#so in this update my beta's comments were mostly

[thewinchestah]

"Good things come for those who wait" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, spanking,degradation kink, praise kink, Angst with a happy ending, fluff, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etc

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: there's no point guys. I can't stop talking.

A/N: WOAH!! Hello everyone!! What the fuck?? I wasn't expecting my "debut fic" to blow up like that! Thank you so so much to everyone who took the time to read it and leave a comment! I'm truly flattered by your praise. So, I hope this sequel to "PREY" does it justice! (but it can also be read as a standalone). Let me know if you guys like it, and if you have anymore ideas/suggestions! I'm tagging everyone who asked me to, so if you want to be tagged on my next fics let me know! Without further due, here comes that mostrosity of a fic! Hope you like it <3! (UPDATE: PART 3 IS NOW UP!!)

Part I  | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Taglist: @smallershorteranduncut @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir  @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby 

It all started, as many things do, with a joke and a simple misunderstanding. Dying and instantly going to hell is not easy. Being in hell and not understanding why the FUCK you are in hell is confusing, frustrating and sometimes drawright ridiculous. There’s no guidebook for the hellish afterlife, and more often than not you felt lost at sea, drowning. Until you found your questionable lifeline, the Radio Demon. 

Somehow said demon clocked really early on that you were completely infatuated with him, but too scared to act on it. And oh, how he gave you enough reason to be infatuated, enough reason to be scared. Luring you into the most delicious trap, Alastor had claimed you as his. His to breed during the height of his heat, his to care for, his to inflict the most heavenly torture. 

Being caught up in the middle of the living myth that was the Radio Demon was a dangerous thing, you had been warned over and over again. So of course that you had to almost fuck everything up in the silliest way possible.

The obnoxious TV set, also known as Vox, had just started another round of his futile attempts to win Alastor’s attention by airing the most absurd reality tv character assassination ever. You would put money on the fact that the obsessive flat screen was a deceased TLC producer. Usually, any of his pompous i-hate-alastor-so-so-much!!! fits would be met with enthusiasm around the Hotel. Everyone would cramp in front of the TV and make fun of the entire ordeal. Even Alastor would tag along and make a private edition of his radio show while he counter-narrated that nonsense. It became a fun bonding activity for everyone involved, it was a nice thing. But there’s a reason why you can’t have nice things.

Today the Hotel was mostly empty:, only you, Angel and a very on edge, sexually frustrated, irritated Alastor haunted its posh walls. Still, you and Angel carried on with the little tradition sitting side by side in front of the tv not knowing what to expect from today’s “My Strange Addiction - Alastor’s Version” episode. It was truly a laughable attempt of a character assassination, actors who could not act saying things like “Alastor isn’t even as bad as everyone says, his torture tactics are not that special either. My mom’s aunt was tortured by him and was going to work 10 hours later”, “i walked down the street today and alastor didn’t even try to kill me when he saw me crossing the street, he’s all talk” “i have video footage of the self-proclaimed cannibal eating a chocolate covered strawberry. He’s cannibalbaiting.”

“no self-respecting overlord would go out wearing those ridiculous out-of fashion clothes”. 

Angel was having the time of his life leading the daily Vox roast session, the spider was funny and you couldn’t hold the laughs. The camera cut to a close-up of Vox, babbling on about technology and the anti-Radio Demon speech you knew by heart at this point. As if on cue, Alastor entered the room. But the pair of you remained oblivious to his presence. 

“Toots, you totally should apply for this show! I mean it!. I’m sure Vox will buy literally anything you say. Anything! If you say Alastor likes to eat red nail polish cause it looks like blood he would believe it! You laughed at his words, what a ridiculous thing to say. You loved red nail polish, alastor drinking it because it looks like blood is absurd. “I mean, look at you!! Look at this face, these eyes!! This body!!!” Angel gave your thighs a playful slap. “If you say hell is actually cold using all that i would eat it right up. Vox will be too busy staring at your boobs to notice you dropping that even the oldest radio looks better than that fucking flat face”. The thought that you were the mind-numbing type of beautiful made you laugh. Sometimes you felt like your friends were being way too kind with the flattery about you. You were nothing special at all. It was nice of them to be kind to you, adapting to your new lifestyle was taking a visible tool, anyone could tell. Their efforts were honorable and sweet, but you just couldn’t let yourself believe what in your heart, you knew was a lie. A beautiful, comfortable lie, but still a lie. You weren’t much, you were just lucky. You started to laugh even harder, out of pure nervousness as your brain started to snowball into all the things you weren’t. 

“ Seriously Angel, you have the strangest ideas ever!” you tried to sound normal, putting up a confident facade. That helped, a lot. You had picked that up during your days with Alastor. 

Speaking of the devil, Alastor wasn’t amused by your little display. Standing on the corner of the room as you laughed, he made himself known by walking out of the room, in hurried steps. If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t think much of it. But you weren’t anyone else. You were Alastor’s. 

And that’s why he was seething with rage. His rut always drove him, an already unpredictable man, to the brink of true, pure instinctual insanity. He had to grip his marvelous constructed self control painfully hard. Since your paths crossed, the most chaotic part of his existence seemed in control, your pretty little body always ready to take him, your eyes always holding his gaze in a maddening  comfortable way, the way you would push your limits just for him. 

Only for him.

And the worst part was your softness when it was all done. Alastor would fuck you rentless, for hours, making you take all the mess of his most animalistic desires without a second thought. Both of you would be spent, bathing in the afterglow, room smelling like sex, and you would ask him if he needed anything. Him, that just fucked you so hard so won’t walk straight for a week, that feasted on the blood of the love bites he inflicted, him that covered you in a painting of bruises. 

How could he not want to just lock you inside his lavish room and give you all the rings of hell? to carve his name deep into your soul? to dote on you? to make him the only thing on your mind as he makes you his time and time again in the most sinful ways?

It was simple really, why he was shaking with anger: how you, who was his, was even thinking of being in the same vicinity of that scum of creation?  LAUGHING AT THIS ABSURD CONCEPT. Vox thinking of you was already a crime punishable by painful death, but Vox looking at you was heresy, and the entirety of hell would pay for his transgressions. 

As Alastor stormed off towards the Hotel’s large room corridors, he took several calming breaths. Losing control like this wouldn’t do anyone any favors. In the troubled waters of his mind, Alastor could only think of 3 things: you, fucking you and murdering someone.

 So he didn’t even realize your hurried steps trying to catch up with his long strides.

“Hey sugartits! Don’t take too long doing whatever you need to do! there’s a woman going live after the break saying she saw Alastor eating an entire packet of PAPER TOWELS!!! HAHA! This shit is too good to be true!” you heard angel scream.

Adding insult to injury, nice.

Trying desperately to reach your demon lover gait, you could only think about how bad you had messed up. Alastor was your only true respite in hell. He was a blessing in a mist of the worst humankind could offer. He made you feel hope, more than making you feel alive, he made you feel glad you’re dead. The Radio Demon felt like coming home. You just wanted to make it up to him. You could not lose this, lose him. You were not sure you would survive it. And who knew where you went after dying in hell? 

It doesn’t matter where you go after hell, it doesn’t matter at all if Alastor is not there. Your brain added to your inner monologue. True.

“Alastor! Wait” you shouted. He stops dead on his feet.

Finally, those long long legs of his do not make chasing after your love any easier.

“Alastor, I'm so so sorry. Angel gets way out of line sometimes and I was nervous” he is perfectly still, ears pinned back, listening. But doesn’t say anything back.

“Al I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, at all. Look, let’s try to do something to make your day better. I know how hard this season is on you, I know you feel like you are losing contr-

Uh oh.

oh shit.

You used the two forbidden words together. The temperature in the room drops, Alastor snaps towards you. You feel something gripping your throat mercilessly, as you fall to the ground. Looking at the other end of the corridor Alastor has you on a leash of his magic. Eyes burning red, forehead marked “x” he grips your chains hard, pushing you towards him.

“That was a brilliant speech, little doe. Truly marvelous! I’m sure your television debut will be quite the show you were planning!”

His antlers were growing, his demon form showing itself as he becomes taller and taller over you. All bared teeth and flashing red eyes. This is what everyone warned you about. Don’t get in the Radio Demon’s way, he is dangerous and insane. You will regret it.

Hot. your brain thinks. He pulls your leash even tighter, and you feel wetness pooling on your core.

“Do you have any idea what I was about to do before I heard you so selflessly offer your services to that pathetic excuse of a demon?” Dragging you by the magic chains, his towering frame comes down to meet you at eye level. You can’t say anything back, your brain short circuits and goes AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“You know better than leaving me waiting for an answer at this point, pet” He grips your face using his sharp claws,the pressure threatening to break skin. “But you seem so hellbent on being a bad girl today, I shouldn’t expect your usually good girl’s behavior, should I?”

You are, once again nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes

“One should always know better than expecting their fantasies to be true”

His sclera goes black, only the tiny blazing red radio dials devouring you as he stares so deep into you, you feel feverish. 

“But since we are already here. I. Will. Tell. You.” static picks up around the room and surrounds you both, the corridor is illuminated by an eerie green light. You start to kinda fear for your life, but Alastor has you completely hypnotized by the radio dials on his eyes. You shiver in anticipation. 

 “I was coming to ask you, to please, spare me a part of your day, away from you friends. Because the only thing on my mind has been you. Fucking you. Sinking my cock so deep into your tight, wet cunt it would mark your soul. Because you are the only one who can take me like this, who deserves being bred by me, who deserves every drop of my seed”

You feel the wetness on your panties grow until it runs down your thighs. There’s nothing right about this, but your dear Alastor showed you long ago how the concepts of right and wrong are meant to be skewed.

“But oh well, you seem to have your affections directed elsewhere…” he tsks at you using that delicious mocking tone. “But, you can’t blame a desperate man for trying” he goes from 100 to 0 really fast, his voice softens so much in a way that’s almost too heavy to hear after all that. Even with his demon form still very much present  “Do you still want to make my day better, pet?”

you are at a loss of words, but you manage to nod desperately. The anticipation of what he is going to do to you makes you giddy. 

He manhandles your leash until you are on your knees in front of him, tugging on the chains so you look up towards his crotch. He makes quick work of his pants, pulling his cock out. Hard, angry hot red coloured. Angry because of you, angry for you. 

“Open wide, little one” and without much more warning, Alastor is fucking your face, hard and fast. 

You position your arms behind your back as quickly as you can.  You know how hard it is for him to be touched when his rut is peaking. The overwhelming need for relief mixing with his ever present desire for control. This is about him asserting his dominance over you, making sure you don’t ever forget where you belong: In the warmth of his burning gaze, under him, on your knees, while he merciless fucks your throat into compliance. He’s taking it out on you, and you fucking love it.

He’s not saying anything, only growling like he’s about to murder someone. He grabs fistfuls of your velvety hair, but never leaves the white knuckle grip on your chains. You can only resist the urge of playing with your pussy while he thrusts so deep you feel his monster cock. hitting the back of your throat. This is about him, and you want to give him this so badly your cunt is throbbing with desire

Tears wet your cheeks, your lips around his cock are the definition of renaissance art to Alastor. He’s almost over the edge now, the head of his cock twitches on top of your tongue as a warning of his approaching orgasm. It’s hard, it’s hot, it’s fast and it’s angry.

Alastor cums, you swallow as much as you can, but he takes his cock out and spills everywhere, coating your hair,  your face. It’s so deliciously erotic Alastor can’t resist catching some of his cum and running his hands throughout your velvet locks, bathing you in his essence, marking you once more. There’s still a bit of cum on the tip of his claw, he feeds it to you, and your lips wrap around his fingers as you take as much of him you can take, gladly. 

“Oh how beautiful you are when you ruin yourself like this for me, my little doe” You look up at him with adoration and a lustful gaze, his eyes hold an equally lustful gaze and… something more. Something that you are sure will drive you insane. 

Alastor notices the pooling mess underneath your tights, he knows how desperate you are for relief, but he still wants to self indulge on you. He’s certain you still don’t understand the reality of what he is feeling. Swiftly he topples you down the corridor’s carpet and places himself between your legs, his crawled finger tearing your lacy panties away. 

Then, he feasts on you like a starving man, and he might be, because you taste like the ambrosia of the gods and he can’t get enough of it. Of how you make a mess of yourself for him and there’s still something for him to take. You just taste so sweet, what a perfect meal your nectar makes. His wicked silver tongue polishes you, aided by your whispered sighs, his name moaned like a prayer on your lips. You are so so close, alastor sucks on your throbbing clit you are already seeing stars, all you need is a gentle push.

 Grinning like a devil, Alastor looks up, tilts his head, gives you the most wicked-and-douchey look in existence. He gets up, your leash dissipating into the air and walks away in perfect composure, like nothing happened. Nothing at all.

“Well, I think that’s my cue!!” he says in his usually chirpy tone. You just stay there, flabbergasted. “I just remembered I still have a lot to do today! Work never stops when you maintain a facility like this in tip-top condition!” Already halfway across the corridor, Alastor’s head turns towards you “Still want to make my day good my dear? Be a doll and clean this mess up, will you?” you just stare at him, too fucking stunned to speak. You can’t believe it. That fucking devil. He’s about to make the turn towards the elevator and disappear when his eyes flash red as he warns you “Oh! and don’t you dare make yourself cum without my permission. If you cum before I say so, you won’t be cumming for a week. Choose wisely!Let’s see who loses control first Ha Ha! This will be fun!”

 Alastor can be a psychopathic demon in heat, but before all that he still is a psychopathic demon who loves torture. 

And he just left you all hot and bothered. 

–

Alastor knew better than believing in such things as heaven or holiness. In fact, Alastor was positively sure nothing was sacred. The concept of sacredness was non-existent in his book.

But his skeptic mind danced on the edge of belief when he touched you. To be inside you felt heavenly, heavenly in a type of way that should not even be allowed in this place. The way your lush body burned underneath his wicked gaze was sacred.The way you always presented yourself to him, with selfless abandon was sacred. Somehow, someone allowed him, of all people, access to a soul he frankly didn’t understand what was doing in hell in the first place. He never was the better man. He was never giving that up.

In all of his nature, Alastor felt the most sinful pleasure in defiling your sacredness. He wanted nothing but to take the heavenly thing you were and taint it with his darkness. 

He was well acquainted to torture and had no shame in inflicting the most delicious and depraved type of it on you ,until all of your holiness was irrevocably marked by him, down to the core of your soul.  Of course Alastor didn’t buy your soul. He didn’t need to use those means to completely own you. He did it effortlessly, because you craved it. Because he craved it.

That’s why the thought of Vox even looking in your way was heretic, and not in a good way. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to Vox. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Period. You were his.

 But adding that man into the equation just made everything more intolerable. The things he would do if he found out about you… Found out that not only you were his but how you could make someone feel. How precious and undeserving of anything less than good you were… 

You were made to be cherished and protected. Protected by him.

 In fact, it took all of the Radio Demon’s willpower to restrain from walking to the Vees building, and kill Vox for something he didn’t do. Because Alastor wouldn’t allow the thought to even cross his mind. All that, a messy display of his desperation and loss of control. Giving that prick the smug satisfaction of knowing somehow he got to him, in his last moments. 

Damn, his rut truly did make him on edge.

Suppressing his murderous thoughts, Alastor focused his mind into something he as actually good at: torture. Yours specifically. He still wanted to punish you for making him feel like this. He still wanted to make you understand.

And he just thought of the sweetest way to do it.

-

After cleaning up the mess on the corridor, and yourself (you did it all on autopilot, still trying to understand what the FUCK happened) you still had to give Angel a satisfaction about why you didn’t come back. You must’ve looked really miserable cause Angel just hugged you really tight and ordered you to bed. When in reality all of your efforts were now focused on masking your humiliating arousal. So you find yourself lying in your bed, trying not to think anything Radio Demon related. You’re totally not thinking about the way he looked at you while he fucked you. The way his eyes would search yours in a crowded room, winking playfully at you. An inside joke. A promise.The way you both playfully banter at the dinner table over silly things. You are also totally not thinking about how he takes you, how you love to hear him saying “good girl” to you after you push your limits again, only for him. Not thinking at all about how his cock fills you so perfectly, you truly feel empty without it. Who’s thinking about what hides behind his eyes when he his voice goes all soft in the middle of a rough fucking? Ha ha!! Definitely not you. 

You punch yourself with your pillow. 

C’mon don’t think thoughts of Alastor now…

You are so fucked, and not in a sexy way. The worst part is that you want to endure it, you want to be good for him. Your pussy is aching to be touched, your mind begging you to have thoughts of Alastor while your pussy is being touched. But right now you would give everything in this world to hear him praise you again. You know how hard his rut is on him… He already carries a lot alone, the Hotel, the doomsday clock of extermination ticking closer and closer everyday. Plus the other things… You know there’s something more, something that haunts his nights, but it’s not your place to ask. Hell, you are too scared to ask. You just hope, you just pray that when it happens you are beside him. You don’t ever expect the Radio Demon to ever ask for help, or open up. Or seek comfort. Oh, he’s anything but comfortable. But you like to think that in time, he would feel comfortable enough around you he could let something slip, a tiny detail to add to your “The Mystery of the Radio Demon” clue board. Something that would let you show him he doesn’t need to pick himself apart, carry all these burdens alone.

Great, you are doing amazing at the “not thinking any Alastor thoughts” game. 

You hug your pillow closer and look across you window as you start saying out loud a list of things you need to do around the Hotel. Maybe this will take your mind off the devil.

Tend to the Venus Fly traps of the gardens. (You could ask Nifty for the bugs)

Write the thank you letters to the new guests that agreed to help with hotel chores.

Tell charlie about your book club idea using cool flashcards 

It’s your turn to organize “Theme nights”, maybe Alastor would enjoy a “great gatsby” theme, right?

Great, Alastor again. You sighed. 

Suddenly a red note written with perfect penmanship flies next to your spot on the bed.

“My darling doe, I’m waiting for you in my chambers.

Don’t take your time, we have much to discuss.-

Yours, Alastor.

You take your time, though, to thank anyone who’s listening as you sprint towards Alastor’s lavish room. You feel dizzy, anticipation like butterflies in your stomach. You don’t have to knock more than once for him to let you in. 

He’s on the edge of the bed, looking like his normal self (as normal as it gets for Alastor)

The taps the spot next to him on the the bed

“Come here, you darling thing!”

you don’t waste a second, and as quickly as you are sitting on his bed, you are sitting on lap. Holding you close, in a vice like grip with one of his arms, Alastor starts talking 

“How was the rest of your day, my dear?” you open your mouth to start talking, you have so much to say to him. That you were a good girl, that you were ready to do anything to make up for laughing at Angel’s stupid idea of seducing Vox. You are ready to beg for your release. to ask how his day was. But you don’t get to utter a word. 

Alastor quickly and swiftly maneuvers you: now your feet are dangling from the bed, your ass and  legs sprawled out across his lap. A powerful arm locking you to him by the small of your back.

Holy fuck.

“Well my day was downright awful! You see I overheard my pretty pet laughing at the prospect of seducing one of my most infuriating enemies. I’m in the peak of my unforgiving rut ,and all I wanted was the shared pleasure of our bodies as I fuck the darling thing senseless!” he pinches the back of your thigh, hard. You blur out a soft, desperate sigh. 

“Of course, the good girl she is, she went begging for my forgiveness. I didn’t fully give it, of course. That was a harsh offense, what my little doe did. But I did have my fill with her” You try to spea-

Alastor audibly shushes you.

