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jinkiezzsstuff · 1 month

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At First Sight 3

Part: [1] [2]

Alastor x doe!fem!reader (gender neuteral pronouns)

warnings: 18+ SMUT, tentacles inclusion, tentacle bondage, predatory prey kink, breeding kink, creampie, male and female masturbation, in heat trope, tentacle masturbation, squirting, dirty talk, choking kink a tiny tiny amount, horror aspects, size kink if you squint, pregnancy although not in depth, you and al become parents, jealous alastor, alastor and lucifer hate eachother, lucifer disagrees with your relationship, swearing, babies given a name, girl dad alastor, NOT PROOF READ LADS I WAS LAZY, lemme know what i missed xoxox

taglist: @readergirlstuff @purplerose291 @chirimeimei @sirens-and-moonflowers

word count: 7.3K

Alastor had to bite his tongue through many instances in his life he rather not bite his tongue through, but this was by far the hardest he’s ever had to hold back. Lucifer pulled you into a strong hug, cooing at how much you’d grown and changed, pinching your cheeks and kissing your head. Even Alastor’s shadows edged out angrily across the floor at the devil, however you seemed to pay no mind to your newly wedded’s distaste in the devils affections. In fact you were laughing and playfully swatting at Lucifer for treating you so childishly.

Moulting into a shadow slithering across the floor like a snake, he crept up beside you and when he fully formed from the black goop, he waited not a second to pull you into him, and when he did you gave him a dreamy love sick look. Lucifer's face wasn’t shy in his display of disgust, eyes darting to you and Alastor, mouth ajar. “No.” Lucifer uttered in theatrical horror, jumping back and pointing his cane at Alastor. Grinning like the Cheshire cat, Alastor puffed with pride. “Yes.” Alastor practically growled, meanwhile rolled your eyes at both of their idiotic behaviour.

“I mean Charlie said you had an…. interesting taste in men but HIM?!” You grinned nervously at the king, his face soured as he glared at Al. You were in the midst of saying some good old recovery words to ease Lucifers mind, when Alastor pipped up, head held high as he spoke. “Yes indeedy! This little darling and I have become quite the pair. A married pair.” Alastors words were sharp and punctual, like spears tossed forcefully right at the king himself.

You’ve been in Lucifers life so long you might as well be a second daughter, now this deer fuck is stealing both his biological daughter and the one he practically adopted? Lucifer was steaming and you were caught between the two, you knew you were mated to Alastor, but that didn’t change how near and dear the king was to you.

“Guys,” You ushered in a hushed tone bringing your hand up, looking quite meek between the two seething demons. “Please relax, it’s not that serious. Alastor is my mate Luc-” As you were in the middle of calmly explaining the situation Lucifer jumped up like the ground had burnt him, horns shooting out of his head. “His what?!” Lucifer shouted, wings splaying out, tone demonic. Alastor chuckled, his static overlay enhanced as he fixed his monocle. “Yes, I just knew this doe had to be mine when I laid eyes on her! Oh my what a night we had.” In any other situation, on any other day, Alastor couldn’t have those words waterboarded out of him, but just in spite of the devil, he knew he ought to push his own boundaries.

The devil face morphed into shock horror as he tugged at his hat in pure stress, meanwhile Alastor stood tall and smug, with a shit eating grin on his face. You could tell Alastor was going to exploit your relationship just to piss Lucifer off. “What the holy fuck!” The king exclaimed, running in a quick circle, trying to grasp the situation. By now Lucifers entire demonic form was out, eyes blood red, horns at full length, wings flapping occasionally behind him. Thankfully Alastor wasn’t visibly upset, keeping his form and tone fixed. “Guys, Luce, relax! I wanted Alastor the moment I saw him, trust me I know what he’s done and who he is, but there was something about him. You know I’m not that stupid hellion who falls for anybody’s charms, Alastors got something.”

Lucifer didn’t seem to care for your reasoning, instead he glared at Alastor even harder, and pointed his index and middle finger toward his own eyes, and then Alastors. “I’m watching you deer dick.” Then Lucifer turned and stormed off, ignoring your call to come back and relax. Sighing your platinum ears flattened against your hair and head, posture falling. “Come now my dear, don’t dwell on that silly little man’s equally silly and little emotional control! We’re married now! We should be celebrating our fantastical venture into domestic romance!”

Although Alastor was right, the timing was wrong, and his voice was too happy for your state. “I know, but he’s like a second dad, I want him to like you and it stresses me that he doesn’t.” Alastor hums, gently guiding you back upstairs to your now shared bedroom. “Things tend to change with time sweetheart, let this be one of those things that change with time. He can see how good we are together and how good I am for this hotel!” You hummed falling into his side, your tail wagging happily as you reached the bedroom.

“I was also hoping he’d be able to lend us some advice but now I'm doubtful.” The door closed behind you and him, you immediately kicked your shoes off to free the hooves. “What advice dear?” Alastor asked softly, attention focused on untying his bow tie. “Well i’m quite concerned about getting pregnant with a fawn, and I want to know if our mating it’s demon or animal specific.”

The air got tight at the mention of children, and immediately you looked over to him watching his movements stall. His coat was now off leaving him in just his vest and button up. Sighing you rubbed your hand forcefully your forehead, mushing your skin around in an attempt to relieve the conflict in your head. “You mustn’t talk like that, little doe.” Alastors tone was stern, pointed and lacking all radio static, it was just his raw vocals that sounded almost raspy. You felt a few emotions at the way he said that, upset, angry, shocked.

Momentarily you scolded yourself for being so ludacris, this was Alastor! A serial killing, cannibalistic overlord who dealt in black magic, not your fairy prince; there were going to be big bumps and hurdles along the journey and you shouldn’t twist yourself up in a rose coloured fantasy. “Would it be that bad for you?” You couldn’t help but ask, your gaze averted instead focused on the intricate details of the wooden floor.

Alastor growled, slithering up beside you, using his magic to his advantage. “Now my dear don’t look so glum, you’re the first being of any kind to capture my heart. Shouldn’t that be something my dear?” You melted into his side when his arms came up to wrap around your figure. You stayed silent for a moment, not wanting to say the wrong thing and upset either of you. “It just felt saddening I guess, to have you react like that. I know a child is so much work, it is its own being; but when you reacted that way it felt like rejection of me, and us as a couple. Like i’m not good enough to be mated to.” Tears began to gather in your eyes, and you tried your best to keep them at bay, not wanting to cry about something so silly.

Your ears lay flat above your head, Alastor slowly petting the space between them as you spoke. Guiding you to your shared bed, Alastor sat you down, and then himself beside you. “My sweet doe,” Alastor said, smooth as butter, nuzzling himself in your neck, inhaling your scent. “If you so desire a child, we can certainly play into the fantasy, however we haven’t a clue whether it’s truly possible for me to reproduce!”

Resting your head atop his, feeling his soft ears flick and fold, his hair soft and scented with a masculine foresty shampoo. “Alastor,” You whined, making him chuckle darkly. “What about the mating stuff?” Alastor blew air on your shoulder before dragging his sharp teeth up your exposed neck. “My dear I'm sure you and I can figure it out together, no need for some silly devil. Besides we’re the two mated, we know deep down what we’re supposed to do, we knew when we first met each other we were meant to be.” Alastor leaned back from you, cupping your cheek.

You smiled at him enjoying the hazed lidded look Alastor had in his eye. “You have to be nice to Lucifer though.” Alastor growled lowly, the sound reverberating through his chest loudly. It sent shock waves through you, hearing such an animalistic sound from him. “It’s extremely hard to be nice when it’s so easy to make him upset!” Rolling your eyes, you brought your hands up to his face and held his face as he held yours. His ears flattened to each side as his eyebrows quirked, you felt a little bit of pride at the sight, it had only been a few weeks since you’ve been together but Alastor was already way more relaxed around you, to the point of freely showing emotions through movements in his tail and ears.

Pulling him toward you, you gave a soft kiss, which he immediately returned with a hum of approval. Alastors body inches nearer to yours, pressing himself next to you. Alastor broke the kiss, looking down at you with bedroom eyes, you returned the look, grinning at him coyly.

Lucifer fumed, stomping around, a week had passed since Lucifer found out you and that god awful creature were a pair. He insisted on staying at the hotel in order to keep an eye on the demon; assure that you were safe. Lucifer kept a keen eye on Alastor, like a fly on the wall, but from what Lucifer could tell, Alastor was a perfect gentleman! It pissed him off entirely. Alastor bent over backwards for you, making your breakfast and coffee every morning, helping you style your hair, helping you dress, assisting you with tasks you loathed completing, hell one night Lucifer caught Alastor teaching you how to play the piano, and when you got angry at your consistent failures, Alastor would reassure you lovingly and patiently.

It drove Lucifer insane because as much as he cared for you, he selfishly wanted Alastor to be a bad partner, giving reason as to why he should leave his two daughters and the hotel alone! But everytime he looked for a flaw he found none, half the time he found himself impressed, Alastor knew what to say, and was confident in his charm. “Dad, you gotta relax! YN is fine.” Charlie said worriedly, placing a hand on her fathers shoulder. Lucifer sighed, slamming his head against the bar table. “They want to have kids, Charlie!” The man sulked, voice muffled by the wooden bar he tried to morph and become one with. “WHAT!? Oh my gosh! That would be amazing! Why wouldn’t she tell me?!” Charlie at this point was violently shaking her father with excitement, a slight bounce in her as she shook him.

Lucifer looked off to the side, guilt evident in his eyes. “They didn’t tell anyone; I overheard.” Today in fact, he overheard the two of you in the back of the hotel, having a picnic in the garden. You had your head in Alastors lap as he pet your hair and ears occasionally, and told you stories from when he was alive; which you greatly enjoyed since you’d been born in hell. When he began to speak about his mother the conversion shifted to parenthood, and then children. Originally Lucifer didn’t intend to stay long, he simply slithered through the grass to eavesdrop a bit, make sure all was well and leave.

But he couldn’t leave when he heard what Alastor had to say. “Y’know dear, I never considered having children, but then again, I never considered being married either. I’ve thought about children now, of course, ha ha,” Alastor laughed boisterously. You could tell it was to cover up the nerves he felt inwardly, but Lucifer found him to be insufferable and inconsiderate. “We don’t know if we can Al,” You said softly, reaching your hand to Alastors cheek. Alastor quirked a brow amusement visibly shining in his eyes that searched your face for something. “We’d just have to wait until mating season darling.” Lucifer gagged at that, you however didn’t quite understand and it made Alastor coo about how adorable you are.

“Oh so we’re not supposed to know they’re gonna try for a baby?” Charlie asked stunned, backing away from her father. “No,” He moaned, slamming his head back down on the table. Charlie gave her dad a look but brushed it off, this was very exciting for her, she’d only tell Vaggie, that way the two could both subtly baby proof the hotel!

Autumn in hell roamed around and it was one hell of a year, the hotel went under attack, Lucifer then made himself a whole quarter of the hotel his, and Alastor followed suit with his radio tower, Sir Pentious died, Adam died, there was so much hectic chaos you could barely keep up. Not to mention the beginning of October left you feeling odd, to say the least. You couldn’t completely understand why, not much changed in the recent days, aside from a few sinners checking in. Nothing bad happened between you and Alastor either; things have been fantastic, the two of you would have the occasional spat about morality and manipulation, but Alastor had your soul and was your mate, so in the end you’d give in to him, and he in his own way to you.

One of your biggest points of contention was Alastors multi-beneficial behaviour, if he was going to do something you knew it was double edged, one side benefiting him and the other side doing what he was supposed to with the illusion of being gracious. One of the biggest arguments was kids; Alastor talked about having them in ways that benefited him, how it would rank him above other sinners, he’d have bloodline in hell which would grant him further authority beyond the pride ring, he could train his offspring to be like him. In short, Alastor didn’t want children, he wanted mini hims, to run around killing and eating others.

You tried your best to convince him that a child was no means to power, but he truly couldn’t understand the point of having them besides that. You tried not to blame him, understanding he wasn’t a fairy prince he was Alastor, and you loved him for that, but at times dealing with his psycho was frustrating.

You’ve noticed him acting strange today, he insisted you wore his clothes he’d been wearing the day before, you thought that was the strangest thing and tried to squeeze the reasoning as to why he wanted you to wear his worn dirty clothes. Unfortunately you never fully got the answer out of him, aside from him tutting that he wanted to make ‘that devil’ seethe, so you did. It wasn’t like it really bothered you, hell he even went out of his way to magic the clothes to fit your frame baggily. You wore one of his washed out red button ups, and his slacks, thankfully you found the fit to be somewhat chic and enjoyed the idea of prancing around in clothes that were his, and smelt like him.

Walking down to the lobby like you did everyday, you were greeted by Alastor holding your cup of coffee as always, this time however his appearance looked worrisome. “What’s wrong Al?” You exclaimed rushing over to him, gazing up to him because his form was just slightly elongated. “Nothing my dear! Just a little bit of frazzle this morning!” You didn’t believe that for one second; his antlers were out and looked like they were peeling, his eyes were black and turned to dials, his neck elongated, smile strained and his hair puffed. “Was it you and Lucifer having some marital spat again?” You joke, taking your cup of coffee and following him into the kitchen.

“No dear, please refrain from commenting about that filthy devil, it’s insulting to replace you with him. It’s simply the change of seasons.” Setting his coffee on the counter top, he leaned on it, arms folded and looked over to you. Your ears folded down, a confused look taking over your face. “Is it a deer thing? I woke up feeling strange too, I’m sweating more than usual, and it’s hot, and sometimes my body will start tingling!” You explain hurriedly, slightly worried at what was going on.

Alastor swallowed, smile straining, he wasn’t equipped with how to handle the situation. “Well dear,” Alastor stalled, momentarily scratching the loose felt on his antler. You gazed at him waiting for a response, but it never came, he just filled the air with static, eyeing you up and down. “Hello, Al? I would prefer to know, you look stressed.” You urged leaning toward him, Alastor inhaled deeply, and exhaled a growl. Your body reacted instantly to the noise, feeling a travelling sensation of heat shoot from your groin to your head making you feel dizzy. “If we are to talk about such things, it will not be here.” He snapped eyes closed tightly, fists clenched, you had no clue what was up with him. Just as you were about to urge him further, Lucifer came skipping into the kitchen whistling a tune. “Oh heyyy guys!” Lucifer exclaimed in a valley girl-esque voice, strutting up to the two of you.

“Morning big daddy.” You say jokingly, it wasn’t that big of a deal to you two; you always referred to Lucifer by either his name or some variation of dad. Alastor however didn’t find this to be funny, you and lucifer watched as Alastor grew taller, his static deafening. “Uhhh morning pumpkin,” Lucifer muttered, eyes focused on Alastor as he spoke. You heard the clacking of heels against the floor and your attention turned to the door. Angel paused at the entrance looking between Al and Lucifer. At this point Alastor leered over Lucifer, bent abnormally so, you were eyeing Angel between the gap Alastor left open. You mouthed ‘help’ at Angel, but he only grimaced and slowly backed off. “Do not refer to them that way.”

The air thickened, Alastor was tall and violent looking, there was black substance leaking from between his yellow teeth, the lights were dimmed and flickering, while his radio played creepy and glitchy old timey music. His voice was nearly unrecognisable as he grit his words out at Lucifer, and for the first time in hell, you felt terrified of a sinner. Most of the seven sins weren’t this eerie when they got mad, neither were the hellborns, they mainly just killed whoever crossed them; no one had shown their true demonic powers in front of you before.

“Woah there, big fella… uh, alright! I’ll just leave you two to it! And i’ll be gone!” And just like that Lucifer scurried off in an extremely comical way. Alastor, despite Lucifer gone didn’t come back to himself, still hunched over breathing deeply, static crackling through the air. You didn’t exactly know what to do in this situation, so for a moment you just stood watching. Eventually, after about two minutes of silence, Alastor shrunk, ever so slightly, still tall and creepy but not nearly as much as before. The static ceased, and the lights returned to the usual brightness, Alastor looked down at you, his usual red eyes back. “I’m so sorry dear, I hope I didn’t frighten you.”

You swallowed harshly, you had a strange mix of fear and arousal swirling within you that you weren’t ready to share with the demon, so instead you shook your head, unconvincingly so. “No not at all Al, how come that made you so upset?” A soft record scratch came from him when you asked. “What ever do you mean?” He innocently asked, tone lifted in false innocence. Crossing your arms together, hip propped out, you eyed him closely trying to gage what you were dealing with. As your eyes ran from his antlers down, you stopped crudely at his hips, noting the strain that appeared.

Alastor wasn’t big on sex, and to be fair you didn’t exactly have a high libido either, you preferred make out sessions and sweet romance, not necessarily needing sex. So it wasn’t often you’d see him in such a state, normally he only showed arousal when he was actively involved with you. Without warning he leaned over you, hands splayed across the counter behind you, trapping you between him and the counter. “Naughty little doe, can’t keep your eyes off me?” Alastor mocked darkly, his breath brushing against your cheek. The way he contorted down from his stretched height didn’t look anatomically possible, and despite the terrifying look of him you felt giddy and cheeky, with the urge to egg him on further.

You couldn’t stop the smirk that crawled its way onto your face, biting your lip in an attempt to curb it, unfortunately Alastor saw. Forcefully he grabbed your cheeks with his claws, yanking your face upward to face him properly. “My dear, I’ve been playing nice but i can see the mischief in your eyes-” Before he could finish you flattened your fingers and palm flat against the bulge in his pants. Alastor stilled as you gave him a pout, doe eyes blinking up at him and your white ears pulled back.

Alastor growled at the sight, shamefully bucking into your warm hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it, you're so handsome, y’know?” You whined, your other hand placed on his forearm beside you. Alastor grunted, something you rarely heard from him. “Upstairs, go.” He replied flatly, staring beyond your head at the cabinets above. Giggling manically, you ducked under his arms and sprinted to your shared room. Your body felt on fire and you could feel the arousal between your legs. As you rushed up the stairs you bumped into Angel who grabbed you by the shoulders. “Woah there toots, where ya headed now so cracked out, are things with big red all good?” Before you could respond, Alastors demonic form made way down the hall, shadows crawling out from his feet and knocking out the lights.

“Oh yeah okay, makes sense.” Angel said in a hurry, before taking off leaving you to your own devices. Laughing aloud with a giant grin on your face you continued sprinting down the hall, just barely out of Alastors grasp. His radio was a good tell on how close he was to you, the static was going crazy nearly giving you a headache. You broke out into an anxious run, unable to fight off the anticipation of what would happen. When you got to the room, you ran inside shutting the door. You glanced around and decided a good hiding place would definitely be the most cliche, not under the bed but under a computer desk. You squished yourself underneath the desk, which was incredibly uncomfortable and pulled the chair in to cover you as much as you could.

