against it.

Daemon smiles against your skin. He presses a finger inside you, and you squeal some more. He lets go of your breast to better gaze into your overwhelmed face, seemingly getting an enjoyment out of it.

Another finger joins the first. You cry out. It stings a bit. Daemon shushes you, kissing your cheek. He rubs at something above your opening that makes you squirm in delight.

His other hand comes into your sight. Daemon makes a gesture, two fingers together, separating. You stare. He nuzzles you, his cheek against yours, before repeating it.

You nod with a pout.

He starts prying you open slowly, this time. Despite enjoying causing pain, it appears your cooperation has granted you privileges with Daemon. He understood the distress on your face, and read you correctly enough to know it was not going to go well if he kept going as he was.

Daemon rubs at your shoulders, soothingly. You understand you need to relax, and force your body to do so. He kisses you in reward, slow and sweet, coaxing you to him.

You nod again. Daemon moves back, settling himself by your side. He takes your shift away, pressing soft little kisses to each new inch of skin revealed.

The sudden removal of your last layer makes you shiver a little. Your skin is wet from his previous ministrations and rapidly cooling. You plaster yourself to him, seeking warmth.

He chuckles, grabbing your arse to move you slightly out of the way. You scowl, not sure why Daemon is doing so, until you realize he is taking off his breeches.

“Daemon.” You whisper, softly. There is a part of you that is already cringing at the promise of pain the loss of your maidenhead will bring.

“Daor?” He asks you, one of his hands petting your cunt. It makes you shiver.

“Bodmagho.” You grasp at his shoulders, steadying yourself. Daemon lines the two of you. You feel his member at your entrance, holding you open and threatening to spear you apart. It feels scorching against your skin.

He helps you impale yourself on his member. It's not pleasant at first. Property dictates that you should not let him see your discomfort. You should just bear it like a good wife and allow him to chase his pleasure unbothered.

But you know Daemon enjoys causing pain. He thrives on it. So you let your eyes fill with tears, and your face goes slack and overwhelmed.

He smiles. He licks your tears away, and mumbles something. You squeal, and it only excites him more.

“Bodamagho.” Daemon pinches the flesh on your hip, clearly calling you to focus. His hands move your pelvis back and forth, back and forth, until you are hissing in pleasure, your hands on his chest, doing the movement yourself.

“Vūjigon.” You demand, moving your hips just like he taught you. Daemon is too focused on aiding you bounce by thrusting upwards to pay attention to you. When he doesn't obey, you give a tug to his hair.

He snarls at you. You snarl back. So he grabs your wrists and pushes sideways, and suddenly, you are under him and Daemon is still thrusting into you.

You are desperate for closeness. You scrunch up your face and wrap your legs around his back. Daemon looks down at you, and bites your shoulder. He is not pleased with your perceived attempt to take control.

Realizing your mistake, you shake your head.

“Daor.” You rub at his back with your foot, gently. You hold him close, and nuzzle his neck, delighting in his scent. Never you had thought before you would enjoy the smell of sweat and some sort of aromatic oil, yet here you are. “Vūjigon.”

Daemon's expressions softens. He leans in and gives you a kiss. You make pleased, chirping noises, trying to show him that was precisely what you wanted.

He complies, releasing your hands. You enthusiastically hug him. It helps you anchor yourself against the unrelenting waves of pleasure.

His hands, now freed from yours, are everywhere. Twisting your buds, rubbing at your pearl, squeezing your waist. Daemon whispers nonsense in your ears, takes the lobe between his teeth. He aids you, tilting your hips with his hands, reaching deeper.

You heard a story once, about Westeros. A white hart was said to come to the greatest Kings alive. A magnificent beast, tall as a man, with skin made of the purest snow and antlers as long and imposing as the branches of an ancient tree. If a King encountered it, it was a good omen for his rule. It would be just and prosperous, blessed by the Gods.

What did they do with the hart? Keep it in Kingswood, perhaps? You had made the mistake of asking, once. You had been told that they used the best spear they had. That men held the hart down, and they gutted it from head to belly.

The perfect, regal beast, fur as pale as snow. The pristine white sheets under you. Blood tainting the white. What a way to go.

You understood then why they called it a small death. You were sweating, squealing like a beast being gutted, thighs trembling under Daemon's hands. It was too much and too little, and you felt yourself reaching it, yearning for it.

You did not care if you burned, moth to a flame, maiden to a dragon. Daemon seemed to realize it because his hand went to rub at your pearl, and he leaned in.

“….” He was talking, but it was in that strange language of his, and your ears were ringing, you felt about to explode. Your body responded to his tone, though. Gentle, loving, coaxing you over the edge with a scream so fierce you might as well have been one of those weeping women that appeared far north.

Daemon grinned at you. A fierce, proud expression, eyes crinkling in the corners. You pulled him into a kiss, and raked your nails down his back, feeling the skin yield like butter under your fingers. It spurred him on, and with a gasp and a bite to your shoulder, Daemon was shattering inside you.

He collapsed on top of you with a laugh. You smiled. Daemon pulled you to rest, back flush against his chest, and you understood each other better than those who spoke the same, common tongue, did.

[cepheustarot]

What will attract your future spouse in you?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best.

Paid readings

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: I can say that you are already attractive in yourself, you have a beautiful, charming appearance and your charisma attracts people! You are one of those who knows how to start a conversation, always find a topic for him and you can also maintain a dialogue, any topic, you look like an interested interlocutor and your future spouse will immediately notice this in you, he will be very pleased that you are so attentively and enthusiastically participating in a conversation with him. You are a versatile person in yourself, you may have many hobbies or fields of activity, you are one of those who are open to new things and curiously plunges into all the unknown for you. Also your future spouse will be very attracted by your emotionality, you are clearly one of those who has a lively bright speech, who has a bright facial expression, he is attracted by how you vividly react to any details. As I said, you are quite a versatile person who likes to try something new and he will also like it in you. He respects in you that you do not give up after the first failure but try again, try new approaches, methods, he appreciates your diligence and dedication, the desire to achieve your goal. He also respects your ability to adapt to any situation, in this regard you are a flexible person and you react quickly to changes, you know how to adapt to them. You also adjust the dialogue to the form of communication that is convenient for both of you, this also attracts him very much. He generally sees you as the soul of the company, an open and brave person, and he admires and attracts you very much. You can also sometimes playfully flirt and flirt, but at the same time it looks neat and unobtrusive, which warms up interest in you.