“I did leave her all hot and bothered after spilling my cum all over her maddening little body, of course. I contenplated murdering the bastard demon so he wouldn’t get a chance of even knowing about her existence and what she does to me. But I still suffered with the hellish need of fucking her into oblivion, and pondered a lot about divine justice. So, if I had to suffer this entire day because of her offenses I think it’s only right for that darling doe to get her fill of suffering and punishment hmmmm?

 You try to look back to his face, but you feel the familiar sensation of magic wrapping around your throat. The leash, you are so so fucked. You couldn’t be happier about it.

He tugs at the chain, so your skirt rides up and your ass is totally bare for him and your head is buried in one of his fluffy pillows. With a snap of his fingers your panties disintegrate.

You shiver at the thought of what’s happening next, a delicious sensation that flows across your back and ends up inside your cunt, beginning to turn into a wet mess. He’s gonna spank you like the bad girl you were. He’s not going to be gentle about it either. You can’t wait. It’s gonna hurt, it’s gonna sting, it will leave you bruised. It will be deliciously wicked, like all of Alastor’s punishments. 

You feel another surge of magic, behind the powerful green glow something materializes.

Your horsegirl days back on earth don’t let you down. You recognise it instantly. On his previous free hand he’s holding a riding crop. A big, leather pointed riding crop. 

He’s going to literally whip you into submission. You squirm inside his arm. You can’t fucking wait. You’ve made yourself come a few times after the thought of being literally tamed, broke by alastor. 

You whimper. Alastor’s laugh fills the room.

“So this is how this is going to go, pet. I’m going to whip you lovely ass like the ungrateful slut you are and you are going to thank me for it after every crack of the whip. I’m gonna do this as many times as I see fit. Until your ass is as red as my hair. Until you understand what you did. By the time I’m done you will be begging to be punished more. Are we clear?

You can’t look back at him, but you can feel how his red irises make your skin burn. You like to imagine that his eyes did the thing where they soften for a heartbeat, if you blink you miss it. Waiting for your permission, even now. You are able to muffle a “yes, oh please Alastor, yes”. 

“Lovely.” 

crack.

He didn’t even gave you time to process. The whip lands hard on the back of your left thigh. You let out a scream.

“Well?” he asks impatiently as he waits for your “thank you”. Seeing the way the spot where the whip landed turn a lovely shade of scarlet isn’t helping him hold his resolve either.

You wanna do this right, you need this as much as he needs it.

“thank-”

crack. the whip lands on your right thigh, a little lower.

“tha-” 

crack.crack.

 He whips you even harder, cutting the wind as it lands twice on your left buttcheek. Only four cracks down and you are a whimpering mess. You wiggle instinctively on his lap, seeking some friction, some relief. It hurts so bad, but it feels so good. You don’t know if you can take more. You want it anyway. “thank you, thank you” you whimper. Tears wet your face, arousal wets your core adding to the mess from before he even started.

crack. crack.

 He mirrors his movements to your right buttcheek. “thank yo- Holy fuck Alastor”

one more hit, now hitting both of your buttcheks. 

“I’ve told you many times before pet, there’s nothing holy about what I do to you. I’m gonna break you and then breed you. I won’t give you a moment of respite. And maybe by the end, when your legs are shaking from holding that orgasm you have been desperately chasing since this afternoon, I will be merciful and let you find your release. And we will know who’s really losing control here”

How can he do this to you with only his voice? You are not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You’re so wet, you’re staining Alastor’s pants. As close as you will get to marking him.

There’s a draft coming from the forest of his room, it softly kisses your abused skin, making it sting. You want to see the state of your lower body so badly. The way you’re submitting to him right now, the most sweet form degradation possible. Your eyes are clouded with tears, that line between pain and pleasure being blurred in ways only someone like the Radio Demon could cross. He tugs on your leash, to attract your attention from the sinful, unholy sensations you are feeling so openly, back to him.

Alastor drags the leather point of the whip across your throbbing cunt, collecting the obscene amount of wetness there. “By the 7 rings of hell, what do you have here? Are you such a slut that you are creaming at being whipped into compliance? I could do this all night long. Your ass is already red with regret for your actions but I’m not sure you learned your lesson yet.”

crack. The whip this time lands on your juicy cunt. Your hips trash with the sensation, your demon lover’s name escaping your lips like a prayer.You forget to thank him this time, despite your best efforts. 

“Are you so big of an ungrateful brat that you want this sinful punishment to continue? Not even bothering to thank me, in hopes it will end sooner. You know what you are. Nothing but a hungry greedy whore for the Radio Demon” 

crack, crack. One hit on each cheek. “But I already knew that” and with that mocking tone Alastor lands a  masterful final hit on both of your cheeks. He does have a way of proving his point.

You are fucking sobbing now. Tears coat your cheeks, now a colour so vibrant as the rich scarlet the covers your ass. Alastor knows everything that makes you tick. He knows how close you are to cumming. Cumming for only his masterfully inflicted punishment and his voice. Incoherent whimpers leave your lips “please please please” and soft “ohh and aaah, alastor”

He tugs on your leash again, he knows your body like the palm of his hand, and that you are probably entering the mind numbing phase of the pain and the pleasure. But he still wants your undivided attention. He has whipped you into submission, he still needs to fuck you into submission. 

“And you even made the mess of yourself stain my pants! My god, you are pathetic. Delightfully pathetic” 

Alastor gently runs his clawed hands across your ass, the sharp edges making you hiss. He looks in adoration at the masterpiece he inflicted on you. Your ass and thighs a shade of scarlet to rival his hair, the wetness between your thighs a heavenly invitation. Beautiful. Sinful.  Sacred. He will never forget this, and he will make sure that you never forget it too.

“Now, now, we are done with this my little doe” his voice goes extra soft because you can’t see him with your face buried in a soft pillow. “you were so good for me, you always are” 

The softness and sweetness of his praise makes you sob even harder. It’s maddening. 

He gently maneuvers you further into the bed, making space for himself. 

“But now I’m painfully hard, and I still need to bury myself inside that tight throbbing cunt of yours, so deep it will mark. your. soul.” static picks up around you, a delicious omen of what is about to happen. 

Alastor positions himself behind you, immediately entering you and bottoming out. 

His first thrusts are sharp and deep, as to make his promise of marking yourself from the inside real. He pulls your chains so your scarlet ass is presenting itself to him like the most sinful gift. 

Alastor picks up that breakneck pace of fucking, common to him, specially during his rut. He fucks you like he hates you. As hard as he possibly can, to make you know that you are his and his only. That even thinking of someone else, even as a joke, will not be tolerated. You wanted all of him didn’t you? You’ve made that clear, with words, with actions, with the things your body endures for him. So he makes sure to give you that. 

Moans drip from your lips in a crescendo, you are screaming now, you don’t know how long you will last. It feels so good. That delayed gratification drowning you in maddening pleasure. 

“Who do you think is losing control here?” he asks after a painfully sharp thrust. “Me, or the mess of a slut underneath me? That is screaming my name loud enough for the entire pride ring to know how she loves being fucked like a common whore for the Radio Demon,hmm?” 

One hand pulls your leash upwards, the other your hips. He’s even deeper now, you can feel him in your core.

You don’t reply to the question even though you want to, even though you know the answer. 

“Again, since you like being bred like that so much you are not hearing me” he takes all of his cock out and enters you at once. “Who’s losing control here? Me, or my little plaything with the scarlet ass from being whipped into compliance like the pretty little brat she is?” 

You don’t forget to answer him now, you need to cum, desperately. You withheld your building orgasm  for an entire day, you wanted to be good for Alastor. You wanted to be able to take everything he gives you. The pleasure, the pain, the sinful, delicious depraved torture. “Me, I am!” you scream out. 

Alastor’s pace is becoming erratic, you feel the shadows of his growing antlers cover you.

“Again” he tugs at your collars. Another sharp, deep thrust. 

“Me, i’m losing control” 

“And what are you?” his voice is filled with static now, he’s close too.

“Yours! I’m yours Alastor, yours to fuck, to break, to punish” you cry out in sweet pain and pleasure. 

Another tug, Another painfully sharp thrust 

“I’m only yours Alastor” you finish. 

“Good. girl.” he spaces the words out between thrusts, knowing how you relish in them. 

“You can come now” 

Your orgasm comes crashing down. You grip the sheets like a maniac, your legs shaking so hard Alastor needs to hold them in place. You scream so loud you are sure they can hear you in heaven. You hope they can, so they know. So they know this man owns you. So they know you love him. 

Alastor is not far behind, your cunt tightening around him like a vice. He fucks you specially hard and deep know, delayed gratification hitting all at once. He cums so hard inside you, he’s sure he finally marked your soul. The feeling of his cock twitching and spilling inside you, adding to the indescriptible sensation. You are completely over the edge now, you feel weightless, free falling. 

You know Alastor will catch you.

“Ah! There she is” you open your eyes and feel a soft kiss on your cheek. You are lying on top of Alastor’s chest, he cuddles you gently, making lazy circles on your hipbone but still buried to the hilt inside you. He still plans to give you all of his cum, all he has during his rut,after all. 

“woah, that was… amazing” you say after a while.

“Well, I did whip and fuck you to the brink of insanity my dear. And you came so beautifully for me, you passed out. You’re such a sight pet. I will never forget it.” you blush at his words. You feel so happy. 

Alastor kisses your cheek again, and with a final thrust he leaves you with a obscenely wet noise. You are dripping with his cum, it’s running down your thighs, staining the sheets. 

You whimper in complaint. 

“Ah ,don’t be like that” he laughs, is a genuinely happy laugh. “There’s still plenty of where that came from, but I need my darling doe to rest first” he says. He’s lying you gently on the bed as he gets up. “Don’t leave” you whisper. 

He’s out of the bed anyways, and seems to be on his way to do something. You don’t care, you want him back here, holding you. You don't want him to ever let you go.

“Al, i’m truly sorry about today. You know that, right?” You know that I love you, right?  You want to say, but you are scared that confession is a little much for today. You see where he’s headed now. He opens the bathroom door.

“Don’t even think about it, my dear. It’s all water under the bridge” he says in his usual chirpy tone, louder than the noise of the bath running. “Now you just need to promise me that you will never even let the thought of that pathetic demon cross your mind, my love”

my love.

“And if he ever does, you will let me know. So I can fuck those wretched ideas out of your mind” Alastor is walking back to the bed now. He picks you up bridal style and carries you across the room. You can’t help the hiss that escape your lips as your irritated skin touches him. “I know, I know my dear. We will fix that right up. I can’t have my favourite doe hurting. We still have a long way to go until the end of my rut, dearest” you don’t reply, you are just happy. perfectly happy. You could hear Alastor’s voice for days without complaining. “But you did look so perfect with that scarlet ass on my lap. Crying from how much you love what I do to you. I hope you never forget that” 

You both reach the bathtub, he drops you with all the care in the world inside the water.

“I’m so proud of you. I truly am” the water is warm. The soap smells so nice. He lit candles too. You give in to the soothing sensations. You might have tuned out for a bit, cause you hear alastor calling your name so softly… He says it again, slow, soft, gentle, pleading. As to catch your attention, he has something important to say. “You know how precious you are to me, don’t you my little doe?” “yes” you respond, trying to fight the tears that begin to spill down your face ‘

“Oh my darling girl, why are you crying? There’s nothing to cry about. You are here, safe with me. As you will always be, as is your place.”

“Alastor I-I-” your heart swells, you want to say something. You want to say everything you are feeling. How consuming, in the best way possible, your feelings are for him.

But Alastor is always 10 steps ahead. 

“I know, I know darling” he kisses your hand “I feel it too.” he says. It feels like a confession, it sounds like a confession. The look on his eyes is the one of that mystery that hides there every time his voice in the midst of your passion. 

When you,know you know. your mind reiterates. 

“Let me help you dry those tears. Save them for another day” He holds your face and kiss your lips. “The only thing you need to worry about right now is resting and recovering that luscious body of yours, as well as your brilliant, witty mind”

He hands you a sparkly fancy pink soap, and gets up to find the softest sponge he has stored. 

“Now, I hope you like the smell of these candles, cause I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least the next four days!” 

Alastor continues to chat away sweet nothings as he helps you bathe. Maybe it will take a while for the Radio Demon to say those 4 words out loud. He has enough reason for that, inside that beautiful, complicated mind of his. His actions always speak louder than words, your relationship was proof of that. 

Until then, you will always have sacred moments in crowded rooms, you will always have jokes that only the both of you understand. He will always keep sweeping you off your feet in the most deliciously wicked ways possible. 

Right now, you have him by your side after everything that happened, you have his heart too. You are sure of that. So you don’t mind waiting for him.

Good things come for those who wait.

[madameminor]

In More Ways Than One, Part 6 - Bad Batch x F!Reader - Hunter

Summary: You thought it would be a night out. Hunter decides it's finally time for your night in.

Tags: Smutty mcsmutterson. 18+. NSFW. "Basically, all the good stuff."

Warnings: Oral (m/f receiving), sub space, voyeurism, blindfold, bondage, unprotected PiV, anal play, nicknames, mentions of polyamory

EDIT 12/27/2022 Something wasn't sitting right with me, so I updated this chapter changing 'Master' to 'sergeant' on AO3. You kind find the updated chapter here. Whichever you prefer, please continue to enjoy. *bow*

Notes: Y'all. When I tell you that this was a fuckin' journey. When I tell you that this took me months and months of rewriting and scrapping whole plot lines, and perfecting and perfecting until I could not stand the word cock anymore. GUH. And so, so worth it. I give you- the Hunter chapter. This is not the final chapter, I have so much more slutting around in my brain (is that a word? it is now) and it will be glorious. First, though, I'ma take a rest and enjoy the damn holidays. Thank you everyone who cares enough to read, comment, reblog - it all blesses me. I am truly honored. ALRIGHT SHUT UP MADAME GIMME MY PORN. Ok, ok, sheesh. SPECIAL THANKS to @fandumbug and @kaminocasey for being my Beta readers through all 5 months of this!

Word Count: 6K+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 4.5 Part 5 Part 5.5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 9.5 Part 10

Hunter sits at the top of the steps into the Marauder, leaning against the door frame of the hatch and watching ships glide through the faded yellow sky of Brohet. Various droids waddle and wheel around the docking port that houses the wounded ship, sparks flying occasionally from the aft of the exterior as they tinker and toil. Organized insanity in a fairly small space.

His brain isn’t much better, so he feels comfortable.

His talk with Wrecker out on their mission had given him… ideas. Really, really naughty, incredibly hot ideas. Ideas that had been floated casually into conversation- and received very, very well. And now that they were free and clear of danger, albeit banged up, he was free to… meditate on them. He lay his head back against the door frame, trying to focus his thoughts on current events and anchoring him back to reality.

The mission had been a success. The squad had managed to stay intact (minus a shot to Wrecker’s shoulder), free to tell another story of a harrowing escape, but the ship, well, had not been so lucky: the poor Marauder had limped its way into friendly space with way more damage than Echo and Tech could take care of in a timely manner. They had done what they could before heading to Brohet, leaving the rest to the tireless droids here at the dock.

Commander Core, the reg with their current standing orders, was happy to see them alive.

“Just a flesh wound? That's a relief. That one wasn’t easy,” the Commander said with a satisfied sigh. “Glad it was mostly the ship. How long will that put you out?”

‘With this many droids, shouldn’t be more than a night or two,” Hunter reported from behind tented hands and interlocked fingers. “We’ll be on our way by midnight tomorrow, latest.”

The holo-image nodded. “Better than I thought. In that case, take a night in town. Get some good food, sleep in a real bed. You’ve earned it.”

Hunter smiled. You would be pleased. “Is that an order?”

The commander’s laugh was a bark, more jovial than harsh. “HAH. It is now.” He threw a quick informal salute. “Keep out of trouble, I’ll see you when you get here.”

Hunter smirked to himself as he ended the transmission. Didn’t the commander know? His squad was nothing BUT trouble.

He glances over to where his squad waits close by – Tech talking with Echo. Wrecker is benching one of the boxes full of parts despite his injury. Crosshair’s sitting on more boxes, looking up at the sky and chewing away at his toothpick. All waiting patiently for you to grace them with your unarmored presence- even if it took an extra 30 minutes. It was usually quite worth it, and you said you had a new outfit you wanted to wear…

You know, they wouldn’t mind if you kept her in tonight.

Hunter shoos the voice away, sitting up a little straighter. Perhaps they wouldn’t – but he can hold out a bit longer. He’s waiting for something, he doesn’t know what, but he’s patient. He’d know the moment. His instincts have never failed him before, it would be silly to start doubting them now. Reassured, he settles in to wait- just in time to hear footsteps coming from the bunks. Guess it was time.

“Ready to go, Sarge?”

He looks over to you, ready to tease about how he has BEEN ready to-

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the squad pauses as Hunter looks into the Marauder- and freezes. 

Tech glances at Echo, who shrugs before glancing back at their leader. Without looking at them, Hunter throws out the bag of credits they’d be using for the night, caught in midair by Crosshair with a quizzical lift of an eyebrow.

“Sorry fellas. Looks like you’re on your own tonight.” Hunter says, standing up. He glances out at them with a smirk, a satisfied glint to his eyes. “And, uh… probably best you don’t come back til tomorrow.” With that he pulls a lever, the ramp slowly closing and sealing shut with its tell-tale hiss-

And just like that, they’re alone.

There’s silence for a moment…then two…then three…

“FINALLY!” Wrecker exclaims, dropping the box and turning with his hands behind his head, starting to walk out of the docking area. “What’s good to eat around here?” The others follow him, one smirking around a toothpick, one smiling into a data pad (already looking up local fare)- and one chewing his lip, lingering a moment behind before following the rest.

 —--------------------------------------------------------------------------

You weren’t quite sure what to expect when you walked out in this new outfit. 

You knew you looked good. You’d chosen this look because it balanced well- enough skin to feel sexy, but enough fabric to still appropriately represent the G.A.R. The color was one of your favorites to wear because you worked it well. You know that if you’d shown this to your friends at home, that would be cat-calling you all the way to the register. You didn’t know if the boys were really interested in what you wore- you mostly dressed for yourself anyway, but hopefully there was a nod, or a smile, or even a long, appraising look.

So you weren’t sure what to expect - it certainly wasn’t this. 

You had walked out flouncing, flirty, ready to go - only to be completely pinned to the spot by the heated interest of your Sergeant. You couldn’t move as he stood, sent the boys away, closed the hatch. You watched the door to the marauder raise up, sealing away the outside world.

Now Hunter turns to look at you - and the excitement in his eyes makes you shiver. Oh. This is it, that moment he’s been waiting for. And all you can do is stand there.

His eyes t r a c e up your body, gaze caressing everything he sees. He walks up to you without a word, savoring your palpable anticipation. Stars, can he hear how quickly your heart is beating? He’s so close, his hand tracing across your cheek. “Hunter…?…”

His lips find yours, kissing you until you’re up against the wall. One hand weaves into your hair, tightening deep in your roots, not for pain, for control. It’s tight and taut and you’re overwhelmed by the sense of desire, passion, power that pulsates from his body pressing against yours. He releases your lips gently, fingers still tight, his nose to yours. You hear him growl under his breath, against your lips, like he’s savoring the word that rolls off his tongue.

“Mine.”

You have no words, only shivers pooling through your higher brain functions, calming, relaxing, sedating- so that the rest of you can feel, adapt, enliven. He watches your eyes start to glaze over, his domination already taking effect.

“You trust me?” He rumbles against your lips, barely keeping himself from ravaging them.