The door suddenly creaked open, the shadows consumed the floor, the lights dying out. Alastors static couldn’t be heard, but you could hear and feel the vibrations of his footsteps around the room. “Oh sweet thing, I know you don’t truly want to hide from me. Why don’t you come on out to me?” His voice was smooth compared to before, the static left his voice, leaving his unique and rich voice all bare to your ears. The burning sensation in your body worsened and it felt torturous to deny your body any friction, you knew if you moved you were done for.

Despite not being in real danger, your heart kicked up in speed when you heard his nails drag across the wooden desk above, his hooves coming into sight at the corner. Alastor pulled out the chair, humming to himself as he sat down. You held your breath as you watched him spread his lags out, shadows darker than the dark room swarming up behind him. You watched him unbuckle his belt lazily, his head obscured from your view, only his clawed hand and crotch in sight. “Up,” He ordered once his belt was undone, and his shirt untucked. Slithering out from under the desk, you used his thighs to balance and help you lift yourself up. Before you could fully get up he grabbed you by the neck and tugged you into a firey kiss. His teeth scraped against yours, and his tongue instantly took over your mouth, exploring and tainting every inch of your mouth.

You moaned into him as his other hand gripped your hip, digging his nails deep into it. Yanking your body up, you now sat on his lap just below the large bulge he’d been teasing you with. You jerked your hips forward, yearning the friction of him against you. Alastor pulled away a string of saliva still connecting the two of you together, you whined throwing your head back slightly in defiance. You’d never wanted someone so badly before, it was even worse then the first time you’d met Al. Panting you wrapped your arms around his neck, humping him mindlessly, the only focus being on cumming. “Look at you,” Alastor sneered, gripping your hips and pushing you down against him. “So desperate, you’ve got no restraint. I’m disappointed in you, little doe.”

You croaked out what could only be described as a plea, but really it just sounded like a meek shout. Above the two of you Alastors antlers grew out, looking large and broad. “Y’know what time it is my dear.” Alastor groaned watching sweat slip down your chest, eye twitching as he held himself back. “Answer me.” He ordered sticking his nails into your tights, you gasped and moaned finding more pleasure in the act then pain. “No,” You cried softly and breathlessly. At that Alastor brought his head down to nuzzle the top of your head, careful of his antlers, and whispered in your ear. “Mating season.” You stuttered breathing out a “ha” noise, lacking humour and instead being replaced by desperation. In this position you could smell only his scent, and the arousal you left in the air, it made you feel dizzy with lust. You knew what this meant and it edged you further to the fall; he was going to mate you; breed you. You cried his name and begged for nothing, just tugging at his coat and begging for him, and only him.

The demon chuckled darkly moving away from your hair, and with lidded eyes he looked down at you, messily humping him, nearly on the verge of tears. What a sight to behold. His tentacles emerged lifting you above his lap, just enough for him to get his slacks off. Once off, he leaned back, you hoisted in the air still squirming, he practically lit up with a light bulb of an idea. Gripping himself through his boxers, Alastor slowly stroked himself; grinning cheekily up at you as he did so, seeing how instantaneously you were captivated by him. Without your knowledge, the tentacles worked around you, undoing, and slowly pulling off your (alastors), slacks. With one tentacle around your waist, two under each arm, and two underneath your knees keeping your legs pulled apart, there was too many tentacles to notice that your pants and underwear were being discarded.

Not to mention Alastor had you enamoured with the way he stroked himself, humming out noises of approval, just for you. You moaned when you felt the coldness of a tentacle inch up the entirety of your vulva, practically cupping your entire heat. You let out a guttural groan at the sensation, immediately jerking into his magic. “Oh fuck Alastor,” You cried shaking as the tip of the tentacle swirled your clit. Alastor watched you tentatively, enjoying all the ways your body reacted.

Alastor loved watching how your toes curled, or how your stomach would clench visibly, or how you feebly tried to pull your legs together. He sped his movements, enjoying the feeling of himself through his boxers, a little dribble of cum staining a wet spot on his drawers. Alastor rarely jerked off, but god did it feel good to put on a show for you, he loved the ways your eyes only focused on him, never moving away from what he was doing. Alastor saw you were coming close to the end, but if you were to cum, it was going to be around him. With the flick of a wrist, the tentacles plopped you back on his thighs, disappearing and making you cry out.

“Alastor please, please, please, I need you,” You whined bucking up into the air. Alastor grabbed your wrists that were flinging around slightly trying to keep yourself stable. Alastor would be the first to admit, it was extremely hard to keep his smile right now, he wanted to give you other expressions to burn into your brain. “Look at me darling.” Alastor cooed, not enjoying the fact your eyes were squeezed tightly shut. You were still mumbling incoherent pleas as you cracked them open, being greeted by Alastors chest and lazily leaned back figure, he was still stretched out to an abnormal degree which gave you and him more leeway. The way he looked at you as if you were a god, it made your stomach flutter, not to mention how he made you feel so effortlessly small, which in a way felt nice, especially with him.

“You’re so gorgeous dear, I hope our children have your eyes,” You curled forward against your will, gripping his shirt like it was your lifeline. You nearly came at his forwardness not to mention the certainty in his voice, and he found it to be oh so adorable. Carefully he lifted you and lined himself up with you, thanks to the help of his tentacles. Inhaling deeply, he briefly enjoyed the smell of your scent throughout the room, from your sweat, to your fragrances, to your arousal, it all intoxicated him all at once with need. Slowly he sat you down on him, you had made yourself so wet there was barely any resistance, you did however clench making it extremely difficult for Alastor to hold back.

Groaning loudly, the demon smiled wide, straining to keep his composure. You had fallen against his chest, gripping onto him tightly, mouth ajar, drool dripping, and eyes shut tightly, you were in bliss. The only thing your mind could comprehend was him, all of him, and having him breed you, mate you, fill you full of him. At that thought your hips involuntarily bucked up, your clit brushing against the curly pubic hair he had, that trailed up to his bellybutton. Alastor drew in a breath, leaning his head back against the large seat behind him, feeling electrified by your walls around him. Feet planted on the floor Alastor used his footing to fuck up into you harshly, jerking your body upward as he did so. You cried out his name, letting him use your body as he pleased, and use he did. Alastors gentleman ways were far behind him at this moment, his mind was clouded with one purpose and that was to breed you. He harshly jerked his hips up into you, bouncing you up and down on top of him at his own will and pace.

His head was still laid back on the head rest, exposing his neck to you. Speedily, as he jerked up into you, you focused on undoing the buttons of his collared shirt, your mind set on leaving bites and hickeys all along him. Once you gained access to his neck fully, you dived in moaning and dragging your teeth against his warm flesh. This caused him to snap forward, his arms caging you from behind, pushing you into him future. You licked, kissed and bit at his neck occasionally groaning his name, Alastor started to pant violently, growling every so often. Lifting his hips off the chair with you still there, he stood up, his tentacles assisting where ever he needed. With the new posture granted new access, and a new pace. With your legs wrapped his waist you could feel his his tail that wagged and stiffened repeatedly against you, it made your own wiggle in response.

Alastor was a true demon now, pushing your upper half backward, you fumbled afraid to fall and hit your head on the desk, but instead you were pleased to feel four tentacles holding you up, and keeping you from falling. Alastor dragged his claws down your now exposed chest, straight down to your clit, marking the trail down your skin with a discoloured line. It gave you goosebumps and you clenched in anticipation, as his movements had stunted a little bit ago. Finally his eyes met yours, clouded with lust and a deeper red colour than before, speaking of which- he could barely keep them open, so fucked out in his own lust. His movements began, slow and deep at first, his eyes never looking away from yours, and you were too hypnotised by his to even think about looking anywhere else but him. Alastor made sure with every thrust you felt it through your entire body, every prod was deep and forceful, and it worked making you see stars. You cried out clenching your legs around him as he finally began to pick up the pace, jolting your body with ever thrust.

As he rapidly picked up the pace, you moaned, whined and grunted out high pitched noises of pleasure that you never knew you could make. Alastor was growling, and grunting, teeth bared as he jackhammered into you, skin slapping filling the silent room. Bending forward to lean over you, he nipped and bit at your chest leaving prominite triangular teeth marks that were unmistakably his. With the current angle he hit a spot in you that caused you to squeal, screaming his name at the top of your lungs, you reflexively gabbed his antlers. “More, more,” You cried squeezing onto the thick antlers. Alastor moaned, not growled or grunted, moaned. His pitch was lifted and his eyes closed in bliss as he began to hump you desperately, his legs jittery from the excitement. Panting, he lifted his head to meet your eyes, which weren’t facing him but instead the wall, your head turned away shyly. Grabbing your face, he forced your head in his direction and crash his lips against yours.

It was an opened mouth kiss with no rhythm, just teeth, tongue and desire. You both moaned and panted into each others mouths, and each time Alastor let out a breathless moan, you clenched around him. Wrapping his arms around you, Alastor pulled his mouth away noses still touching. “I c-can’t dear, not gonna last.” Alastor gritted, making you whine and mutter incoherently, you were already gushing fluids all down his legs and balls like a water fountain. “Oh fuck,” Alastor moaned his static glitching in and out. His pace suddenly quickened to a sickening degree, every thrust he let out a breathy growl. “Gonna breed you,” He muttered against your lips before crashing them against you, with the senstaion of wet pubic hair bumping against your swollen clit, and his body heat suffocating you, you couldn’t hold out any longer. The coil snapped in you, liquid gushing rapidly out of you painting his cock with your fluids, your body violently convulsed against him, screeching his name like a wild animals.

Alastors eyes turned to dials as his pace quickened, your orgasm bringing his own on as he felt the pressure break, without care he continually hammered into you, moaning and groaning your name into the nape of your neck. Around the room the lights violently flickered and flashed various colours, the radio off to the side flicking on and off with a strange tune. The amount of cum he strung out felt inhuman, and it felt like it was bloating you up. After a few moments of him whining and fucking into you, his cum so bountiful it ended up leaking out of you with every pump. Eventually he stilled falling against you and his tentacles that were also shaking with strain and exhaustion. The flickering lights and crazy stereo glitching ceasing. Alastor gripped you tightly, his shadows encasing the two of you, and releasing you on your shared bed. Alastor hadn’t pulled out of you, instead he pulled you closer, his body snapping back to his regular size, and snuggled himself into your back.

You were barely responsive, still dazed and confused trying to catch your breath. Alastor played with your fingers absentmindedly, kissing your exposed shoulder. Sighing happily, you wiggled yourself back up into him. “I love you dear.” Alastor muttered, silently voice muffled from the fact his face was buried against your shoulder. “I love you too.” You felt him freeze against you, suppose he didn’t expect you to be coherent enough for you to realize or respond.

“I just think there’s something more going on ere’.” Angel teased grinning at you, Lucifer hand his head down against the bar, Charlie and Vaggie sat on the couch, Vaggie looked tired and pissed off. Husk was, well Husk, and Nifty was nowhere to be seen. “What do you mean?” You say innocently sitting at a chair with your morning coffee by your side. “Oh please! The whole seven rings heard you two!” The king wailed, grabbing his hat so hard it may have ripped. You felt heat crawl up your neck at the claim, surely you weren’t that loud right? “Oh ya! The whole hotels hydro went out, thanks a lot strawberry pimp, made my stereo go all haywire.” Angel snickered poking your thigh with a raise of his eyebrows. Alastor stood tall behind you, a relaxed smile on his face. “I had to hear you two moan all morning yesterday!” Lucifer cried out throwing himself off the chair dramatically throwing himself around in despair. Alastor growled beside you, and when you glanced up you were surprised to see his ears pinned back.

“Guys cmon, you’re making me uncomfortable.” You say, you weren’t at all uncomfortable, but you worried that Alastor may have been, and you knew he wouldn’t enjoy being pushed under the bus and presented as weak to sexual teasing. Charlie thankfully ushered her father a way, and Vaggie walked off with her giving both you and Alastor a glare. The room was momentarily silent once they left, you eyed Angel, and Husk throwing back alcohol at the bar. “So, kids eh?” Immediately Alastor morphed into his demonic form at Angels words. You gave Angel a look but he wasn’t afraid of either of you, instead he giggled and skipped over to Husk.

Cuddled down in your brand new duvets, compliments of Lucifer, you waited for your husband to get back. Thankfully Alastor was always punctual and never kept you waiting long. Beside you on the left side of the bed was a crib, decked out in soft pinks and reds, with black accents all around. Attached to the crib was a demonic mobile, with little wooden runes, teeth, and horn hung on it handmade by Alastor. You had given birth to your baby only a week ago, and Alastor was doting, and a little obsessed. He wouldn’t let you leave the hotel, and very rarely the room. If you did leave you were followed by him, his shadows and Husk. He’d been out today all day, doing a special broadcast which involved slaughtering dozens of citizens and broadcasting it just as a friendly reminder as to not get in his way, or mess with him.

It felt a little wrong, Alastor had told you his plans and when you looked down at your baby girls face you couldn’t deny him, you wanted people to stay away, so neither of you told Charlie or Lucifer where he’d be going, just that he’d be gone. And he was supposed to return shortly, you made sure to listen in on his torturous journey, slightly enjoying how hot he sounded. Beside you, Mara, your baby girl, stirred making baby noises as she did so. Leaning over you peaked in to see if she was actually awake or simply shuffling and making noises in her sleep. When you looked over you were greeted with big (e/c) baby eyes of your daughter, she had alastors hair and ears, but thankfully lacked his yellow teeth, you loved your husband but it was uh, his aesthetic. Scooping her up you cooed to her and placed her on your bare chest, petting the tiny wisps of red hair that sprout from her head. She was warm, and smelt like brand new baby, fresh skin, with fragments of yourself and Alastor lingering. Being a deer certainly heightened the pregnancy process, and Alastors fears of being like the wild bucks above on earth were quickly dismissed.

Alastor was enamoured with Mara the moment you found out you were pregnant, it was a very trying time considering everybody was absolutely against it or absolutely infatuated, you had people telling n the news obsessively writing articles about you two, Vox was absolutely up your guys’ ass, and Lucifer was his own little problem. He never left Alastor alone always hounding him on how to be a good dad and to not ‘eat the baby’, which always made the room go silent. Alastor suddenly materialized in the room, black shadows crawling away from his form as he stepped in. Immediately his eyes zeroed in on you and Mara, eyes brightening at the sight. Slinking over to the bed, Alastor slid in beside you arm coming around your shoulder while the other pet the baby’s head and little ears. “She’s just a beauty! Oh if only my mother could meet her.” You looked over to him at that, a little surprised at that, you were very aware he was a mommas boy but never had you thought of the fact he’s been so far from her for so long, and that he may inwardly desire to have her back in his life.

Little hands came up and grabbed onto Alastors long fingered claw, brining it to her mouth, Mara began to ‘chew’ on him. You grinned happily at the sight, Alastor chuckling beside you. “So, I was listening over the radio, but regardless, how’d it go?” You ask twisting your body toward him, he hummed pulling his hands away from Mara. “Oh it was spectacular, everything went swimmingly. I briefly met up with Rosie and relayed the news, she's absolutely thrilled at the birth of Mara, says we must come by with her for lunch.”

“Will you let that happen, I haven’t seen the outside in days.” Alastor hummed flatly giving you a playful cut eye. “Perhaps a day will be fine.” You snorted, focusing your attention back on the baby, placing a kiss on her forehead. “So, whadaya think, grandpa Luc-” Alastor quickly interjected. “Immediately no, but go on.” You laughed aloud, shaking your head at his behaviour. “Grandpa Luci, Uncle Angel, Uncle Husk, Auntie Charlie, Aunt Vaggie, then we have Cousin Nifty, andddd.” You trail off thinking about who else could be added to the equation. “Godmother Rosie?” Alastor pipped up, seeming genuinely happy, you agreed instantly, loving the idea of Rosie being the godmother should anything happen to you two. Or Lucifer, or Charlie.

Alastor gently gestured to the baby, signaling he wanted to hold her, so you passed her over delicately watching as she melted into Alastors chest. “So dear,” Alastor said with a mischievous tone, head tilting towards you. “Shall we feed her deer meat? I think it’s good to start em young!” You groaned, and rolled your eyes it seemed your first fatal relationship argument was kids, and now the next will be what to feed them.

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call-me-strega · 3 months

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Dc x Dp prompt #13: Hell to Pay

They say there are only two things certain in life: death and taxes. That’s why even the Joker doesn’t fuck with the IRS.

However, unfortunately for the Joker the other certainty is death and he has yet to pay his dues. Just like how he could only get away with tax evasion for so long, there are only so many times the Joker can dodge death.

Death is coming to collect, with interest.

And the Joker will have hell to pay.

~ A dark green cloud swirls over the city. From it, emerge three oppressive figures:

The one on the far left with flowing hair like white-hot fire. His vambraces made of (what appeared to be) molten glass stopped under his fingers, which then extend into into claws that seemed to drip lava. He had spiked obsidian pauldrons on his shoulders, fastening a luminous, stark-white cape to his shoulders. He wore a coronet of lightning and wielded a flail that appeared to be made of coal chains and a shrunken Red Giant star.

The second on the far right had a helm of dark iron wreathed in a plume of purple flame. His gauntlets and sword flamed with green hellfire. A pure black sheath seemingly made of void and a silver hunting horn were tied to his waist. He wore an armor forged of shadows and proofed with fear. He rode atop a mighty stead. An inky dark stallion with a curved horn and bat-like wings. His form was constantly slightly shifting depending on the angle which you viewed him making him appear larger and more slippery than he was, enhancing his disquieting nature.

The third stood in the middle, smaller but no less terrifying than her companions. Her hair was wild with movement, only just visible because it appeared as if someone had bound the winds to her head. She wore a tiara made of storm clouds and pearls. She carried with her a spear, the shaft crafted of amazonite and the tip of a clear quartz, almost reminiscent of sea salt. At her hip lay a whip made of a restrained gale and a sea glass knife. She wore armor that appeared to be Greco-Roman in origin: a chest plate made of some sort of coral-like material and a battle skirt decorated with metallic bronze feathers.

They slowly descent on the city, bringing down a sense of power and dread. They paused at the top of Wayne Tower, where the city's vigilantes had all gathered in an attempt to create and feasible plan of action to discern what these beings want. The young woman in the middle speaks and the wind carries her voice. She is not loud but it the whole of Gotham hears her words.

"Greetings, Heroes of Gotham. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Spirit, Princess and Head Diplomat of the Infinite Realms. This is Samhain, the Fright Knight, loyal knight to the king,” she gestured to her right before switching to her left “and this is Prince Wraith, current General in Chief of the Realms. We come to you as the King’s Guard and entourage. We have official business in your city and wish to civilly notify you of our presence. The King will be arriving shortly and your cooperation would be great fully received.”