Pile 2: Your future spouse is attracted by your maturity, wisdom, and life experience, and you generally look like a knowledgeable person who has achieved a lot in his life. You are also characterized by emotional maturity, you do not worry about any little things and minor reasons, you are calm enough and can keep this calm even in stressful situations; you are not one of those who succumb to panic and emotions, you are exactly the one who is already thinking through a plan of action, how to cope with a difficult task, with a difficult situation, with problems. He respects such personality traits very much, he sees you as a really adult and responsible person! You are also one of those who does not flatter people and does not exaggerate in words, you openly and honestly say your opinion, what you think about people's actions, what you think about this or that person in general — and your future spouse really appreciates your openness, honesty, straightforwardness. At the same time your honest opinion does not offend people, on the contrary, they just respect what you tell them, respect your words, because they can see in you some kind of mentor. Your future spouse is also attracted to the fact that you are easy-going, easily take on something new, you can make decisions quickly and not regret them, in general, this is your speed and attracts him, maybe because you two have the same pace of life, the pace of action! Also he is attracted by your passion for business, you can literally burn with new ideas, your activities, and such dedication to something he admires.

Pile 3: Your future spouse is attracted by the fact that you are a fairly active person who finds it difficult to sit still, you can always figure out how to dispel boredom, what to do, you are never bored. He likes your sense of humor, your jokes really seem funny and funny to him, he feels on the same page with you, he is very comfortable with you. You may also have the feeling that you have known each other for much longer, since in a short time you could really get very close. He is also attracted to the fact that you know how to find a way out of any situation, you know how to resolve any dispute and problem, you know how to find an approach to each person and in general you are one of those who have a ready-made plan for all occasions. He really appreciates your creativity, your non-standard approach to business, perhaps you also tend to think outside the box, you may have a strongly developed lateral thinking. It's also easy for you to study any topic, you literally absorb information like a sponge and you always have something to tell. It's your frankness that attracts him, he likes that you share any thoughts with them whether it's some of your reflections on philosophical topics or funny stories from childhood, or in general a story about how your day went. You know how to present information in such a way that everyone will listen to you attentively and with interest, you can tell a very fascinating story.

Thank you for reading! I will be glad of any feedback 🖤

[novlr]

how to create good characterization naturally? The chemistry in between characters without seeming forced

Great character chemistry can turn a good story into one that readers can’t forget. It’s a spark that makes your characters’ relationships seem real and exciting. Let’s look at how to make your characters interact in a way that feels natural and keeps readers hooked from start to finish.

Behaviour

Have characters unconsciously mirror each other’s actions.

Include small acts of intimacy, like sharing inside jokes or personal anecdotes.

Show characters prioritising each other’s needs or sacrificing their interests for the other.

Develop unique habits that characters only exhibit around each other.

Use consistent, unique actions or quirks that reveal a character’s feelings.

Create scenarios where characters defend each other’s viewpoints or actions to outsiders.

Allow characters to show vulnerability around each other.

Have characters unintentionally adopt each other’s mannerisms or phrases over time.

Have your characters make an effort to engage in activities they don’t typically enjoy, just to be with the other person.

Show characters naturally falling into synchronised rhythms, like walking in step.

Interactions

Lace your dialogue with subtext.

Have characters finish each other’s sentences or speak in unison without planning it.

Include playful banter and light teasing.

Allow for moments of comfortable silence that show a mutual understanding and connection.

Conflicts should be heated, but often end in mutual respect and a stronger bond.

Write intimate conversations where characters share secrets or dreams.

Develop scenes where characters work together seamlessly, anticipating each other’s moves.

Write moments where one character can tell what the other is thinking just by looking at them.

Have interactions where characters seek each other out for advice or comfort.

Create situations where characters celebrate each other’s achievements genuinely and enthusiastically.

Body language

Subtle touches like brushing hands or a gentle push that lingers just a moment too long.

Leaning towards each other while talking, showing attraction or interest.

Describe the way characters mirror each other.

A characters’ eyes lighting up or softening when they look at each other.

Positioning themselves between their partner and a threat.

Unintentional proximity, like standing or sitting closer than necessary.

Nervous gestures that characters show only around each other, like fidgeting or playing with their hair.

Warm, genuine smiles that are reserved for one another.

Instinctively reaching out to comfort each other in times of distress.

Relaxed posture in each other’s company.

Attitude

Show a respect for one another that they don’t show with others.

Are consistently patient with one another’s flaws.

Willingness to compromise or find middle ground.

Giving each other the benefit of the doubt in misunderstandings.

Unconditional support during difficult times.

Take pride in each other’s accomplishments, without jealousy.

Consistently have faith in each other’s abilities and decisions.

Openly express admiration for one another’s talents or character traits.

Maintain a positive outlook on the other’s intentions, even when they make mistakes.

Show an understanding between characters that goes beyond words.

Positive story outcomes

Stronger alliances or partnerships.

Romantic subplots that add depth and interest to the main story.

Believable character development as they influence each other positively.

Moments of triumph where their combined strengths overcome obstacles.

Deep, meaningful friendships.

Can easily resolve conflicts that seemed insurmountable.

Celebration is more impactful due to their shared success.

A fortified sense of trust that can be pivotal in critical story moments.

Enhanced reader investment in the characters and their relationships.

Openings for sequels or spin-offs based on popular characters dynamics.

Negatives story outcomes

Conflict arising from misunderstanding or jealousy.

Unresolved tension between characters on the outside.

Can lead to unnecessarily complex emotional entanglements

Creates obstacles due to the characters’ strong connection being exploited by antagonists.

Tragic outcomes when the chemistry between characters causes them to make irrational choices.

Intense confrontations that threaten the relationship.

Betrayals that are more impactful because of the depth of their relationship.

Unforeseen sacrifices that characters make for each other.

Heightened stakes when the wellbeing of one character is tied to the other.

Unexpected changes in the character when relationships are cut short.

Helpful vocabulary

Smitten

Love

Afffection

Desire

Charisma

Intimate

Playful

Magnetic

Affectionate

Devoted

Engrossed

Dynamic

Mesmerizing

Empathy

Kinship

Enthralled

Spark

Trust

Harmony

Synergy

Supportive

Heartfelt

Genuine

Symbiotic

Unbreakable

Deep-seated

Fascinating

Bonded

Authentic

Obsession

[lokis-army-77]

Ravishing

mondern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Your boyfriend catches you making lunch but food isn't what he wants to devour.

Warning: 18 +. p in v, unprotected sex, kinda dom eddie, slight piss kink (its 4 v small paragraphs, some dialogue, and highlighted in red for those who want to skip).

Thank you to my beta readers <3 and Mariah for helping with the header.

Masterlist

The late morning sun cast a warm bright haze around the open-concept kitchen and living room. The blinds had been pulled back to let the natural light illuminate what you were doing. 

You shuffled around the kitchen quietly, gathering all the things needed to make a bowl of ramen. In contrast to the warm light, the air was cool. The breeze from the vent just beside the oven had goosebumps appearing over your legs, given you were only dressed in a simple white thong and your boyfriend's rather worn Iron Maiden t-shirt. 

He was still sound asleep, laid out like a starfish, soft snores coming from his parted lips. It had taken everything in you to leave the comfort of the warm bed and his embrace but once your stomach began to growl, you forced yourself to pry your sore body from the bed.

The night before had been eventful, to say the least. Your boyfriend had ravished you. Worshiped your body in the way that only he could. His tongue, fingers, and his cock were dedicated to your pleasure, leaving you a weak, worn-out mess atop the mattress. You went round after round, not stopping until well after the sun started to rise. 