“Yes, sir.” You aren’t doing much better. Your body begs against his, baser desires sending pheromones dancing through the air. His eyes narrow with dark, roiling lust, his other hand tracing up to your neck and gently pressing against your throat. You moan as your head falls back towards the grip in your hair, begging him to continue. 

His voice wrestles with restraint. “Safeword?”

“Meiloorun-,” you squeak. And without thinking... “-Master.”

His eyes flick to yours, and where you were afraid there would be distaste, there is only surprise- surprise that cools into a simmering, delighted satisfaction. 

“Say that again. My title.” 

“...Master.”

His hand pulses tighter around your throat, pushing out a wanton moan. He growls through a grin,watching you beneath him.

“Sounds so perfect when you’re so… breathless.”

He kisses you once more, slower, more possessive, back under his own control. You feel his smirk as he pulls away from you, releasing you from his grip- but not before looking down into your eyes and commanding- “Show me what you wore for me.”

You almost whimper as he releases you and sits in the cockpit chair just behind him, eyes dark, hungry, ready. Only training keeps you from falling at his feet and begging him for more. That- and the blossoming burning desire to please him.

He’s removing his gloves, eyes still trained on you. You let everything fall back the way it looked pre-ravishing, feeling the stroke of his eyes as you start to turn for him, relishing in his attentions.

“Beautiful,” he muses behind you, with true reverence in his voice. You smile as you finish your turn, basking in such simple praise.

“Thank you, Master.” So SO keen to please him, to feel him press up against you again…

“Now. Take it off.”

The tone in his voice leaves no room to do anything different. Hands drift to undo zippers and buttons, hinting at more flesh with each release of fabric. Making sure he’s watching, you slowly turn your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you let it all drop, leaving nothing but the lace panties you bought for shoreside framing your ass the way it looks best.

His sharp intake of breath sends your sub side simpering- he liked that. You turn back around to await further orders, and to let him stare at what belongs to him.

His gaze lingers, taking you in, relishing in what he sees. His eyes soften, though still filled with heat. He holds out his hand to you, inviting you forward. You take it carefully, feeling his warm, rough skin enveloping yours. He pulls you on top of him- thighs straddled, arms on his shoulders, face inches away. He gently strokes the side of your face with his fingertips, thumb stopping at your bottom lip as his hand curls to gently hold your chin.

He kisses you possessively, gently biting your lower lip as he pulls you in closer. With a whimper you let your tongue seek entry, and he grants it. Shivers overwhelm you at the feeling of his tongue meeting yours, the tenderness burning to passion with a satisfying flood of pleasured moans. His fingers trace over your body, your thighs, your lower cheeks and up to your back- your hips, against the swell of your breasts. Every curve feels seen and caressed by his steady hands, massaging, tracing, kneeding, in more ways than one. So careful and caring and kind, taking their pleasure so patiently…

But you want MORE. And you’re starting to get impatient.

You find the clips of his breastplate, craving his bare skin beneath yours – only to feel his hands take yours, pulling you away from him despite your  petulant whine. His look is stern, but not unkind.

“Not yet. Knees.”

You try not to pout, you really do, but you want him now. He raises an eyebrow, and the thought of his displeasure cows you immediately. You reluctantly move to slide between his thighs, his strong arms balancing you until your knees find the cool durasteel. His near-smile is almost reward enough, hand caressing the side of your face as you settle. You lean into it, dreading to be so far away from your Master’s warmth.

“That’s my girl,” he reassures you. But there’s a glint in his eye. “Your turn to watch.”

Your hands clench where they’ve come to rest against his thigh plates. Your punishment for getting impatient? Just to watch?

He starts to take off his upper body armor, a piece at a time – not as a show, but not in a rush. You watch his languid movements as he finally pulls off his under armor shirt, revealing his tawny colored torso, his muscles flexing in the low light as he slides the shirt up, over, and onto the ground. You catch your breath at the rippling, one hand moving forward reflexively to touch him before you stop yourself, pulling your hand back towards your chest.

He can feel your excitement at watching him, can’t he? His smile is small, recognizing your obedience. He leans back into the chair, hands finding a place to rest over his head, leaving him bare under your gaze.

“Go on.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his for a moment, confirming his permission. Gently, lovingly, you slide your hands over his stomach and up to his chest, following the valleys of his muscles. He’s so gorgeous like this, so perfect. So kissable. You bring your lips to the center of his chest, trailing delicate kisses down to his belly button, nuzzling between the bumps of his abdomen. His chest lifts in a satisfied sigh. His hand slowly cards through your hair as you revere him, worship him, glancing up to see him hungrily watch you lavish everything that he is.

You trace his stomach with your hands, tracing the outline of muscles as they lead down to his groin. Beautiful. Sculpted. Breathtaking. You can feel the warmth pooling in your low belly as you lean forward to kiss along the valleys between muscles. Your kisses drift lower, meeting fabric and plastoid.

You look up to where he’s watching you, one hand on the head rest, the other still in your hair. He nods, granting you permission. Your fingers find the clips holding his codpiece in place and deftly free them with a click, moving the plastoid piece to the pile next to him with eyes still fastened to the bulge kept at bay by black fabric. You carefully pull back the pliant material, his cock springing eagerly to your hand.

Your breath catches as you take in the most intimate part of him. You look past it to him. He smirks, satisfied with your interest. You gently take him in your hand with an experimental pump or two, reveling in the quiet gasp hissing through his teeth at the contact. His pleasure sends your whole pussy aquiver, the shiver running up and through you.

You start where you can, licking the tip clean with your tongue, looking up at him to make sure he’s watching his good girl taste him for the first time. Oh the pleasure in those delighted eyes as he watches you taking the head into your mouth, tongue snaking down and around his ridges and veins.

Your tongue traces up his frenulum as you openly lavish his cock, taking him into your mouth and slowly sinking down his shaft, letting him feel your soft lips envelop him. He swears under his breath while he watches, hands gripping the head rest above him to let you work unmolested.

You start to bob at a gentle pace, hand following close behind your mouth for added pressure, slicking him with your spit, clenching as you think about riding him just like this. Your head starts to move faster, hungry to taste more of him, to have him inside of you, the first time he fills you. You quicken your pace at the thought, moaning, caring little for how you look or sound, solely focused on enjoying the grunts and strained moans coming from above you.

“Look at me.”

You look at him, unwilling to slow down, you want it so bad. 

“Yes, like that. Good girl.”

 He holds your head up by your hair and starts to thrust on his own, groaning up to the ceiling before bearing down on you again. His breath quickens, his hand tightens. You look up to him with pleading eyes. He’s so close, so close to giving you what you want so desperately.

He meets your eyes, bucking up against your uvula. “I’m going to cum. You’ll be good and take it all, won’t you? For me?”

You whimper around his cock in reply.

With a deep breath you open your throat and let him in. He cums with a strangled groan, thrusting each time as far as he can, your nose touching flesh. His heavy breathing fills the space around you as his thrusts get shorter and shorter, eventually stilling with a satisfied sigh. You slowly slide up and off, bobbing your head once as a parting gift, before releasing him.

There’s almost a growl as one hand grips your chin. He leans forward to kiss you, capturing your tongue with his, tasting himself on you. You mewl into it, trying not to gasp as his other fingers find your vulva, tracing through the juices practically weeping from your pussy.

“I could hear you clenching.” He growls against your lips, still held to him by your chin. “Could smell how wet you were getting from taking my cock like that.”

You can only buck into his hand, his fingers wetting themselves as one starts to slide into you. His grip on your chin keeps you from looking away, his eyes holding yours as you moan out his title. “Master-”

An incoming com beeps from the pile of armor. Without removing his finger from inside you, he releases your face to answer it.

“Echo.” Calm, not angry, eyes back to yours while he slowly pumps the finger in you.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, Tech insisted on sending food, wouldn’t bring it himself. I’m leaving it here on some supply crates by the front.”

Hunter’s eyes glint, a flash for only you to see. “You’re inside the docking bay?”

“Yes sir, food is just inside to the left.”

“Let me make sure I see it.” The hand with the live com braces against your hip, but his other hand doesn’t move from your pussy. He lifts you up, sitting you on his lap, facing away from him- then he spins, and you’re facing outside the ship. And looking right at Echo.

You see him go still as he realizes what’s happening, what he’s seeing. Your face begins to burn, but so does your pussy, living for the look of desire that is slowly surfacing on your lover’s face.

“Perfect, I see it.” Hunter says into the com, his hands strangely absent, probably relishing how this is making you feel. “Do me one more favor, keep her distracted.”

Wait, what?

You barely see the red of his bandana before it clamps over your eyes. Your body tenses at how intensely everything is magnified- you can smell the sex in the air, Hunter’s scent, can taste him on your lips. You can feel his warmth behind you. So warm, so solid. He pulls you back against him, fingers returning to your soaked hole, and you suddenly remember: Echo is watching. Echo is watching.

You hear a thump, the com landing on a neighboring seat, his warm hand returning to hold one of your thighs up, his lips nestled by your ear.

“He’s still standing there, watching you take me.” You hear the smirk in his voice as his fingers trace through your lips, spreading them for his own access. “Can’t look away.”

You clench with a gasp- he’s still watching, wanting to watch you taken by his Sergeant- “it makes you even more beautiful.” Fingers slide into you, gently working against your tender spots, pumping through your slick.

Hunter’s own lust starts to take over. “I left the com line open,” he says, with a nip to your ear lobe. “Tell him how good it feels.”

Your head falls back with a moan. Is this really ok? “S-So good. Master’s fingers feel so good, Sir. Pumping me open like this…”

Kriff, Hunter likes this too, you can hear it in his voice, feel it against your lower back. “Do you like him watching you?”

Even more beautiful. You give in, letting him work you open for all to see. “Y-yes I love when he sees me taking you like this. Sees me taking our sergeant like this.” Kriff you are so close so quickly just by him watching.

“Good. Say his name, then.” You can hear the lewd wet of his slick fingers over your moaning whimpers as they pump you to completion. You had no idea you could fly this high.

“Echo…” you cry, nearly in tears as you feel yourself start to cum. “Echo, please, it feels so good. Please watch me cum on his fingers, Echo!”

Quietly, over com, you hear a fevered plea dressed up as a command. “Cum for him, cyar’ika…”

You cry out as you cum, clenching in spasms around the fingers working you through, imagining wide, lust-blown, amber eyes from a pale face aching to see more- 

Fingers slow as you come down before withdrawing, leaving you panting in warm, safe arms. 

“You did very well, mesh’la,” Hunter says into your hair. You whimper in reply, curling up against him, face buried in his neck. He raises his voice, tone amused. “Thanks for the assist, corporal.”

The reply is strangled, overwhelming desire in its throes. “Of course.” 

The com line closes.

You feel Hunter spin the chair around and pick you up in his arms. You cuddle, panting, into his chest as he stands, making his way to the back of the ship- to your bunk.

You’re lain down in your bed, warm lips finding yours to settle you, reassure you, pressing you into the mattress. Your fingers nestle in his hair, strangely bandana-less, perfect for you to hold while nuzzling in this brief mid-after care. 

Very brief. “Master?” You whisper against his kiss, enjoying the feeling against your lips

You feel him smile. “More?”

“More, please.”

You feel him take your hand and place it on the small of his back.

“I’m taking off the rest of my armor. Don’t break contact. Keep your hand on me.”

You do as you’re told, imagining what he must be doing from the sounds in your ears- sitting on the edge of the bed, his boots, his knee pads, his thigh gauntlets, his under armor…

Then he’s turning toward you, your hand taken and kissed before being guided over his shoulder as his warm skin slides over yours, his mouth gently trailing kisses from your collar bone up your neck. A small cry escapes you. You can’t help the quiet noise at such a gentle touch so magnified- kisses trailing up to your ear.

His fingers are in your hair again, gently moving your head to face away, lips finding the crook of your neck with teeth just behind. You can’t stop the wanton gasp as he nips- not strong enough to leave a mark, but enough to make you buck against him, grinding up against where your pelvis meets the top of his. “Master…”

He takes a deep breath, face burying itself in your neck. “I know, pet. You just smell…amazing.”

Far be it from you to be the one to keep him from his pleasure. 

He holds your hands up above your head as his lips seek yours. “Crosshair told me you might need… a bit of help at showing restraint.” Fabric slips over your hands, firmly tightening around your wrists- not enough to hurt, but enough to know you aren’t going anywhere. You whimper lightly, testing your bonds, but he’s there at your ears, at your neck, kissing, soothing. “I’m here. You trust me?”

“Y-Yes Master.”

With your hands safely secured above your head his kisses start to trail down, nuzzling among your breasts, nipping at their curves, eliciting tiny wiggling whimpers before continuing towards your belly button. The contrast between smooth and sharp has you twisting in your bonds, testing their hold on you and attesting to your Master’s skill with knots. It becomes harder to stay still as he kisses lower, nips softer, until he’s just above your panties, soaked through, still trying to do their one job. You feel the wet of his tongue over the fabric separating him from your lower lips, your head falling back in a longing moan.

He raises your legs up so your lingerie is lifted off- but he doesn’t let them come back down. Instead you feel fabric wrapping behind each knee, legs spread not uncomfortably, but definitely not demurely. As he leans away, your legs stay where they are- tied up and open. Your pussy pulses with nervous, aching excitement.

There’s silence for a moment.

“M-Master?”

“Still here, pet. You just…you look stunning like this.” His voice sounds heavy with desire. “Good enough to eat.”

As if to emphasize his point, you feel lips on the inside of your thigh, one hand based just below you as you feel him slide his body down before you, his warm breath finding its way in kisses down towards your weeping pussy. You grab your wrists’ bonds to help you stay still, hips aching to buck, to entice him lower, where you crave him the most, where you need him the most.

“Your smell is just…” a kiss at your hip, “It’s always been just…” a nip at your inner thigh, “Stars know how I was able to resist you for this long…” his nose nudging your clit ever. so. gently.

-You feel him taste your pussy, yelping at the pleasured intensity of his tongue amid your folds, your head thrown back as he starts to devour you thoroughly. His fingers tighten around your thighs, pulling your hips closer to him. “Karking hell, you taste amazing. Knew you would.”

Something about not being able to see, to touch, makes you louder, makes you so much more reactionary. You scream, you moan, you cry, you try not to buck up against him, but its so hard when he knows just how to ride your gyrating hips.

Without meaning to, you come once, then twice in quick succession, almost incapable of stopping the blissful waves crashing through you as his tongue tastes inside of you. You feel what must be him rutting into the standard issue mattress supporting you both, like he could cum by just eating you out so thoroughly. His tongue lavishes your clit, fingers gently returning to your messy hole to stretch it even more, curling up to hit that unreal point of pleasure that sends you crying into your third orgasm. You feel yourself gush over his fingers, feeding his ravenous moans. “That’s right pet, good girl, give me another one.” Then he’s fucking you with two fingers, opening you, hitting as deep as he can while his mouth closes around your clit, slightly pulsating you through to a fourth.

Thank the gods for these bonds- you’re limp and boneless, unable to do anything but feel. And there’s so much to FEEL. Endless pleasure, pleasure without end. With your nerves so focused like this, you feel you could fly forever.

You can feel his finger start to trace over your lower hole, soaked with your own juices. You gasp as his digit presses against the ring of tightened muscle while his mouth continues to lavish your lower lips. Its strange, but not unpleasurable. Slowly, carefully, he slides his finger inside of you, kissing against your thigh.

“Relax, pet. I’ve got you. Just my finger today.” You moan at the sensation of him starting to slide in and out of your ass, taking you with your own wet and opening you up for his use, his pleasure. You relax around his finger with a groan, giving in to being completely at his mercy, under his control. Nervous energy falls away as you let your legs relax into your bonds. Your moans sound in tandem with his thrusts, your hips moving to meet each pulse as you relax around the new size.

You feel him kiss the inside of your thigh, breath heavy, a growl emerging as he watches you take his whole finger deeper with every thrust. “You’ll take all of us in here before long, won’t you? Let us take you two, even three at a time?”

“Y-Yes, Master, oh please don’t stop, Master I’m going to come with you like this.” He laps at your pussy with renewed hunger, eager to taste you gush again. Fuck, his finger, his tongue, his pumping, his presence, its so much, its so damn much and it feels so amazing and you’re about to fly so high you swear you may never come down-

You feel him groan against your pussy, voice lust-laden and needy. “Karking hell, woman, your pleasure feels so damn GOOD.”

You feel your whole body convulse around him, his fingers, this feeling- The moaning cry comes from deep in your throat, whole bodied, unabashed and raw, a cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure as you cum for the fifth time. 

His fingers leave both holes relaxed and empty, almost sated- until you feel his cock at your entrance, slicking himself in your wet. His voice is a low growl, speaking to himself more than you.“Don’t think that I’m done yet. Fuck, do you feel how hard I am? How much I love watching you give yourself to me so completely?” He groans into his words.

In the silence that follows, filled only with your mutual panting, you feel him breach you, starting to push in, one wet inch at a time, stretching you to take all of him. “Master… MASter! Oh gods, so big. You’re so big!”

 He bottoms out with a gruff moan. “Fuck so tight, and you sucked me right in. Pussy so hungry for my cock, aren’t you?”

The darkness around your eyes lifts as his bandana is thrown to the floor- you’re looking up at your Master, his eyes so dark with lust and pleasure, all for you. His clean hand cups the side of your face as he starts to fuck into you, breath heavy with groaning, his forehead pressed to yours, his lips hot and hungry as his tongue plunders your mouth. Tied up as you are you can’t reach out to him, only let him take you, plunder you for your sweetness, for his pleasure. He emerges panting, thrusts still slow but strong. He groans through his teeth, head falling to your neck, fingers wrapped in your hair as he picks up the pace, frantically pulsing into you as hard as he can.

He’s hitting you right there, right karking there, just the way you need it to build up again, and as you feel yourself shudder into your orgasm, your body starts to unravel. “Gods I’m coming I’m coming sir it feels so good I can’t stand it Master I’m falling apart I’m coming so hard Master please.” You’re crying with the sheer intensity of it, the joy and pleasure of cumming around his length hitting you in a spot almost unreachable, tears running down through your hair as you surrender to this man, this Master of yours who can make you feel so fucking alive by just obeying orders. He comes with a growling cry, pounding in to you as far as he can go, hot seed coating your eagerly waiting walls. You’re frantically panting as your orgasm rolls on and on, the two of you coming together longer than you thought possible. You’re whimpering, completely losing all composure, bonds catching you as you melt.

And then there are his lips against yours, loving, kind, gentle, finding your pieces and putting them back together again, moving gently in you to be sure you’re riding out your high. A kiss that reaches down to your toes, claims you body and soul with its affection. His forehead stays to yours as you both breathe into each other, feeling the other coming down off of the blissful ride you both took.

He cups your face, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb.

“I want to hold you. Let me untie you?”

You lick your lips, checking in to hear what your body needs. “…Yes, please. Just… don’t pull out yet?”

His eyes soften, grateful you’re asking for what you want. He presses his forehead to yours again. “Of course, mesh’la.” He stays leaned against you, holding you to him while he gently unties your wrists with a quick pull. He kisses them as they’re released from their bonds, making sure you see with your eyes the care he is giving to them. He places your hands on his chest while he leans back, lightly tugging on the bonds at your knees, carefully guiding each back down to your bed, massaging them gently to ease any soreness. Only then does he pull out, slowly, so you have time to adjust

He lets his body press against yours, grounding you while you come down, staying calm, present, aware. Your eyes flutter as your body starts settling in, your brain high on the plethora of chemicals swirling around. You breathe him in, the smell of him heady and soothing as you settle into the calming gravity of his presence. You reach up to touch his face, tucking his hair behind his ear and tracing lines over his tattoo.