Batman moved forward to shake her hand and address the situation.

“I’m afraid that we prefer not to have unknowns operating within the city. Would you be able to tell us what business you have here? Perhaps we could reach an agreement?” Batman tried to negotiate as politely as he could. He did not want to risk offending the evidently powerful beings.

Princess Spirit’s smile sharpened as she thrummed her finger against her knife. She spoke again with an unnervingly pleasant tone.

“It appears you do not understand. We are not asking for your permission.” Her grip around his hand tightened. “ We are informing you.” She finished releasing his hand.

Batman withdrew his aching hand and regarded her with the beginnings of a protest on his lips. She didn’t allow him to speak.

“ This is out of your jurisdiction Batman. This is a matter of the Realms and the Afterlife. Whatever worldly rules or morals you wish to impose on those who enter this city do not apply to us. We will do our best to work within them, so as to appease you and to attempt to maintain a friendly relationship but in the macrocosm of the multiverse and afterlives you have no official power over us. Additionally, we have direct permission to operate here however we see fit from the City Spirit herself, Lady Gotham.”

Batman’s shadow seemed to fluctuated. His and his team's shadows moved from beneath them, closer to the Princess. Lady Gotham, though not manifesting, was making her presence and approval known. Batman could not deny what he was seeing. His team shifted uncomfortably behind him. He appealed to her once more.

“ I see that we can’t stop you. We don’t want to get in your way either. Could you at least tell us why you are here?”

She smiled as if telling a joke, “All will be revealed in time”

Suddenly, there was a loud noise that sounded like tearing fabric. The green clouds mixed with purples and blues and began to churn faster. The cyclone emitted a flashes of bright light. In unison all three of the King’s Guard lifted up from the roof and took place underneath the eye of the wind storm.

Spirit holds her spear aloft. With one swift, commanding move she slams the butt of her spear down, creating a platform out of solidified air.

Wraith bellows out smoke and ash onto the platform to discolor it. With ferocious and precise movements his claws to carve in a sigil, leaving a soft orange glow against the black and gray.

Samhain sheathes his sword and pulls his horn from his waist. He wills his dark stead to rear up as he blows the horn, letting out one loud prolonged cry.

The three warriors stand at attention and Princess Spirit calls the winds to project her voice once more.

“ Now introducing the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, High King of the In-Between, The Great One, The Benevolent King, The Peace Maker, The Guardian of Souls, The One with the Cloak of Stars and the Crown of Frozen Light, The Perfect Balance, Ancient of Space and Reality, The Infinite King: Phantom!”

With a flash of white light a figure appear in the center of the platform. Simultaneously, the three knights bow in reverence.

The King has arrived.

As the Heroes of Gotham regain clear vision they are met with a striking figure.

There stood a toned young man appearing both boyishly young, yet wisened and weathered. He had side swept hair the creeped to the bottom of his neck. His skin was pale with an icy blue tint. He opened his eyes to reveal they shone an electric green. Upon his head rest a crown made of a crystalline material, reminiscent of an aurora. He wore a navy blue cloak that had a rich purple hood lined with stark white fur. The underside displayed a shifting galaxy pattern. His under suit was the same midnight black as Samhain’s. He donned golden arm bands and a gold chest plate in style quite similar to Spirit’s. His hand were covered in snow white gauntlets that matched Wraith’s vambraces.

They all stood in awe, beholden to the almost divine figure.

The king sent them a gentle smile. It was warm and comforting yet sent a chill down their shoulders.

King Phantom began to fly down toward the center of the city, his entourage fell into step behind him. He hovered several hundred feet over Wayne tower and looked down at the city. He then spoke in a booming voice, his tone kind but commanding.

“ I humbly greet the Lady Gotham, her champions, and her citizens,” the shadows curled toward him appreciatively. “ I am grateful for your cooperation in our effort to rectify a great injustice. As High King of the Infinite Realms it is one of my duties to preside over the afterlife. To bring guidance, peace, and justice to the souls under my jurisdiction. Recently, it has been brought to my attention that there is a soul among you who has not only dodged death, but caused great strife to a vast number of souls who call for justice.”

On the roof of Wayne Enterprises Jason and Damian both stiffen, but remain firm in their gaze toward the king. The king looks out at the city and sparing them the quickest of glances. He continues onward.

“ The man formerly know as Jack Napier, now called The Joker. He has avoided death on many an occasion but his life should have ended moment he fell into a vat of chemicals. Since then he has sent hundreds more to the afterlife. He has long yet to pay his dues. That is why on the behalf of justice, restoring balance, and of my subjects I officially condemn Jack Napier.”

“Jack Napier, you have been allowed 24 hours turn yourself into our custody in order to be put on trial for your crimes in the Infinite Realms. Should you fail to turn youself in, we shall take that as an admission of guilt and acceptance to be punished for your actions. After the 24 hours are up, Samhain shall use his horn to summon The Hunt and we shall track you down.”

His gaze passed specifically over Red Hood, one of the Oracle’s drones, Nightwing, Signal, Red Robin, and Batman before he spoke his next words.

“All those souls who have been wronged by the Joker, both living and deceased, who wish to have a hand in their justice have been invited to join The Hunt if they so choose.”

The king lifted his hand, calling the swirling green clouds to his gather in his palm. The clouds swiftly rearranged themselves into a smokey timer hanging in the sky.

An impish smirk graced King Phantom’s face as he let out a malicious laugh and gave his final decree.

“ Your time begins now!”

#dc x dp #long post #danny fenton #danny phantom #ghost king danny #dani phantom #dan phantom #fright knight #jason todd #the joker #totally legal manhunt for the joker proclaimed by the king of the afterlife #The joker must pay his dues #Bruce fucking hates the joker he’s not gonna try to stop this #Strega’s dc x dp prompt

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animeshotsh · 3 months

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Thats MY kid | Dad!Lucifer x Kid!Reader x "Uncle"Alastor |

Summary: Alastor wants to take you out for some time with him!

Alastor tried to convince himself he was doing this to piss Lucifer off. No, he did not have any type of attachment to you, he did not see you as his own kid (even if you totally ignored his half request to be called dad when not being around Lucifer). And no, he was not hurt by that.

Right?

Yeah well no. You had touched his heart somehow and now Alastor was down bad, he swears you must have some type of demonic magic (and not just you being you and being amazing) because no one (only his mother) made him feel so much love in his life or after life.

"Uncle?" Your voice called him making Alastor look at you with his signature simile. "Why was dad angry when you showed up?"

~☆~☆~☆~

Earlier that day.

"ABSOLUTLY NO. GET OUT FROM MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW" Lucifer screamed at the radio Demon who just stared back.

"My my, I never had you for the possesive type of dad, with how much freedom you have give Charlie"

"Dont bring my daugther into this" Lucifer said almost breaking a pen. "We both know you want to take (Y/N) out just to get to me. And im not letting you create fake hopes for that kid. That kid is mine Alastor, maybe not by blood but its mine. And I promised I would protect them, for anything and anyone. You can piss me off however you want but dont bring (Y/N) into this".

Well fuck, Lucifer did care for you.

Also, fuck you Lucifer. You did not know how he felt (hell, not even Alastor knew how he felt towards you). After meeting you at the hotel, seeing you interact with the others and also play with his shadows, something started to form inside the old killer. And it got worse when you ran to him asking him how the radio worked, his insides making flips as he explained you.

He also did almost break when you were saying goodbye and hugged his legs. If that was any other Demon they would have ended dead on the spot. But it was you, and it felt right.

"Listen" Alastor started smile still on his face but his tone serious "Im not that low to bring (Y/N) into our....fights. You May not believe me but I care for that kid, if I did not for sure I would not have give him one of my shadows to protect them"

"Wait-you did what-"

"The point is" Alastor interrumped static forming "I dont plan on giving they fake hope, and thats all I Will say"

Silence passed for seconds that felt like hours, finally Lucifer nodded.

"Alright, i will let you take them for today, BUT anything and I mean anything happens to them, you will no longer be here" Lucifer said his tone for once being truly the one from a king of hell.

Alastor just nodded, taking his cane being ready to be out with you for the day.

"Oh and Alastor, I dont trust you. But i want (Y/N) to get here what they missed in life, so dont fuck this up"

~☆~☆~☆~

"Nothing your silly head must worry about!" Alastor assured you. However your face did show you were not buying what he said.

"Smile my Dear!! You know you are never fully dressed without one!!" Alastor tried again, stopping to take your hand and make you spin. Your laught coming out quickly making him relax.

"There it is!" He exclaimed then continue to walk besides you. Right now you two were in the cannibals town. For other demons and sinners this part was even more dangerous than the regular hell. But for Alastor it was like his home, demos in here knew him and liked him, and that extended to you as well. A few had waved and smiled, fresh blood showing. But Alastor had made sure you did not see any dead body, or parts of one.

"Now I have a suprise for you!, I have a friend who owns a restaurant and she accepted to take us in"

"...as food or clients?" You asked joking making the radio Demon smirk, radio laughts in the background.

"Well, since she is my friend, we are clients of coruse" Alastor responded getting a nod from you. "Of course you wont be eating anything...special, regular food I promise"

~☆~☆~☆~

When you two entered the restaurant you found it to be empy....aside from some workers who came quickly to guide Alastor and you to a private room with a big table.

There, on one of the chairs a very pale Demon with deep black eyes stood. Noticing Alastor she got on her feet coming closer.

"Alastor, its so good to see you again" she beamed at the radio Demon stopping a few inches away.

"And who may this little creature be?"

Jokes, Rosie knew who you were. He had to listen to Alastor talk about how unfair it was that you had decided to call Lucifer dad and not him.

Being by Alastor side gave you confidence so you took some small steps closer to her.

"Im (Y/N), im Alastor newphew" You stated proudly making Rosie smile showing her sharp teet.

"Thats wonderfull, now please sit I have prepared the best for both of you" Rosie exclaimed calling over the workers who appear to help the three of you settle down.

"For you my friend, I got you the finist meat from this side of hell" A plate with fresh flesh was presented making Alastor almost growl at it. "And for you little one a bird told me you loved chocolate" a big space on the table was now occupied with the biggest and most extravagant chocolate cake you have ever seen.

"I-its that all for me?" You asked not believing it. Getting a nodd from Rosie "and I cant eat all of it?" Again a nodd.

You almost cried when the first slice was put in front of you. No one ever got you cake in the living world.

"Oh and to help you not chocke with that, Alastor I have some.." Rosie paused looking for the right words seeing how you were now devouring the cake "a very special drink" she finally said, a bottle with red liquid appear. And for you, I prepared a mix of appel juice and strawberry" she said getting the most pure look from you.

"Thank you Miss"

"Oh, just call me Rosie" she responded.

~☆~☆~☆~

Turns out you ate most of the cake and now the sugar had gave you too much energy. Rosie had asked her workers to play with you some game of tag, without biting.

And hell, you were fast. Outrunning the old demons and even letting chairs fall to prevent them from coming closer.

Rosie used this moment to dig as much information about you from Alastor as she could find.

"So, Lucifer just decided to take them in? What a strange guy" she said sipping her own drink. "And now you are taking care of them?"

Alastor nodded "yes, you must see Lucifer's face when I show up and (Y/N) calls me uncle, he its so angry"

"But you truly care for them" Rosie stated. "You would never have asked me to prepare something that does not come from sinners or demons knowing where you are. You also made me order the town to keep the body display low to protect them"

Rosie could read Alastor as an Open book.

"Uncleeeee" your call alerted the overlords, seeing you running towards them with the biggest smile on your face. "The other said they are too tired to keep running after me, does this mean I won?"

"Well centraly!! I knew no one would be able to catch you. You are my relative after all"

You nodded and smiled going back to your chair to drink more juice. "This is amazing. Thanks a lot Mi-Rosie!"

"Aww, arent you the cutest" Rosie beamed her hands squishing your cheecks.

~☆~☆~☆

After the food and some more talking Alastor decided it was time for you to go back with Lucifer (and no, it was not because he had got at least 666 messages from him).

Rosie had told you to come whenever you wanted that no one would hurt you in her town.

~☆~☆~☆

"I had a great time Uncle!" You told Alastor as the big castle started to show in the distance.

"Well im glad Dear! Dont forget to tune the radio for my program tonight" Alastor said petting your head.

"I wont! Dad hates it but I love it, specially that music you use...ummmm jazz?"

Alastor started to think that just kindapp you and made you his kid instead would be for the best.

"(y/n)!!" A very distinct voice screamed

"DAD!!"

But he would not want to hurt your feelings so, seeing you from time to time would have to do.

He waited for the exchange to end, Lucifer asking you what have you done and also making sure you were not hurt. After that he nodded to himself.

"Alright, now go inside, Xin has prepared you a bath"

You nodded but turned towards Alastor going for his legs again to hug him.

"Thank you uncle!! No one ever took me to a restaurant or got me cake. Lets meet again soon" you smiled up to him showing pointy teet.

Before he could respond you were running inside the castle with a very worried maid behind you.

~☆~☆~☆~

"Well..looks like you did not ruin this" Lucifer stated seeing you run off.

"I told you I would not" Alastor responded offended. "(Y/N) has potential to grow up to be a powerfull sinner (no you did not) of course im going to look over them"

Lucifer just shoot Alastor a knowing smile then turned around to enter his home.

"Thanks for not breaking his heart" he finally said then the doors closed behind him leaving Alastor alone.

Of course he could not bring himself to do that, even if he wanted to. You were his newphew. His. Not someone else.

And no one breaks the things he loves.

Not even himself.

#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #alastor x reader

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e-nonsense · 16 days

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─── 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩

pairing. prince!jason todd x witch!reader

summary. royal au. bruce doesn’t approve of his son’s relationship with constantine’s pupil/ward , not that jason cares

warnings. pet names: little pet, darling. Tooth rotting fluff i guess?

a/n. fuck writers block. three fits in less than 12 hours? crazy. might make this an au, so feel free to send requests based on this au to find out more

wc. 1.1k not proofread

Jason rolled his eyes as another young woman walked away from him, throughly offended. This had been one of Bruce’s many attempts to find his so a suitable woman— one that wasn’t you.

After Dick had married Princess Koriand'r and left to live with her in her kingdom, Jason had become the sole heir to Bruce’s kingdom. Being the second oldest of his siblings. But before any of that Jason had fallen in love with you.

“Lost young prince?” your voice comes from trees, and Jason glances around frantically. His hunting expedition had gone horribly wrong, a group of trickster illusionists had scared his men and the horses away. Leaving Jason behind.

“Who’s there?” He ask, raising his sword while turning in a circle, his eyes land on you as you step out from the shadows. The sun makes your eyes glow and Jason thinks you’re the most beautiful things he’ll ever see. His guard is lowered, as his eyes scan you up and down, taking in your beauty before moving back to your eyes.

You chuckle and he swears someone had to have casted a love spell on him, he can’t take his eyes of you. “Are you allowed to be this deep in the forest?” You ask and he gulps nervously as you step closer to him, your simple grey dress trailing behind you. “I’m surprised you made it through all the wards I put up around here.”

“Plus the Chimera,” you hum thoughtfully.

“Can you not speak?” You ask, inching closer till you’re in his personal space. “Apologies,” you smile.

“No.. no I can speak.” He whispers, staring down at you before sheathing his sword.

“Oh,” your smile widens. “Well, would you like to join me for tea?” You offer, and Jason knows he should’ve hesitated before nodding but he couldn’t help it. The excitement in your eyes when he agreed would be worth it if you were truly planning on killing him. Either way he let you lead him through the trees to a cottage that past the border of the land of witches and warlocks.

“At least try to entertain the thought, Todd.” Damian scoffed watching as another possible — approved — suitor walked away. “Father has gained many grey hair because of your devotion to the witch.” Truthfully Damian had no problem with you, he thought you were a perfect fit for his brother. Kind, loyal, able to put up with Jason’s moods.

It was just Bruce’s paranoia getting in the way of everyone’s peace. When the king had found out about you, he called in a favour from a warlock to get rid of whatever love spell you placed on his son. Safe to say John Constantine was amused by the request but assured Bruce that there was no spell on Jason and the boy’s infatuation with you was purely Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes at the thought, “or Bruce just needs to get over it.” He retorted, crossing his arms scowling as another pride princess tried to near him. “I’m leaving,” Jason says, looking over at Bruce as he makes his escape.

It didn’t take long for Jason to escape the palace grounds, through he was sure he had ripped his suit jacket, not that he’d see the stupid peace of fabric as he’d already dumped his clothes for a simple white poet shirt and some black riding pants. He rode his stallion to the forest’s entrance, stopping in front of it and trying it’s lead to a flimsy fence.

The prince entered the forest with no care, the protective wards shimmered as he entered, and the path illuminated in the darkness. Something you had done so he wouldn’t lose himself in the woods when he’d run from the palace and seek comfort in your cottage.

He quickly followed the path, passing the border and swiftly making his way to your home. When he arrived Jason knocked on the door softly, waiting for you to answer.

The door is answered a few seconds later, revealing a tall blond. The man groans, rolling his eye, “not you again.” He grumble, a cigarette dangling from his finger as he opens the door properly. “Kid! Your boyfriends here!” John calls out as he swings his coat over his shoulder, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he pats his pockets down looking for a lighter before snorting and lighting it with his fingers.

“Well go on in,” John shrugs, stepping out of the cottage you called home. “Oh, tell her to stop sending her little ravens to check on me, will ya?” John adds before disappearing into the misty pathway.

Jason always wondered how the man never found himself lost, or perhaps John never had somewhere specific he’d ever be going, cant be lost with no destination.

The second Jason stepped into the cottage he was met with the sight of you humming a tune, the same one he heard when the two of you met. Jason smiled, walking closer until he could wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Hi love,” you say as soft spoken as always. His eyes watched as you peeled potatoes before he kissed your cheek gently, “hi sweetheart.” He mumbled in return.

“How was the ball?” You asked, mainly teasing but with some curiosity.

“Missed you,” he huffed like a child, “Bruce is always trying to set me up with princesses. Who wants those snobby little bastards? Not me.” He complained.

“Just because Dick married a princess— who by the way comes from a magical bloodline— he thinks I’m going to do the same. Kori’s nice and all but how is it fair? Just because she’s royalty, its okay that Dick married her.”

You sigh softly, “he’s trying to protect you. People have never trusted those who come from this side of the world, faes, witches, shapeshifters. Sometimes with good reason, not all of us have good intentions.”

“But you do,” Jason retorts. “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met, and i don’t say want anyone that isn’t you…. Is there a way that i could stay here with you?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Not without your father starting a war, we don't want a repeat of 1843.”

Jason groans but understands, Bruce would assume the worst if Jason just disappeared again, especially now that he was with you. He’d assume you’ve kidnapped him or some bullshit to feed his ideals.