As you reminisced on all the ways he had made you cum, you hadn't noticed the sounds of footsteps heavy with sleep nearing you. 

Arms wrapped around your middle as you placed the pot of water on the eye. You leaned into the embrace, humming contently. 

"Good morning." You smile.

"Morning." He mumbles into your neck. "I'm starving."

"I'll be done with food in a bit." You reply, tearing open the seasoning packet.

He groans into your skin, fingers lifting the hem of your shirt up and over your breasts. "Not what I'm hungry for." He all but purs. His hands move to push your panties down and then grab your hips, rutting his cock against your ass. You hadn’t noticed he was completely bare.

"Eddie-" you gasp as his fully hard cock pushes into your entrance. Your body shivers at the sensation, still sensitive from your last tussle only a few hours ago. 

You hang your head low as he begins to rut into you, moving his hips at a pace you think should be all too fast for someone who has just woken up.

Pouring the contents of the seasoning packet into the water, you took the trash to the counter before bracing yourself against it. "Oh fuck. Feels so- ah! Feels so good." You groan. 

Eddie grunts as he leaves wet, sloppy kisses along your shoulders and up the column of your neck. His teeth nip and bite at the delicate skin, marking you, claiming you as his own. 

He jackhammers into you, the roughness forcing your legs to widen and your knees to weaken. Strong hands keep you from falling. 

You're moved away from the oven, your front pushed over the butcher block counters. The wood is cold and you let out a squeal when your aching nipples make contact. 

The strong thrusts have your body rocking against the countertop. Your hands are thrown out in front of you, pushing against the wall to keep you from being fucked into it. 

You can barely get a noise out with the way Eddie is relentlessly using your sopping cunt.

"Taking me so well, Princess. Pussy made just for me, hum?"

You nod enthusiastically. "S'just for you," your words slur. "Oh-! Oh, Eddie!" Your lungs gain a burst of air as the tip of Eddie’s cock slides past the spot inside you that he always, so masterfully, finds. 

He hikes one of your legs up, opening you further to him. The new angle pushes his length further into you. He's directly hitting that spot now, over and over and over again. It has you lost for words, a bundle of whimpers and nerves so tight you think you might explode. 

It's all building up and you can do nothing to stop it but moan out against the wooden counter.

"Eddie- Eddie please I can't. Fuck-" your voice wobbles. "I think I'm gonna‐"

He buries himself deeper. "Gonna cum pretty girl?"

You shake your head. No, this is different, more urgent.

Your breathing is heavy as you reply. "No. Ah- I think, fuck, I think I'm gonna pee. You have to stop, Eddie, you have to."

He did not stop. The thrusts only kept coming, stroke after stroke he hit that special place but that was not the only place you felt the length of his cock. Your bladder stung with the fast and pressing need to relieve itself. The thought of letting go right here in the kitchen had you flushing, your body hot, and your face as red as could be. 

"Hold it," Eddie commanded. 

Your legs shook with the pleasure and pain

"I can't"

"Yes, you can. Hold it, sweetheart."

"Can't-" you heave. It was taking everything in you to do as he said, to hold it back. "Can't -", You let out a defeated whimper as you felt warmth begin to trickle down your leg. 

It didn't take more than a second for that trickle to turn into a gush. You felt dirty as the piss pooled below you. Your body flushed with embarrassment, tears welled in your eyes. 

Eddie tutted behind you, "Aww, was it too much for you?" The condescending tone of his voice made the heat in your body explode. 

You answered him with a weak mewl, "Uh-huh."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you, baby. Did I make you dumb?"

All the while, his hips never stopped pistoning into you. Sloppy wet sounds were a constant ambiance in the room. 

Now, a more familiar tug begins inside of you, one you knew all too well. A tugging that Eddie had learned, over years, when and how to pull to bring you the most pleasure. He expertly knew how to yank on that string in your abdomen until you fell over the edge. 

Your cunt squeezed him, contracting around his stiff cock like a vice. He chucked before leaning down and licking a thick, wet stripe up the plane of your back, causing a shiver to rake through you.

"I can feel how close you are. So warm and wet, gonna fill you with my fuckin cum." He whispers in your ear.

"Please." 

His lips pull into a smirk against your skin. "You'd like that, wouldn’t you? Want all the cum I can give you, huh? Wanna be a pretty little cum baby for me?"

"Yes, yes Eddie, yes." Your eyes are almost rolling into the back of your head as your release inches closer and closer. 

"Say it. Say what you want." The command is rough, a drastic change from the patronizing softness he had before.

With your body shaking, nerves prickling as you try and stave off your fall, you let out a shriek. "Wanna cum! Please-oh fuck- let me cum!" Your hand's fist so tight, your knuckles turn white. 

You barely hear Eddie give you permission before you're coming undone around him.

You swear there was a bright flash of light before your closed eyes as you shook. Was it heaven? Was it God? You had no idea but you swear with everything in you that this was the most intense orgasm you've ever had. 

Eddie's brutal pace finally dissipates into longer, more slow, and steady strokes as he comes down from his own high. 

"Fuck." The groan he lets out rumbles his chest, you can feel the vibrations on your back. 

You just want to lean there forever. Have Eddie pressed up against you in the warm light of the day, not a worry in the world. Exhausted, your eyes begin to close and your bones become liquid. It's relaxing, resting in the aftermath of something so big. That is until you hear an all too familiar sizzle of water boiling over and hitting the hot eye of the stove.

Your heart beats faster for a whole other reason now as you push Eddie off you and turn to take the pot of water off the stove, thankful there wasn't anything that could have burnt or overcooked inside.

"I love you," Eddie voices. "I fuckin love you."

Turning on your heel, you look at him. His sharp edges seem soft and you can't help but smile. 

"Love you more." You challenge.

He steps forward, taking you in his arms and placing a sloppy kiss on your lips, leaving you with a big smack. "Love you most." Another kiss. And another. And another, until you're giggling so much you have to shove him gently away from you.

"Let's get this mess cleaned up and maybe we can make something to eat." You pause, Eddie opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt him before he can, pointing a finger at him. "And don't say it's not what you're hungry for, I'm not having sex with you again until you have an actual meal."

He lifts his hands in defense. "Hey, not my fault you always look so... ravishing."

"Uh-huh, alright smooth talker. Let's get cleaned up."