Its hard to say anything. You don’t WANT to say anything. What do you say after something like that? The words you think to use are…too soon, probably motivated by the space you’re emerging from. So all you do is gaze, tracing his tattoo, memorizing every line of his face. He smiles, kissing your hand and leaning into it.

“Do you need anything?”

Your eyes search his face, evaluating, taking stock of how you are. You can’t help but smile at your own answer.

“Just you.”

Hunter smiles, feeling your heart slow. He settles beside you, clean hand pulling up covers and caressing skin. “Right here, your majesty.”

You turn on your side and lean fully into his chest, breathing in his calming presence, kissing whatever skin you find, unable to stop showing adoration for this man lying before you. Right here, right now, you can feel it - he’s yours here. Not your Sergeant, not your Master, just Hunter, pulling you to him, longing for you, only satisfied with your touch. He kisses you from his heart, reaching down into your soul to fill you, caress you. He nuzzles you, whispering softly for only you to hear.

 “Mine.”

Verbally its a declaration, but he’s asking you. His, for his brothers, for his squad. His to care for, his to protect. You’ll follow him because you trust him, and he’ll let you because he trusts you. For life, or at least, however long it works.

You don’t have to think long about your answer.

“Yes, sir. All yours.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s several hours before either of you can pull away. You talk, you laugh, you share your feelings and insights and previous misgivings, but you don’t pull away. Something that intense is almost magical, and you can’t help but feel claimed. More claimed than bite marks on your neck, or claimed in front of your peers. Claimed down to your soul. All of them are with you now, the circle complete. A strange commitment, an unspoken vow. Hunter was the final seal on your heart. 

Gross. How are you even thinking like this?

You mention it to Hunter, and he laughs along with you. Mushy? Maybe. 

True? Definitely.

“Why do you think we did it this way, your majesty?” He smirks into your hair.

You snuggle in closer, feeling his heart beat against your nose. “I like that you still call me that.”

His voice is amused. “You think I wouldn’t?”

“Well��” How could he, after everything that just happened?

"Hm. I still enjoy that part of you, mesh’la. That won’t change. I just…” His hand squeezes around your thigh, his voice growing a shade darker. “like you on your knees too.”

You receive it all with a delighted gasp. Everything you could have wanted.

“Hunter,” you look up at him, struggling for the right words as he waits with a smile. Taking your time, that's what you had both just enjoyed so thoroughly. But how could you say what you wanted to say without leaping ahead? What were the words you wanted?

Mmm. Those will do.

“...I’m happy,” you beam up into his eyes. “I’m really, really happy.”

He smiles back, nuzzles you, kisses your waiting lips with his forehead to yours. 

“Us too, pet. We are too.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Echo left his brothers downstairs. It had been hours and he still couldn’t get the sound of your cries out of his head. Fuck, it was so hot, thinking about what you were doing with Hunter, but HEARING part of it was… SEEING part of it was… it didn’t help that he was drunk now, imagining what you were going to look like in the morning, hearing the boys talk about how you squealed, or how your eyes rolled back, or how you tasted.

He couldn’t hold it anymore- he feigned exhaustion, “too drunk”, to get away to his room. He didn’t even bother taking off his armor, just unfastening his codpiece as he lay in his bed, grateful for his own space tonight.

He played the snippet that he’d caught from Hunter’s com, unable to hear it without touching himself any longer. Fuck you were cumming now, cumming for him again. He groaned, as he feverishly pumped his cock.

“That’s right cyar’ika. Oh kriff yes, that’s right, be good for me cyare and cum. Let him make you come, come on cyare, that’s it, that’s my cyare, cum for me again baby. FUCK you’re doing so good, one more for me baby, one more. Let me hear him take you higher one more time. Thaats it, good girl cyare, that’s my cyar’ika. Fuck I’m going to… just like that cyare, let me cum listening to him fuck you so good. My cyar’ika getting fucked…so…good…’

He came with a shudder, making a mess all over his hand and his hips. He breathed deeply, letting himself enjoy the moment before the embarrassment settled in. He hadn’t told anyone but you how hot it was to think of you with other men.

But Hunter knew. Of course Hunter knew. And he’d used it to such amazing ends. But was it… really ok? How much he loved to see you moaning for him at the other end of a brothers soaked fingers…

He felt his dick stir again and he started ripping off his armor, desperately getting himself to the fresher.

It was going to be a very long night.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

What up, tag list? It's been a minute...

@nunanuggets @in-the-crosshairs @mywheezingisalertingtheguards @allhailkingboba @valiantlyminiaturecreature @ladykatakuri @ben-is-a-hoe @klay97 @kaitou2417 @dumfanting @kuromisheart @koifish08 @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @badbatch-simp24 @pointy-sharp @rainytears2 @gabile18 @nedxwynert @chopper-witch @nightscissor

[teecupangel]

Writing this as my pinned post since I have a bit of free time anyway.

Introduction:

Hi. You can call me teecup or angel. This is primarily my AC and writing tumblr blog.

I post my fics in AO3 as teecup_angel.

I also have this tumblr blog that’s mostly me reblogging other stuff and very rarely I post something personal, I guess.

I have a twitter too but I haven’t used it in… I wanna say nearing a year? Maybe??? Yeeaaahhhh…

I’m currently writing fics for Assassin’s Creed and my primary focus is Desmond Miles because he deserves better.

Warnings:

I will pair Desmond with anyone (and I mean anyone) and my OTP is AltDes. I also do write gen so if you want to look at my tumblr but you don’t ship Desmond with any of his ancestors, I suggest blocking the following tags (altdes, ezides, condes, haydes, eddes). I also use those tags even when it’s just hinted at just to be safe.

While I cannot stop any minor from looking at this blog, please note that this may contain nsfw posts and I curse like a repressed catholic who was not allowed to curse when they were young. Also, I use 'dumbass' affectionately.

For Asks and Requests:

My ask box is open for nonnies and I try to answer every ask I get unless they specify that they want to keep it private.

Also, if you left me a suggestion or request in AO3, I do try to keep notes of them.

If you do request something or just leave me a plot idea, the most you’ll get from me would be a rambling of how it could work and possible subplots we can add to it. I tend to write whatever strikes my fancy and I’m hesitant in posting too many wips in AO3. Here on tumblr though… short fic and drabbles galore. The only reason why I wouldn’t answer your ask is if I couldn’t get to it in time as I allot a specific time for all asks and reblogs I get. If you don’t see it answered, it only means I’ll get to it next time.

I'm also fine with anyone using any of the posts/fic here or in AO3 to write or draw something as long as the post is linked and I'm informed :)

Also, you can request any crossover ideas with Assassin’s Creed and I’ll find a way to kick Desmond into it. I am a big believer of Desmond is the ultimate isekai protagonist. XD

Concerning the tags of this tumblr:

I got lazy later on in tagging posts I reblog (mostly fanworks from other people) but:

Any ask I answer will have the tag: #ask and answer or #submission for long asks.

Any fic idea I write will have the tag: #teecup writes/has a plot or/and #fic idea: assassin's creed (note: this one usually does not get used for any reblogs with additional ideas so I guess check the reblogs and the replies? This also sometimes does not get used if I'm butting in on other people's posts because it kinda feels wrong to add it? I know I should add a different tag for that but we'll see if I do down the line XD)

Headcanons and analysis (they're sometimes the same???) have #teecup analyze more than necessary and/or #headcanon: assassin's creed

Sometimes I make edits with varying success of humor: #teecup edits (sometimes I do screw up use '#teecup edit' instead XD)

I also draw rarely: #teecup draws

AO3 Stuff:

At the moment (and this part will be updated if necessary), the following have a weekly Monday update:

Eagle of Alamut (Desmond gets thrown back to 12th century Jerusalem in his 16-year-old body, endgame: AltDes)

I also sometimes suddenly post sometimes 2 or 3 more fics all at the same time and it’s kinda my modus operandi to 'coincide' it with important AC dates.

(Also, for those asking me if I need a beta, yeah, most probably but then I would be obligated to remove the "No Beta We Die Like Desmond" tag and the tag is too funny for me to give it up. XD I'd appreciate any comments that tell me if I've written something wrong though, especially the non-English words I sometimes use.)

[staceymcgillicuddy]

annual writing self-evaluation

Thanks to @astorytotellyourfriends for the tag - I didn't do this last year!

1. List of works published this year (in the order that they were posted):

If She Lived in Space, Man, I'd Build A Plane crimson & clover pulling overtime model citizen; zero discipline what you give just serves me right two jack trippers and a chrissy perception check all my kinktober fills a hollow tree

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Gosh, that's hard. I'm proud of all of them for different reasons, and I have issues with all of them for different reasons. I guess I would say "what you give just serves me right" makes me happy, and was something I had to push myself to do, but I was pleased with how it turned out in the end.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

I hate that I have two fics out that I haven't updated in ages! I am not proud of that! And there are a few things in all of them that I'd tweak.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Oh golly. Alright, from a hollow tree, which was my Halloween fic featuring Lilith!succubus!Chrissy:

Fog slips into the van when he opens the door. A mist so thick it’s disorienting as he drops to the ground, and the shape of a girl forms itself out of the gloom.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

Almost every single regular commenter on Soul makes my heart sing and my panties drop, and I'm so sorry my brain is being stupid right now.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Right goddamn now. It's like squeezing blood from a fucking stone, and I have no idea why, but everything comes out strained and blechy and I hate it, and I refuse to inflict it on anyone else so I'll just sit like a lump, churning out crap and never showing it to anyone.

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

Genuinely did not think that I would get so into the Hopper/Chrissy/Eddie dynamic as I did when I wrote it as a crackship as part of kinktober. But, like, I could get DOWN with that shit.

Also, Hellcheerington surprised me. Oh, and writing Eddie's dad for Soul was weirdly cathartic? I was determined to make him a person and not a collection of cliches, which was easier said than done. I think I got there, in the end. Hope so, anyway!

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I didn't, I fucking regressed. Or, no, not really. I pushed myself a bit, tried to get sharper and cleaner with some prose. Read some theory books, worked on my rhetorical devices, forced myself to kill a couple darlings along the way (but not all the darlings, god damn it).

I also published a book, so yay?

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I'd like to get back to writing original fiction. I've been in a slump with that, too, because it doesn't have the instantaneous feedback that fanfic does. I want to split my time between fic and pro writing stuff, and I want to be very realistic about how much mental energy my real job takes up. When I used to write like a madwoman, I didn't have the role I currently do, which is a senior project manager leading a team, working mostly with executive-level staff. Don't get me wrong, my job pisses me off a lot, and stresses me out, too, but it pays well and we live in a shithole of a society where money matters in the grand scheme of things.

So, like, I guess I hope to grow as a writer in writing even when my brain doesn't want me to, or it doesn't feel great to do so.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Freaking Shirley Jackson, man. That bitch can write.

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

I'm always putting kinky shit I see or experience at the bdsm club into my fic. I am as God made me.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Everything is made up and the points don't matter. Stop comparing yourself to other authors. Turn off stats on your AO3. Write what you fucking want and quit worrying if other people are going to like it.

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I'm going to be so, so glad when Soul is done because I love it so much but it is also the millstone around my neck.

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

@binickandros, @pipergirl17 and @phoenixwrites please!

[salvador-daley]

Chained ⛓ NEW CHAPTER

A Klaus Hargreeves murder mystery

A/N: Not me making you wait two months for an update. Sorry folks, my personal life has been kinda nuts lately and I’ve not had the time or brain capacity to focus on writing as much as I’d like. However, I am still chipping away at this story and the result is this fully loaded chapter which is CHOCKFULL of clues.

Many thanks to @ramblingluna aka @helunar1 for the absolutely glorious artwork, which I have been saving especially for this chapter. And thanks as always to @allisoooon for the patient beta read and unbending support. 😘😘

Thanks so much for reading and remember: your comments and kudos mean the world to me (and help to keep the writer’s block at bay) so please do lemme know your thoughts and theories.

Snippet from Chapter 28 Nancy Drew:

Klaus returns the glare for a moment longer, remembering the time he won a staring contest with a particularly pugnacious Yorkshire terrier that time he attempted to steal meds from a vet’s office and somehow ended up in the quarantine kennel.

But then the discomfort becomes unbearable and he can hold it in no longer. “Can I help you with something, Inspector Clouseau?”

Wesson nods, mostly to herself. “That’s a great question, Mr Hargreeves. A great question.” She reaches into a leather messenger bag by her side and pulls out a white spray bottle, placing it on the table in front of them. “Do you know what this is for, Mr Hargreeves?”

Klaus looks at it. The bottle has a label. Red writing, lots of warnings. Something scientific. Although he can’t make out the whole name from this angle, it looks like surface spray. He shrugs. “Cleaning your bathroom?”

Wesson reaches forward and wraps her hand around the bottle, squeezing it in her big fist. “This,” she says, “is a chemical called luminol.” She holds the bottle up to her face and admires it, turning it in her hand as she speaks. “Great little invention. It allows us to see traces of blood, even when it’s been cleaned up.”

Klaus gulps.

Ben looks at him.

Wesson continues. “We used this all over Mr Templeton’s house and do you know what we found, Mr Hargreeves?”

He knows what she found. He can’t let her know that though. He tucks his arms even tighter around his body and slouches against the red leather of the booth, cocking his chin at her in a way he hopes comes across as confident and defiant and not at all guilty as sin. “No? Surprise me.”

“Bloody footprints. All the way down the stairs. In the hallway, in the bathroom. Traces of blood all over his shower. We found blood on the door handle, on the nightstand. We even found it in the sink.”

Klaus decides to switch to his preferred tactic; feigned idiocy.

It works every time.

Well, it works some of the time.

It works about 30 per cent of the time, if he’s being honest.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean to me, hmmn?”

Wesson lowers the bottle and leans in, penetrating him with her stare now.

He thinks of the dog at the vet’s office. How Klaus had poked his head through the doggie door and the beast had bared its teeth at him, its tiny body shaking all over with unchecked rage.

“It means,” she growls, “that someone was in the room when Mr Templeton died. That they were there when his throat was cut. That they got all covered in his blood and that afterwards they attempted to clean it up.”

Klaus freezes.

Ben’s eyes dart from Klaus to Wesson to Klaus again.

Wesson is still holding his gaze, attempting to snap him open, to break him like a dry twig.

He waits a beat.

“Have you ever seen Heat?” he asks. “Amazing film. Robert deNiro at his best.”

Read the rest on AO3

Tagging in the hopes you might reblog please pretty please: @badsext @softforklave @anglophile-rin @neist @purblzart @maerenee930 @firstpersonnarrator @allisoooon @cemeteryklaus @super-unpredictable98 @courtneytarynofficial @mokolataddict @pickledbeefwastaken @love-is-dirty-baby @rina-cydonia @inspiremeandsetmefree @jender123 @vonkimmeren @sylvertyger @merrilark @rob-private @pietro-t1me @not-oscar-wilde @squishitude

[thesploink]

The 2nd Post

Hi, Its been 2 years since my last real post. So I've decided to compile a bunch of the work I've done, Finished or Not and post it here.

VIP_Miami (Unfinished, Scrapped)

VIP_Miami was a map made for Team Fortress 2 Classic inspired by Gorge set between 2 hotels. This map was a test to see how urban, art decor could possibly look in the Team Fortress Style. This map ended up being cut due to being overscaled and messy. Playtesters did comment they liked the gazebo first point so I might return to that idea again sometime.

Koth_Crossover (Released)

A collaboration between me and the talented Gamingcam. We both set out to create Pre-Fortress 2's flagship map for the 0.7 update. Gamingcam handled the layout and initial art passes, while I mostly cleaned it up and overhauled the color palette to make the map more friendly and inviting.

Koth_Crossover Beta Variant (Unreleased)

For a good while Crossover featured moss on the top of its rocks. Despite being mostly positvitely recieved, I came to the conclusion that It didn't make much sense for what I was going for. So It was removed.

Dom_Canalzone (Unfinised)

Canalzone was a port of the Team Fortress Classic map of the same name. The difference being it was now Domination instead of Territoral Control like in TFC. This map was ported to test if 5 Control Point Domination could work. It somewhat worked but 3 Control Point maps were the superior way to go. I was planning to make a map inspired by Canalzone taking what I learned from this port but it never came to fruition.

Invade_Push (Unfinished)

A port of Push from Team Fortress Classic, Main goal was to create a port of Push that felt more open and not confined. I think this was achieved in my opinion. I'm happy with how this was turning out and I may return some day to finish it.

DM_Icebox (Unfinished, Scrapped)

Icebox is a Deathmatch map made for Open Fortress. Inspired by IceWorld, Shipment, and Rust. The map is a fast paced kill-box. It was postively recieved however due to losing the source files I do not have the motivation to continue working on it.

DM_Aqua (Unfinished, Scrapped)

Another map for Open Fortress, This map was never really playtested. Scrapped due to not being fond of how I laid out a lot of the layout ideas. I might return to these concepts in the future although.

DM_Fotia Artpass Concept (Scrapped)

A while back I started a remake of DM_Fotia for Open Fortress. The map is still currently in development but this was a Art Test of what the map could've looked like. This was most likely the finalized idea till I lost the source files for the artpass. I will most likely explore different themes to see what I like the best.

Theres a lot more I wanna post that I can't include in this post so stay tuned for more stuff I guess.

[romaine2424]

Daily Blog June 27, 2023

Arg! I'd hoped to spend sometime planting the pretty flowers I bought yesterday but to my dismay I discovered an invasive weed was mixed in with my Shasta Daisies, which are just about to bloom. The kind of weed that attaches to your clothes and skin. Gloves came out and two hours later, I made a huge dent. Flowers tomorrow.

I had mentioned there were would be additional categories I'd throw into the mix and today I have one I've been anxious to get to. I'm going to call it Magical Elves. They are the people who help make fandom run. I mentioned @phoenixacid in an earlier post, who has been hosting @hd-fan-fair for ten years. This category will cover folks like her and that do even more...yes, even more...

What I'm reading:

On the Discord Drarry Fans Writers and Artists there is a channel for recs. I stole this one from there but then discovered I'd already read it. However, it was long enough ago that I don't remember all of the details. I think I read it when it first came out and before I hopped back into fandom in spring of 2021. The Ordeal of Being Known (146k) by @lou-isfake. I'm only on chapter 3 right now but I just love this Draco and his Oscar the Grouch house-slippers and his house-elf Timsy. The writing is so fresh and clever, I find myself smiling most of the time. Here's the summary, which I think gives you a flavor of the writing style I'm talking about:

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge... especially from Potter. Features fuzzy cartoon slippers, devious house elves, 90s music, and lots—LOTS—of memories. Ron is annoyingly hot, Hermione sees right through you, Harry is a powerful idiot, and Draco is a reclusive masochist that would buy an entire city if it would make a kid happy. (And Pansy is "5'2, I wanna dance with you, and I'm sophisticated fun.")

Go read The Ordeal of Being Known on AO3.

Hit the Keep Reading!!!!!

Magical Elves:

The first person I want to highlight in this category is actually someone I've met in person at HP Cons and we've stayed in touch over the years in real life. *hugs darlin* You've probably seen @sassy-cissa's name as an author or maybe an email asking you about a fic for a fest but I'm betting most of you have no idea how much she's done for fandom for more than a decade and half, especially for Drarry fandom.