“Can i stay for the night then?” He murmurs softy, his nose nudhung your cheek. “I just wanna love you before going back.”

You find your resolve melting away when you meet his eyes, blue and green. “One night, then home.” You nod.

“You are home,” he mumbles in response but doesn’t press further, instead the rest of the night is filled with laughter as you teach him a new recipe he’ll be sure to share with Alfred.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd #jason todd drabble #jason todd oneshot #royal au #witch!reader #jason todd x witch!reader #enzo writes [📝]

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 1 month

Text

Lucifer + Alastor - [ NSFW 3 ]

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A/N: Had this song on repeat since its release and it reminded me of these two so much…

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON ]

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Sharing is caring, but when it comes to being between the King of Hell himself and his newly established opponent - the all too cocky Radio Demon- you don’t have much say in who gets fair claim of your existence.

Sharing is caring, but only in the ways that matter to the men wrapped around your little finger. Lucifer needs your physical touch; he can’t go one moment without it, and god help you if you’re around other flirtatious sinners -he’ll be all over you for no reason at all. Hand on your hip, lower back, even on your ass if he’s feeling possessive. His height doesn’t matter, not when he can back hug you just fine, plant kisses on your head or temple, and sit you down on his lap without a second thought. Lucifer is a sucker for praising you, every word out of his mouth is sweeter than honey, and the knowing smile on his lips when you get all soft and shy from his gentle admiration swells his already massive sense of pride.

“You’re a sweet little sinner, aren’t you, baby doll?”

“I’m so proud of you, my love.”

“Oh, aren’t you just the cutest thing!”

“I’ll do anything you ask of me, sweetheart..”

“Atta girl…keep going…just like that…”

The King of Hell never runs out of patience for you, spending his free time in your presence without a care for his rival's foreboding aura. Though at times they blatantly argue, the drop of your sweet smile into a solemn frown has them both rushing out an apology. However, Lucifer is quicker than Alastor to admit his faults. He makes up for mistakes with sincere gestures, visiting you in the dead of night with the promise of pleasure radiating off him in tangible waves. By the following day, you can’t even begin remembering what you were angry about.

Sharing is caring, but Alastor has a hard time with both concepts. He’s not one for physical affection, preferring acts of service and gift-giving as alternatives. You don’t seem to mind, always at his side when he calls, a pretty little thing on his arm while he struts about hell running conspicuous errands, and a genuinely engaging sinner he doesn’t mind having deep conversations with. You contrast him in all the right ways: expressive but gentle, lethal but only when provoked. Unlike most demons, you hold value to Alastor, drawing out a softer, more honest version of the stag that most will never see. In private, you’re allowed to babble off his ear while he works, cuddle up in his lap when he’s feeling ‘vulnerable,’ and sometimes you’re lucky enough to get a few somewhat kind words from the overlord amid lingering kisses.

“What a pretty little thing you are,”

“I’m tempted to keep you all to myself, ma chere… Would you like that, hm?”

“I know you can’t help being a greedy girl, darling, but I’ll always be better than that pompous excuse for a king.”

“You love to provoke me, don’t you, little one? Prancing around the hotel like you do, smiling at every little thing, and showing off for attention..”

“It’s rather pathetic, but lovely things can’t control what they attract..”

He’s possessive, outright toxic in some instances, but you’re quick to manipulate the stag into an agreeable state with the threat of seeking out Lucifer’s company over his. This tactic occasionally works, but sometimes it enrages Alastor to bloodlust. His semi-polite exterior falters, causing the overlord to be on edge with everyone -especially Lucifer- and the king won’t let a chance to irritate him further slip by.

“Something bothering you, Rudolph?”

Lucifer snickers as Alastor enters the parlor through its shadows, automatically glaring at the sight of you straddling the blonde fallen angel with his hat lazily set on your head, and you giggle at his obvious disdain for the scene. “Oh, don’t look so upset, Al. I just wanted to play with Luci for a bit.. “ you flash him a cheeky grin, purposely shifting on the devil's lap to feel his growing erection and show more skin hidden underneath your fluffy oversized jumper. Lucifer chuckled, ducking his head to give you a quick kiss as the crackle of static resonated around the room, but you were far from scared of Alastor’s fury in the presence of his rival.

Sharing is caring, but later that night, when you snuggled under your bedsheets with Lucifer, lying on his bare chest, only wearing his dress shirt, soundly asleep, and listening to his undead heartbeat, you’re jolted awake by the distinctive coolness of shadows lurking over your skin.

“What made you think I wouldn’t put you in your place, my dear? That I wouldn’t remind you he’s not the only one who can lay claim to your very existence?..”

Alastor’s voice echoes through your head, coaxing you awake as his specters entangle around you. They tug, pull, squeeze, and ravish your small frame with his every word. Your cunt starts to pulse with need, leaking arousal in steady drops as a shadowy tentacle prods your entrance before sheathing itself in your warm walls with one sharp thrust.

“Ahm!” You yelp, eyes shooting open as a satisfied whine leaps from your lips; quiet moans soon follow as the bulk of shadows touches your womb with tender strokes. Two more snake up the borrowed dress shirt, swirling under the white silk with precise menstruations, encircling your fragile body ruthlessly until you’re forced to sit up in hopes of gaining more fleeting touches. “Alastor, you’re being mean…” you groan into the darkness, hips rutting down in timid circles, a reflexive action you try to maintain to avoid waking the man lying under you. Alastor’s low laughter shifts from your mind to the confines of the room, signaling his physical appearance in the space, and you’re tempted to search for him but aren’t given a chance to as the scrape of his sharp claws manifests along your sides. He’s close, so close you can feel him leering behind you, breathing in your ear as if he needed your scent to survive.

You lean backward, humming at the familiar firmness of his chest meeting your back,” Just wanted you to be a little nicer, that’s all…” Your explanation for earlier does nothing to quell Alastor’s jealousy; his hands hovering over your sides clamp down harshly, and his claws shred through Lucifer’s shirt to prick your skin. Your heart thuds wildly as a scream threatens to fall from your chest from the pain he causes, but your cunt clenches with excitement from his aggressive treatment. “Reasoning won’t help you now, darling. It seems you only understand one thing..” he purrs into your ear, red eyes glowing as they trace your flushed form, “A-and what’s that?..” you mumble fearfully, feeling a coil build in your core, but a pang of shame in your chest overrides it as Lucifer begins to stir below you. He’ll awake any second, and though you weren’t afraid of him seeing you in a whorish state, very used to being intimate with him, the unpredictable reaction he’d have to Alastor taking advantage of you right in front of his eyes was still nerve-wracking.

Sharing is caring, and Alastor’s response to your feverish question makes more sense than you care to admit. “Attention, my dear. You’re shamelessly addicted to it,” he drawls, smile widening when you whine helplessly, back arching as his shadows wrap around your breasts before swiping over your pert nipples while your cunt no longer resists forceful strokes of his shadows. Your vision blurs as the sensations blend, erasing mannerable actions from your thoughts the closer to cumming you got, and the riveting shivers vibrating your body were evidence enough. The subtle tremble of your thighs mixed with the combined noise of your soft moans and Alastor’s hushed taunting drew the King of Hell awake with a gentle start. Lucifer ruts his hips upwards on instinct before groaning tiredly, mildly aware of the familiar stickiness your arousal causes on his pale skin but unsure as to why it’s there. “Baby, what’s the matter-“He’s at a loss for words for a long moment, almost panting at the sight above him, confused at first but gradually intrigued as sleep waned from his consciousness. Alastor smirks, lips against your neck as he stares down at the fallen angel, daring him to instigate a fight. “Ah, looks like you awoke your preferred lover, ma chere. How rude…” the deer demon taunts you, clearly unbothered by your disagreements and conflicted writhing. “N-no, that’s not ah- ah- mmm fuck Al, please d-don’t!” A bright blush coats your cheeks, tears brimming your waterline as the demon nips at your bare shoulder before lapping up the blood that trickles from the wound. His gaze never leaves Lucifer’s as his tongue collects the red liquid, humming triumphantly as a prominent red color floods the ladders’ cheeks and eyes. “How fucking dare you..” the blonde hisses, voice thick with an indecipherable emotion, and you whine anxiously as embarrassment rushes your veins. It wasn’t your fault Alastor was taking his anger out on you this way, disregarding his aversion for touch in the hopes of getting back at you both, but it’d be a lie if you said you weren’t enjoying the intense situation brewing.

Sharing is caring, and you're afraid neither entity will consider doing so as a heavy beat of silence engulfs the room. The only sound is your rushed breaths, growing heavier with every thrust and twist of Alastor’s shadows in and around your body. You try to break free from the overlord, gazing down at Lucifer pleadingly for a better chance at forgiveness. Unexpectedly, his displeased expression morphs dramatically seeing the desperation in your eyes. He’d never been the type for sadism, let alone encouraging it, but your need for his help stirred a primal desire in his chest that he’d only felt sparks of recently. It was no help to him that Alastor, a demon with no remorse or pity for your plight, was the one indicting pleasure on you. He’d seen the stag agitated, irritated, and maybe even flustered but never lustful. It was new and undeniably attractive. Why waste an opportunity to use it against him?

Lucifer took a slow breath, stamping out his rage in seconds as his eyes shifted from your lidded ones to Alastor’s, “How dare you have fun without me, hm?… that’s a little unfair,” he pouts, stifling a groan as his cock twitches to life. The radio demon scoffs, forgetting his grudge against Lucifer for the mutual benefit of desire, “If you wished for fairness, you shouldn’t have fallen from heaven …” he taunts back.

Sharing is caring, but the instant sting of Alastor’s insult doesn’t anger Lucifer like usual. It eggs on the blonde, prompting him to reach for you, and you welcome the gentle coolness of his fingers trailing up front. Unlike Alastor, his claws do you no harm, never breaking skin even as he cups your jaw firmly. “C’mere, little one. M’ not going to hurt you…” he coos quietly, eyes glowing as brightly as Alastor’s as you leer into his touch like a wounded lamb. “Yes sir…” you whisper compliantly, surprised that Alastor relents his hold just enough to let you follow Lucifer’s lead. He’s relatively calm watching you, admiring how your hair falls like a curtain over your flushed face, skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, and the dress shirt slipping off your shoulders but sticking to your skin at every curve you had. There were reasons he wanted you to himself but dealt with sharing you with another, and this sight was one of them. You could be so good to them both, on all fours, cunt creaming from his actions and Lucifer’s words, and your loyalty to them both on a whole show no matter the implications.

Sharing is caring, and to some degree, you believe it’s a possibility for your relationship with a prideful fallen angel and an egotistical demon. Lucifer lay beneath your trembling form, muttering encouraging praises against your lips when he wasn’t connecting them with his own in heated kisses.

“Mhm, good girl…go on, come for him like you do for me.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby doll..”

“Fuck, you like that hm? Want more? Ask him nicely, sweetheart…”

“Cum for us, my love…”

“You’re doing so well….taking us so well. There you go, baby, all of it just like that…”

Alastor loses track of himself within moments of watching you come undone in his shadows for the first time, hungry to feel the warmth of your cunt for himself as puddles of your cum form on Lucifer’s crotch. You don’t fight him when he replaces his specter's task of fucking you, welcoming the length of his cock with a grateful smile and melodic moan of his name. “Alastor!… nghh yess, please r-right there!..” you yelp into Lucifer’s neck, letting him cradle your head as he talks you through the rise of your next high, “You sound so precious like this, baby. Give em’ what he wants.” His tone is strained, leaning towards a moan as he watches your expressions switch between pleasure and pure wonder. Alastor is fixated on the both of you, ears twitching at the top of his head with every satiated moan you let out and sinful word Lucifer says. His hands find purchase on your hips, gripping them harshly as he snaps his roughly, plowing his cock into your cunt with so much pent aggression your legs refuse to stop shaking. “Oh, fuck…” he groans in the air, tearing his gaze away from your arched back and leaking entrance to try and slow the impending peak of his high. Self-control was something Alastor prided himself in, but it was spiraling from his grasp the longer he fucked you.

Was this what the King of Hell had been enjoying with you?

Milking you of every drop of lust in your body?

Filling you with his overrated seed in the hopes of one-upping him?

If so, Alastor could never blame him. You felt divine, after all, and had no complaints about being used for pleasure.

Sharing is caring, but you forget all about it when Alastor yanks you away from Lucifer, a hand tangled in your head so tight you’re sure he might rip into your scalp if he holds you any tighter. Luckily, the overlord refrains from doing so, opting to groan into your ear as he buries his length to the hilt in your fluttering cunt, spilling ropes of warm cum into your abused womb with no remorse. “Don’t waste a single drop, ma chere. See it as a gift for being so well-behaved,” the radio overlay in his voice is gone, giving way to an accent you couldn’t resist mewling at. Lucifer chuckled, eyes fixed on where Alastor and you were connected, smirking at the mess you’d both made on top of him. “Need a taste of that…” he mumbles more to himself, tone hungry, demanding. You’ve yet to catch your breath before Alastor lets out a short laugh, flinging you forward into Lucifer’s chest without much care as to how weak you still are, “Greedy bastard,” he snickers, slowly pulling out of you with a satisfied grin at your attempt to keep him in. “Now, now, dear. I’ll have another turn with you soon. No need to be selfish..”

Sharing is caring, and oh, how wonderful it is when you’re sat in Alastor’s lap, facing away from him, one leg bent over his while the other rests on Lucifer’s shoulder. The King of Hell kneels before you both, inhaling the scent of your cunt, and smiling at the steady stream of cum drizzling past your folds. He’d done this many times before, a being addicted to the taste of women, of you specifically, but you still shied away from his vulgar eagerness. Your coy reactions only worsened when the notion of Alastor’s cum mixed with your own eventually settling on Lucifer’s tongue came to mind. They hated each other after all, and despite getting along most of the time in your presence, you never imagined this to happen, but neither backed down from the ordeal.

“W-wait Luci, you don’t h-have-“ you start to protest quietly, squirming in Alastor’s hold to avoid Lucifer, but your refusals don’t hold any weight to them.

“Mm, but I want to, love…I can’t help it,” the blonde whined as if he’d die without getting the task done, hands cupping your inner thighs tenderly as he flicked his tongue over your slit and swollen clit. You jolted in Alastor’s grip, biting back a whimper as he mumbled into the crook of your shoulder, “It’s impolite to refuse royalty, so let him have his fill …”

Sharing is caring, and you’re sure Lucifer could survive off eating your pussy alone just fine for the rest of his immortal life. He makes a show of it, diving his tongue in and out of your stretched entrance, moving to suck on your clit every so often before putting both actions into tedious repetition. You couldn’t remain coherent as he explored your insides with expert focus, letting his tongue linger in the spongiest and sweetest spots in your cunt just to draw back and generously spit on your clit. He’d learned your body, when to hit nerves, or when to overwhelm them. As of now, every sense you had was heightened, intensifying when Alastor’s eyes studied your facial expressions, your smile growing an inch more expansive when you rushed out a warning to Lucifer.

“Gonna cum m’ gonna cum…!”

The devil perks up, delving two fingers into you, red irises dilating completely as they hit a tender spot in your cunt immediately, curling against it at a languid pace. He met your gaze with a proud smile on his face, tongue lapping at your clit leisurely, begging you to come undone without hesitation. Alastor curses under his breath, agitated by the fact that your moans are turning him on again, and you feel his cock twitch under your weight.

Sharing is caring, and the euphoric bliss of releasing in Lucifer’s mouth felt divine, bringing small tears to your eyes as he buried his face in your mound, moaning at the taste of you drenching his tongue. Alastor grunts as your hips rock to meet Lucifer's pace, hands creeping up to cup your breasts, kneading the plush flesh mindlessly to avoid bucking his hips against your backside for better friction. He couldn't give his rival the triumph of seeing him worked up at the sight of you cumming so reverently under his touch. You felt powerless between them, shaking in Alastor's arms and pleading for Lucifer to join. One look is all it takes for the two to agree, giving into your minuscule wishes and thoroughly enjoying themselves the remainder of the evening.

Sharing is caring, but if you dare to utter a word of what transpired that night in the presence of others, both will deny the implication of tolerating one another. Although, you find yourself being used by both more often, stuffed full of their cum night after night, and keenly aware of the mutual trust growing between them when you finally collapse into sleep by their sides. They're capable of fair behavior with you, but only in private. Away from the eyes of others who’ll never witness how obsessed The Radio Demon & The King of Hell are with you and you alone.

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It's just a filler post cause I'm getting burnt out with requests! ❤️ I love your ideas, so I'm trying to write them all in my style but as concisely as possible. It's tiring but fun…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

They may not be able to stand each other but I’ll gladly take them both (not in a fight) ❤️ credits to creator

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lunartadpole · 2 years

Text

Eddie learned about two months into dating him that Steve is an active sleeper.

He was always a bit hurt when Steve wouldn't stay the night at the trailer park; dreaded watching Steve's car drive away after a night in. At first, Eddie thought it was a hit and run situation, a one night stand that spans more than one night. And yeah, it makes sense; King Steve probably just wants a new way to get his dick wet, got tired of all the babes and such. Of course this thing they have - whatever that is - isn't serious. It makes sense and still, Eddie's hurt.

But then he starts noticing things. Like Steve's reluctance to leave but his refusal to fall asleep no matter how late it is. And it's not just with Eddie either. He's noticed that Steve always seems to clock out early at any overnight event their little group have - DnD nights in Wheelers basements, Dustin's sleepovers, hell, even Buckley's movie nights. Steve is always first to arrive and first to leave.

Eddie just can't figure out why.

He goes as far as to ask Robin. Because if anyone can give any insight into the mysterious life of Dethroned King Steve Harrington, it's Buckley. But even she has no idea. She says she hadn't even noticed.

He gets his answer a week later.

They're in Eddie's trailer. Steve drove around after his shift, they're lounging in his room, Steve sitting up again the headboard, Eddie practicing his guitar, and it's midnight, bordering on Steve's usual check out time. But Harrington's been complaining about a rough day at work - something about being swamped and Buckley ditching her shift for boobies, Munson! She ditched me for boobies - and Eddie can see his eyes fluttering and his head lolling before quickly shooting up again. Rinse and repeat. Until Steve finally begins to bustle up and leave.

Eddie begs him to stay, half because he wants him to and half because there's no way it's safe to drive home when you're two fleeting seconds away from dropping comatose. They argue back and forth, Steve typically reluctant and a bit…nervous? Scared? Eddie doesn't know. And it doesn't matter because he wears Steve down and soon enough Steve is wearing Eddie's pajamas and the two of them are cuddled up in bed together.

Using Steve as his own personal Teddy bear, Eddie sleeps soundly that night.

At least, until about three in the morning.