[mynnthia]

compiling my headcanons for what video games dungeon meshi characters would like, if they were gamers in modern day

some taken from this post and my reblog additions there. added more characters, with some suggestions by friends/mutuals (marked by *asterisk ).

this can also be a games recommendation list based on your fav/most relatable characters too, if you want

characters that are not are included are bc i dont have ideas for them. if i only list the genre name but not any specific titles, its bc im not familiar enough with the character/genre to pick a specific game.

this list is, of course, biased towards games im more familiar with. feel free to ask me to elaborate on my choices or make suggestions in the comments

Laios' party:

Laios: plays lots of Monster Hunter. loves Spore but he doesnt often play past the tribal stage. likes Pokemon but he's more focused on catching the pokemon than following the story. played WolfQuest and DragonFable back in the day. enjoyed the concept of Bugsnax but wasn't interested in dealing with the NPCs

Marcille: mainly Dwarf Fortress, RTS games, some colony sims. but also sometimes The Sims, and dollmaker dress-up games. i could see her also enjoying Rollercoaster Tycoon and making elaborately-themed parks. might also occasionally indulge in some visual novels if she's in the mood for narrative she has Stardew Valley so she can have something to play co-op with falin, but its not a game she plays a lot of otherwise. when playing with falin, marcille micromanages the farm to maximize productivity, and does the decorations

Chilchuck: puzzle games and hidden object/escape room games as a video game-equivalent to finding/dismantling traps and lockpicking. i think he'd also enjoy Bejeweled.

Senshi: mainly Wii games and Cooking Mama. occasionally plays Snake on his 15-year-old nokia phone. i dont think he would enjoy games like Overcooked or restaurant manager games, because he likes to take his time making food, not stressing about customer service

Falin: some *Legend of Zelda games – she likes the exploration aspect in Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom, maybe also some of the toon zelda games like Minish Cap or Wind Waker she also plays Pokemon (*Pokemon Go when she's traveling), and i think she would enjoy some indie games, like Penko Park or Chicory: A Colorful Tale. plays Stardew Valley co-op with marcille – falin mainly takes care of the animals, mining, and picking the crops. occasionally makes improvement suggestions that marcille didnt think of

Izutsumi: i could see her enjoying games with parkour mechanics, like *Assassin's Creed, or Mirror's Edge. or maybe something simple but requiring cat-like swipes, like Fruit Ninja. despite her impatience, i think she could also enjoy action games with interesting longer narratives, as evidenced by [this omake] (relevant portion pictured below), so maybe *Final Fantasy 7 – my friend who's familiar with the game said "she’d find Cloud and Vincent relatable"

[ID: a dungeon meshi omake, where laios' party watches a nightmare monster manifest marcille's dream. there are snippets of dramatic soap opera-like dialogue. the rest of the party are initially enthusiastic but get bored over time, meanwhile izutsumi remains enthralled]

Kabru's party

Kabru: definitely Crusader Kings. maybe also some rpgs with relationship/faction mechanics, such as *Fire Emblem (one of the older ones or FE:3H) or Fallout: New Vegas (hes maxing out the speech stat asap) i think he would also enjoy mystery games like Pentiment and Return of the Obra Dinn – he would love the process of getting familiar with the many characters and deducing "who did what" in both games.

Rin: she takes pride in being an indie gamer (translating her disdain for upper class magic academy mages -> disdain for AAA games). given her chain-lightning magic in canon, i think she'd enjoy games with AOE-type magic, so maybe games such as Vampire Survivors. my mutual also suggested she might enjoy indie mystery visual novels like *Paranormasight, and that her AAA guilty-pleasure would be *Final Fantasy 14 – that rin is "a hardcore ff14 raider. would join PUGs and shot-call every week. #holm and diya might also play ff14 casually with rin but holm would be fishing mainly"

Mickbell: mainly Bethesda games like Fallout and Skyrim– enjoys the bootstrapper power fantasy in them. the type to go out of his way to pick up all the loot he can, to later sell

Kuro: enjoys the same games as Mickbell, but for the open-world exploration and investigation factors

Toshiro and Tansu's party:

Namari: her interest in fighting and weapons could translate to brawler/fighting games and action games with a focus on weapon stats – so maybe *Street Fighter, *God of War, and/or *Dark Souls. might play *Monster Hunter with laios but for the weapons. i could also see her occasionally enjoying truck simulators

Toshiro (Shuro): has the perseverance for soulslikes and other high-difficulty action and/or metroidvania games, but would take his time overthinking item/weapon synergies sometimes. given [his fondness for bugs], i could also see him enjoying Hollow Knight

Tade: would enjoy the cute aesthetics and lighthearted gameplay of Animal Crossing and Katamari. would also like idol anime rhythm games

Kiki: i think she would enjoy horror games such as Resident Evil, but would play it while super chill. i dont have much reasoning for this aside from vibes

Canaries:

Mithrun: plays Doom. got into Hollow Knight but still hasn't finished it because he keeps getting lost. senshi introduces him to Cooking Mama later on, which he finds surprisingly therapeutic

Cithis: plays Hitman and enjoys staging elaborate accident kills. i think she'd also enjoy The Cosmic Wheel Sisterhood, with her background as a devious fortune-teller

Fleki: surreal indie games like Hylics. also plays Team Fortress 2, and is a scout main. occasionally joins lycion in Animal Jam

Lycion: active WolfQuest and Animal Jam player. occasionally joins fleki in tf2

Pattadol: plays Stardew Valley – shes comparatively a normie, but on the meticulous side. she would enjoy perfecting her in-game farm

Otta: plays Genshin Impact. the serious reasoning is because of her (earth) elemental magic and how genshin has an elemental magic system (from my understanding. ive never played it). the joke reasoning is how some genshin players play to collect "waifus", and how otta goes through a lot of women in her dating life

Other:

Leed: runs her own guild in World of Warcraft

Winged Lion: god-games like WorldBox or Simmiland. and Darkest Dungeon (this ones mostly a joke)

Thistle: plays the original Plants VS. Zombies. also plays Minecraft and is very serious about it, but hasn't updated his game in years (translating the fact hes a 1000-year-old kid frozen in time -> playing "slightly old" games popular in the early 2010s)

[ID: tweet reply by twitter user ranchuppi – "thistle calls it lord delgal's server but he is the only mod. whole royal family is locked in spectator mode. Hell. living hell on earth."]

[dalishious]

Alistair vs. Cullen

It really annoys me when people act like Alistair and Cullen are the same character, when they are very different.

Alistair grew up with child neglect. When visiting Denerim, Eamon kept him in the kennels. At Redcliffe, he slept in the stables on a pile of hay. Alistair also recounts a time when he was locked in the dungeons for a day before someone came to get him out. And of course he also talks about how Isolde despised him, and “made sure the castle wasn't a home.” But is still convinced that Eamon is a good person and he deserved all that. Cullen had a very fortunate upbringing with a loving family who supported him and what he wanted in life.

Alistair never wanted to be a Templar; he was forced into joining the Order by Eamon. He is vocal about how much he despised this, and considers Duncan recruiting him for the Wardens as “saving” him from them. The only thing he says he enjoyed about Templar training was the educational component, which he did not receive previously. Alistair was a poor recruit because he frankly did not want to be there, and therefore did not take it very seriously. He saw practices like the Harrowing as horrifying, and deepened his dislike of being a Templar further. And as time goes on, he becomes even less of a supporter of the Order; he outright says Meredith is the biggest threat to Kirkwall in Dragon Age II, if made king of Ferelden. It was always Cullen’s dream to be a Templar, and would even force his younger sister to “play the apostate” for his “training” before being recruited. Cullen was an enthusiastic recruit who considered Templar training “all that he had imagined”, and “did not hesitate” in taking his vows. Even the Harrowing did not waver his devotion to the Order, which by Dragon Age II becomes downright fanatical and tyrannical, practically worshipping Meredith. (Though this was later attempted to be retconned in Dragon Age: Inquisition… just as poorly as all the other retcons in that game, taking the path of “just pretend he never said and did all those things!”)

