#fairy tale typical dark themes

[wintertimestoryteller]

Linked Universe x Reader Fairy Tale Collection

@luimagines It is finally here! XD Apologies for the huge delay, suddenly became a dog mom again and life has been difficult, apologies to all who waited. Hopefully it's at least half decent, this did not want to write itself at all X_X

Warning for dark themes of the fairy tale kind and violence. I recommend researching Penta by Basille if some of you are curious about the interrupted story, though I did leave a lot out for obvious reasons, the first story is actually a reference and I thought it would be fun to see how many catch it and who would notice the reversal of roles here. No Shadow Links were (seriously) harmed in the making of this chapter, just Reader and their poor mind who can't catch a break.

Technically this is the final act before the Masterlist for each Link, though there is technically a bonus act and an intermission I doubt anyone would be interested in that, y'all came here for the Links and the fairy tales not the lore and behind the scenes stuff done to get here because I decided to pull a Hans Christian Andersen even while trying to keep this as short as an opening act should technically be, might write them down if there's enough interest but for now I'm leaving it up to interpretation xP

Opening Act, Scene IIII

It's almost strange, how peaceful your first few days and nights in the theater were.

It was hardly unwelcome, of course it was a pleasant surprise. Even with it's darkened, solemn corners and the way the shadows played eerily across the walls, dancing and laughing mockingly as they put on a show only they knew, it hardly felt truly unsettling for long, maybe it was just your long time on the road which made you jaded to the concept of old buildings that felt like echoes of their former selves, ever lonely, ever grieving like a widow, knowing their lover would not return from the war but waiting for as long possible before considering taking poison. The building was much the same, threading the fragile, dreamlike barrier of a long, wistful forgotten dream and a feather soft, fondness warmed memory.

It felt just about on the edge of death, but not quite ready to cross the border, it felt alive, like watching a barren wasteland attempt to host life again, even if it wouldn't last long or ever recover.

You believe it's in large part due to it's residents.

It was impressive, really, though you're all clearly wary towards one another, the troupe was seemingly more delighted by the fact they had new people to tell new tales to than bothered by the fact the Chain was clearly high strung from a long journey with the carmine and jade weariness of hunters unable to continue searching for their quarry. Director Raven had given you all full permission to explore and was only ever truly strict with corralling the crew to perform, the obsidian speckled mist of their excitement reflected in the way their coat sleeves flapped while directing each member to their roles and how their steps practically glided across the floor and the stage, their feline companion ever present on their shoulders as they truly gave their name sake justice as they crowed and crooned new characters into Byron's ears, sparkling ruby glee as the bloody feather on their hair and gem collar at the gentleman's smile with the flame bright elation of a mad man as he worked on costumes, scenery and props like a man possessed occasionally hissing like an offended cat at Edgar, who was quick to bark and judge even the slightest imperfection as he marked cues for Anabella's scripts, the woman, once having heard of the Links musical prowess, having lit up like the chandelier serving as spotlight at the stage, gently having coaxed the boys towards Amelia, the petal soft smiling dark haired young woman you've met earlier whom Raven just couldn't help but squawk amusedly at Anabella having a very clear soft spot for, who wasted no time in convincing a few of the heroes to follow sheet music the young woman had written but never quite had enough people to help perform.

It was honestly amusing, seeing the young woman and Warriors practically team up to bully Legend into playing the violin again, the veteran protesting for a good while, until a small, well placed tease from Sky made him cave, you and Wind both pretending to hide bright laughs at seeing him pretend not to smile, the jewel bright sight of her delight making you feel warm as she suggested to the exccentric playwright to share your own stories with the troupe and the boys once again as the sweet notes of musical and Raven's narration rolled up and across the aisles, the ruby cheer of the chattering of their cheek with the sweet aquamarine of your gentleness making even the likes of ever serious steel serious Cal or solemn First smile.

The only incident any of you all had really was when you've met Priscilla properly, or to be more accurate, when Priscilla found you all, the youngest of the troupe popping from the ceiling like a bat in front of you from the theater's costume attic like a reverse phantom of the opera, giving you a small fright with her cat smug smile as she finished fixing the lights and eagerly jumped into Twilight's back the second she heard Epona being mentioned, asking all sorts of questions about horses and their proper care until Edgar came knocking to pry her off.