Let me list the ways in how awesome she is:

Current modding responsibilities:

25 Days of Draco and Harry (started in 2009) What 2009 ? Oh my! And do you know she reads each and every story posted for the fest and comments, too! HD Mpreg Fest – (started in 2011 – I've been modding since 2018) HD Fan Fair/Career Fair – co-modding since 2019)

Previous modding responsibilities:

Co-mod for H/D Erised from 2014 to 2018 Moderated the H/D Prophet from about 2016 to 2021

See that last one H/D Prophet. Take a look at the link just for a moment. Every Drarry WIP that was updated that week was listed, fests' status, drabble prompts, etc...Every single week. The prophet soon closed down after a few more months due to lack of participation (fandom had moved away from LJ).

Communities owned and/or Maintain:

On LJ: Slythindor100 and HarryDraco Mpreg On Tumblr: H/D Mpreg and Slythindor100

In addition, why yes there is more, Sassy writes, too, and beautifully! Sassy-Cissa (on AO3). Over 109 stories, mostly Drarry, some Hermione/Severus and a few Harry/Ginny...but as she put it....(but they usually end up divorced or Ginny dies). *snicker*

And she's on FanLore! And she also betas for some of the best.

So I know this is long but I just want folks to be aware of those working in the background, making our experience here in fandom enjoyable and filled with lovely content. They truly are magical elves. Sassy doesn't post much on Tumblr or on Discord but she does pop-in now and then. Next time you see her name, you'll now know who she is.

Tumblr Tidbit:

Did you know that you can edit the text below the Keep Reading line on your post and it will make the changes to all reblogs of your post. Edit above and sorry the reblogs will show the original. This comes in handy if you're making a Masterlist of works or something else that has lots of links or needs to be updated frequently.

Happy Tuesday and Sorry this was so late. My ancient computer decided to crash multiple times. Rom

[cocotaetae13]

A Deal's A Deal (Prologue)

Pairing: ot7 x demon! reader

Trope: Be careful what you wish for

Series Summary: Before BTS became BTS in an act of desperation Jungkook makes a deal with you, a demon. After Namjoon finds out you’re the reason behind a significant number of unfortunate events they’ve gone through over the years he decides to take back their future by binding you under their control until they can figure out how to save Jungkook’s soul. Regardless, you’re going to feed off of their insecurities, lust, and souls to return your powers to you so you can make them all pay.

Rating: R

Word Count: 1,959

Warnings: no beta-reader (any takers?), very little proofreading, witchcraft, compelling, cursing, violence, eventual smut, manipulation, me using real-life events to further the plot, hair pulling, choking, timeline of events doesn't make sense, more I haven't thought of yet. Feel free to let me know what I miss!

Hello, hello! Welcome to my first work of fiction like this. To be honest, I've only ever written for close friends but I decided to try and expand my audience. I hope you enjoy! No pressure to comment!

Not sure what sort of update schedule I'll have for this but it is mostly plotted out. Each chapter will be your interaction with a member. I'll give notice when the next part will be up.

I won't be doing any taglists just yet.

Namjoon was furious when the truth came out.  He remembers the boiling rage taking over all of his senses. How dare you? How dare you fuck with them? Their lives, their dreams? The fact that the deal slipped through his fingers entirely irritates him even further. The innocent wish from his member ended up causing so much heartbreak for the whole group. You are to blame. That’s why he had to bind you, make you unable to use your powers against them any more until he could send you back to wherever you came from. It seemed nearly impossible to kill you but he’ll look into that more deeply later. 

Namjoon gives you a sweet, dimpled smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he turns to you while flipping open the book that is going to give him his revenge. You stand in a circle of salt inside the vacation home they’d rented for a little getaway from work and to get this done. Whatever set up he’d used forced your more demon features to come out: blackened eyes, razor-sharp horns, and a very menacing looking tail. The tail was new to them, it looked more like you would use it for defense. 

He decides to give the barrier a test. Sure enough, when he comes within striking distance your tail whips out to attack him. You click your tongue when it bounces harmlessly off the barrier provided by whatever spell he’s cooked up and the salt ring. Of course you weren’t dumb enough to try and escape but you were hoping just a little you’d be able to maim Namjoon somehow. Then you’d go after the others when they came to his rescue. 

“Very nice of you to give me a chair.” You chuckle bitterly and cross your legs. Your tail ruins the impartial expression you wear as it whips against the floor to show your irritation. You cross your arms as they circle around you with Namjoon’s directions. Your pitch black gaze slides from one member to the other within your line of sight. Namjoon had been careful, but made a small mistake in placing Hoseok and Seokjin behind you. You notice Jungkook’s eyes stay on the floor while the others fix their expressions to nonchalance. You lock gazes with the worst liar of the group. “So what do we have planned for today…Jiminnie?” He immediately blanches, your eyes narrow in suspicion, and Namjoon clears his throat all at the same time. 

“You, demon, are going to be punished for what you’ve done.” Namjoon says firmly. 

“What do you mean? I did what you asked.” You laugh, looking at Jungkook. “You wanted to stay together and you wanted to be successful. Didn’t I give you that?”

“What about the rest of it? Causing havoc on elements of our lives, damaging our mental health, and ruining our relationships were not a part I agreed to.” Jungkook seethes. “I would have been fine if you’d been fucking with me only the entire time but not the others. They haven’t done anything to deserve this.”

“Human makes a deal with a demon thinking this is some sort of genie in a lamp situation then gets upset when the demon is a demon.” You tut and his expression darkens further. “Just because you were like 4 years old when we did this-

“Fun time is over.” Namjoon snaps and squares his shoulders. He finds the correct paragraph where they’re supposed to start and glances at the others to confirm they’re ready. The money it cost to get this precious tome didn’t matter.  He couldn’t wait to finish this ritual and put an end to their torment.

“What is in that book Jimin? Tell me what you are going to do to me.” You demand. Taehyung is quick to grab Jimin’s hand to comfort his friend and stop him from ratting them all out and Jimin won’t meet your eyes.  Namjoon suddenly starts speaking and that makes your skin prickle. You can’t understand a word that’s coming out of his mouth but for the first time in a very long time you feel uncomfortable. “What are you doing?” 

Yoongi lifts a sheet of paper held between pale fingers and joins in chanting with Namjoon. Soon each of their voices fills the quiet and you have to stand up to ease the discomfort you’re feeling.

A shock shivers down your spine like nothing you’ve felt before and it makes you gasp, then glare at Jungkook menacingly. You spin and kick the chair right at his handsome face, clicking your tongue in irritation when it simply shatters against an invisible barrier that deflected your tail earlier. Symbols you can’t read appear all over your skin like they’ve been branded into your flesh and you stumble, trying to think of anything that could work to get them to stop. 

“STOP IT!” you screech, facing Namjoon who is already grinning at you from ear to ear. 

“What’s this? Demon, are you…afraid?” Hoseok laughs. “You’ve never been this vulnerable before, have you?” You turn and glare at him and clench your teeth when he just stares back at you unflinchingly, lips moving with determination around each word. You stumble again and wrap your arms around your middle in an attempt to self-soothe. When your fingertips touch the contrasting textures of the marks vs your normal skin you get an idea and whimper.

“We had a deal, Jungkook!” You move past Hoseok’s jab and roar at Jungkook. His eyebrows give away his inner turmoil. It looks like he’s having second thoughts. Good. You let your voice crack and your eyes shine with unshed tears. You seize the opportunity when his stoic expression breaks just a little. “It hurts so much.”  

“Don’t listen, stay focused just like we practiced!” Hoseok shouts. You glare at him again when you see Jungkook overcome your attempts to get him back under your control and then scream in surprise when you suddenly feel pain. Your eyes widen and mouth drops open as you realize this is real, staggering, unexpected, and pure pain.

“You took advantage of him, of us!” 

“Not…my fucking…problem.” You clench your teeth against the pain searing through your body. A sudden, sharp pain actually makes you gasp. You’re beginning to think you may actually be in trouble. Could they have found something that could kill you?

“It is your problem now.”  Namjoon says darkly. He rejoins the others in the final incantation that sends seven golden strings from the wrist of each member then ties themselves firmly around your neck, forcing you to try and slacken your jaw for some relief. 

You fall to your knees when the strings continue down your body and you can no longer stand. You can feel your strength draining from you as if the blood in your veins was flowing out of your body and onto the floor, not even your fingers are listening to you. You are trapped and it is here you come to realize what they’ve been trying to do this entire time. 

With synchronization usually seen on stage or in dance practice videos each member closes a fist, causing the strings around your neck to sink into your skin and the bindings around your wrists and arms to disappear. It feels as if you’re wearing a collar and your hands instantly go to your neck, fingers searching desperately for something solid against the weight you feel but there isn’t anything there. 

“Who is going to test out the spell?” Yoongi crosses his arms and looks at you like you don’t matter. 

“Cough up the most recent soul you consumed.” Jin says evenly.

You all sit in silence for a moment and you’re still too stunned to try anything other than glare at each one of them as they close in on you. They’re careful to stay on the safe side of the salt circle. Of course they don’t quite trust everything as it should be just yet.When one of the corners of those very plush lips turns up in a smirk up you see red.

“Is that what your little display was?” You snap, a sound akin to a tiger’s growl showing your full displeasure. Unconsciously you swallow against a sudden, light pressure growing in your throat. “You clowns think you can control me?” You laugh suddenly, the air around you crackling with energy as your anger boils over.  Your tail whips behind you, ready to wrap around one of their necks and strangle the life from them or sever their head from their shoulders. Maybe you’ll end this game right now and kill them all except Jungkook. His soul you would love to devour slowly so you could enjoy it. You wanted to let him go on for longer for the full flavor to develop, but fuck it. 

When you move to stand they only have enough time to exchange worried glances before you’re gagging, hands clutching your throat. You can only brace yourself, leaning back on your knees with your head and hands falling back as the soul you’d consumed earlier that day makes its way out of your body. The faint blue-silver glow of the orb that just came out of your throat shimmers wetly and you can only stare in horror as it hovers above your face. 

The others cry out in surprise and glee, some hugging one another in celebration. The binding spell worked! You weren’t going to be able to hurt any of them again. Jin’s slender fingers reach over you to touch the soul but they pass right through. If you were able to move you would have launched yourself forward and ripped his goddamn arm from the socket and beaten him to death with it before laying waste to the rest of them. Fuck the deal.

“Swallow it.” Yoongi says amidst the chaos. He crouches down and uses the piece of paper to break the salt circle. “Swallow the soul and let’s get out of here.”

The soul is down your throat again in the blink of an eye and you’re already lifting your hand to take Namjoon out when a hand wraps firmly around your hair and shoves your face into the ground. You let out a sound of surprise, spitting out bits of dirt that got past your lips.

“Apologize to Namjoonie. Make it sound nice.” Hoseok says firmly and yanks your head back. You’re blinking away the mess of dirt and hair from your eyes when your mouth is already moving.

“I am sorry for trying to kill you.” You say sweetly. What the fuck.

“Let’s have you make your horns and tail disappear as well,” Namjoon puts his hands on his hips. “Can’t have you stabbing Hobi-hyung. Keep them gone unless one of us tells you to bring them back.” Before anyone else says anything you let the black bleed away from the whites of your eyes, relaxing to regard your new masters with your rose-gold irises and no expression.

So I still have some control over my actions. Your horns and tail recede into your body and you want nothing more than to break Hoseok’s wrist and wipe that smile off of Namjoon’s face. It took Namjoon nearly 10 years to figure out how to bind you to them. You’ll kill them all before he finds a way to get rid of you or even nullify your agreement. 

“It doesn’t matter what you do, I’m still taking his soul when everything is said and done.” You say simply.

“Maybe so,” Namjoon rubs the back of his neck. “But until that time comes, you’re going to have a very different existence under our rules.” 

--------------------------------------------------------------

Next: Jimin J-Hope Taehyung

©cocotaetae13 2023. All rights reserved.

[getvalentined]

Ever Crisis: Final Overview

Okay so my final verdict on Ever Crisis as a whole is that it's worth playing! This is particularly true if you're the kind of person who is into micromanaging equipment and the like; if you enjoyed the junctioning system in FF8, the sphere grid in FF10, or the crystarium in FF13, EC's various systems will probably be fun. (Once you get them unlocked. It's a bit of a slow start in that.)

After finishing certain sections you get access to "criterion dungeons" which are kinda like other segments of the original game (playwise, not storywise) that were cut from the main portion of EC; they have limitations and prerequisites that mean they generally can't just be immediately cheesed by the autobattle system, making them difficult in a way that I personally consider highly enjoyable. A fun challenge with a little more free movement, albeit still not as much as I'd like.

Being able to look at it as a whole, I really think that this is a good way to handle it. The main story portion of EC is designed to carry you through the story so you can experience it firsthand without too much difficulty, broken into bite-size portions that you can clear in about 5 minutes a pop; criterion dungeons, enhancement material missions and multiplayer battles are for people who want more controlled gameplay on top of what the main story provides.

I do still think that the OG story section is the weakest in terms of gameplay, but once you get out of Chapter 1 it's actually not that bad! I think this is because the story doesn't really properly kick off until Cloud falls into the church anyway, so that whole first section is a bit of a slog—and it was probably quite difficult for the dev team to break it down into a period shorter than the 2+ hours it took in the original version. It's very clearly abridged, but actually not bad.

Still not a fan of the cast of First SOLDIER. I'll get through that with gritted teeth.

There are some fairly egregious graphical issues and artistic inconsistencies, including an actual visible erasing error in Aerith's portrait, but those are mostly things that can be fixed between now and the proper launch.

The biggest graphical concerns for me were with regard to screen flashing. The screen flashes to black in between each wave of a fight, and then flashes back to life when the new wave has loaded, which is a huge issue for photosensitivity and is something I commented on extensively in the official survey.

Likewise, I experienced some pretty severe shader flickering, which is a big accessibility issue—I sent in a video, which I will not embed here because y'all don't need to see that. In spite of stating that I didn't expect a response to the inquiry in question, I received a clearly-not-canned reply within about eight hours stating that it is in fact a serious issue and that they would be working to rectify it as quickly as possible, although they were sorry that they probably wouldn't have an update to fix it before the end of the beta. That was a pleasant surprise, and gives me a lot of hope for cleaning up those issues and making the game more accessible.

Overall, as a whole game with all titles and systems taken into account, I'd give Ever Crisis a solid 7.5/10.

[astorytotellyourfriends]

annual writing self-evaluation

All answers should be about works published in 2023.

i. Optional if applicable: link to last year’s self-evaluation

1. List of works published this year (in the order that they were posted):

as per usual that list is too long for this post so here's my 2023 fic roundup

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

far and away it has to be before i bury you purely because it was 1. SUCH an endeavor to begin with, and 2. so unbelievably different from anything i've written before. like, the criminal minds au was me dipping my toe into the pool of horror/suspense, and this fic was diving in headfirst. and i know it's not everyone's cup of tea (or most people's, tbh) but i've been so pleased with the reactions of those who have read it and i'm so, so thankful for it 💛 (honorable mentions to always have & i always will and a tender age, tho)

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

it's not that i'm not proud of it but a fic that's been hanging over my head all year is if the fates allow because god i hate that it's almost been a year since i updated it and I'VE BEEN TRYING to work on it but my brain just refuses to focus on it! i'm really hoping to finish it soon, though (and the gd pirate au too UGH).

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

man am i glad i did an ask meme like a week ago that asked this question so i can snag an answer from that rather than spending 3 hours combing through my fics lol

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

lmfao @cyraclove left this one on a snippet of the onlyfans au i sent her and it's my favorite thing ever

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

there's been a few instances of that over the last year but no specific events immediately come to mind. it seems to come and go in waves for me and all i can do is just ride it out and hope my inspiration comes back.

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

ok like i swear to god i never thought i would write omegaverse and yet a tender age happened and it basically came pouring out of me and onto the page so like?? what the hell was that??? (also no i have not forgotten i promised a sequel, it's percolating i promise)

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

i tried new genres!! i really enjoyed the writing process!! (even if it made me absolutely insane at times)

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

i've said this a billion times before but i think next year i want to try writing original stuff alongside fic. idk if i'll finish a whole novel or what, but i'd at least like to start something.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

my friends 💛

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

not that i can think of but i did actually let my sister read some of my stuff and she told me that i have a lot of ust in my writing and (yes this is weird but she's my sister and i know she means well) that she wished i had an outlet for it irl so like. i guess that's something?

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

i always say the same goddamn thing and today i saw a post that really encapsulated that so i'm just going to copy it here:

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

as per usual, so many. i've got a bunch half-started already that i haven't shared yet and i'm really hoping to be able to get them Mostly Finished before i start posting them, so keep your fingers crossed and an eye out 👀

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

@cyraclove, @medusasfinalgirl, @staceymcgillicuddy (and anybody else who would like to do this, i'm tagging u)

[fukkittz]

Hey, bit of an update.

My two fics “it’s a matter of perspective” and “scleim züchter” are going on hiatus for a bit. Might start a new fic. (Explanation below the break)

I had a falling out with one of my friends, where afterwards I had a break down and then they made fun of it very publicly.

Unfortunately they were very closely tied to both of those fics a beta for one and where I met them in the comments of the other

I have been having a rough march in general and that did nothing for my mental health. (Those of you who remember my deleted posts know..) Actually made it so much worse. Ironic that the minute I get a posting schedule something like that happens.

I’m mostly okay now. Grieving I guess? Pathetic that I made one of my first friends at 22. I’m building up a support system again, but it’s excruciatingly slow going. It just means that I haven’t had the energy or passion to write a lot.

I’ll get back to it, but it’s going to take a while.

[cdragons]

Like the Wave, She Broke; But Like the Sea, She Persevered

Chapter 3: And So, It Begins

Previous Chapter

A Robb Stark X Yi Tish Reader/OC Story

Author's Note: I do not own Game of Thrones or ASOIAF or any of GRRM works. But please no hate, but feel free to comment, like, or reblog if you liked reading this story and want me to continue! There are some phrases written in Mandarin and some are in Romanization, but the translations are at the bottom of the post, along with pinyin for pronunciation. Ship terms and language is written by someone who has never been on a medieval ship in a storm. Also a surprise character is introduced into the story!

Also, I am so sorry for how long this story took to be updated. Finals and internships have been busting my butt for the past 2 months. But hopefully I'll be more consistent with my updates. I really appreciate everyone who has been following with this story, and I am especially grateful for my beta writer @valeskafics for her very helpful comments and her tips! Please check out her works, she's an insanely brilliant writer!

Warning(s): sexual content, past trauma & abuse, violence and violent themes, depression, symptoms of PTSD & survivor's guilt, asshole bosses, mention of offensive and racist terms, GOT canonical misogyny & sexism, angst (so much angst), references to abusers, and dark/yandere attitudes.

Previously in “Like the Wave, She Broke; But Like the Sea, She Persevered”:

“You’re coming because you’re the King in the North, Arya because two Starks are better than one in this case and your mother is in no state to continue on, my guess is that the bannermen probably want to send her back to Winterfell. And Blackfish is going because he’s a Tully of Riverrun, but he’s not your fuckup Uncle Edmure Tully of Riverrun.”