There is a lot of dialogue from Alistair about how much he dislikes the Chantry. Cullen, on the other hand, is extremely faithful and the only criticism he ever has about the Chantry is that they don’t treat the Templars well enough.

Alistair has a good sense of humour—in fact, it’s one of his biggest coping mechanisms. Cullen wouldn’t know a joke if it hit him in the face.

The player can disagree with Alistair on every turn. He is presented as sometimes being right, and sometimes being wrong, like most people. (Side note: more than that, you can be downright verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive to Alistair. Holy shit, I didn’t even realize how bad it can get until reading through the dialogue in the toolset, because I’ve never picked those options in game. I was honest to god flabbergasted and very uncomfortable through much of it.) The player rarely has the chance to even mildly disagree with Cullen. On the rare occasion you do, the dialogue is painted as if the player is being an unreasonable asshole, and he never even addresses what they say. (Example.)

The only reason I think people are capable of mistaking them for another is because fandom likes to donate Alistair’s personality onto Cullen. That and the the ever-frequent whitewashing of Alistair doesn’t help matters. But I’m not even a Cullen fan and I think it’s a disservice to both of them to act like they’re just Alistair and Alistair 2.0, honestly.

[my313]

in beomgyu's room 🧸

now playing 𝄞₊⊹ bad - wave to earth & best friend - laufey

⋆ pairing: bestfriend!beomgyu x f!reader

⋆ summary: a reel of your most precious memories in beomgyu’s room(s), and the one time it’s also yours.

⋆ genre/themes/warnings: fluff, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, non-idol au, mention of mommy kink (sorry they have weird inside jokes)

⋆ word count: 3.6k

a/n: this isnt proofread n i dont think its my best writing, i wanted to focus on dialogue a lot more :0 but i just wanted to put out a lil something for gyu's bday <3 our talented pretty boy 🥹 anyways, i hope u enjoy reading this!

2009 

beomgyu’s room at eight years old is directly opposite from your window. you recently watched taylor swift’s you belong with me music video, and your unassuming neighbor who just recently moved in has become the center of the romantic production running in your little mind. 

when his family invites you over for dinner, you’re giddy to put a name to the pretty boy that’s been in your sights; only ever seeing him with a guitar strapped to his back when he walks by your house as you sit on the porch with a book. 

“hi,” he’s the one opening the door, greeting you enthusiastically. you assumed he would have been a shy boy, especially with the way he walked with his head down and never without an mp3 player and wired earphones. that was just one of the many surprises beomgyu had in store for you and your serendipitous friendship.

beomgyu smiles politely at your parents before pulling the door back and letting you all inside. your mother’s ushering you to the boy, hurriedly greeting his parents and leaving you in beomgyu’s care. 

you turn to him, shy and unsure of what to do, but beomgyu’s there to pull you out of your daydreams. he slightly tugs the sleeve of your shirt, chin tilted to the direction of the stairs. “wanna play mario kart in my room?”

you’re scanning the room to look for your parents, silently asking permission with your eyes when you catch your dad looking back at you. when he nods, you’re quick to relay it to beomgyu, who returns the biggest smile you’ve seen. boys are usually rough around the edges, either boisterous or freakishly hyper-aware of cooties, but beomgyu is different. he’s just loud enough to have you laughing until your tummy hurts, but he’s also a good listener. 

your feet dangle from the height of his bed while he sets up his wii. it only takes a few minutes of tinkering and confused grumbles before beomgyu joins you, sitting close and handing over the controller. 

“i’ve never played this game before!” your voice chimes with the game’s background music, fiddling with the buttons on your controller and accidentally pressing something that makes beomgyu laugh. 

“that’s okay,” he navigates through the buttons on the screen to take you back to the starting screen. “i’ll go easy on you.”

you may have gotten beomgyu all wrong, because as you inch closer to stealing his first place spot on your eighth round of playing, he throws a green shell at you, putting you off-course. 

“that’s so not fair, beomgyu!” you grumble frustratedly, shoulders slumped. beomgyu has a mischievous smile on his face; a different charm to the friendly one you encountered at his doorway, or the re-assuring one when he asked to play mario kart.

“i didn’t even know you could do that.” you whine, twisting your body left and right as if it would take away from your loss.

beomgyu’s mouth opens, but instead of hearing his squeaky voice, you both hear your mom’s. 

“yn, time to go home!”

you both tear your eyes away from the doorframe to look at one another. 

“teach me next time?” you plead, eyes shiny and hopeful that you’ve got a new friend to play with. someone who would always be next to you.

beomgyu feels similarly. he lets it show by nodding enthusiastically, his rectangular glasses pressed onto his rising cheeks, swelling from all the smiling he’s done tonight.

2017

“choi beomgyu!” you yell from the bottom of the staircase, leaning on the creaky railing despite beomgyu’s constant warnings of “you’re gonna fall off one day, y’know.”

you’re both sixteen years old, and tonight is prom. unlike the books you read, you were not serenaded by the most beautiful (subjective) boy in school; but like the disney movies, you’re at your best friend’s house and going as each other’s dates. 

the idea was initially disgusting to both you and beomgyu, suggested by menacingly blunt choi soobin during one of your escapades to the internet cafe. when prom started to come closer and closer, you and beomgyu would briefly text about it in jokes. the final straw was probably the fact that soobin actually got a date before either of you. so, with only three days to prom and a whole lot of spite, you and beomgyu hunted down matching corsages and sealed the deal.

you glance at the clock on the wall, ticking seven. sick of waiting on your bare feet, you lift the trailing end of your dress and make your way up to beomgyu’s room.

you don’t bother to knock, having seen the worst of beomgyu and his room already. the sight that greets you is anything but what you expect.

you expected heaps of clothes on the floor from his panicked frenzy of not knowing what to put on under his blazer; maybe some mismatched socks, and shoes tossed to every corner out of indecision. 

instead, you see beomgyu clad in a neat, black suit, with a navy blue dress shirt. his black hair, usually falling over his eyelashes, is tucked away to show off the face that many come to your classroom to see. just like how he was at eight, you know beomgyu is different; he’s delicate, never gruff, even when he picks you up from your doorstep with bedhead. 

beomgyu has always been pretty, but tonight, he’s charming. he’s handsome. just thinking it makes you want to regurgitate your words and flush them down the toilet. it brings upon this weird pit in your stomach that was never there when you were wiping your cheeto-dust fingers on beomgyu’s shirt as some petty form of teasing. that weird feeling you only got when someone cute walked your way, or someone flustered you to the point of developing a crush. you hope it’s nothing too serious.