Ever since Vecna, Eddie hasn't been the heaviest of sleepers. So when he hears banging in the kitchen rattling through the thin membrane walls, he's upandatem pretty quickly, abruptly women up to the fact that his boyfriend isn't beside him in the bed anymore. Another bang comes from the kitchen.

Okay, he's panicking.

Armed with the old tire iron he keeps by his bed for just an occasion like this, Eddie creeps towards the kitchen, mind racing. Who the fuck is here? Did someone break in? Something? From another dimension? Images play in head like worn film, images of Chrissy Cunningham floating in his living room, the sound of her bones snapping eerily similar to the banging now.

What he is met with in the kitchen is nowhere near as scary, but ten times more weird.

Because Steve 'The Hair' Harrington is in the middle of his kitchen surrounded by what little pans and pots the Munson's own.

"Uhm…Stevie?" he calls, ever so softly. And then louder when he doesn't get a response. "Steve?"

Steve stands like a ghost in the shadows. Eddie can't help but stare at his face, so relaxed unlike anything he's ever seen before.

Then. He speaks.

"I swear I left it here…" Steve mumbles, to himself or maybe to the dark shadows surrounding. The words come out slow and monotone. Hushed, slurred together in a broken string of consciousness. It does nothing to ease Eddie's worry.

"Left what here?" he asks, looking around at the mess for some item of Steve's he might've lost. All the while Harington just stands there, dazed.

Then. "Flowers. Told Eddie I'd get him flowers."

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, pushing forward into his boyfriend's space and thoughtlessly cups his face in his hands, making him look at him. Steve's eyes are just barely open, and they're glazed over with this lost, far off look. He doesn't look at Eddie, rather through him.

And somehow, Eddie catches up, a scoff of disbelief leaving his lips. Who would've thought?

"Okay, alright sweetheart," the grin is prominent in his voice, dripping with fondness. "You're still asleep, huh?" Something inside him surges and he finds himself grazing his other hand faintly across Steve's forehead to brush his bed hair out of his face. His eyes are all the more clouded over in sweet nonsense as Eddie pushes his hair into something that doesn't resemble a sad brown mop.

"I can't…remember where…" Steve mumbles, trying to break free from Eddie's hold but ultimately failing. He lets his head drop against Eddie's neck.

"Okay, let's get you back to bed, alright?" Because that's what you're supposed to do with people who sleepwalk right? Never wake a sleepwalker, that's what they say isn't it? "Hold my hand, it's OK Stevie." Pressed up close against him, Eddie breathed in the smell of Farrah Faucet spray and citrus shampoo and led Steve back into his bedroom, hand in hand.

"How about you try to stay in bed now," he says, leading Steve as he leans against him, skin warm and citrus and weary against his own, feeling a little too much like something Eddie wants to keep holding onto.

"Got somewhere to be,"

"Not right now, cmon," Eddie gently eases Steve down onto the bed, and surprisingly, Steve lets him. Not long after, Eddie is beside him, holding onto him tight once more.

In the morning, Steve wakes up confused, like he's surprised he managed to stay in one spot all night, but doesn't mention anything about sleepwalking. He does ask Eddie, "Did you sleep well? I didn't wake you, did I?" and Eddie just kisses him, tells him, "Best sleep I've ever had. You should stay around more often."

And when Steve agrees, Eddie decides not to bring it up.

It happens a few more times after that. Not all the time but more often than not Steve will stay over Eddie will wake up to him wandering about the house. The majority of the time it's stupid stuff; Steve sluggishly pacing around the room, Steve mumbling sweet nonsense to himself, Steve trying to take a shower in the hallway. Pretty harmless stuff.

Except for the time it isn't.

That time, they're in Steve's house, big and empty. That time, Eddie wakes up at 4am and just barely catches sight of Steve's fleeting figure down the stairs. Like most times before, Eddie is quick to follow him down the stairs towards the living room, staring blankly out the window. A metallic glint flickers across Eddie's eyes. His eyes widen with concern when he realises it's a kitchen knife. Steve doesn't move, but he's breathing real heavy, like he's just waiting for something to happen.

"Steve, darling." He begins, hating how his voice is cracking. "Will you come back to bed? Please?"

This time, Steve shakes his head. Frantic. Paranoid. Eddie watches his grip on the knife tighten.

"Can't." Comes the raspy, hoarse reply. "The lights. It's out there. Swear I saw it. I swear-!"

Softly, Eddie shushes him before he can get more worked up. He stays put a good six feet away, entirely out of self preservation. Harrington's deadly with a weapon in his consciousness and Eddie wouldn't like to find out what he does in his sleep, thank you very much.

"Saw what, love?"

"I heard a thud. It's so cold."

Oh. Oh shit okay.

Eddie isn't unfamiliar with nightmares. God, after what he saw it'd be weird if he didn't have them. After Mike's apparently real psychic ex-girlfriend cut ties with The Upside Down, Eddie was a mess. He couldn't sleep, plagued with visions of terror bat's tearing away at his flesh bit by agonising bit. He can't count the number of times he called Steve in the late hours of the night in need of reassurance. To tell him that it is over now.

Steve was a rock for him. Eddie almost envied him, with how easily he managed to readjust back into normality. Never did it cross his mind it might've all been a facade.

"Steve," Eddie begins, firmly and unwavering. Slowly, he begins to etch more into Steve's space. "Listen to me. The gate is closed. Vecna and the rest of his little hell beasts are gone."

In front of him, Steve doesn't move. He doesn't even appear to have heard Eddie at all.

Eddie swallows, trying to push the thought that maybe, after so near death encounters, Steve's finally gone mad, come undone at the seams, and this is what his mental state has come too: armed with a scarily sharp knife, ready to fight any sudden movement.

"Do you think you could put down the knife, dear?" Eddie suggests lightly, gently touching the outside of his hand incase Steve needs some sort of anchor to come back to. Underneath the edges of his fingertips, Steve's touch is warm, his pulse comfortingly steady, and Eddie holds onto it, selfishly, a little longer than he should have, that tightness he is becoming so acquainted with returning to his chest. He then slips his hand further within Steve's own, carefully taking the knife from Steve's grip and interlocking their fingers as if it were the most natural thing ever. As if it had always been that easy.

"There we go," Eddie praises as he places the blade down on the coffee table. "See? All better now."

"Better…"

"You're safe, Steve. I'm safe. Everyone is safe. Those things can't hurt you anymore."

"But- the lights-"

"Are fine." Steadily, Eddie begins to back out of the room, gently pulling Steve along with him. "Now let's get you back to bed, yeah? You still gotta get your full twelve hours of beauty sleep don't you?"

A dopey smile ghosts across Steve's lips as he huffs a laugh. It's barely anything. But it's enough for Eddie.

"Yeah you do," he teases. They're in the bedroom now. Eddie guides Steve underneath the duvet. As soon as he hits the soft cushions, he curls around himself like a child, protecting himself from the intangible cold or phantom nightmares, while refusing to loosen his grip on his boyfriend's hand. Eddie feels his throat close.

He has questions. How long has Steve been having these nightmares? How many of them result in sleepwalking? How many of them are violent enough to grab a fucking kitchen knife? Why didn't Steve tell him sooner?

But they can wait until morning.

#eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #steve/eddie #steveddie

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trappolia · 13 days

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PUT ALL YOUR FAULTS TO BED (YOU CAN BE KING AGAIN)── leona kingscholar x gn!reader, 1.1k

some days, leona thinks about what the word king means to him and how it links back to you.

contrary to popular belief, he does not so easily forget the whispers of rumours behind his back; though, loathe as he is to admit, leona knows that some are less rumour and more truth, no matter how spiteful. he is a prince, after all, and not some spoiled rotten child who's had compliments fed to him on a golden spoon.

leona knows, better than anyone, that you deserve more than him.

he’s well aware of the fact that many perceive him as lazy, irritable and intimidating, and that is only saying the least. the perfect example of a student who has had to repeat a year way too many times, who is probably still in the world’s greatest magical academy because of his royal blood and noble connections.

the second prince is one way to describe him as well. second to everything his brother does is also a possible description. second to the throne, to their parents’ love, to the praise and glory befitting of a king. because leona will never be king. not as long as his brother and his blood live, because leona has always been the second option.

and so he acts like it. what else can he do? surely he cannot try to usurp his own brother; leona may be a better king than falena, but he is also intelligent enough to understand the consequences of a coup, long-term or otherwise. not to mention his nephew, who undoubtedly has the capacity to be a real pain in his ass if leona ever does away with his father.

now leona spends most of his time bored and unpleasant to be around, not so unlike the whispers that circulated the halls of afterglow savannah's royal palace when his signature spell was discovered. it is when you find him, lazing around in the light of the sun creeping into the greenhouse (one of the only times he has ever felt that he has ever felt that he could escape from the shadows), and, for one reason or another, you decide to stay.

leona hates it.

he hates the way you shine a light in his life. it’s too bright, too hot, and he can’t get rid of you no matter how hard he tries. and, at some point, he has become too scared to get rid of you. the underlying fear of losing that light, reduced to the shadow of a king and a crown prince that he once was; it kills leona. it kills him because he was supposed to be a king, grew up wanting to be the perfect one to rule over the kingdom, and kings do not have weaknesses.

but leona is not a king.

he is the brother of one, the second son of a royal family. with enough skills and intellect to survive in the battlefield that is the royal court of the afterglow savannah. he is born to a long line of kings, emperors, leaders; has learned from the stories of the great kings of the past, of which their blood courses through his veins; but he is not a king. never was, and never will be.

but then again, who is to say that he isn’t a king in another sense?

"the only kingly thing you haven’t done yet is actually opening your eyes, leona," ruggie’s damned hyena laugh echoes in his mind, the mischievous smirk on his face while his eyes stay rooted to the pathetic homemade crown on his head.

leona does not think ruggie has the right to laugh, when he doesn't even understand.

because even with his eyes closed, the second prince sees. he sees the way your breaths come and go, the warmth of the sun and the chill of the breeze on your skin, your quickening pulse and heartbeat. he sees it all without ever needing his eyes, and that is the exact reason why he doesn’t want to open them.

because if he does, he will see you, backlit against the sun and light of the greenhouse you both visit so much, and then he will want more; you by his side in the kingdom of afterglow savannah, bathing in the morning light while wrapped in royal robes, the consort's crown on your head, your rightful place on the throne beside his. you cradling his cub in your arms, sweetly whispering to the result of your love, the future ruler of the afterglow savannah. leona knows that there is none other more deserving of a consort's crown than you, and he would kill anyone who tried to take it from you.

(he would kill for you in a heartbeat. no matter what the cost.

one day, leona thinks, he will not be the only one to fear the extent of what he feels for you.)

but what murder is justified when the crime hasn’t even been committed? when you don’t have the consort's crown, because leona doesn’t even have the king’s.

(child’s play. reaching for something he will never get. leona is a master at this game, even when he loses every single time.)

silly lion, you would chide him with a smile. not for these foolish fantasies (for leona would never admit them), but for the most mundane things. being late to class, forgetting to do homework, getting detention, forgetting to go to that detention. such simple, pathetic things, and leona listens because you are his consort, and kings listen to their consorts.

(pathetic, hopeless little fantasies.)

"leona?" you call out his name, your voice the melody of his sweetest, softest, weakest dreams.

leona's eyes flutter open, lashes brushing against his cheeks as he blinks in the light.

he sees you there, bent over to peer at his sleeping expression. the way your head eclipses the sun makes it seem like you’re wearing a halo (angel’s crown), and if leona looks closely, he can see his own kisses tangled between your locks and the light.

he closes his eyes before he can meet your gaze, see your lips and everything else he’s ever wanted. he will settle for sense and touch, if not for the sake of his sanity, then for you.

"what is it now?" he snarls, feigning annoyance. he hears you laugh, and leona knows you see right through him.

just give him some more time, then he will give you a kingdom, the world, and everything else you’ve ever wanted and deserved──

──but for now, this will be all he can offer you.

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alyakthedorklord · 1 year

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Chiroptophobia: the Fear of Bats.

Bruce Wayne is Scared of Bats. This is a Canon Fact.

In a difference from canon, Batman pretends to actually BE a bat man.

(Again, “Loading and Aspect Ratio” by JUBE514 situation with fake wings. Please go read it I love it so much.)

Bruce turns himself into a physical manifestation of his personal worst nightmares, and sets out to be a street cryptid. People see him flinching from bright lights and loud noises (he hasn’t slept in three days and he really hates guns) twitching weirdly (testing his wings function/stimming) not fully understanding human social niceties (you cannot tell me this man isn't Autistic) and, duh, wings, and go ah yes this being is Inhuman.

However, people KNOW Brucie Wayne™ is petrified of bats. There was an incident at a party when one flew through a window, another at a zoo, there was this one time Manbat showed up and he practically teleported away. No one saw him for a whole month, even after Batman had captured Manbat. (He got injured in the fight.)

By extension, this means that Bruce Wayne is afraid of Batman. Just- absolutely terrified of him. No ones seen them in the same place. Ever. Bruce Wayne actually publicly refuses to even believe in the cryptid for YEARS past when he's already been proven to exist.

When the Justice League gets called in to protect Bruce and his smattering of children from some plot (batman conspicuously absent, despite Gotham being his territory) Bruce straight up tells the league that he doesn’t believe in Batman, and he feels much safer with “real heroes” rather than “a urban legend spawned from overdramatic furries and gang wars.”

The justice league is, obviously, confused.

Certified little shits Dick, Jason, and Tim, (because we’re going with JUBE514’s canon and jason doesn’t die they’re all brothers f off-)

ANYWAYS: Certified Little Shits Dick, Jason, and Tim, ready for chaos/solidifying secret identities: “Don’t worry! We believe in batman! We saw him!” :D

They then proceed to tell the justice league that Bruce HAS met Batman, but he has a phobia of bats, so when Batman saved them at a gala Bruce screamed so loud and shrill he threw off the bat-hearing and then punched batman in the face so hard he knocked him out cold, grabbed then-baby Jason and ran. (Nightwing and the second Robin had to HEROICALLY rescue a dazed Batman, Dick saw it with his own eyes!)

Bruce was so scared of the bat coming to take revenge that he jumped at every shadow for a whole month. Why, Jason, (who was younger then) had slept in Bruce's bed to keep him safe! (Dick is crooning about his cute little brother. Jason, who is hitting his growth spurt and not a little kid anymore, is infinitely embarrassed.) Right now, Brucie has settled into firmly denying Batman’s entire existence so that he can sleep soundly at night.

“Why is he so scared of bats?” The Justice League is wondering. Oh, they are so glad they asked!

“Alfred told us a story once,” Dick says, eyes wide and innocent as he prepares to lie through his fucking teeth, “that when Bruce was little, really little, he got trapped in a cave filled with bats, and his dad had to come rescue him. Apparently, Little Bruce had been crying about a massive bat, even bigger than he was, with glowing red eyes and human hands and (gasp) wait oh my goodness gracious what if that was the BATMAN :0”

“The baby batman.” Jadon adds.

“Batboy?” Tim wonders.

“Alfred, do you think Bruce met Batman when they were little?” Dick asks.

“I believe,” Alfred “the greatest enabler” Pennyworth hums, offering fresh baked scones to thier gleeful audience, “that Master Bruce referred to what he saw as ‘the bat king’ and reported seeing him outside his window several times over the years.”

“Maybe it really was him! Will you ask Batman for us?” Tim asks, already planning to hack the watchtower cameras and set up some popcorn with his brothers.

The Justice League, who have learned more about the Batman in one conversation than they have over MANY years of working together, tell the Wayne children that it will be their Genuine Pleasure to quiz batman on his interactions with BRUCIE WAYNE who has, apparently, laid batman out cold with one punch.

Alfred adds on that he personally thinks the Batman is being rather courteous to Master Bruce, as “bat king” sightings were after “difficult times” and he doesn’t come near the manor otherwise, as robin had been the one to return some family heirlooms that one time they were stolen. He calls the batman and his robins “polite young gentlemen” and then leaves.

But now the gears are turning in the justice leagues heads. Batman? Courteous? Polite? Batman is not Courteous or Polite. Not unless something else is going on.

Now. From their point of view. Batman lives in the cave systems under the richest houses in Gotham, Phantom of the Opera style, hiding his meta form (because this batman is playing cryptid really well. Maybe he was a mutant baby of some Rich Gothamites, who threw him into the caves in shame!) He’s been watching Bruce Wayne, likely as he struggled with the highly reported on demise of his parents, seeing the effects that crime had on the boy that fell into his cave all those years ago. Batman has always been so protective of children, so hateful of guns, obviously the Wayne tragedy is part of what motivates him. He loves Gotham dearly, territorial of it to the point of keeping other heroes out, and yet he breaks that rule here, for Gotham's prince, solely for Bruce’s comfort.

Bruce, another person who obviously loves the city of Gotham just as much, putting millions into charity and relief efforts. Who is clearly very protective of his children, even if he usually has no spine, to the point of attacking his greatest fear to keep then safe, and good enough to land a hit, even. (Bruce Wayne is also considerably attractive.)

Its all so clear to the Justice League: Batman is madly in love with Bruce Wayne. Has been for years. To the point of watching him sleep, on occasion. How very tragic! Batman, in love with someone he can never be with! Not only would it paint a massive target on Bruce’s back if they ever did get together- there’s no questioning what Gotham villains would do if they discovered this, (and denying himself love out of an attempt to keep others safe is EXACTLY the kind of self-sacrificing nonsense Batman would pull) But Batman can’t even truly see the man he’s in love with without Brucie running away in terror! Well, the poor guy… how sad…

This conclusion can be supported by the following evidence-

Batman’s first appearance being right after Bruce Wayne returned to Gotham. Was the bat following him to protect him in those missing years? Or maybe he decided to clean up the city now that his beloved had returned?

Batman always being seen near where Bruce is. He’s never once been at the watchtower when Bruce has a public appearance- he must be watching over him, a silent guardian in case someone gets it in their head to kidnap Gotham’s Prince.

Batman insisting that Bruce is innocent in a corporate scheme, despite evidence to the contrary. (Hes right in the end, of course, but they’ve never seen him ignore evidence so clear.)

Batman casually referencing Wayne Tech/Foundation inner workings- he keeps an eye on them, of course. (If he can’t be close to the object of his affections, the league reasons, of course he’d make sure that Bruce’s company and projects are on the right track)

Nightwing, when asked, confirms the Bruce Punching Batman story. He says “honestly I think B was impressed! Caught him off guard!” (Since when does Batman lower his guard? Only when he’d be… distracted, perhaps…)

Superman saves Bruce, who thanks him with a kiss on the cheek. Later, justice league was teasing Clark, batman huffs and leaves the room. He’s CLEARLY jealous! Superman feels just awful!