Robb’s POV:

For Robb to say that the meeting with the bannermen was tedious would be an understatement. Theon was right that the meeting was mostly about sending his mother back to Winterfell in order to reunite with Bran and Rickon. His Lady Mother was more than pleased with the decision, although she tried in her best efforts to remain strong for her son, she was at her wits’ end with worry for her two youngest boys. She called for a steward to prepare the trip for her and Arya, when the atmosphere immediately became tense. It seems that his mother was unaware that she would be the only Stark returning to the North. Furthermore, the only one amongst Robb’s council uninformed of the apparent unanimous decision to send Arya to Maidenpool with Robb her Uncle Brydyen as a way to show good will, but still presenting a unified front from both the North and the Riverlands to Stannis and his men. In hearing of this decision, she demanded a moment alone with their king and princess her son and daughter, along with Lord Brydyen.

“You expect me to return to Winterfell,” gritted out his mother, “only to leave my daughter here?” Her crystalline blue eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets, her signature red strands escaped her braid, giving the illusion of fire surrounding her in the tent’s candlelight. A fire that was slowly rising with her increasing anger. “So she can meet with Stannis? And then what? Would she train to be a soldier, to fight, in King’s Landing, just after escaping? Of all the things you have expected from me to allow in you becoming King, this is your truest sign of madness from power.”

“Mother, please- “, Robb started to explain his reasoning, by which he wanted to explain that Arya practically ambushed him after his brawl tiff with Theon, and outright told him that she was going with him to Maidenpool. There was nothing to ask, no permission to grant, she was coming if it meant tailing behind him on foot for weeks in order to meet Stannis Baratheon and plan siege on King’s Landing and rescuing Sansa. She even shoved a dagger near his balls and told him that she’d cut them off if he sent her back home with their mother. She followed by pointing out that he might be better without it, considering he married the first girl it pointed at in this war. He tried his best to ignore Theon’s squawking laughter behind him as he visibly paled.

“NO! No, I won’t hear it,” Lady Catelyn shook her head furiously before pointing a finger at him like she was scolding a small child, rather than a king in war, “I have swayed by you too many times. All of which because I had been thinking of your rights as a king, and your happiness as my son. But in doing so, I have allowed you too much freedom. As a mother, it was my duty to allow you as much happiness afforded to you in this war. But in doing so, I have let you forgotten your duty to your family. No more, I could not stop you from marrying Talisa, from executing Lord Karstark, but I will not let you turn my daughter into a killer-”.

“I already am a killer!” Arya yelled over her, interrupting their mother’s fury-fueled lecture, and bringing both their mother’s and Robb’s eyes on her for the first time since the bannermen left the tent. “I already killed four men! I trained under a killer, a faceless man, I’m not leaving!” Robb was blown away by what he heard, from his youngest sister of all people. Arya turned to him, and he knew that she would not relent. “I’m going with you, I’m going to meet Stannis, and then I’m going to march into King’s Landing and get our sister back.”

This was not his little sister that snuck out of her lessons with her Setpa, the one that would always beg him or Jon to teach her how to fight, the one who would fling food at Sansa and he would send her to her room. That Arya longed for freedom, for glory, but was still green to the world and its cruelty. No, this Arya understood what it meant to take a life, felt the stopping of a man’s heart, saw the light bleed out a man’s eyes before being replaced by dull nothingness. This Arya was a killer.

“I’m the only one out of all of us who knows their way around the Red Keep. Joffery may be stupid enough to not hide, but Cersei will. And where Cersei hides, that’s where I’ll find Sansa. I’m going to make Cersei see a Stark staring down at her before I stick Needle in her head and her children.”

Gods, they turned his baby sister into a killer.

Brother stared at Sister, Tully Blue gazed into Stark Grey, Duty challenging Vengeance, each side daring the other to make a move, to take the bait, to give leeway. The world around them stopped until time finally decided to move forward. Robb looked at his mother, and then at his siter once more, and after a few minutes of extremely careful consideration, he finally relented. To which he heard his mother scream.

“NO! I forbid it!” Lady Stark shoved a finger to her eldest son’s chest, as if her mind imagined it as a blade that could pierce his armor for his insanity. She immediately grabbed Arya’s hand and to make her way out the tent to pack their things, “Come now Arya, we are leaving now. I will no longer pretend to humor your brother’s madness any longer- “

“NO!” Arya pulls her arm away from her mother and immediately stands by her brother’s side. “Look at me, look at ME!” Arya stood her ground, refusing to move away, refusing to let her mother to force her into a role that no longer fit, a role that had never fit in the first place not since she first saw Jon and Robb spar one another with wooden swords, dreaming to hold one in her hands. “I’m not a lady! I’ve never been a lady! I never wanted nor will ever BE a lady!”

Robb glanced between his mother and sister with frantic worry, unsure of where he should intervene. But it seems that his mother did that favor for him.

“Arya, I don’t want to fight with you-”, she started, her eyes filled with stubborn anger and her voice laced with absolute exhaustion. She had hoped that if she pleaded, her youngest daughter would begin to relent. Robb’s mother always seemed to underestimate her northern blood.

“I WANT to fight!” Arya interrupted, her impulsiveness continually shining over her patience. “I want to fight with you! Shout, scream, yell horrible things we both will regret!” Her voice refused to tremble as the pale grey eyes she inherited from their father shimmered with angry tears. “Because it seems only you hating me will make you see me! To HEAR me! To cause you to finally wake up from the fantasy of the fake daughter you made up in your mind over your real one that stands before you!”

For the first time since their reunion, for the first time since she could toddle, Robb saw tears brimming his chaotic sister’s eyes. Not for the first time since war broke out, he wished for his brother Jon’s company, not just only for his comfort, but also to handle Arya. Thick as thieves those two, as Arya always considered Jon to be her favorite brother, never once thinking less of him for his bastard status, or blaming his existence as proof for his father’s infidelity not like his mother, Sansa, or almost everyone did in Winterfell. No, Arya was always proud in knowing the Jon Snow was a Stark, whether he carried the name or not (another trait that he saw in you, his beloved), he was her brother.

Even Robb couldn’t claim that he never used his status as their father’s heir and first true-born son to his advantage at times, whenever he was jealous of how quickly Jon picked up hunting and fighting while he sometimes struggled, or whenever he was reminded that it was his duty as heir that he had to marry a highborn noblewoman and not you, or whenever he saw the two of you sparring together (Jon had the muscle, but you had the speed and agility) with that rare gleam in your eye that could only come from a skilled partner, or whenever he spied saw the two of you walking together in the keep’s town in comfortable silence, or whenever he saw you sitting together at meals at the far end at his mother’s insistence when Theon was making his presence known at the brothels and he heard your laughter oh, how his fists clenched in fury at the sight of your smile not directed at him. But Jon wasn’t here, and Robb wasn’t a boy in Winterfell, not anymore. Now he was the King of the North, and if he could not be king of an independent North, then he was still the Lord of Winterfell and the North’s Warden. That meant that he was head of the Starks, including his own mother should she continue to carry the name “Stark.”

“Mother,” Robb started, the two women in the tent quickly turning their gaze to him, “you are to return to Winterfell to watch over the keep and watch over Bran and Rickon. I’ll send 10 men with you in case of an ambush. The North needs the Starks to watch over her.” His mother’s eyes softened in relief, mistaking his decision as agreement.

“Thank you, my son-”, she started before being cut off.

“But you will be the only Stark returning to the North,” he stated as he saw Arya’s back straighten in shock. “Princess Arya will remain by my side to assist me in negotiating with Stannis. As I am sure that you are the last Stark he wishes to see.” He saw the eyes of his mother widen in fear and desperation.

“Robb, my son, please-”, she pleaded, “listen to reason.”

“No,” he could not risk being soft anymore, not with the North on the line, “Stannis is our only hope in surviving this war. When you came to Renly’s side, you declared the North his enemy. Now it is up to me to fix it, to beg if necessary.” He lowered his eyes to stare his mother down with as much authority his father drilled into him as a youth, “I am your son. But even if I have to give away my crown, I am still Warden of the North and Winterfell’s lord. I am YOUR lord. And as your lord, I proclaim that this decision is final.” He turned to his sister, and clasped his gloved hand on her shoulder, “Get some rest, tomorrow we must prepare. The following day, we leave at first light.”

“Yes,” Arya stared at her brother with determination and gratitude, “my king.” With that being the final word, he left the tent to make way to his own. He quickly removed his outerwear until he was only in his small clothes and didn’t bother to wash himself before collapsing on top of the furs on his cot. Fatigue washed over him as he closed his eyes and slept without any dreams.

Now resting in an inn, Maidenpool being only a few more days away, his ass still sore from the weeks of riding and rising anxiety of meeting Stannis Baratheon, the King and Lord of Dragonstone. He dared not to admit to himself of his worry in fear that his nerves will get the best of him when he finally meets Stannis Baratheon. While he may have been a southerner, born and raised, Robb had only tremendous respect for the man. Moreso, Robb was grateful to have never crossed swords with in the field.

Prince Stannis was hailed a “military genius,” his victory against the Victarion Greyjoy at the Fair Isle during the Greyjoy Rebellion was mythic, even Theon couldn’t help but be in awe whenever Maester Luwin recounted it in their lessons. Stannis, despite having no particular skillset of either sailor or admiral, was set up as Master of Ships against seasoned naval commander who fought in naval battles at the end of Robert’s Rebellion. It was the first naval battle Stannis fought in his life, entering the battle an inexperienced commander and left as the man who gave Victarion Greyjoy his most crushing defeat.

“Truly,” Robb thought, “if the North must bend the knee to another Southerner, by the Gods let it be him.” As he was resolute in his belief that only Stannis Baratheon could manage to rule over the Seven Kingdoms, and lead them into peace and prosperity. His disadvantage in his claim would be that he had no heir, only a sickly daughter who survived a case of Greyscale as a babe, and had to continue to grow with horrifying scars left from the disease on her face. From what he heard; her mother became cold and cruel to the young girl and grew mad under some god named “R'hllor.” Stannis himself converted to the same faith, even allowing a High Red Priestess referred to as “Lady Melissandre” to sit within his council. Robb couldn’t help but pity the poor girl; knowing how cold her father was - not to mention her deranged mother - hardly made for a warm upbringing. Lost in his thoughts, he did not even hear Arya come into the room and sit on the room’s other bed.

“What do think will happen when Stannis sees us?” She asks, her face completely blank as her mind races through the worst scenario. “Do you think he’ll kill us? Like he killed Renly?”

“We don’t know that to be true,” he answers back carefully, “and even if it was, it’s because Renly declared claim to the Iron Throne over him. When you think it like that, he only killed a usurper.”

“Like Joffery?”

“Aye, like Joffery.” After waiting for a few moments for her reply, Robb thought that he settled her nerves, and closed his eyes to begin to sleep. But what Arya asked next was so soft that he almost missed it, but it chilled his blood when his ears caught it.

“…Aren’t we usurpers?” She asked him. “Won’t he see us the same as Joffery?”

“Arya, we aren’t- it’s not-” Robb struggled to find the words to ease his little sister “Stannis wouldn’t-”

“Wouldn’t he?” Arya interrupted with a dead gaze and flat voice. “If he killed his own brother, what makes you think he won’t kill you?”

“Stannis wouldn’t make the same mistake Tywin Lannister made,” Robb shook his head as he tried to sound as calm and patient to fight off the migraine blooming in his head, “he’s a better man than him.”

“Like how you thought Walder Frey would just let you marry your dead wife? Or like how you thought that you wouldn’t die at a wedding.”

Robb flinched at her biting tone. When he looked to her once more, he first saw how her fists clenching the bed spread so hard he thought it would be torn. He then looked at her face, it was no longer impassive. Her mouth was pursed in anger, her eyes were mad with fury, and he saw her chest falling and rising with her nostril flaring as if she was preparing for a fight.

“Father died because he thought that a Lannister wasn’t as bad as he made her to be. Mother thought that Littlefinger was still someone worth trusting even after betraying father. And then she let go another Lannister, and then you killed Lord Karstark.”

It was hard for Robb to be forced to listen to every horrible decision that his family made that led them to this point, but he was too tired to retort back. So, he just let her continue on with her little rant. He figured that she needed to get it off of her chest.

“You, Theon, Mother, and thousands of men are alive now because of one person; Li.”

Hearing your name hurt more than the arrows to the chest, but he remained quiet as he heard the slight tremble creep through his sister’s voice.

“But Li’s gone now. She’s gone, and she can’t protect us anymore. She saved the North, the Vale, and you repaid her by marrying some pretty little healer who batted her sweet little eyes at you.”

“What does the Vale-”

“I know Mother went to King’s Landing.” This made Robb freeze.

“How the fuck-” but his couldn’t finish his thought as she pressed on.

“I found her while she was packing, she told me that she had to go. She couldn’t let you ruin everything.

“I tried telling her to not to go, that we needed her. I told her that when we get Sansa back and go back to Winterfell – that she’d be welcomed back as a hero of the North, be given a title and land– but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t listen to me. She kept talking about no one would listen to her. Then she started crying, I never ever saw Li cry – not even when Bran fell. Then she told me everything. ‘Bout how she tried to warn everyone: Father, Mother, and even you. She told father to leave, but he wouldn’t listen then either. She said that all of this was her fault, because she didn’t warn them earlier.

“She told Father, ‘Take the girls and go. Go back to Winterfell. Make up any excuse: say you’re sick, say your wife and youngest boys miss you, say that the raids increased and the lords are in need of your command. Say anything and just LEAVE. Don’t tell anyone. Not the Queen, not Varys, not Littlefinger. Not even the King. They will act the friend, smile prettily, look you in the eye and whisper comforting words. Only to stab you in the back unblinkingly with that same pleasing smile as you bleed out at their feet.’

“She even did the same with Mother. She told her that Lord Baelish couldn’t be trusted; that he was lying to her like he did at King’s Landing, but Mother wouldn’t listen. So, when he was far enough from the camp, she ambushed him with a cloth doused with Essence of Nightshade to knock him out, and made sure that she was far enough so that no one would hear killing the knights Tyrion sent him with. She then climbed a tree to tie and gag there for a few days, and left Daiyu there to make sure that he wouldn’t escape.”

This was news to Robb; he was sure he would have heard something from his Aunt Lysa at the news of her missing husband. The woman was deranged with infatuation for him. Fully awake now, he gave Arya his full attention.

“What happened next?��

“She told me that she wanted him weakened before questioning him. She wasn’t worried when he first escaped, it was only when she heard about the Ironborn attacks that she knew she had to make sure Mother wouldn’t do something stupid. If nothing but to knock her out with the nightshade long enough to move him to a secret location. But Mother was already at the cage, along with someone else. Another woman I think – Lady… Lady… Brianna of-” Arya grew perplexed at her memory failing her in a time like this.

“Lady Brienne of Tarth.” Robb remembered for her. “But wait - why would Mother worry about the Ironborn fleet? Even now they made no attempt to seize Winterfell. Plus, we still have his only son.”

“Balon Greyjoy doesn’t give a shit about Theon, only himself and power. What better way to get it than with two little Stark boys? Li noticed Mother was getting scared, making her susceptible to impulsiveness. And she was right. When she heard that Jaime Lannister was brought back, she knew that he would make another attempt, she just didn’t think she would be beaten in getting there.

Anyway, she said that couldn’t allow Her Lady to release Ser Jaime, as doing so would be an act of treason against you. Mother told her that Li had no right to interfere as she couldn’t begin to understand the pain and stress she had been since the war began. She asked Li how could an orphaned whore understand the pain she felt as a mother whose children were all scattered across Westeros. She then ordered Brienne to take her down. It was a close fight for the both of them; the Tarth woman was strong, but Li was quick. She would have won, but she was still injured from fighting the knights. It was ten against one; and while she was fighting one of them, another stabbed her back while another kicked her knee. Before long, she got overpowered and knocked out, and was carried to the healers’ tent.”

Robb couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he had wondered why you blamed yourself for the Kingslayer’s escape, and the deaths of those two Lannister boys. He only assumed that it was your empathy getting the best of you. He intended to question Theon but completely forgotten with Maidenpool as his first priority. He remembered seeing you in the tent; he was shocked at the blood and bruises that bloomed in shades of black, blue, and purple across your body. Already angered by his mother’s betrayal, he demanded to know the men in his camp who had done this so that he could swiftly punish them. You croaked out that it was spar with some of the men at the camp that went too far. When he asked you why Theon and your shadowcat weren’t at your side, you quickly responded that Theon was with him, and that Daiyu was hunting. Scolding you for being so reckless, he insisted that he carry you to your tent.

But you only swatted his hand away as you stood up from the cot while stating that you dealt worse at sea as a child. You must have noticed his temper rising, since it was only then that you lifted your eyes to meet his. And with a single look at your tempestuous gaze, he was both silenced and enraptured. Knowing you had won this battle, you walked wobbled back to your tent.

All while Robb was left standing there like an idiot; his cock already hardening at the thought of your stubborn eyes melted from bliss with each fervid thrust of his hips meeting yours in overwhelming euphoria. The only bruises on your body would be those from his lips and teeth. He didn’t even register Talisa walking up to him as he strode to his tent to quickly give release. He remembered ordering Greywind to stand guard as he closed his eyes and let his imagination run rampant. He thought of punishing you for your impertinence, forcing you to kneel between his legs. He would have ordered you to take out his hardened member as he scolds you for making him so hard in public. He would have ordered you to lightly lick his tip, before carefully taking his thick head into your mouth. He audibly groaned at the thought of your unrelenting gaze being broken as he pushed your head to fully take him. He could see slightly wincing as you gagged at the struggle of taking his length and girth. And when he released his load, your eyes widened in shock at the volume of his cum, knowing it was all for you. He remembered imagining you to swallow it all, and that there would be consequences if you spilled anything. After swallowing his load, you opened your mouth to show nothing was left. He praised you for being such a good girl for him, and he remembered finally spilling into his hand at the thought of you smiling warmly at his praise.

All for his momentary peace to be interrupted by the sound of Greywind’s warning, and for Lord Karstark’s squire to inform Robb that his presence was demanded at the Kingslayer’s cage. Knowing it wouldn’t be good, Robb quickly rid of any evidence of his release and tucked in his flaccid cock into his breeches before making way to the cages that held any enemy prisoners. Only to discover that the Kingslayer had been released by the aid of his mother in attempt to exchange him for Sansa and Arya. That was the morning everything went to hell.

“What happened next?” He was almost terrified to know the answer.

“She told me then that she decided enough was enough. That night, she called Daiyu to let their prisoner down. When she saw him asleep, she stomped on his balls. She said that as a youth, she caught the eye of a certain One-Eyed Crow. He would teach her many things, one of them was how to make men talk. But he was stubborn, even in his current position. Every time he demanded to be released, Daiyu snarled. Every time he mentioned his position as an emissary of King Joffery, Li punched his gut. Every time he called himself Lord of the Vale, she put a hand to his mouth before stabbing his arm. It didn’t take long for him to temper him.”

Robb paled and grew a little green at Arya’s impassioned retelling of Lord Baelish’s “interrogation.” What unnerved him even more was the slight admiration in her eyes toward your actions. Although it shouldn’t have surprised him, Arya had always worshipped the ground you walked on. Next to Jon and Father, you were probably her most favorite person in the world.

While you had a special bond with all of the Stark children, you held the two girls close to your heart. Sansa adored you, as you saw more to her than a pretty face and delicate stitching; reminding her that it was her kind soul and generous heart that you loved the most. Although, Sansa always beamed whenever you asked for her input on stitching and clothes. She stating that it comforted her that she was better than you in at SOMETHING.