“woah!” 

“what.” beomgyu deadpans, unamused by your exaggerated gasp. in reality, the pink on his cheeks already has you guessing that he’s shy. your beomgyu has always been one for compliments and sweet gestures, recalling how his eyes brightened every time your smaller hands patted his head when you were younger. 

“no need to get sassy, jeez,” you roll your eyes playfully, the smile on your face never leaving. “you look good. handsome.” 

“thanks,” he smiles sheepishly. it’s silent for a bit, until beomgyu says, “keep ‘em coming…”

“dipshit!” you smack his forearm. “you’ll hear more from everyone tonight, i bet.”

“i guess so,” he shrugs, looking at himself on the full-length mirror, trying to fold his necktie like the way his dad taught him. you move closer, your dress trailing behind you when you drop the sides in favor of helping beomgyu out with his tie. you’re so close; the kind of close you and beomgyu haven’t been ever before, except when you were ten and you fell off your bike, crashing onto him. 

you’re in front of him now, looping the fabric and not really looking at him. you can’t tell that he’s staring down at your concentrated face, smiling softly at how your tongue peeks out of your mouth in concentration. 

he hasn’t gotten the chance to compliment you back, but he’s noticed how beautiful you looked the minute you stepped into his room. his thoughts only get confirmed further now that you’re just a few breaths apart; your lip gloss has a sheen that’s tempting to swipe off with his own lips, and your eyelashes flutter in the way that beomgyu pictures in a few years time, where you’re waking up next to him every morning. 

“not from anyone that matters though.” 

your fingers stop working, peering up at your best friend. you don’t really know what to make of how his eyes glisten; how they look fondly at you, so you revert to the only thing you and beomgyu know will fix anything — fooling around, saying something stupid.

“are you saying if soobin complimented you, you wouldn’t give a fuck?”

“you make it sound like i’m in love with him.” you shrug, lips pursed as you continue the final touches of his tie. he bumps his forehead onto yours, making you curse. “what? bros can seek validation from one another!”

“so can i seek it from you, bro?”

you shake your head, amused by his unfamiliar use of the nickname. “whatever. are you done now?”

“no.” you groan. beomgyu pulls away from you first, going to his bedside drawer and fishing out a box. 

he come back to your side, this time, with the corsage you both overpaid for. beomgyu wraps it around your wrist and prompts you to turn your hand over, tying it up for you. you watch him intently.

unconsciously, your hands extend to caress his head, gently patting his styled hair. the moment your fingers graze his scalp, he freezes up for a few seconds before resuming, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in his chest.

“i forgot to say earlier,” beomgyu returns to his full height, but his hand is still holding yours. he squeezes three times with his dimples peeking out as he smiles, a semblance of a confession that you fail to pick up on. “you look beautiful tonight, too.”

2021

it’s nearly midnight when you and beomgyu decide that the best activity to do when both of you are jobless on a friday night (saturday morning now) is to dye each other’s hair. 

you left an hour ago for a random supermarket run, and you return with a bottle of bleach, developer and a bunch of dyes that were on sale. possibly also a whole new stock of instant ramen. tonight was one of the nights you’re relieved your best friend has a car.

you’re both twenty now, in college and far away from home for a while. still, home doesn’t feel too far away when beomgyu’s still waiting for you outside the girls’ dorm building with disheveled hair. from your freshman year to now, beomgyu’s still been the same beomgyu that you love. you can admit that to yourself now, finally catching the culprit of that odd feeling in your stomach from prom night. though you’re unsure when you can gather the courage to tell him all that.

you’re pushing the door open to beomgyu’s dorm room, seeing his roommate taehyun slipping his shoes on with a backpack.

“are you running away?” you question, half-joking. “beomgyu can’t be that bad of a roommate. he’s like a pet goldfish sometimes.” 

beomgyu’s shutting the door behind you when he walks into your odd conversation with taehyun. “that’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said about me.” 

“goldfish are so cute though!” you reason with him, your tone higher in pitch as your silly charade continues. taehyun’s joining along too, laughing at the banter between you and beomgyu. “did you know the guy who created goldfish crackers made them because his wife was a pisces?”

“i’m a pisces,” beomgyu proudly states, chest puffed out with the bags of your pointless mission weighing down his shoulders. “would you make me a fish-inspired snack, yn? answer carefully, our relationship depends on it.” 

you try to ignore the fact that he says relationship, not friendship. details, details. but beomgyu’s all about details. he didn’t say anything for just no reason, so you can’t help but let the thought fester. for now, you keep up with the jokes.

“you don’t even like seafood, gyu.” 

“okay kids,” taehyun interrupts, heading towards the door. “i’m going to the gym. don’t burn the place up, please…” 

“i think i’m gonna burn something else.” you snark, looking up at beomgyu’s perfectly smooth hair. he catches your stare and consciously guards his head. 

taehyun leaves in the next few minutes, and it’s just you and beomgyu again. 

beomgyu’s eyebrows wiggle comically, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you to the bathroom. “w-wait, wait!”

“what? backing out?” he challenges you, shaking you by the shoulders. “yn, you can’t!” his whining is convincing, but mostly because beomgyu has this pout that he doesn’t know you succumb to every single time he pulls it out — which is nearly everyday. 

“n-no..! just..”

beomgyu’s face softens. he takes your face between his right hand, squishing your cheeks repeatedly. he huffs mockingly, “fine, you can do mine first.”

in the next hour, beomgyu’s desk chair is situated between the bathroom door and the carpeted floor of the bedroom, holding it open to let the stench of the bleach disperse. you’re sitting on said chair with a towel on your lap, while beomgyu sits on the bathroom floor, legs folded to his chest. his back is leaning against the middle of the chair, but he’s essentially sitting between your legs as you clumsily paint bleach over random sections of his hair. 

“sorry if this turns to shit, beoms.” you snicker, layering more product on the strand between your fingers. you’re startled by beomgyu’s movements, his head tilting upwards slightly to look at you before looking back down. “you owe me free food for the rest of our lives if i end up looking like a dalmatian.”

“that’s fine,” you giggle, tapping his shoulder to motion for him to turn around and face you, trying to get the sections with his bangs. “at least i know we’ll be best friends forever.”

beomgyu fights the urge to say something stupid; something that might end the nights of you sleeping over and snuggling close to his chest — the things that pop up in his head range from “you’re so cute, i wanna kiss you.” to “i think i’ve been in love with you for years, so yeah, anyway.”

he still says something rather silly, but he thinks it’s just slightly less off-putting than telling your best friend who you grew up with that you’re in love with her. 

“technically, you’d be my sugar mommy.”

you raise a brow, “outing your mommy kink?”