Batman inexplicably knowing social dances/high society manners- he must have learned by watching (stalking) bruce! He can navigate high profile talk if he wants to, he just doesn’t want to most of the time. but if the situation calls for it he can talk like the Richest of Pricks in a way that only comes with observation.

Batman bristling when some of the league members start making Comments on Brucie Wayne’s Physical Attributes. (Jealousy? Defensiveness? Perhaps… embarrassment at GL’s detailed explanation on what he’d do with a chance in bed with Brucie.)

Batman absolutely freezing up when confronted with any of the above evidence. (He’s trying SO HARD not to laugh/go tell his kids)

Dick/Jason being big enough to wear the Bat-wings rather than thier own and be convincing- they save Bruce, though the man passes out (from fear? Blood loss from an injury? Perhaps- he is faking) and Dick/Jason, either out of genuine concern for their dad or general “how can i stir the pot” chaos, gently strokes his hair away from his face in an act of compassion that the cameras just so happen to catch. (There’s a few tears shed in the justice league- poor batman! He can’t be with his love!)

The robins (in both identities) telling the justice league that they've seen batman watching him.

“oh yeah he does background checks on aaaaaall bruces conquests. Had a conniption when brucie found a mafia boss that one time.”

“And when he found out Bruce and Two-face had a fling!”

(The league notes that often, if a criminal gets too close to Brucie, they’re put away not long after. B is usually collecting evidence in his civilian ID. But it looks like angry Batman wanted them to get the hell away from his mans.)

The Justice League is swooning over this tragic, forbidden love story. Batman is a little creepy but hey. He apparently grew up in a cave system. Its a wonder he's as well adjusted as he is. Batman has their sympathy, he seems less unflappable/untouchable, they’re a little more understanding with him now. Superman is all too happy to be a rebound, if needed. There are magic users offering glamour spells. Green Lantern is making exposure therapy innuendos.

The robins can’t believe how lucky they got. They’re def grounded but B can’t be too mad bc his secret identity is FUKIN SET.

Alfred is rather proud of Batman's new nickname in the league being “the bat king” and keeps sending batman along with cookies. The league thinks Batman is checking up on bruce with his butler. Its a mess.

Eventually, Batman loses a bet to one of his kids. Committing to the Bit with an exasperated sigh (he’s definitely not having fun, shut up jason.)

He admits to his crush.

#cryptid batman #brucie wayne #wing fic #justice league #dc universe #dc prompt #when the league finds out they’re almost offended #b just sheugs and say they drew their own conclusions #also his robins and alfred were having fun #bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne x batman #superbat

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allgremlinart · 9 months

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The Most Underrated Line In All Of ATLA/TLOK And Its Many Worldbuilding Implications - A Ramble

In S2E7 of TLOK we get this dialogue from Wan and The Aye-Aye Spirit: "There are other Lion Turtles?" "Of course there are - dozens of them!" [timestamp 3:38 in this video]

It's such a quick line it's easy to miss, but there's one thing about it that made a LOT of things click into place for me about the Avatar universe's worldbuilding; the fact that there are (or were) dozens of Lion Turtles. NOT four, with one for each element, like you would assume. Dozens.

What does this mean in terms of the Four Nations? What connections might this have with other previously established lore? Well uhm follow me on this journey. I guess.

Pre-Unifications - A Global Warring States Era?

A warring states era on a wouldn't be nearly as compelling if there were only four Lion Turtles. If this were the case, everything would be perfectly balanced; why would there be disarray, violence, cultural disparity and struggles for power within each elemental group if the world was already perfectly divided into four solid groups? Why would a national identity be in question at all?

But the fact that there are more than one Lion Turtle per element... that means different groups of people being isolated from one another for long periods of time. This means different bodies of identity, regardless of element. Different city states, regional Kings, Queens, fiefdoms, dynastic power struggle, etc etc, before any sort of inherent loyalty the ones element as a national and cultural identity was established.

We know the Avatar world was not always divided into Four Nations. In Chapter 21 of The Rise Of Kyoshi we learn that Guru Laghima - a name you'll recognize from TLOK S3 - was from an era when the Four Nations had not yet been formed. We also know from Zaheer that he lived about 4,000 years before the events of TLOK (for context, thats about 6,000 years after Wan became the first Avatar).

There's further confirmation of this in Smoke And Shadow, where we learn about the first Firelord and the Fire Nation's unification wars.

However there's implications of this even in the original series; it's not some sloppy ret-con from the books and comics, it fits. Think Omashu:

In S2E2 of ATLA we get the story of Oma and Shu - and we learn that they come from "warring villages." Now why exactly would their villages be warring if The Earth Kingdom already existed? Why the need for a power struggle? Why is it not presented as a civil insurrection or civil war, but as a conflict between two distinct groups of people? The answer is that the "Earth Kingdom" as we conceptualize it did not exist. I'd go further and say that we can assume that after Omashu was established it became a powerful regional kingdom, and created strong sphere of cultural influence. Think about it - Bumi is King Of Omashu. King. NOT the Earth King, King Of The Earth Kingdom, but still King Of Omashu.

[Now there's some debate about where Omashu's founding sits on the timeline but to me it HAS to be post-Wan, probably very nearly immediately post-Wan. The line that calls them the "first earthbenders" and that they "learned earthbending from the badger moles" has caused some to question if they fit in with the "Lion Turtles bestowed bending" lore, but to me it fits pretty easily. The Lion Turtles may have bestowed the power but the actual technique was learned from the badger moles and dragons and blah blah blah.]

I also find this line from Jianzhu in The Rise Of Kyoshi very illuminating:

VINDICATION !! And Jianzhu's moaning over the cultural diversity within his country brings me to the second part of this post...

FC Yee And Gene Luen Yang Accidentally (?) Make Avatar's Cultural Mish Mash Make More Sense

Avatar's cultural gumbo of visuals has always been a little hard to parse. If you follow @atlaculture then you know it'd be kind of fruitless to try and apply any one single ethnicity/culture to one nation. A common, and very valid, criticism of Avatar is the pan-asian approach it takes to worldbuilding. I'm not here to defend that lol. I think people who dislike Avatar on that basis are well within their rights to do so, and I also think it's important to enjoy things critically.

HOWEVER, from a worldbuilding perspective, the mish mash becomes easier to swallow when you think of it in terms of multiple groups of people being unified into different nation states over a very long period of time and slowly intertwining their cultures into a single(ish) identity.

Take the Fire Nation for example: in FC Yee's The Shadow Of Kyoshi we learn that the government was much more decentralized and the country was controlled by different clans, like the Saowon and Keosho, who had individual spheres of influence and strong senses of identity. It makes me think about Mai and Ty Lee

They're both Fire Nation nobles and they both live in the Fire Nation capital - but their styles/clothes are completely different. Now, obviously that can be boiled down to personality-based character design but. There's a wide discrepancy between Mai's Edo Japan inspired hair and Ty Lee's Thai inspired performance outfit, and a little retroactive canon about them being part of different but powerful clans .. ? Yeah. That'd be fun, at the very least.

I could go on about this... was there a Water Lion Turtle at the north AND the south? How did the airbenders transition from relatively sedentary life on a Lion Turtle to nomadism? etc etc etc BUT in conclusion: TLOK and the comics have some very fun worldbuilding implications snuck in there !! Which makes up for a lot in my opinion. Personally I'd KILL for an Avatar series set in the warring states/unification period... I think that could be insanely cool...idk. The End. For Now.

#atla #tlok #shadow of kyoshi #rise of kyoshi #this post may get even more added onto it after I read the Yangchen novels...#worldbuilding #like. I REALLY could go on and on but I'm tired and bound to make less and less sense to longer I type #FC Yee #gene luen yang

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wtftarot · 2 months

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PAC: The Sun

The Sun stands as the counterpart to the Moon. Representing clarity, the Sun leaves nothing in shadow. It speaks of blessings and growth. What do you need to learn from the Sun today? Let's fuck around and find out.

As always this reading is meant for entertainment purposes only and is not a substitute for professional advice in any way. Remember, use common sense, and don't be a dumbass.

Masterlist

Pick the Sunflowers, the Kid or the Horse and head on to your reading.

The Sunflowers page cups Rx, Justice, 7 swords, the Fool, three cups, the hierophant Rx, temperance rx

A lot of things are lookin hazy for y'all, huh group one? The energy here is super interesting. First, y'all are entering an era that will redefine what you think it means to have a balanced life. You'll figure out what it means for you specifically. Which is awesome but that's not the focal point of your reading. There's something here that feels very sneaky, not in a harmful sorta way, more like a heist. It's like you're heisting yourself back. I fuckin love that. I think y'all may have lost yourself or a part of yourself somewhere along the way. The cards aren't saying how or why, which I feel is significant. While whatever happened had its impact, it's so much less important than this, than you, finding yourself again. Now you're scheming and plotting ways to get yourself back and it's beautiful. There's so much excitement and joy here. You may still have to hide them because of circumstances outside of your control but you're not burying them. You should feel absofuckinlutly no shame about it, fyi. You had to adapt, that's all. Now though, you are plotting and planning yourself towards a life that you don't have to adapt yourself to. The clarity you're getting is clarity of self. Things in your life feel a little hazy and off because they kinda are. You only "fit" your life as it is now because you lost those parts of yourself. Things were always 'off'. You edited yourself to what the situation called for. So, as you find yourself, you won't 'fit' the roles in life you used to. You're stepping into a life that gets you. A life where those parts of you are celebrated. Moving forward you may not get many satisfactory answers from sources outside of yourself on what to do. That's cause this is a time where you are creating the answers. You may find yourself doing a lot of inner-child work in the next few months. Deconstructing outdated teachings, or just seeing through bullshit you once thought to be true. Your awareness of when you are or are not acting in favor of your true self is being heightened. Now, this all feels like the inner-shift that has to happen before the external changes. So, you may wanna seek out some alone time or journal your thoughts cause I'm willing to bet you'll be having some epiphanies or ah-ha moments. This is awesome, babe. It's gonna be beautiful to see.

random ass vibes: Cats, 8,888, the wizard of oz, My Chemical Romance, shout out to all y'all with adhd/autism. religious upbringing? Red, "you can't buy happiness- steal it", goldenrod, something about acrylic nails? first time getting them? owls.

The Kid

The Sun rx, Nine of Swords Rx, Four of Cups Rx, Page of Wands, Knight of Cups, Eight of Wands Rx, Nine of Wands Rx, King of Swords Rx

This reading was interesting as hell to do. The short version is: Y'all are intuitive, you're just not letting yourselves simply BE intuitive. You try to force things or second-guess others and it's fucking you over.

There is a message that you may be spending too much on different divination tools when you don't need them. This reading is cool and frustrating. I had to walk away from your cards because every time I tried to read them, the message was muddled and contradicting itself? I'm writing this a day later because now that I'm not trying to force it, it's flowing like the goddamn Mississippi. I didn't even plan to get back to your reading yet. It's like 6,7 am? I was just drinking my coffee and the reading became clear. Which is the whole ass point of your reading. Everyone has different intuitive psychic skills and different skill levels but if y'all chose this group? Y'all are pretty fuckin psychic. Or you could be if you got over some self-doubt and shit. When I said you're not letting yourselves be intuitive, I mean you may be relying too much on divination tools and signs instead of your intuition. You can strengthen your intuitive gifts, and learn to interpret them more accurately but you can't force it. It seems like you've become so focused on trying to pick up on things psychically, that you're not even living in the moment anymore. Which leads us to the other side of this coin. When you're determined to know and see more when there's nothing there, you can start to take your anxieties for hits cause they're the only thing you got. It's sorta like how when you're looking into a dark space, and you start seeing things that ain't there. Which understandably makes you freaked out, then when the anxieties don't come true you doubt yourself cause your "intuition" was wrong. Truth is not everything is a sign or a hit. Sometimes a number's just a number and a bird's just a bird. A bad feeling in your gut is just your gut feeling bad. Truth also is sometimes true psychic hits are kinda dumb, most of the hits I get regularly are just my cat needing something. It's okay if your intuition is just when produce is on sale. You ARE psychic. You're also human. All of this is confusing and that's okay. We're always confused until we figure things out. This all came out with the Sun in reverse because y'all expect your intuition to be clear the way your other senses are clear. You're looking outside of yourself for something that dwells inside of you. The advice here is to learn to trust your inner instincts. I keep hearing "Play psychic games". Scry out what animals you're going to see the next day. Try to intuit what suit a card is before you turn it over. Being psychic isn't (always) foreshadowing doom, it can be super fun. Try to get readings on non-serious topics. Let your intuition flow and play.

y'all have no random ass vibes because you need to stop relying on external confirmation of your intuition.

The Horse

This reading may be triggering, I'm not sure if feelings of not deserving love are a trigger but just to be safe. If you struggle with depression, anxiety, or the like please seek professional help. I'm just a chick with a computer and a deck of cards. Remember, don't do anything to compromise your safety.

I took some time between readings, and leading up to your reading horses kept popping up everywhere. I knew this reading would be different. I did pull some cards, but they feel unnecessary because y'all's guides are just talking to me. Why are y'all so convinced you won't get a happy ending? Mind out of the gutter, please. Thank you. You seem to be utterly convinced that you will never have a solid, safe, joyful life? "None of that is for me" is what I keep hearing. It's like there is one way to be happy, one sort of life that leads to happiness, and if you do not conform to that you're just doomed to die alone in squalor? There's this energy of I cannot do things my way and be happy. I can't be myself and loved. I just heard " I don't get to.." As in I don't get to be myself. I don't get to be loved. I don't know who made you feel that way but they better fucking hope I never see them. Or better yet, hope that future you never meets them. Cause sweetie, this reading? It's about your comeback. And HOLY FUCK YALL THIS WILL BE A HELL OF A COMEBACK. There's this overwhelming feeling of happy, unbridled defiance rearing its head in you. If you haven't felt it yet, you will soon babe don't worry. This may just be a heads-up. Defiance in the face of every fucking thing that makes you feel like you'll never get what you want. SPITE. That's what yall are embracing. I FUCKING LOVE THIS ENERGY YALL. SPITE IS MY ENTIRE LIFE PHILOSOPHY. This may be sort of a "villain era" for you. You're gonna be spitting in the face of everything that made you feel like you'd never be enough. YOU ARE ENOUGH. I want to be clear, you're not going to wake up and suddenly be immune to all the bullshit you've been told. You are however going to wake up and decide to live in defiance of what people have told you. That's why it'll feel sort of villainous, you may not feel like you deserve happiness (yet, give it time). BUT is 'deserving" it going to stop you? HELL NO! This is giving happiness is the best revenge. Those fuckers saying you can't be you and loved? They're gonna have to sit and WATCH YOU. And you get the pleasure of shoving your success, your happiness DOWN THIER FUCKING THROATS. Sometimes, you have to move towards things before you feel deserving or ready, so you can learn to feel deserving and ready. It's gonna take some work and strategizing, (y'all may wanna chat with some of the people in group one) I am so fucking pumped for y'all. If y'all don't feel this energy yet, you will soon I promise. In the meantime, maybe make a happy-upbeat revenge/spite playlist. Cause above all, this is about being HAPPY.

Random ass vibes: Danger Days, snakes, cats, 666, y'all may wanna look up Hopepunk, zombies,

#tarot reading #tarot #divination #tarot community #tarot cards #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a pile #wtftarot #the sun

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alwayscorvus · 2 months

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What are lions truly scared of

half-lion!Jing Yuan x malereader, fluff

Jing Yuan resembled a lion in many ways.

Lions stood out with their bushy mane, one that was incredibly similar to Jing Yuan's. Long, thick, messy. Extremely difficult to control.

Lions weighed around 420 pounds*. Known for their massive build. Their mass and strength allowed them to hunt and fight for their pride. Exactly as in case of Jing Yuan who had a powerful physique, which made masculinity radiate from him. By his very appearance, Jing Yuan woke awe and fear in eyes of his enemies.

Lions were "kings of the jungle". They kept watch over other animals. Just like Jing Yuan, who ruled Xianzhou Luofu thanks to his role as one of leaders.

Lions mostly didn't raise their offspring, leaving that to lionesses to do. Despite this, they always protected the youngest ones. Maybe that's why Jing Yuan often put off teaching Yanqing and preferred not to assign him difficult tasks through which he could get hurt.

Lions were known for performing outstanding hunts. Choosing right time, adjusting their attack tactics and observing their prey for a long while. When working as a team and carefully following tasks instructed to them, lionesses were able to knock down a giraffe that greatly surpassed them. Perhaps this is why Jing Yuan was such a great strategist. His skills worked well both in chess and on battlefield. Man didn't act by impulse, he thoughtfully chose his next steps. He knew that not all attacks should be responded to, and even if, it wasn't necessary to do that immediately. Sometimes it was better to wait for the right moment. Slow action and "patience" also allowed Jing Yuan to not get too much tired...

Lions became exhausted easily and run only on short distances. So you could say that Jing Yuan had in genes this laziness and dullness which he was always showing.

That's why it wasn't surprising when, during transformation of some of Luofu's residents, Jing Yuan was one of them.

Yes, at some point the nation over which Jing Yuan held custody began to change. At first Xianzhou Luofu was just an unusual and wonderful place inhabited by many different species. The most popular of them were of course Foxians, Vidyadharas and Xianzhou Natives. The last one were previously famous only for their long-living. They didn't show any animal traits in their apperance. Over the years, however, this began to change. Mutations weren't common, but despite that, in some individuals they suddenly triggered the appearance of parts unusual for human body. Tails, horns, extra ears, claws, scales, anything that just referred to animals that Natives personified.

Because of that, an already perfect image of General was enhanced by a pair of white lion ears and a long, swift tail.

However, that was not what caught your attention. Rather it was a Jing Yuan's strange behavior.

At first, you thought you only imagined it or that it was just a pure coincidence. Over time, however, you found that Jing Yuan was really avoiding you on purpose.

At Louofu celebrations, by the time you were able to push through the crowd to where Six Charioteers were standing, Jing Yuan had always managed to change his position. Leaving behind only sight of departing shadow and ruffles of his robe waving in the wind.

When you visited Divine Foresight for business matters, you could never find Jing Yuan. When you asked about him, you were told that man had left only seconds before you arrived. Or even better, that at that day he wasn't there at all. And you could have sworn that behind the closing door to one of the back rooms, you saw a long, white tail frivolously levitating in the air.

However, you got really fed up with all that when Jing Yuan sent his representatives to consultation with you instead of showing up himself.

You also like Jing Yuan belonged to long-lived species. Although you didn't reveal any additional features in your appearance. And in look were no different from an ordinary person (well, maybe not counting large build in form of broad shoulders and above-average height). But elephant blood flowed through your veins.