Meanwhile, whenever Arya wasn’t sneaking off her lessons to join her brothers, it was to find you. You fascinated her, always begging you to tell her stories of the life you lived before Winterfell. Whenever she was in trouble with Mother, you would tell her that she had a spark within her that was growing rarer in the world around them, and that you hoped it never went out. You would even teach her a few words from the many languages you spoke, telling her that everyone should be fluent in one other language than their Common Tongue.

“She told him that he betrayed our father. He denied it of course, even reminded her of how she witnessed him offering his aid with the dagger. That got him a broken knee. She already knew that Tyrion would never bet against his brother Jaime, Ros told her that they acted close. And that Jaime Lannister had already revealed that it was King Robert that won the dagger from him. King Robert would never make an assassination attempt against Ned’s family, but he was stupid enough to leave it lying around the keep. Making it more than easy for him to get it back.”

Robb was completely dumbfounded, his mind racing as he tried to piece together every new piece of information.

“Wait – so that means-”

“Littlefinger sent the assassin to kill Bran, not the Lannister’s.” Arya started with a somber nod. “The Kingslayer pushed him off the tower, and Bran did almost die. But no one knew that his legs worked. Who’d believe that he’d survive a fall like that?”

“Another advisement from you to Father,” thought Robb, “you really were too smart for your own damn good.”

“She told me how scared he got. How he started to get nervous and stutter. He tried telling her how he tried help Father by telling him to bend the knee to Joffery, saying that he would still remain Hand and run the kingdom in peace with our family safe. But all that earned him was her removing a finger. Li told him that he must have known that Father would never bend the knee to a bastard born of incest and that she cared little for more of his excuses and that he needed to shut up. All she wanted to know, was how he managed to kill Lord Jon Arryn.”

If Robb wasn’t in shock before, he certainly was now.

“She told him how strange she thought it was that she never responded to any of the ravens you and Mother sent to her. Why wouldn’t she send aid to her sister and nephew? After all, they’re fighting against the same people who murdered her husband. She said that while she never personally met Lady Arryn, she remembered Mother talking about how her sister claims that family means everything to her. Meaning that-”

“It wasn’t the Lannister’s that killed Jon Arryn” finished Robb; horror filling him as he realizes that his father, this war, the feud between Lannister and Stark, were all pulled at the strings maneuvered by someone who his mother treasured as a friend. Arya nodded with sober eyes, telling him that her reaction was like his in realizing the truth.

“Li told him that she noticed how similar brothel was that of the brothels in Lys, from the silken textiles to the Lysene women that served as pleasure slaves; even the way he ordered them was identical to that of a brothel’s master. He must have spent a lot of time at Lys to be familiar with their language and mannerisms.”

“Arya, what does any of this have to do with Jon Arryn’s death?” Robb snapped as he was growing impatient, “Southern nobles travel there all the time, not exactly strange behavior.”

“That’s what I said to Li, but do you know what she told me?” Arya smiled as she recounted what you told her next, “She said, ‘Why did Littlefinger survive this long? It wasn’t because he was strong, or rich, or even because he had friends. It’s because he watches everything, he takes in everything. Nothing was unimportant, everything had the potential to serve him in some way. I wanted him to know that no matter how smart he thought he was, I was better.’ She said that isolating and starving him were to just weaken his body, torturing him was to weaken his mind. But to break him, she needed to beat him in his own game, knowledge.”

The silence that followed was deafening to Robb. The only thing he could hear was the increased fervor of his heart pounding against his chest. He waited for his sister to continue, to hear the mastery of your inquisitiveness, to maybe gain your insight. Maybe he will finally begin to see a glimpse of the demonic ingenuity that hid behind your solid gaze; maybe, just maybe, in hearing this from someone else, he would understand you, if only just a little bit more.

But Arya didn’t say anything…her face was blank as the soft hacked tendrils of her hair covered her eyes.

“What next?” Robb whispered, his voice desperately pleading for more.

“…”

“Arya,” he pleaded once more; his voice growing more distraught with each passing second, “please tell me. What else did she say?” He could see his sister’s lips moving, but her voice was so quiet that he had to strain his ears to hear her next words.

“…That was it…,” she conceded, “she said that she had to go, that she stayed for too long already.” Arya kicked off her boots before bringing her knees to her chest, clutching them with her spindly arms. Her face remained blank, but Robb swore he heard her voice cracking.

“That can’t be it…” Robb protested in disbelief. “Arya there had to have been more. Tell me there’s more!” Robb was no longer lying on his bed. Now he stood over his sister, towering her small frame the same as their father once had when he scolded them as children. His voice growing more inflamed in misery. His anger erupted when Arya remained in her silence by lowering her head to her knee tops. If he paid attention, he would have noticed the slight quiver of her bottom lip.

“Arya!” He bellowed, guilt flooding his body as he saw the slight flinch of his baby sister’s body, but he was too blinded in his anger to care about anything other than you in that moment. “Arya, Gods help me if you don’t tell me-”

“I’m not lying!” She wailed; her face finally free of her impassive façade. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her pale eyes were beginning to grow red and puffy, and her face grew pink and splotchy. “I begged her to tell me, but she wouldn’t! I asked her why she didn’t tell all of this to you, to Mother, or even Theon!”

Her chest was heaving with every sharp intake of breath, her entire body was shaking uncontrollably with every gasp. After everything that happened: from Bran falling to Robb almost dying; it took you leaving without the promise of returning that caused the weary dam to be demolished by the overdue flood of her grief and sorrow.

“I tried to make her! But she wouldn’t tell me! All she did was look at me! Looking at me with that stupid smile!” With her flood of sorrow, came the rage that followed; as she roared out her final moments with you before your departure, “The one she makes when she’s in trouble, or scared, or hurt; but she never lets anyone know about it! She just hides it! Hoping it’ll go away and everything will be fine and we’ll be none the wiser! But I knew something was wrong! I knew that she did something important, and I tried to make her tell me!”

She paused to wipe the little dribble of snot running down her nose with her sleeve as little hiccups escaped as a result from her crying.

“But all she did was give me a stupid hug! It was so tight and warm a-a-an-and- it smelled like her and-,” she paused once more to catch her breath, only to begin crying again as she wailed out her next words, “and she said she was sorry ‘cause I needed to stay strong for just a little longer, but everything would be alright! She told me she loved me and kissed my head! And then she grabbed her travel pack, called her shadowcat, and then she LEFT!” She stopped to wipe her tears with her sleeves while also hiding her face from her brother.

Robb could no longer be angry. He couldn’t even pretend to be strong anymore. He collapsed on his bed, its loud creak accompanying Arya’s loud sniffles. It was only when the candle was beginning to flicker out that he noticed enough time passed for Arya to steady her breathing. He let out a weary sigh, before whispering out the question that plagued his mind since Arya began to speak.

“Why didn’t she tell me this from the start?” He croaked out. “Did she think I wouldn’t believe her, or that I wouldn’t trust her? I- I just- I don’t understand-”

“It wasn’t that she couldn’t trust you,” she breathed out, “it was that she couldn’t trust herself.” Seeing how this only muddled her brother even further, she pressed on, “She did say one more thing about Littlefinger though-that she and him…they were alike, just a bit.”

“What? How could they possibly be remotely alike?” Robb questioned, completely baffled by the thought of comparing you to that traitor.

“Before she killed him, he told her that there was no justice in the world. Not unless they made it. Him, the small son of a small house, knew that the only way to rise in the world, was through only himself. Came from nothing, rose to power, and she was exactly the same. He saw it when he first met her in King’s Landing. But he could tell she changed; this war changed her. Because of you, because she followed you. She said that hated his words; but what she hated more was the fact that everything he said was the truth. She became weak; no longer trusted herself to take action, because of you.”

“…Because she followed me into war?” He asked as a bitter laugh escaped his lips, not wanting to feel the guilt growing in his chest at Arya’s recount of your confession.

“Because she fell in love with you.” She stated, praying for your forgiveness for revealing your most shameful truth.

It was as if Robb’s world had crashed down all over again.

“I never knew,” were all that he could choke out.

“It’s ok,” his sister reasoned in attempt to comfort her brother, “I don’t think she knew either.”

And with that being the final word, the candle’s flame died down, and darkness cloaked the two siblings in awkward comfort. Arya laid on her side, wanting to gain at least a few hours of sleep before their continued travels. But no matter how much he tossed and turned, sleep evaded the young king. Anger and bitterness were his constant companions since your departure, he reasoned them with you breaking both his heart and his trust.

Only for shame and self-loathing to overflow within him in learning that he had done the same to you for much longer.

“And I can assure you my lords that the price was more than fair,” your confidence was slowly diminishing as you chose your next words carefully, “all that was asked from the stranger was that I sail from Seagard to a locate an individual and escort them to somewhere Beyond the Wall, afterwards I would be told more details of my mission from there.”

龙力 (Lóng lì) POV:

It’s been several weeks since the ship provided by House Mallister had departed from the port of Seagard, but there had been no peace for me to grieve.

“’OY Boy! Get a move on! She’s starting to blow!” “Who is-” “The WIND! Can’t you smell?” “Ser, I-” “THAT’S CAPTAIN TO YOU!”

“哦，仁慈的观音 (oh, merciful Guan Yin),” I thought pleadingly, “我求你饶了我这种折磨.” I should have known better than to hope that Lord Mallister would provide me a ship handled by a proper crew. I leaned back to bear witness at the horror unfolding before my eyes. Tried as I might, I could not hide the grimace etched on my mouth as bitter disappointment roared in my expression.

黛玉 (Dài yù) was faring no better, as the bored expression in her gaze was any indication. She, like me, was not impressed by the pathetic display before her.

I doubt that more than half these “men” had ever been on a ship for longer than a few hours to catch a meal, let alone to make a journey with no promise of definite return.

“WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING BOY!” The “captain” shouted, his spit flying through the air, and landing on the poor deckhand he was currently torturing.

My grimace morphed to a scowl; this man was no ship “captain,” he was not even a man meant for the sea. Even before stolen from my home and family, I lived on market near the port. Hundreds of ships would dock at the port, and thousands of men would flock at the market.

Some were handsome and rich; some were ugly and poor.

Maybe they were heroes returning home; maybe they were cowards running from one.

If one’s face was green to the breeze, then another’s soul was battered from the storms.

But each and every one of them had a look in their eye: a look a resolution to witness the sea and all of her horrible glory, let them live or die if she wanted.

As a little girl who dared not dream of a life outside her family, these men fascinated me.

This man disgusted me. His voice boomed with slurred speech, and his face glowed red and his breath smelled putrid from all the ale he ingested. His beard was bushy and untrimmed, flecks of rotting meat made permanent residence there. When he wasn’t sitting on his ominously large ass, his rotund gut sloshed with every step he took to yell at someone else. I’ve seen and met many men who voyaged the sea like him, but he was no sea man. There was no resolution in his eyes, only greed and arrogance. Lord Mallister could not have sent me on a more terrible ship with a worse crew. I wished more than ever to be by my brother’s side.

Ironborn…Mainland… one fact remained: the sea roared within him. Salt ran through his veins, while the wind called his spirit. A kracken, a wolf, it never mattered in the end.

Theon Greyjoy was a man who would have thrived at sea. It called to him, as it did to me. He was the very image of the pirates I made up to tell to Lady Arya and Lady Sansa when they still very small. From the rakish glint in his eyes, to that boyish smirk he flashed to any pretty girl who glanced his way– even the way he spoke just screamed arrogance.

But that merely a mask – a façade to hide his hurt, his insecurities, every vulnerability from the world who decided his place in it since he had no say in that matter.

They saw neither his kindness, nor his empathy. They would not believe the truly caring young man that hid behind years of carefully manufactured egotism.

They didn’t see the boy that would carry his late lord’s eldest daughter after she fell and scraped her knee; ruining her stockings and dress with blood and muddy snow. They never saw how he would gather her in his arms, and whisper words of promises how she was still the prettiest girl in all of the Seven Kingdoms. They failed to see the slight blush on her cheeks that came whenever she saw him alone at the archery range in her family’s keep.

They turned their sights away when he would find an abandoned hawk chick on a morning ride, and raced back to his room to nurture it back to health. They refused to bear witness the determination in his eyes to aid a creature into living rather than to accept pathetic comfort in death. They never saw the sickly little chick grow into the swiftest predator to every fly through the Northern skies.

They didn’t see a young boy flush in shame in learning the meaning to a slur he called a foreign former sex slave. They never saw the change in his behavior when the child awoken, immediately begging for forgiveness. They were blind to the beginning of a family, built on a foundation of both mutual respect and acceptance.

Furthermore, they refused to acknowledge that an ignorant boy could grow into a confident and capable man; if they are given the time and care they are deserved from the beginning.

I was hit by a wave of sorrow in remembering him. Gods, how I missed him.

“I’m so sorry Ser-CAPTAIN! I-I just-um-I just thought-” the unfortunate deckhand sputtered out. His face growing more flustered as he continued to try to sort out his words. He looked not a day past his twelfth name day. He was only a bit older than Bran.

The sight was so pitiful it almost made me want to help…almost. But I couldn’t afford to draw more attention to myself…no matter how much the boy reminded me of Bran.

Gods above, it’s been so long. Did he grow? Was he taller than me? And what of Rickon? Have they been paying attention in their lessons? Have they been eating their greens? They had better not have fed them to Summer and Shaggydog. Were they good to Maester Luwin?

By the Seven, has Maester Luwin been neglectful in taking his medicine since I’ve been gone? Is he still making sure to get proper rest in acting as advising hand while Bran is the Acting Lord of Winterfell? Has he been overworking himself?

…Has Jon been informed since he trekked to Castle Black to take his vows?

My mind began to spiral, and with it so did my heart begin to race. Bran, Rickon, Jon, Maester Luwin…would I ever see them again? Had they been informed of the Frey’s betrayal and the Lannister’s mutiny? Do they know of the deal I needed to take? ... Had they thought I betrayed them?

“别再折磨自己了,” I angrily berated at no one but myself, “你不是这里的受害者."

I needed to snap out of my misery. I made a deal, and I would see it to the end. If never returning was the price to way for the benefit of House Stark, then it was a price more than fair to me. Wallowing in defeatism would do me no good, my childhood was a testament to that truth.

It would not win the war.

It would not bring back my late Lord, Lord Eddard Stark.

And it would not revive Queen Talisa Stark nee Maegyr, and that of her and Robb’s child who bled out on the cold tile floor of the Frey’s Keep as a result of my incompetence.

Thankfully, the bulging pimple of the man opened his mouth, and thus my spiral of self-pity soon distorted to righteous fury.

“SPARE ME THE BLUBBERING AND STARTING CLEANING DAMN IT!” The foul captain turned his foot, and strode back to his quarters. He walked as if he was only doing his job, but I could see his face. The moment he turned; his rotten scowl turned to a repulsive grin that showed his rotten yellow teeth.

Oh, I despised this man. My fingers inched toward for my knifes, and my soul was calling out for his blood. And how I longed to fulfill its wish. 黛玉 (Dài yù) could sense my agitation, and in response her tail started to twitch, indicating her aggression. If she decided to attack, I do not think I would have it in me to stop her.

A gust of wind broke me from my blood lusted trance as a chill ran down my spine. Quickly I turn to face the ocean, gripping the railing as I stare at the horizon. The breeze continued to whip my hair, tangling my raven locks with her invisible grazes; I could tell something was wrong. When the wind blew stronger, I looked up at the sky, forgetting that the stars had not been seen in the night sky for days. But the sun had long set, and so far, there was still no rain so the chances of trouble was likely – a drop of water landed on the back of my hand.

Another on the top of my head.

A third landed on my cheek.

“台风,” I whispered out, fear flooding my body.

“What's that miss?”

I turned around and saw that it was the pitiful deckhand. I look at him with furrowed brows, and was about to repeat what I had just said to warn him – when I realized that I had switched to thinking in my native tongue without realization. I recompose myself in haste and grip the young boy’s shoulders to tell him.

“Typhoon,” I whisper carefully, noting how his eyes soon became wide with fear, “It’s been cloudy for days, the wind is picking up and now there is rain.” Oh gods, I could feel the wind growing. Raising my voice, I tell him, “Warn the crew, secure all the loose gear, make sure all the windows and openings are batten down and latched tight. Are you with me so far?”

He quickly nods, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Good,” I nod in attempt to reassure him before continuing, “Now-what I am going to tell you next is the most important. I want you to tell the men in charge of the masts – that’s the pole that holds the sails – see it?” I quickly point to them, making sure that his eyes follow my finger. “I want you to tell them to strike the royals first – not the mainsail – the smaller ones, got it?”

“But my lady, the-the winds-should we not-” the young man tried to question, before a powerful rumble rolled across the downpour. Followed by a horrifying crack, along with a blinding flash of light. Its shape resembling the dragon of my pendent, a Yi Ti dragon.

“HURRY!” I yell to him before running and pounded on every cabin door “All hands-on deck! TYPHOON COMING!”

The drizzle that came as a warning became a shower; and the shower soon transformed into a downpour. And the downpour went on until it was a fucking monsoon.

The men were scrambling to prepare for the worst; all of them trying to play a part that none were expecting. The damned “ship captain” was nowhere to be found. Probably tucked in poster bed, a fire roaring, sheltered away in his cabin’s warmth– ignorant to his men’s suffering – away from this madness. A truly disgusting man. I sneered under my breath, but I had no time to waste on him.

A few hours have passed, and the men had grown desperate. After the boy relayed my orders, they scoffed at the idea of grown men receiving orders from a woman whose only defense was a few blades and an irritated shadowcat. But as they realized how much danger they were in; they gradually began to accept me as the officer in command. At the very least, they saw that I was a more competent sailor than that of their captain. But in spite of our best efforts, we could not stabilize the ship to escape the storm.

We needed to get to land…fast. There was no chance of this ship, nor the people of this ship surviving if we attempt to drop anchor to ride this storm out.

“REEF THE MAINSAIL! AND ABANDON COURSE!” It was a desperate attempt, but I cannot risk to strike the mainsail. To do so would lose all forward power and abandon all control in the ship direction through the steering wheel. We’d be floating straight downward like floating corpses.

“HELMSMAN!” I called out.

“YES, MY LADY!” He dutifully responded.

“ABANDON COURSE AND POINT! WE NEED TO GET TO LAND AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE!” I directed as clearly as I could in my state. Fatigue would soon get the best of me, but I could not lose my concentration.

“AYE’ MY LADY!” He replied, to which he relayed his message to the men controlling the mast. “REEF THE MAINSAIL!”

A series of “AYE’s” rang through my ears. If I was not so terrified of our current placement, they’re unified front in receiving my order would have brought a great sense of pride to me.

Almost an hour had passed, and the waves were getting less turbulent.

There…LAND! We were saved!

When the navigator spotted the stretch of grey, the ship’s men practically cried in relief. I almost did the same…but something still felt off. It was too early for celebration.

Why did those spots of rocks and sand unsettle me? Twenty lives were saved, we managed to ride out the storm, the Gods had not claimed anyone tonight…so why can’t I feel myself relax?

We were getting closer to the shore; the rocks were becoming larger…my heart was racing.

What am I feeling? It’s as if…my body was warning me about something…something my mind is failing to remember.

The body…the mind…my body…my mind…

It’s one thing if both your mind and body fail to recall something…but for the body to remember what the mind had forgotten…oh Gods, where am I?

I could feel my body growing stiff, but my hands were trembling? Why? What am I forgetting? What is it about this place that is bringing these…reactions? I felt a hand on my shoulder, I took out one of my daggers to find…the young deckhand?

“My lady!” His smile was so wide, his shoulders were sagging in relief, he felt…safe, “WE made it to land! We survived the storm!”