“yes, and?”

fits of laughter fill the air, you have to place the brush back on the sink in case you smack beomgyu’s face from how you throw your whole body around when you laugh. he’s just the same, nearly snorting when he sees how red your face has become. 

at some point, you’re still trying to recover from giggling so hard, taking the brush back into your hands and picking out sections of beomgyu’s bangs. he chooses to perch his chin on one of your thighs with his head tilted up, as if admiring you deeply from the ground. beomgyu can ignore the prickly sensation settling on his scalp and the cold tiles of his bathroom floor freezing his butt off if he can see you from this view more often. it reminds him of when you used to let him rest his head on your lap that one time your families went on a road trip, and you both were stuck in the back. or the other times in his childhood bedroom where he’d fall asleep and wake up with your fingers tangled in his hair, head over a pillow on your lap. 

beomgyu thinks he fell for you then, that he’d decided that he’d kneel on the ground forever if you asked him to. he thinks he’d probably do much worse if the requests were coming from your pretty lips. 

you stop painting over his hair, signaling that beomgyu’s done. you think beomgyu’s going to get up from the floor, his legs crossed and obviously sleeping from how long you’ve had him sitting down there, but he’s still in-between your legs that it stops you from moving too. you’re about to joke around and tell him to get up, but you finally catch onto the fact that he’s looking up at you like he’s stargazing, or watching the prettiest sunset in the summer.

“gyu, what’s up?” 

it takes a while for him to respond. beomgyu feels his mind drifting to places he doesn’t know he’s allowed to be in; thinking about how he’s thought of waking up next to you since he was sixteen, and it might have sounded like trying to snatch the sun from the sky back then, but he feels an inkling that it’s not too impossible right now, at twenty, in his room and at your disposal. 

“do you remember when we went to prom together?”

you snort, reminded of your trembling hands when your parents asked you and beomgyu to take pictures and pose together, feeling his hand on your waist. “yeah, we looked pretty good.”

“yeah,” beomgyu draws circles and random patterns on your clothed thighs. “we did look pretty good together.”

“what?”

“what?”

“what did you say, gyu?” your voice comes out in a whisper, even when you try to be firm and persistent.

“you heard me,” he mumbles, finally looking away from you with the pink dusting his cheeks.

“no, i think i have to hear it again.” you tease, flicking his forehead to turn his attention back on you. “come on, say it.”

beomgyu bounces back, eyes trained on you as his lips move faster than any other time you’ve listened to him babble. he’s never even spoken this fast when he’s raging on his matches with soobin.

“jeez, yn, you wanna hear me say i’m in love with my best friend who i have also imagined living together with for the rest of my life?” 

he blinks, realizing what he just said. “well… i mean, you got it.”

you press your lips together, trying to hold in the laugh that was threatening to burst out on beomgyu’s deer-in-the-headlights face. you’d feel terrible if you ruined this moment for both of you, so you try and keep it to giggles and a pleased grin.

“you sure you wanna live with me for the rest of your life, beomie?” you tease, bending down and bringing your face close to his. you enjoy the feeling of making beomgyu shy, and you know his guilty pleasure is when you’re rendered flustered and defensive. 

“that’s all you got from what i said?” he pouts.

“aw, baby,” cooing at him. if his hair wasn’t slicked with bleach, you would have fluffed it and patted it the way he always liked. “d’you wanna start apartment hunting and writing down our kids’ names?”

he blinks up at you, briefly taking his phone out of his pocket and turning it over to show his notes app. “yeah, go ahead.” 

“beomgyu.” you stare at him, slightly bewildered and freaked out, but also endeared. 

“i’m just joking!” he puts his hands up defensively. 

he taps your thigh again once his arms let up. “...you still haven’t said anything.”

“if it wasn’t obvious enough, choi beomgyu,” you start, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “i’m also in love with you. and i would love to be by your side forever.” 

2024 

it’s almost been three years since the night beomgyu and you confessed to each other. 

everything seems to come full-circle, because you’re twenty three and sitting on beomgyu’s lap while playing mario kart. you have vivid memories of being eight years old and telling beomgyu off for not going easy on a first-timer, but you’ve had years and years of payback for that moment by now.

beomgyu doesn’t need to go easy on you anymore, occasionally yelling in your ear when you sabotage him, only to trail kisses from your earlobe to your neck as an apology. 

as you finish up your last game as promised, you turn your head and press a chaste kiss on beomgyu’s cheek. sometimes, you still can’t believe your best friend has graduated from being just that, to being your boyfriend. beomgyu chases after your face as soon as you detach from him, his lips quickly pecking yours.

it took a while until you and beomgyu could live together, only finding a place you could both attest to earlier this year. but since then, you’ve made plenty of memories in every nook and cranny. 

you keep old habits like mario kart, and beomgyu purposely makes mistakes with his necktie just so you can tug on it, kiss him and fix it instead. but your life with beomgyu has new bits and pieces that flourished since sharing your love for one another. your shared baths that consist of gossip that beomgyu is overly enthusiastic of; taking selfies every night when you put on sheet masks for each other; and instead of picking you up with bedhead, you have the privilege of seeing beomgyu in a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up, picking you up from work and waiting for you to fill the passenger seat of his car.

it makes you think not only about all the lovely moments you’ve had with beomgyu, but the ugly parts that only you both know of each other. 

“i really hope this is a forever thing, gyu.” you blurt out. 

“playing mario kart with me?” beomgyu knows what you mean; he can tell you’re floating in your head when you ask him. still, he lightens the mood.

“yeah,” you chuckle. you suppose he isn’t wrong, you wouldn’t mind this at all. 

“baby,” he tucks a hair behind your ear. “look at me, hm?”

“i love you today,” beomgyu kisses your lips, moves to either side of your cheeks. “i love you tomorrow,” now he’s pressing one on your nose. “the day after,” the last one on your forehead. “until we’re old and wrinkly, i love you.”

your smile in the midst of all his kisses is as wide as it was when you first met beomgyu. you cradle his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbones then bumping your noses together briefly. it makes beomgyu laugh, the sound still as pretty as when he stumbled over his words trying to confess to you. “there’s no one else i would have fallen in love with other than you, gyu,”

“my best friend in the world.”

[anim-ttrpgs]

Why I Dislike PbtA Games, and How Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is Their Opposite

@tender-curiosities

It is no secret that I hate PbtA games.

Though due to a recent misunderstanding regarding another post, I’m going to preface this post by saying that this is going to be a very opinionated post and

I do not seriously think that PbtA games are inherently bad, though I may sometimes joke about this.

While I do often question the taste of people who make and play PbtA hacks, I do not think poorly of their moral character.

While I am going to call for PbtA to be used less as a base for games in the future, I’m not saying that the whole system and all games based on it should be destructified. It’s good for what it’s good for, but unless you’re doing that, I really think you should use something else.

Now that that is out of the way, here’s what I have to say about it.

My first experiences with PbtA games were pretty rough. Monster of the Week was not the first, but it was one of the first ‘indie’ TTRPGs I played after having previously played mostly only D&D3.5e and 5e. I really appreciated that the use of 2D6 over a D20 meant that the dice results would be more predictable, and I really liked the various “classes” I was seeing. (At this time, I didn’t really understand that they weren’t really “classes” at all, though I think I can be forgiven for this because many people, even people who like PbtA games, still talk like “classes” and “playbooks” are interchangeable.)