As a result, you and your family became famous for your divine memory. Because of which, male line of your dynasty from generation to generation served rulers as consultants and "treasurers of knowledge". Though this didn't happen often. Because your services were extremely expensive. And also because you have lived in a grudge against Six Charioteers since ancient times. Precisely, since a few centuries ago one of former rulers made a decision completely different from your suggestions. That offended your pride deeply. However, your helping still took place in special circumstances.

One could say that due to the long life span, there weren't many of your "generations". But unfortunately, because of your genes, you were the target of so-called "poachers". They were eliminating you because of highly paid commission. You were valuable, your knowledge was precious. And it posed a great threat to others. That forced you to start new generations. By holding sensitive information from many years, your grandfather and later also your father lost their lives. Only you remained. And it was you who held the duties of "treasurer of knowledge".

You did it with extreme diligence and were respected by many. That's why you decided to take advantage of it.

When stellaron crisis hit Luofu, and you were once again asked to share your knowledge by Jing Yuan's subordinates. You gave an ultimatum.

General had to personally show up.

New deals, raises, promises of extraordinary rewards couldn't bribe you.

What's more, enough was enough when, after "agreeing" to your terms, another broker appeared at the meeting instead of Jing Yuan. Explaining himself with General's "illness".

To some, your attitude could seem trivial. But you really needed to find out why the head of Xianzhou Luofu had been avoiding you like a fire for years. Was there something wrong with you? Did you offend him with something? But how were you supposed to do that if you had never even seen him in person. Exactly. You had never had the opportunity to even see Jing Yuan with your own eyes before. You only knew his appearance and character from stories, paintings and your own analysis. That additionally kept you motivated in holding on your decisions.

And that's why you left the meeting room with a bang. News about your grudge immediately reaching General.

Jing Yuan realized that he had crossed the line. And that if he really wanted to get answers for his questions, he had to meet you in person. Not hologram, not anyone else, but he himself. If you would grant him another chance at all….

Your curiosity, however, worked in his favor. A week later, Jing Yuan showed up at your residence.

You found him sitting on a mat in your office. At the sight of him you instantly froze for a second. He looked even better than they described him, though perhaps not as majestically... Did you imagine that or did he really give off a vibe of shy and lost? Hunched, he looked around the room with hesitation. Avoiding your gaze at the same time. You didn't know where the great, famous, well-respected general had gone.

You took a seat on the other side of the table. And you took a closer look at him.

Fluffy white ears lay flattened on his head, and eyes that still avoided your face were squinted. With your memory, you returned to books about lions that you had been browsing, wishing to learn more about Jing Yuan.

Similar symptoms occurred in cat family when they were scared of something. But what could a brilliant General be afraid of. Stunned, you looked around to the sides, but you didn't see any threat behind your back.

-So how can i help the famous Jing Yuan? - you asked almost amused.

-Nameless... Is there anything I should know about them regarding the history of Xianzhou Luofu? Something that could prevent success of our cooperation? Can they be trusted?

You smiled at this.

-Why don't we start with what we agreed on in the letter first? - you recalled your conversation that you held after the last insult.

Man pulled a book from behind his bask and slid it timidly towards you. You grabbed it and opened at the page pointed by bookmark which surprisingly matched the patterns on Jing Yuan's robe.

You read the subject and then next few lines.

"What are Lions scared of?"

"Lions have only a few predators to fear other than humans."

Not that.

"Lions are not really scared of elephants. But elephants are the only animals they really try to avoid. [...] Lions show elephants respect that they deserve. Lions know that they will not defeat an elephant alone, because elephants are too powerful and massive for that. "

You smiled even wider and came up with another idea.

-What would General say about changing our agreement? I wouldn't want to drain Luofu's treasury that much... You have nothing to be scared of General. Although your ears could "suffer" a bit under new rules -you suggested playfully.

Jing Yuan rapidly raised his head. For the first time you could sink into his golden eyes. Nevertheless, you were greatly distracted from this astonishing view by naughty tail, which also rose to attention and flicked in the air.

After a moment, Jing Yuan burst into laughter, and his confidence returned. He nudged his head over the table towards you.

-What are u waiting for?

You also responded to the remark with laughter and slight disbelief.

Several decades of waiting, and everything could be solved in a few seconds.

You lifted your hand up, over Jing Yuan's mane. You hesitated for a moment, but then excitedly ruffled lion's ears. Soft to the touch. Fluffy as a cloud. Pleasantly cold after traveling outside.

And those purrs... Almost cat-like purr that came out of Jing Yuan immediately right after your gentle hands began kneading his ears in not so gently way. You could hear it more often.

And what's more, you could probably even fall in love with it.

made while listening to AREZRA "Goodbye"

*~190 kg

#fanfic #fanfiction #scenarios #tmr #x reader #genshin impact #hsr #x top male reader #x male reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x male reader #honkai star rail #hsr x male reader #honkai star rail imagines #jing yuan hsr

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whoppert · 3 months

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Hands on the Ground! (König/Reader)

2,652 words

tagged: König protective stalker; non-con groping of MC by villain

AO3 Master Fic List

The new recruit has caught König’s eye. He's seen a lot, but this is new. He doesn't want to complicate her life, no, he will just watch her from the shadows.

It's just a crush. An obsessive crush. An addictive and feverish and all-consuming crush. Nothing more.

But when she has a problem, König takes it upon himself to find a solution.

König passes by the new recruits in the training area. It’s not often he particularly notices a recruit - sure, he’s incredibly observant. He’ll notice a change in breathing in an opponent in a fight, a slight change in the walking gait of a teammate when they’re hiding an injury, but rarely does someone actually make an impression on him.

He checks with the training leader and learns her surname. The leader says she has promise, and asks if König wants to meet her, but the king declines. No, he’ll just watch from afar.

That night he steals her personnel file. Just some light reading, a bedtime story. This is where he gets a full name, address and next-of-kin, her brother. A dishonorable discharge from a foreign militia is on her record, but there’s no explanation.

AO3

It wasn't a concern, KorTac had a high turnover in the lower ranks, so administration often ignored marks on people’s records when it came to new hires. From her records, König learns that she speaks four languages fluently, that she has pilot experience and the area she struggles in is sniper shooting.

König thought about her as he drifted off to sleep.

A few weeks pass.

He keeps to his internal promise to watch from afar, but that doesn’t stop him taking the long route to get around the base, just so he’ll have a chance to watch. She’s really something in combat and wins both of the hand-to-hand training sessions that König manages to watch casually as he strolls by. He can read the tension in the male recruits. She’s the only female who manages to win in a mixed-sex fight and it wounds their egos.

Good, König thinks to himself. He knows how men fight and the angrier they get, the easier they are to defeat if you can read the signs, which she seems to be able to, because she taunts them as she fights them, a verbal dressing down for their shitty behavior and arrogance, respectively.

Occasionally he’d see her in the mess hall when their schedules overlapped. She sits with two other female recruits, and smiles at them warmly, the group seemed to have an affinity to each other that usually signifies friendship. She isn’t shy about getting what she needs to fuel her body, she’s smart in that way.

The next training session König watched entirely from the shadows. She wrestles well, though she doesn’t have the strength or size of her opponent so she is quick to recover from his grapple. She’s very quick. This opponent, a man with a dark cropped haircut is much better than her previous sparring partners. The rest of the recruits don’t talk through this fight like they did during the turns of the other pairs. No, this fight seems to be significant for all of them as a group. Her legs are strong, and she kicks her opponent just over his center of balance, sending him stumbling backwards.

In the second she took to right herself, her gaze flicked over and settled where König was watching, leaning against the edge of a nearby building, arms crossed over his chest. Bright eyes bore into his, the only visible part of his face. Today was another day he was glad to have his mask, the surprised expression rendered invisible to the outside world. It is only one second at most, but her opponent spots it.

The battle is quickly concluded, and her streak is lost.

König is gone before she’s even hauled herself up from the dirt.

Some nights later, König checked the schedule and found that she had booked a time at the sniping range to practice and that only one other soldier had booked an overlapping session. König made sure he was called for guard duty.

This is how he would make up for costing her the match.

The sky is grey and dull. He watches as she fires several shots, observing her form and then steps up to the neighboring practice spot. They do not acknowledge each other. She is too busy practicing to notice. She is by no means bad at it, just struggles with moving targets, which is costing her attempts. König is proud of his marksmanship, and knows that if he had that rifle he would have put down each of the targets in half as many bullets.

After another round she looks up at König from her seat, pulling her ear muffs off. He is sitting too, but even so she has to look up at him - everyone has to look up at him.

“You jerk as the gun fires,” he says. “You need to square your shoulders in order to support the weight of the rifle.”

She blinks, and considers his critique. Pressing the start button for the next round of moving targets, she hits every single one, only missing one shot. She rubs her shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

There is a pause.

“You’re the Colonel. König.”

“Yes. And you are?”

She gives him her name, though he already knows it.

“Good luck with your training, Lieutenant.”

König is called for a mission that will send him away for two weeks. Normally he welcomes the change of pace, but he mourns watching her each day. She is always in the back of his mind, and often in the front of it. He just can't stop himself from thinking about her.

When he returns, everything is the same on the surface, but she's different. Tense. König wonders what changed.

When he catches her sparring, there is a brutal ferocity to her movements, until she faces the only recruit who has ever bested her. König watches as she seizes up. The dark haired recruit easily takes her down, and his friends jeer. Perhaps it is a mental block?

A few days later, König collides with her - literally. He's making his way to visit a colleague when she comes out of a door, looking behind her, and smashing squarely into his chest. Strong hands grip her upper arms, so she narrowly avoids toppling over backwards. She's flushed, flustered.

"Forgive me," she stutters, glancing over her shoulder.

His hands don't leave her sides. For a second he short circuits. She feels so small compared to his large form.

"Hey," an unfamiliar voice calls from a familiar face as the dark haired recruit flies through the door after her. He stops suddenly, saluting. "Sir."

She seems to notice the breach of conduct and steps back quickly. König lets his hands fall to his sides.

"Is something wrong?" König asks, looking only at her.

“No. Sir,” she adds his title as an afterthought.

“Then you are dismissed.”

He didn’t believe her.

König had seen the growing tension between herself and this recruit. Naturally, he takes a look at the recruit’s personnel file as well. Adrian Meyer. No complaints. No formal military training, it seemed he’d been accepted to some relatively unknown private militia on a fluke. 24 years of age. Had left his previous employment voluntarily, but seemed to have made it into KorTac on the assurance that he was a quick study. It seemed true enough, his training showed exemplary marks - except in hand-to-hand. Always second place until recently. So he dislikes that she’s bested him, it creates tension, nothing particularly unusual, soldiers had troubles like this all the time. Still something doesn’t sit right with König. She had fought him a handful of times, and he’d studied her enough. She was always calm, collected, put together. Even first thing in the morning she’d report without a hint of exhaustion on her face. She could put on a show, hide her feelings as expertly as if she wore a mask, so what could have shaken her so badly the other day? Perhaps Meyer had said something to her, but what could he have said that left her so afraid?

There are hundreds of security cameras on a military base, with his clearance it was no issue at all to pull the footage. He isolated the record to about the rough time he’d run into her, and rewound from there. The video filled him with rage.

A few days pass and he watches the new recruits. She is shaken, making stupid mistakes and isolating herself from her friends. She eats lunch alone, practices alone and is easily defeated by opponents she had never so much as blinked at before. Meyer’s confidence grows each day, just continuing on as if nothing had happened.

König visits the trainees. She notices his approach, everyone else too deep in conversation, but as soon as she sees him, she turns her face away, refusing eye contact. He wants to tell her that he is going to fix this, but he doesn’t. König has said exactly forty words to her before, and he is not ready to add to the total.

“Meyer,” the training lead called out, König at his side. “The colonel is impressed with your training, he’d like a word.”

Meyer’s face split into a wide grin. “Knew it couldn’t be long before I started to get noticed.”

The pair step off to the side.

“Come visit me tonight in my office. 2100 hours. I want to discuss your future with KorTac.”

The smile falters momentarily. “Sir, I would love to, but I have guard duty-”

König interrupts, “I have arranged it. If you play your cards right, you’ll never have to pull guard duty again.”

Meyer is on time. He knocks on König’s office door at exactly 2100 hours. König invites him in, and at the sight of him Meyer stiffens.

“Relax,” König passes Meyer a drink. “This will be informal. I just want to get to know you a little better.”

König’s cheerful voice and the alcohol lulls Meyer into a false sense of security. The king is adept at this kind of hunt, he laughs on cue and flatters his prey with compliments, plying him with liquor, though Meyer doesn’t seem to notice that König has been nursing the same drink all night.

It’s growing late and still they talk. König knows the right time to strike is approaching because Meyer has started to talk absolute bullshit, too comfortable with the colonel.

“It’s just funny that you’re Austrian,” Meyer hiccups, swallowing the last of his glass.

“Why is that?” König makes sure the smile reaches his voice, since Meyer won’t see it.

“It’s just- to have an Austrian in charge of this place. Like shouldn’t you be running a farm or something?” Meyer laughs, and König pretends to laugh with him.

“You are a typical little Bavarian, aren’t you, Meyer?”

“I’m hardly little, I’m 190.5 centimeters!”

“You are little to me.” König replies.

The time is here.

König clears his voice. “Can I show you a video I found the other day? It’s hilarious.”

Meyer nods, pouring himself another glass.

König pulls up the security footage, pre-prepared and paused right before the crucial moment.

When Meyer notices, his eyebrows knit together. “Is this the security tape?”

König ignores him and hits ‘play’.

The shot is of one of the rooms used to take language lessons. It is completely empty until she enters. Moments later, Meyer follows her. He says something that causes her to freeze up, but unfortunately the feed is visual only. Meyer takes a step towards her and she takes a matching step back, her lips forming unheard words, her face pleading.

“What is this?” Meyer asks. He seems suddenly sober. “Why are you showing this to me?”

She faints right, breaks left, but it’s a move she frequents while sparring and he’s prepared for it, shoving her hard into the wall behind her. She struggles to regain her balance and throws a sloppy punch, which Meyer outmaneuvers, slapping her hard in the face and using the moment she is stunned to turn her around, pressing the front of her body against the wall as he presses himself against her back. One hand holds her by the back of her throat, her cheek against the plaster, the other runs down her body, groping the sides of her breasts and squeezing her ass before he kicks her legs apart and begins to touch between her legs. He is whispering something in her ear.

“It’s not what it looks-” Meyer stands abruptly.

“Sit down,” it is an order. All of the comradery König had exhibited early vanishes.

Meyer obeys.

Meyer is clumsy, too caught up in the moment. He releases her neck to step forward, sandwiching her body between his and the wall for maximum contact. He grinds his crotch against her, his lips close enough to kiss her neck, but she uses the second he is distracted and stamps down hard on the top of his foot. Immediately, Meyer staggers away, and she bolts. The camera shot switches into the hall as she bursts from the room, running straight into the Colonel.

The clip ends.

“Look,” Meyer pleads, “I know how that looks, but she came onto me, alright? You can’t hear her, but she wanted it. She’s been a tease for months, it’s not my fault is she panicked the second things got real, it-”

König does not care for excuses. “Left or right?”

The quest jars the recruit. “W-what?”

“I asked: ‘left or right?’”

“Right?” Meyer seems confused.

“Very well. Put your right hand on the ground.”

Meyer didn’t move. “Why?” There was panic in his voice now. He repeats the question when at first he doesn’t receive an answer.

“Because I am going to crush it beneath my boot.” There was a hint of sadistic pleasure apparent in the tone.

“Wh- no. No.” Meyer stuttered, cradling his hand to his chest. “You can’t do that.” Again he stands, but he does not back away, König stands between him and the exit.

“You touched her with both hands,” König said coldly. “It is by my mercy alone that your other hand has been spared. I have let you pick which hand you would like to keep, but you will be punished for touching her, Schwein. Do not disobey me. Put your right hand on the ground.”

“I didn’t know she was yours, I wouldn’t have ever-”

König steps towards him and this time it is Meyer shrinking back.

“Please,” he begs. “Please.”

But it is of no use. Meyer can see that. Face flushed and body shaking, he slowly kneels on the carpet, begging once more to no avail as he places his hand palm-first against the floor.

The next day, König walks past her like she was nothing to him. Like she didn’t consume every thought. He’d done what needed to be done and he had no regrets, but that didn’t mean he suddenly had a free pass to talk to her, she was his subordinate, that kind of fraternization would get him in trouble, and even if he got away with it, who’s to say she'd even want him? He could live in her shadow knowing that under his supervision she would befall no harm. He likes knowing that he took care of her little problem.

König watches her eating at the mess hall. Her friends rush to her, telling her something that he could not hear, though he could make out the excited tone they used.

“An accident?” She repeats.

“Yes, broke his hand. Doc showed me the x-ray, it was fucked. Crushed and twisted so badly he’ll be lucky if they can fit rods against the remaining bones. He’s resigned for long term medical care, but the doc said he’ll never shoot again.”

“What happened?”

“Apparently he fell in front of a Jeep and it ran his hand over.”

“That’s unlucky,” she says. For a brief moment she glances in König’s direction.

For an even briefer moment he holds her gaze, before excusing himself.

AO3

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1800jjbarnes · 2 months

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𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

【Synopsis】 : Bucky was your protector. The king of the land, but even the king has his dark side, and now Ser Rogers, the leading knight, must help you love him.

[Word count] : 2.53k

-> Genre: Smut. Angst. Fantasy Au.

Paring: Vampire!Husband!Bucky x Dutchess!Reader x Knight!Husband!Steve

[Warnings] : Sweat. Mention of dying and death. Sickness. Blood drinking. Cutting yourself (this could be very triggering, please be mindful) some powerplay. Unprotected sex (dont do that). Desperate Dom Bucky. Switch-to sub Reader. Dom Steve. Making out. Swearing. Crying. Some angst. Steve kinda just sits and watches ahah.

Masterlist | Navigation

Something was wrong before you even stepped foot in the throne room. All the torches were trailing a thin line of smoke, and a haze had swallowed the moonlight coming from the slightly covered windows. Heavy breathing can be heard from the other side of the room. You can tell it’s Bucky before you even cross halfway to the throne.

“James?” You call out.

“Stop,” comes a weak plea.

You take a couple of steps closer and see your husband curled up into a ball on the throne with a blanket wrapped around him. He’s sweaty, and his hair is sticking to his skin, covering his face. His shoulder moves heavily with each breath, forcing air in and out of his lungs. You reach out a shaky hand to touch his shoulder, but he flinches away from you.

“Jamie,” you say again.

Slowly and jittery, he looks up to you. He’s pale, and his eyes are dark in the shadows. There’s drool and snot all over his face, and he looks as if he’s been crying. You’ve never seen him like this, and it’s scaring you. You don’t know how to comfort him. He’s the Duke of Brooklyn. He’s a leader. He’s never shown weakness.