I felt a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding to escape, trying to convince myself to relax.

“Yes,” I smiled, “thank you for relaying my instructions. You were a tremendous help.”

“Oh no, my lady! It was because of your orders that we survived another day! And not a single man was lost!”

His smile was so genuine and sweet…he really did remind me of Bran. I felt myself calm down a bit.

“Even so, I am grateful that you trusted in me. The part you played in our survival should not be ignored. You have my thanks…um…” I tried to recall his name. If I was to thank this brave young man, then I want to do it properly.

“OH! Yes! I never gave my name!”

…Why was the air growing colder? Was it getting darker?

“My name is Eoghan Wright my-”

Blood spattered across my face as his head was bashed in with a club.

Blood…red…iron…oh Gods…are we-

Screams of pain filled my ears, 黛玉 (Dài yù) leapt in front of me. I felt nauseous, I wanted to keel over and never stand again.

I looked behind me…and saw the sight of a massive sigil on a sail.

…Black…gold…Kracken…iron

I knew that smell…HE reeked of it – I would have choked to death on the smell alone when I was with him if I hadn’t felt so dead so young.

A memory is coming to me…from my brother…Theon.

“The ground so full of metal that nothing grows there,” he once told me, “All that iron ore in the ground poisoned it I suppose.”

Iron ore…the Iron Islands…I doomed us all.

A terrifying grin with putrid breath was all I sensed from the world before a cloth was pressed against my face…and my world went dark.

Meanwhile in King’s Landing:

A lone figure stood before a window, facing one of the finest views of the Red Keep. Her figure eluding the serenity of a worldly temptress. Her face and frame emitting only lust and peace, that only meant she was a talented actress. A few weeks ago, she had sent out a piece of a puzzle that would either aid her dearest friend’s latest conspiracy, or send both the Lannister’s and the Eyrie for her head.

Littlefinger’s death caused an uproar within the Red Keep. That…along with the failure of the Red Wedding…the Gods couldn’t save the Stark girl from King Joffery’s wrath.

Never before had she wanted to wring a man by his balls more than that of Robb Stark, Young Wolf and King of the North.

King or not, only the most stupid of boys would lead thousands of men to their death for the company of a plucky foreign chit with a passable smile and round ass.

She prayed that a more worthy suitor caught your eye.

…Maybe she could find a way for you to meet that young Payne squire…at least he’d be a considerably better match in terms of loyalty for someone as preciously deadly as you.

…Not to mention he was surprisingly well-endowed.

She recalled the time you and your brother caught her on the turnip cart for her escape to King’s Landing. Following her everywhere whenever you came to the village town. You would always be more duckling than dragon in her eyes.

“Will I ever see you again?” You looked so heartbroken asking her this question. It broke her own heart to see such round eyes being filled with tears from worry and fear.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” you pleaded. A cruel request from someone such as yourself. You would bleed yourself dry to feed every starving child you came across.

“I love you-”

“My dear Ros,” spoke a bald figure with a slight Lysian accent as he entered the room, “How do you fare on this fine day?”

Banishing her troubled thoughts, she lightly curled the ends of her lips to give one of her famous smiles. As she turned, the sun’s rays danced across her flowing red hair, giving the imagery of a glorious flame. The fine silks from Lys hugged her figure magnificently. She was the very image of temptation.

“Fear not Lord Varys.” She told in a calm tone, giving none of her worried away. “I am well as always.”

“Stay strong little duck,” she pleaded to you, wherever you may be. “You pleaded for my safety, now it is time for me to plead for your’s.”

Translations:

“哦，仁慈的观音...我求你饶了我这种折磨” (Ó, réncí de guānyīn……wǒ qiú nǐ ráole wǒ zhè zhǒng zhémó): Oh merciful Guanyin…I beg you to spare me this torture.

龙力 (Lóng lì): Dragon Strength

黛玉 (Dài yù): Black Jade

“别再折磨自己了...你不是这里的受害者" (Bié zài zhémó zìjǐle... Nǐ bùshì zhèlǐ de shòuhài zhě) : Stop torturing yourself ... you are not the victim here."

台风 (Táifēng): Typhoon

Taglist: @valeskafics, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @its-actually-minicika, @arcielee, @axelsagewrites

[weekend-whip]

-20 asks for Fic Writers-

hey-lo!! I was tagged by @rainofthetwilight for a fun ask game!! Thank you!! ^-^)/

for tags, any fic writer that comes across this and feels compelled! You have my blessing! Go forth and rant about thy fics!!! Share your words with the world!! Give people new stuff to read!! Flaunt your beautiful achievements!!

. . .

1.How many works do you have on AO3?

19! And counting!

2. What's your total AO3 wordcount?

...791,937 and counting *lies down* (at least most of it is just one fic? Ahaha? ha?)

3. What fandom(s) do you write for?

right now, just ninjago! I wrote for some other fandoms back in the day (with...equally ambitious endeavors) and I initially made my Ao3 account for Definitely Not Ninjago...but, here we are :d

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Born to Be a 21st Century Ninja: 1116

Thank You, For Giving Me Wings: 560

Way of the 21st Century Ninja: 546

Assorted Thoughts and Feelings: 201

Married to the Sea: 161 (which I'm sure will get beat-out by GNL here soon haha)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I TRY, REALLY, MOSTLY, AND USUALLY but sometimes I get too excited and things shift through the cracks (hence why I generally make it a habit to respond to stuff I missed before/around/after a big update! That way it's on my mind!)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i haven't written it yet I MEAN WHAT it's Married to the Sea. I'm not big on writing overly bad/sad/tragic endings yet

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Paper Plate Moon, the only fic without an existential crisis of some kind (just a slightly lovesick Kai with a smaller scope crisis) Orrr, A Little More Than Sixteen Candles, which is also about Kai! Except he cries. But it's a happy cry!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No

(...wait, there's 'kinds' of smut?!?! do i dare even ask)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Braaaaah I looooooooved crossovers when I was younger. My biggest story from my youth was a crossover. ...I won't be telling you what it is, though. It's part of my dark, mysterious past.

(I also don't count Legacyverse as a crossover, either. It's more of a...fusion! But. Y'know. The roots are there.....)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Only once, and it was the aforementioned crazy crossover fic from above. They were dealt with very swiftly tho :3

12. What's the longest time you've spent working on a fic? And what's the shortest?

Longest that I've finished would be Born to Be; that took me technically almost two full years to write x-x

Shortest would be all the Aftershock oneshots I manage to speedrun in a few scant hours on holidays lmao

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

I've triiiiiiiied a couple times in the past; only one attempt was successful though.

14. What's your all time favourite ship? From all the fandoms?

Destiny's Bounty! Man, I adore that ship so much.

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

THE MERMAID AU or the Jesse Fanseason or all the little prompt things from June '22 that still haunt me to this day or some of legacy!sidestories I should've done ages ago or-

16. What are your writing strengths?

*grabs some stuff from comments* I have strength in character development and providing emotional depth for scenes! *I* also think I write some kickass fight scenes, thank you.

17. What are your writing weaknessess?

BASIC GRAMMAR LMAO and probably using too many commas and ellipses but I am trying to ween myself off of it and incorporate shorter sentences. I always forget to vary up sentence length until the end waaaah

(I also miss typos a lot but I am of the camp that believes it keeps one humble~ *should probably just get a beta reader but hnnng*)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Intimidating

19. First fandom you wrote for?

...something video game related

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Probably Born to Be just because of how darn big of an achievement it is! and I reread it a lot <3 <3 <3 <3

[sapphires-and-gold-fics]

Pssst… I’ve got a secret for WIP writers. If you haven’t or don’t intend to finish a story then don’t publish it in a public forum 🤬 I understand that people write for themselves and for the process or whatever but once it published other people become invested and it’s just selfish to publish and not finish - who are you GRR Martin 🤬🤬🤬🤬

This statement is really lacking empathy. Let’s talk about it. I can’t speak for anyone else’s experience but I can definitely speak to mine. And let me start by saying this:

If you were invested, just imagine how heartbroken the writer is when they can’t see their story to its end.

I am very guilty of having left stories unfinished for a while, and I’m still going back to them. Why?

I’ll talk first about posting publicly before a story is done:

In 2019, when season 8 of GOT was winding down, things got real dark real fast. I wrote purely for myself as an exercise to get out some feelings. I wrote two depressing one-shots as a way of processing my grief. It worked. A couple people read them. Almost no one commented. Didn’t matter. I wasn’t writing for anyone else. And then, like many many many people, I started writing as a way to work out how it could have been.

And once I started it was very hard to stop. I hyper fixated on getting the story in my head into words and into written text. At the same time, a community was forming as a kind of group therapy for what we had all just been subject to. And something that is highly valued in this community is ideas, stories, ways to escape the reality of what we were served. We were protesting by creating that which the characters deserved. A lot of people were looking for an outlet. So all the stories got read. Views were high. Comments were high. Discourse was high. There was immediate gratification in posting an update because there was always someone waiting for it. I lost a lot of sleep those first few months. I would write until 5am, sleep a few hours, then get up and head for work. And even heading to work I would be on the subway typing the next phases of the story into my Notes app. And when I got home at night I would transcribe that, and work on it til 5am, on and on and on. I wrote almost non-stop from May 2019-January 2020.

Now let’s talk investment:

It is easy to keep writing and writing when the support is there for it. It is much harder when things fall apart. It is also the nature of fanfiction to involve a certain level of audience participation. Not everyone has a beta reader. Some of us rely on an audience to help determine whether the story is even viable enough to pursue. And the truth is: people have moved on.

We’re currently on year three of a global pandemic that has sapped my willingness to exist, let alone maintain the stamina that the community supported. And now that that community imploded, regrouped, fell apart again, and has mostly moved on, the demand and encouragement and feedback just wasn’t there. It’s hard enough, even with a subject that one loves immensely, to keep writing when you can barely get out of bed in the morning, and you’re not sure anyone else can either.

Add to that the fact that the US has been in the midst of a domestic cold war for the last 6 years. It’s hard, especially with something you are as emotionally invested in as I am in Brienne & Jaime, to allocate the necessary mental and emotional resources to your stories when people are getting assaulted or even assassinated for protesting injustice. How can one compete with that? How can one stand it?

I’ve started going back to my unfinished work because I really hated that I had left them alone. But I’m not doing it for likes or comments or reblogs or really for the community at all, it just happens to already exist there. Do I love that people are finding it or coming back to it? Absolutely. Do I love that people are commenting on it and providing some response so that I can synthesize that data into my own nexts steps? 100%. But now that we are in a kind of post-communal stage, do I need their interaction? It’s nice - gratifying, even - to be able to touch base with readers who enjoyed your work back when you really hit your stride, and it’s great to feel like your stories mean something to someone who maybe feels the same way you do three years after it all ended. But I can say for certain that I’m doing this just for me and for the characters.

Respectfully, writers don’t owe you anything.

I value what I owe to myself higher than any interaction over a fic.

AO3 is free, both in production and consumption.

My writing is my art and I take great pride in it. I would rather sit on it and not finish it until a year later than publish an update that is unworthy either because I rushed to meet the demand of the people, or because I did not take the time to allow my experiences, taste, or abilities room to grow.

Take my current WIP - Forget MeNot, where Game of Thrones meets Sense & Sensibility:

When I started writing that story in 2019, I was on the cusp of starting my co-authored work Yours Before I Knew, another GOT/Austen piece. I might have held off and focused on FMN for the bulk of that time, but my co-writer was raring to go and that pushed me to be a better writer. Mentally I was exactly where I needed to be for that project. And then YBIK took over my life in great ways. And then I was exhausted when that story was done. And then I picked up FMN again temporarily but, by then, we were already in COVID Land and things were weird.

If I had tried in 2020 to finish FMN, it would be utter trash. Someone would enjoy it maybe, but it would have none of the beauty and complexity that I, writing now from 2022, have been able to develop. Even if no one else ever saw it, it’s tickling my brain in the best ways and I am so glad that I waited.

I love that I’m able to come back to these characters and love them in the way they deserve, and not the ways they would have been sketched by the 2020 version of me. I honor 2019/2020 me in picking up where she left off, but I don’t do it for the readers or the hype.

Maybe one day we’ll get TWOW and maybe we won’t. It’s always summer in the songs, and maybe all we’ll ever have is the fics that make it so. Honestly, I’d be okay with that.

So listen, the next time you run across an unfinished work that you love and you’re upset that it’s incomplete, just know that the writer once loved it even more than you do, and just maybe they determined that they loved it too much to ruin it.

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 11/26/2022

Oh, I was doing so well...

this could be permanent you know is very close to completion. I am on the literal last scene of the fanfic. It just happens to be a very long and important scene. I probably would be done now, if it weren't for Thanksgiving, because I had to spend all of Wednesday baking and then Thursday and Friday were mostly taken up with traveling and eating and being social, and now my momentum is in tatters.

I really don't have very much left to go-- I have to finish the scene I'm on, of course, and there were two things that I forgot to put in and want to go back and see if I can, and there is one chapter that I didn't like the ending, so I may see if there's anything I can do about that. Then I have to reread all six chapters and send them to the beta. I have not particularly wanted to re-read my own writing lately, which is a thing that sort of comes and goes. On one hand, when I enjoy re-reading, it wastes a lot of time because I'd rather re-read than write new, but on the other hand, I catch a lot more errors and end up with a much more polished end product.

Anyway, The Work for this week added up to 5444, which is distinctly Not Bad considering how much time I lost to Festivities. I'm really pleased, actually, because I should be able to finish up the actual writing of the thing by or just past the end of November. That leaves me all of December to do Renruki week stuff. I'm hoping the combination of short projects should go well with Christmas hassle (I did put up half my lights today because the weather was nice). I am pretty sure I am going to take up the next part of Heart is a Muscle again in January. Take me home...country roads...to Soul Society...where I belong. I yearn to once again write Byakuya being aggravated by the irksome presence of his lieutenant and also Zabimaru being a gigantic pain in the ass. Anyway, that's looking too far ahead, I gotta keep my eyes on the prize. Hopefully I'll have some fic for you in December!

Oh, also, I have been very neglectful in answering my ao3 comments, and I have not forgotten you, it's just that it really derails my brain to do those, so I've been trying to pound this out and then get back to them. I also closed my asks for the same reason, in case you were wondering. Thank you all for your patience with me, as always!

[hermit-god-au-pog]

Welcome to the blog and the AU!

As a little intro before the actual intro story to this au, since this will be pinned, A few things to mention!

I'll occasionally edit this post to update the master list/add links or info. And keep in mind, these are all the characters, nothing here is really related to the CCs themselves.

But a small very quick rundown. This will take place around the beginning of season 9, still in their starter-base era. This au is purely fiction and probably not that accurate to any true storyline hermits had haha. 

If anyone has any questions, comments, etc my asks and dm’s are open! Do I know where im going with this au? No not really, it's really an ‘As I Go’ kind of thing.

And if you were here since the start/when I had a bunch of other stuff going on, a lot of that info is deleted for now and will be worked back into the story later on. This blog will be a mix of stories and art, cause I like to do both.

One more thing, I will have the characters of SweetestHoneybee, Mjlor, and DoctorSiren in this au! As well as DoctorSiren's Jumbro's headcanon(which is basically Jimmy and Mumbo are brothers). If any of them have become uncomfortable with this overtime ill respect any boundaries they have <3

But enough intro from me, enjoy this little story and hope you enjoy the blog 07

Once upon a time, Deities ruled separately. Each having their own realm or home to their lonesome or to just them and their worshipers. Back in these days, it was a lonely time to be called a diety.

But in a late Beta build, a Diety has come to be. At first, their purpose was unknown to them, wandering around and making friends with others, heck even joining a realm under a fake persona to try and find their purpose. And was this the best choice they made.

This person? They went by the name Xisuma, their chosen name for non-diety purposes. And in this server, Xisuma found around 5 other deities, all doing a similar thing to him, hiding their identities to find out who they want to be, or be someone different from who they thought they were. This was also the year the Watchers mysteriously appeared, the Listeners not too far being either. These strange beings claim to be alive since the beginning of time but never announced themself till now. And whether you were to believe it or not, their powers rivaled deities. Hell, they even took down a few corrupt deities and harnessed their powers for themselves, or so it seemed.

But looking back at Xisuma and his newfound friends, it seemed their ‘season’ was coming to an end. And not wanting this new wonderful experience to end, and maybe a bit of a deeper feeling in his gut telling him not to let go of this server just yet, he offered to keep the world going. Offered to take responsibility and keep it up to date and watch over it. And after a few meetings and long nights, the decision was made.

The world was reset sometime later. Some left, and a lot more joined. The number of secret deities bumped up to 11. A few had heard about this place on their own, and a few heard it from another deity or friend within the group. 

And seeing this new growth, Xisuma decided to start a secret club of sorts for them all. It was sweet and harmless, mostly. Just, them able to talk and express themselves in godly ways they couldn't ever do before with anyone else. It was really helpful to a lot of them, if not all of them.

Everything went as smoothly as it could go that season, and heck, next season all but 13 in this season were now deities. It was looking up for this little community of deities forming here.

Around a fourth through the season, Xisuma announced an idea to the other deities. They were in the majority here, and they all trusted their fellow members, so why not reveal their secrets? The question had to be sat on for a while for some people.

But, in the end, later into the server, a few non-deity players had already left,  and this group of all-powerful being gathered everyone else. 11 were left to tell their secret too.

And thank the gods, they all took it well. One was a bit, overwhelmed, and had already planned of leaving soon. They promised to keep their secret and keep all of them in a good place in their heart but did leave the server a few days later.

For the rest, they were all rightfully surprised, but what was also shocking was there were a few immortal or semi-immortal beings alongside them as well, three specifically purely immortal.

Next season, it seems a lot more deities were catching onto this new, ‘hangout’ spot that's been created. Heck, a lot of them had smaller meetings with other deities and they just did their jobs together instead of alone. As the season went on, more of the mortal members left. All on good terms, not being pushed out in any way, but they all had their reasons.

By season 5 however, it seemed all mortals had left, and it was time for a new set of rules, a new order. Hermitcraft was now no longer an ordinary server, it has gotten stricter locks and codes, and its vaults and data were harder to breach. This server? Was now a home of deities. Of course, on the outside, no one knew that, they just assume they'd gotten more strict on joining for whatever reason. But on the inside, everyone was immortal in some way, everyone trusted one another, and they were here to help one another. No longer were they alone and fending for themselves, they all now had a place to truly call home.

And whether they decided to stay or go, whether new deities or immortals were added later on, once a hermit, Hermitcraft will always be your home to come back to. Overtime teams are formed to make everyone's lives a bit easier and to bring some “mortal” normal-ness back into hermitcraft.

With 3 teams, Ambassador’s and advertisers, and then teams of just Ambassador’s or just Advertisers; The hermits make a way to connect back with the mortal world besides just doing their jobs. Heck, most if not all hermits even start up some ‘vlogging’ of their builds, life, and shenanigans and start growing a fanbase that way. While not directly leaning into their deities' powers and gifts, for most it feels nice to have a fanbase like that again.

Now, are their darker secrets left unanswered and swept under the rug? Maybe they just haven't been seen yet? Of course there are! But deities can only do so much still, they can't be looking into every odd dark crack all the time. And with a server as protected as theirs, why should they have constant stress and paranoia over it? Everything’s gonna be fine, they travel worlds all the time. Even if there was danger, they can just lose it by going to another world.

Their deities, after all, nothing would be stupid enough to fuck with 20+ of them, right?