I was very enthusiastic to play, until it came time to start actually “making” a character, and found that I couldn’t “make” a character. I wanted to make a nuanced, three-dimensional PC who was simultaneously stereotype-affirming and stereotype-defying, with a unique backstory and dynamic with the other characters—but when I went to actually fill out the character sheet for basically any “class”, I found that most of the backstory and most of the personality for my character was being set for me by the playbook. It felt like the only thing about the character I really had a say in was their name, and that two PCs of the same playbook would actually turn out to be almost identical characters. At the time, I thought this was very restrictive and very bad design.

Later, now that I understand the design intent behind it, I still think of it as very restrictive, but I think of it as very bad design for me, not inherently bad.

When I play a TTRPG, I want more freedom in who my PC is. That doesn’t mean I want less rules, in fact having more rules can often increase freedom, but that’s a different post. I want to create original, unique characters, that I won’t see anywhere else. If it’s a class-based system, I want that class to barely touch the details of my character’s backstory or personality, so that I can come up with something original and engaging for why and how this “Fighter” fights. This means that two level-1 Fighters, despite having almost the same mechanical abilities, will potentially be very different people.

PbtA games don’t let you do that. In a lot of PbtA games, you’re not playing your own original character, you’re playing someone else’s character, that every other player that has picked up the same playbook before you has played. It’s more like “character select” than “character creation.” I think I could liken it to playing Mass Effect or The Witcher. Every player may pick a few different dialogue choices in those games that change the story, but we’re still all playing Shepherd or Geralt. No one is going to experience a new never-before-seen story in Mass Effect or The Witcher, which is very much a factor of them being video games and not TTRPGs, and therefore limited to the amount of code, writing, and voice-acting that can go into them.

This anonymous asker who sent a message to @thydungeongal seems to feel pretty similarly to me about PbtA games, and @thydungeongal's response is a very good response about how people find this appealing.

I have more respect for PbtA now than I did, but I still don't like it because to me it seems to play so much against what I consider to be the strengths of TTRPGs as a medium, much like how video games like The Last of Us and David Cage games play against the strengths of the medium of video games, and I will never like it. But other people clearly do, so to each their own.

Then another reason I don’t like it is because I think it’s oversaturating the TTRPG space. I’ve referred to PbtA before as “indie D&D5e”, and i do think that’s a reasonable comparison, because in much the same way that you always hear “D&D5e is a system that can do everything”, I think a lot of people seem to be under the impression that the PbtA system is a system that can do anything. It’s kinda the système du jour for indie TTRPGs right now, and many iterations of it make it clear that many designers do not consider how PbtA differs from more traditional TTRPGs, and how it is specialized for different types of TTRPG gameplay. Just like how I feel PbtA isn’t playing to certain important strengths of TTRPGs, I think that many—maybe even most—PbtA hacks don’t play to the strengths of PbtA. But this isn’t really PbtA’s fault, that comes down to any individual indie TTRPG developer on a case-by-case basis. And the cure for that is something I’m always saying: If you are going to be a writer, you have got to read lots of books. If you are going to be a director, you have got to watch lots of movies. If you are going to be a video game developer, you have got to play lots of video games. And if you are going to be a TTRPG designer, you have got to read and play lots of TTRPGs. That and you have to understand that TTRPGs are specialized. Even "agnostic" systems like PbtA are somewhat specialized, and therefore might really not be a great fit for the game you’re trying to make.

That and, to get more subjective again, there’s like an ocean of them, and I don’t even like the ones that are actually good.

Now that I’ve talked about how I don’t like PbtA games, I’m gonna talk about a game I do like: Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy. Obviously, I like it because I’m the lead writer for it, but I would also like it even if I wasn’t the lead writer for it, because it’s just my kinda game. Eureka is the opposite of a PbtA game. I wrote it to play to what I feel are the strengths of the TTRPG medium.

Eureka’s character creation uses personality traits as a mechanical element of the character, but it does so in a deliberately freeform way. You build your character’s personality out of a list of traits, so who your character is is very much linked to what your character can do, but we aren’t just handing you a pre-made character.

Eureka is designed to incentivize organic decision-making by the PCs, most often by the mechanics of the game mirroring the world they live in. Every mechanic aims to create situations wherein “what will the PC do next?” is a question whose answer can be predicted - it doesn’t need to be ordained by a playbook.

One of my favorite examples of this is, rather than a “Fear Check” forcing the PC to run away if they fail, or “Run Away from Danger” being a “Move” on their character sheet, Eureka opts for the Composure mechanic. The really short version is that one of the main things that lowers a PC’s Composure is encountering scary stuff, and the lower a PC’s Composure, the more likely they are to fail skill checks, and the more likely they are to fail skill checks, well, the less brave they and their player probably feel about them standing up to this scary monster. So if the PC has low Composure, they are more likely to choose to run away. The lower their Composure, the better idea that will seem.

This system really really shines when it comes to monster PCs in Eureka. Most monsters benefit a lot more from having high Composure, but have fewer ways to restore Composure than mundane PCs. Their main way to restore their Composure is by eating people. The rulebook never says “your monster PC has to eat people”, but more likely than not, they’re going to be organically steered towards that by the game and world itself. Sure, they could decide to be “one of the good ones”, and just never eat people, just like you reading this could decide to stop eating food. You technically could, but when your body starts to fail, how long would you? (This is a big part of the themes of Eureka and what it has to say about crime, disability, mental illness, and evil. People don’t just arbitrarily do bad things, it is often their circumstances that leads them down that path until they see little choice for themselves in that matter, and “harmful” people are still just as deserving of life as people who “aren’t harmful”, but that really deserves its own post.)

It has been said that Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually arrives at much the same end as the PbtA game Monsterhearts, and I actually don’t disagree, but it gets there from an entirely different starting point and direction. The monster PCs in Eureka are very likely to eat people and cause drama, but it won’t be because they have “Eat People and Cause Drama” as a “Move” on their character sheet.

Monsters in Eureka have a lot of abilities, which they can use to solve (and create) problems as the emergent story emerges organically.

(Oh and Eureka is about adult investigators investigating mysteries, and sometimes those investigators are monsters, not about monster kids in high school, to be clear. The same “end” that Eureka and Monsterhearts reach is that of the monsters being prone to cause problems and drama due to the fact that they are monsters, though this isn’t the sole point of Eureka, just one element of it.)

You can pick up the free shareware version of this game from the download link on our website, or the full version for $5 from our Patreon.

And don’t forget, Eureka is fundraising on Kickstarter starting on April 10th, 2024! We need your support there most of all, to make sure we hit our goals and can afford to make the best version of Eureka we can make!

Interested in branching out but can’t get your group to play anything but D&D5e? Join us at the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club, where we nominate, vote on, and play indie TTRPGs, all organized by our team with no strict schedule requirement! Here's the invite link! See you there!

We also have merchandise.