“I… I don’t know what’s happening,” He breathes out through gritted teeth, feeling pain cloud his judgement.

You clasp your hands close to your chest. “What do you want me to do?” You ask with sincerity. You want to help, you want to make whatever this is, stop.

He looks off for a second before coming back to you. “Steve. Grab Stevie,” he says before curling into a ball groaning in agony.

Ser Rogers, he’ll know what’s happening. You rush off, leaving your husband to find help. You rush down the hallways and across the castle with your dress pulled up high. How unladylike some would say. Finally getting to the knight’s quarter, you bang on Steve’s door. No response. You knock again, and this time there’s an answer from the other side, a very tired answer. The door finally opens, and your other husband opens the door with nothing on. You’ve seen his jewels a thousand times, so you don’t even take any notice in the moment.

“Put some clothes on, Buck needs you,” you blurt out. “He’s ill, and I don’t know what to do!” You exclaim.

Steve’s eyes widen as if he is now fully awoken and moves back into his room to grab some clothes. “Why not grab the doctor!?” He calls back.

“He wanted you!”

With your reply, he only looks even more confused. He slips on his pants and then a belt along with his knife. Just in case. Once dressed, you lead him all the way back to the throne room. The smoke has cleared since the doors have been opened, and you can spy that Bucky has fallen off the thrown onto the floor. He’s still wrapped up in his blanket and breathing heavily. You and Steve rush over to him as an uncontrollable fear squeezes your chest.

Steve kneels down and rolls Bucky over with a hand on his shoulder. Their Duke shouts in pain as if the touch of another is tormentful. Bucky sits up and shuffles backwards until he hits the throne with a huff. He looks at them, and you’re able to finally see it. His eyes shimmer a scarlet red. They look to you as if you’re just prey and nothing more. His heavy breathing stops, and it’s almost as if his eyes narrow down on you, ready to strike within seconds.

Before he can do anything, Steve steps in between you and the Duke. He forcefully places his hand on Bucky even though he hisses in pain, trying to get away from him. But he holds him in place as he moves his neck to one side, then the other, shaking it side to side. A sharp breath is taken in like Steve is shocked to see something. You can’t see from where to stand, but it must be bad.

“It got you,” Steve curses.

“What? What got him?” You ask.

“No,” Bucky almost whimpers. “Get away from me before I hurt you.”

You step around Steve to see what he’s looking at. His fingers brush over a red bite mark on Bucky neck. It looks painful, and there’s dried blood all around it.

“What’s happened,” you ask again. You have the right to know.

“I’m a fool,” Bucky says before covering his head with his blanket, hiding himself away.

Steve sits back with his knees to his chest. His gaze is hazy, he’s thinking, maybe overthinking. You kneel down next to him and place your hand over his. He slowly looks to you, staring at you for the longest time.

“On the brink of dawn today on our way back from South Brooklyn, we were attacked. It was only one man, and he took down five of our finest soldiers,” he tells out, looking off as if reliving the day. “This man separated us, and I lost sight of our Duke for only a minute. Just one... But I guess that was all it took.”

“Who was this man?”

“No.” He looks to you. “What was this man. I’ve only heard of tales in the north of these creatures. These creatures that live off blood, and with it, they have a strength that is beyond any man. But they crave blood, and that’s what this creature was doing. He drained my men of their blood as I saved our Duke. I… I had to leave them there to save him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this happened?” You ask, more worry swelling up in your throat.

“We didn’t want to tell you of this attack to not worry you,” Steve admits.

You look back to Bucky cowering away. You don’t feel disgusted for what he is… or what he’s becoming. You feel pity, and you still want to help him. You reach out and move the blanket away from your husband’s face. He flinches away, but his red eyes meet your gaze. He expects to see anger, disgust, or even fear. But none of that shows in your face. Worry is what he sees. Worry for him? But why?

“You don’t need to hide yourself. Tell me how to help,” you offer him your understanding.

He opens his mouth to talk, but he shuts it, thinking his words over before he speaks, “I can’t stop wanting. Everything is so painful. I can feel and hear everything and…” he trails off, looking at your chest, “I can hear your heart. I can hear your blood rushing through it.”

You can feel your heart quicken a little at the thought. But still, no fear comes across you. This was your Bucky. He wouldn’t harm you. And Steve is here if anything goes sideways. So you do something that you never thought you would.

You grab Steve’s knife from his belt and hold it out. Bucky’s eyes widen, and your other husband begins to protest, but you stop both of them with a raised hand. You are not some damsel that needs to be protected. All you’ve ever wanted to do was help. With Steve being a Knight of Brooklyn and Bucky being the Duke, you have never been able to feel your worth. You’ve kept it to yourself because you knew that both of them would say that you need not worry. But you do none the less.

You hesitate before you cut on top of your arm. You don’t want to harm your own hand or cut too deeply in case you bleed out. It hurts. The pain has you gasping, breathing loudly. The knife is like a fire that won’t stop. The blood already begins to pool and dribble out of your wound. You look over to Bucky to see he’s staring at the blood with wide eyes, pupils dilated to small dots.

“It’s alright,” you say as you hold your arm out.

With that command, he grabs you and latches onto your arm. You can feel his teeth clamp down, but it isn’t painful. The painful part is him sucking at the wound. Drinking in the blood. but underlining a pleasure deep within. Maybe you were becoming delusional, but that didn't matter at this moment. Steve grabs onto your other arm as support, his eyes never leaving Bucky. You breathe heavily, controlling yourself as your arm burns a heavenly sensation.

The blanket drops from Bucky’s shoulders, and you realize that he’s naked under it. And he’s growing hard. You can feel your face redden at the sight.

Bucky let's go with a gasp, inhaling deeply before coughing. He stares at your arm before touching the blood that’s smeared over his mouth.

“Y/N,” Steve breathes out. “This can’t be good for the Duke.”

“Do you feel better?” You ask Bucky, ignoring Steve at the moment.

Bucky nods with a short yes before quickly wiping his mouth with the blanket. He then rips a part of the blanket off with a strength you’ve never seen. He wraps it around your wound tightly and you hiss at the discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky apologises.

You grab his face and look up at him. He winces at the touch but leans into it after a couple of seconds.

“There’s no need to be sorry,” You assure, bringing him in for a kiss, letting him know it’s alright. That there is no fear towards him. That he is still your husband and lover. You taste copper as you deepen the kiss and grip his hair in your fist.

He pulls away and looks at you, “Please, I… I need you right now.”

Steve chuckles, “Why don’t we take you’s two to your room?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, no. I need you here to make sure I don’t hurt her. As an order from your Duke,” he says as if he’s out of breath.

After a while of staring at Bucky, clicking in his head on what’s going on, and then looking at you, he agrees. In all honesty, you’re a little turned on at having Steve watch while Bucky takes you. But this shouldn’t be a funny matter because Bucky is now something different entirely and doesn’t know his own strength enough that he needs Steve here to help. He’s desperate as well, and desperation can be a dangerous thing in itself.

Bucky is on you as soon as Steve agrees. He’s kissing your neck and grazing his newfound fangs over your skin. The feeling goes straight in between your legs. You shuffle back into Steve’s lap, and Bucky follows you as if he is stalking your body. The blanket is long forgotten, and Bucky towers over you on his hands and knees. He rides up your night dress with one hand, all the way to expose you to the cold air. You don’t wear anything underneath, for good reasons such as now. This was something Bucky taught you.

Steve watches intensely at the flashes of the fangs that Bucky keeps grazing over your skin. He holds onto you tightly so you don’t slip away, or so Bucky doesn’t drag you from him. You feel a light prick of the fangs, but they’re gone before you know it. You finally opened your eyes, you hadn’t realized you'd closed to see Steve grabbing the Duke by his hair.

“Watch yourself,” Steve says firmly. “Don’t bite, my Duke.”

Bucky nods vigorously before Steve lets go. One of your hands comes around and grips Steve’s thigh while the other is placed on Bucky’s chest.

“Careful, love,” you whisper up to him.

He looks back to you, gazing over you with confusion, then care. He brings his face down to your neck for your comfort. With the hand on Bucky’s chest, you bring it down to your pussy and quickly open yourself up. You’re already wet and it’ll have to be enough. With a gentle hand, you guide Bucky’s cock into you. He utters and whines into your neck. A sound you’ve never heard from your Duke but it only brings warmth to your chest.

Bucky begins at a brutal pace that has you gasping at every thrust. He moves you upwards into Steve’s lap further and further until you’re almost in a sitting position. You bring his head out of your neck and make him look at you.

“It’s okay, calm yourself. Easy, love,” you assure him, kissing his cheek and the corner of his mouth.

He slows down to a pace that sends a shock of pleasure through you with each push. He rests his forehead against yours as you grab Steve’s legs again. You feel his hard-on against your back, and it brings a small smile to your face. You push Bucky’s face back into your neck as he speeds up a little to ride out his high. You look up to Steve, who swallows thickly.

“You can have a go later tonight,” you tell him through pants as you pat his cheek softly. All he can do is stare at you as his face flushes a bright red. He blushes so easily, you thought.

Bucky grabs your hips a little too tightly and lifts them a little to get a better angle. You moan out loudly as he hits your spot over and over again, sending thrills through your being. You can feel yourself growing closer with each thrust. The pain is something you never knew you would enjoy. The searing grip of his hands is definitely going to leave bruises, but the thought of it strangely excites you. You become louder and louder at just the thought, uncaring of anyone outside the throne room to hear.

The pleasure rips through you all at once, crashing into you like a wave at the beach. You gasp out loud and grab onto Bucky tightly as he keeps fucking into you through your orgasm. It’s blissful pain that has you panting and whining. Bucky’s thrust becomes stuttered and you know he’s close. He fucks into you once more, and then he dives deep, coming inside of you with a shuttering breath. The warmth that comes with his load sends a shiver down your spine.

The both of you are left panting, and slowly, you collect yourselves. Bucky pulls out carefully, but he stays lying atop of you. Steve keeps holding onto your body as if something else is going to happen. Worry is still written on his face as he stares down at Bucky.

“We’ll work through whatever this is, Stevie,” you try and calm your lover's nerves. But he is a Knight for a reason. It is why he is a knight in the first place. Bucky’s shoulders begin shaking, and you feel a wetness fall on your collarbone. You lift his head up once more to see hot tears rolling down his face.

“Shh, shh,” you hush as you wipe his tears away. “It’s alright.”

You bring him in for a hug as he sobs. You rub his back as you think of the future. Of what’s to come. You’ll have to become the stone for both of them. None of you knows what Bucky truly is now only other than the folk tales that whisper in the night. It’s all a learning experience for all of you. But you’re ready for the challenge that comes with this. and so were they.

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makapatag · 4 months

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Tactical Combat, Violence Dice and Missing Your Attacks in Gubat Banwa

In this post I talk about game feel and decision points when it comes to the "To-Hit Roll" and the "Damage Roll" in relation to Gubat Banwa's design, the Violence Die.

Let's lay down some groundwork: this post assumes that the reader is familiar and has played with the D&D style of wargame combat common nowadays in TTRPGs, brought about no doubt by the market dominance of a game like D&D. It situates its arguments within that context, because much of new-school design makes these things mostly non-problems. (See: the paradigmatic shift required to play a Powered by the Apocalypse game, that completely changes how combat mechanics are interpreted).

With that done, let's specify even more: D&D 5e and 4e are the forerunners of this kind of game--the tactical grid game that prefers a battlemat. 5e's absolute dominance means that there's a 90% chance that you have played the kind of combat I'll be referring to in this post. The one where you roll a d20, add the relevant modifiers, and try to roll equal to or higher than a Target Number to actually hit. Then when you do hit, you roll dice to deal damage. This has been the way of things since OD&D, and has been a staple of many TTRPG combat systems. It's easy to grasp, and has behemoth cultural momentum. Each 1 on a d20 is a 5% chance, so you can essentially do a d100 with smaller increments and thus easier math (smaller numbers are easier to math than larger numbers, generally).

This is how LANCER works, this is how ICON works, this is how SHADOW OF THE DEMON LORD works, this is how TRESPASSER works, this is how WYRDWOOD WAND works, this is how VALIANT QUEST works, etc. etc. It's a tried and true formula, every D&D player has a d20, it's emblematic of the hobby.

There's been a lot more critical discussion lately on D&D's conventions, especially due to the OGL. Many past D&D only people are branching out of the bubble and into the rest of the TTRPG hobby. It's not a new phenomenon--it's happened before. Back in the 2010s, when Apocalypse World came out while D&D was in its 4th Edition, grappling with Pathfinder. Grappling with its stringent GSL License (funny how circular this all is).

Anyway, all of that is just to put in the groundwork. My problem with D&D Violence (particularly, of the 3e, 4e, and 5e version) is that it's a violence that arises from "default fantasy". Default Fantasy is what comes to mind when you say fantasy: dragons, kings, medieval castles, knights, goblins, trolls. It's that fantasy cultivated by people who's played D&D and thus informs D&D. There is much to be said about the majority of this being an American Samsaric Cycle, and it being tied to the greater commodification agenda of Capitalism, but we won't go into that right now. Anyway, D&D Violence is boring. It thinks of fights in HITS and MISSES and DAMAGE PER SECOND.

A Difference Of Paradigm and Philosophies

I believe this is because it stems from D&D still having one foot in the "grungy dungeon crawler" genre it wants to be and the "combat encounter balance MMO" it also wants to be. What ends up happening is that players play it like an immersive sim, finding ways to "cheese" encounters with spells, instead of interacting with the game as the fiction intended. This is exemplified in something like Baldur's Gate 3 for example: a lot of the strats that people love about it includes cheesing, shooting things before they have the chance to react, instead of doing an in-fiction brawl or fight to the death. It's a pragmatist way of approaching the game, and the mechanics of the game kind of reinforce it. People enjoy that approach, so that's good. I don't. Wuxia and Asian Martial Dramas aren't like that, for the most part.

It must be said that this is my paradigm: that the rules and mechanics of the game is what makes the fiction (that shared collective imagination that binds us, penetrates us) arise. A fiction that arises from a set of mechanics is dependent on those mechanics. There is no fiction that arises independently. This is why I commonly say that the mechanics are the narrative. Even if you try to play a game that completely ignores the rules--as is the case in many OSR games where rules elide--your fiction is still arising from shared cultural tropes, shared ideas, shared interests and consumed media.

So for Gubat Banwa, the philosophy was this: when you spend a resource, something happens. This changes the entire battle state--thus changing the mechanics, thus changing the fiction. In a tactical game, very often, the mechanics are the fiction, barring the moments that you or your Umalagad (or both of you!) have honed creativity enough to take advantage of the fiction without mechanical crutches (ie., trying to justify that cold soup on the table can douse the flames on your Kadungganan if he runs across the table).

The other philosophy was this: we're designing fights that feel like kinetic high flying exchanges between fabled heroes and dirty fighters. In these genres, in these fictions, there was no "he attacked thrice, and one of these attacks missed". Every attack was a move forward.

So Gubat Banwa removed itself from the To-Hit/Damage roll dichotomy. It sought to put itself outside of that paradigm, use game conventions and cultural rituals that exist outside of the current West-dominated space. For combat, I looked to Japanese RPGs for mechanical inspiration: in FINAL FANTASY TACTICS and TACTICS OGRE, missing was rare, and when you did miss it was because you didn't take advantage of your battlefield positioning or was using a kind of weapon that didn't work well against the target's armor. It existed as a fail state to encourage positioning and movement. In wuxia and silat films, fighters are constantly running across the environment and battlefield, trying to find good positioning so that they're not overwhelmed or so that they could have a hand up against the target.

The Violence Die: the Visceral Attacking Roll

Gubat Banwa has THE VIOLENCE DIE: this is the initial die or dice that you roll as part of a specific offensive technique.

In the above example, the Inflict Violence that belongs to the HEAVENSPEAR Discipline, the d8 is the Violence Die. When you roll this die, it can be modified by effects that affect the Violence Die specifically. This becomes an accuracy effect: the more accurate your attack, the more damage you deal against your target's Posture. Mas asintado, mas mapinsala.

You compare your Violence Die roll to your target's EVADE [EVD]. If you rolled equal to or lower than the target's EVD, they avoid that attack completely. There: we keep the tacticality of having to make sure your attack doesn't miss, but also EVD values are very low: often they're just 1, or 2. 4 is very often the highest it can go, and that's with significant investment.

If you rolled higher than that? Then you ignore EVD completely. If you rolled a 3 and the target's EVD was 2, then you deal 3 DMG + relevant modifiers to the DMG. When I wrote this, I had no conception of "removing the To-Hit Roll" or "Just rolling Damage Dice". To me this was the ATTACK, and all attacks wore down your target's capacity to defend themselves until they're completely open to a significant wound. In most fights, a single wound is more than enough to spell certain doom and put you out of the fight, which is the most important distinction here.

In the Thundering Spear example, that targets PARRY [PAR], representing it being blocked by physical means of acuity and quickness. Any damage brought about by the attack is directly reduced by the target's PAR. A means for the target to stay in the fight, actively defending.

But if the attack isn't outright EVADED, then they still suffer its effects. So the target of a Thundering Spear might have reduced the damage of an attack to just 1 (1 is minimum damage), they would still be thrown up to 3 tiles away. It matches that sort of, anime combat thing: they strike Goku, but Goku is still flung back. The game keeps going, the fight keeps going.

On Mechanical Weight

When you miss, the mechanical complexity immediately stops--if you miss, you don't do anything else. Move on. To the next Beat, the next Riff, the next Resound, think about where you could go to better your chances next time.

Otherwise, the attack's other parts are a lot more mechanically involved. If you don't miss: roll add your Attacking Prowess, add extra dice from buffs, roll an extra amount of dice representing battlefield positioning or perhaps other attacks you make, apply the effects of your attack, the statuses connected to your attack. It keeps going, and missing is rare, especially once you've learned the systematic intricacies of Gubat Banwa's THUNDERING TACTICS BATTLE SYSTEM.

So there was a lot of setup in the beginning of this post just to sort of contextualize what I was trying to say here. Gubat Banwa inherently arises from those traditions--as a 4e fan, I would be remiss to ignore that. However, the conclusion I wanted to come up to here is the fact that Gubat Banwa tries to step outside of the many conventions of that design due to that design inherently servicing the deliverance of a specific kind of combat fiction, one that isn't 100% conducive to the constantly exchanging attacks that Gubat Banwa tries to make arise in the imagination.

#gubat banwa #ttrpg #filipino #fantasy #gamedev #writing #rpg #dnd #southeast asia #d&d #d&d 5e #d&d 4e #i will say #that part of the decision away from a d20 (because gb alpha used one)#is sheer hater energy on my part #like i just didn't want to #because its used by all these other games by white people and especially because its used by dnd #there is like #4 instances where you use d20s in this game

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