A few minor incidents were had, what with your boys' usual brand of chaos and only so much you, Time and First could do while Raven rounded up the brand of madness found in their own little troupe (like how Anabella, much like Hyrule, should not be allowed near any form of food supply lest they both commit crimes agaisnt nature and the last leg of Wild's morals and sanity, how Byron, Warriors and Legend could almost snarl at each other like feral dogs when it came to fashion sensibilities, or Priscilla attempting to coax Wind and Spirit onto the attic and catwalks with her to play pranks onto the unsuspecting audience and performers below just to see Four and Edgar twitch), but overall, the first three days of constant strong storms and two of the stories told passed quickly, like the heartbeat of a humming bird.

... Which made your own feelings for a certain hero grown ever more transparent like the polished crystal which made up the spotlight.

How could you not contemplate these feelings? How could you even begin denying something that has been sinking it's teeth into your soul for months now? Ever since the Chain found you, injured and with nowhere to go, it was always moving, ever forward, ever running, ever hunting, for if you all didn't hunt the shadow, it would stop at nothing to tear everything and everyone so much as grazed by the bright, ever burning diamond flame of the Hero's Spirit, with the burning fury of a maddened beast with nothing left to lose, with enough hunger it could render divinity to pieces. So, so so wrong to the very fabric that made up the curtain of Hyrule's stage it made one's flesh crawl before it even set it's bloody, hungry, vile gaze upon you.

(You didn't have a choice, when they'd left you behind, the portal simply opened to place you in harm's way again and again and again and again, you only survived through pure luck most of the time, the other half being due to run ins with different members of the Chain. Eventually, finally, after you'd met again and dragged First's abandoned, bleeding, almost dead but oh so stubborn he wouldn't die quite yet, carcass to camp, they'd decided to teach you how to wield a blade and take you along.

After all, it's not like you could go home.

... No, no, you couldn't go home, ever again.)

Being in the theater was a welcome breath of fresh air, even with the oddities of it's residents. But it also gave you nothing but time to think. About home, about the people who are likely to be looking for you, and kind gem bright eyes, leaves on the wind gentle touches, and smiles that could put the sun and the moon and stars to shame with their radiance and the unshakable, beautiful, lonsdaleite and steel of the will to protect and courage to follow through so, so warm it left you scorched, stealing the breath from your lungs and replacing it with lava and frost, pinning you into place better than any arrow or trick the shadow could pull. Left you aching more than any moment in the battle field, shaking you to the very marrow of your bones as the laughing dove that was affection stole into your heart like a thief, and gave half of it to the beast called love.

And

It

Was

Torture.

How could you not fall for that?

How could you not think about it?

So instead of getting even more flustered by possibly slipping up and making a fool out of yourself, giving yourself away and wanting to just wander into the Lost Woods without a guide and let yourself go mad from mortification and become a Poe (because at least then it would be a more manageable form of insanity), you'd instead taken to haunting the back wings and auditorium of the theater like a ghost. The theater was hardly all that big, but it wasn't small by any means, the size of a noble's summer home at best, so there was plenty of empty supply rooms and forgotten lounges to think, contemplate, and to keep a tenous hold on your sanity as you avoided dwelving deeply into your feelings.

After all, why would he want little old you? Unimpressive, ordinary little you, who lived a most relatively peaceful life before falling into Hyrule, who couldn't protect them properly, who most importantly of all would hurt the one you adored because you couldn't stay?

... It would be agony, you couldn't do that to him. It wouldn't be any difference than the Shadow taking your face and torturing your hero, so you'd stay silent, and hope these feelings died a quiet, peaceful death. At least in this abandoned lounge room you could refrain from making your hopeless longing obvious until you'd need to return.

"Oh me oh my, what are you doing here all alone?" Came a cawed, lilting honey coated rasp, padparascha curiosity in the the flap of nightlock coat sleeves, "I thought you'd want to join your companions! This place is still too dusty for back tours I'm afraid."

... Well, not quite so abandoned now. Is it?

Then again, you're not even too surprised, you'd be lying if you'd say you were. If there was anyone who could navigate these darkned, old halls with ease to find someone allegedly missing, it would likely be it's master.

Director Raven swoops into the room with quick, almost silent steps, a specter with the grace of a Gerudo dancer, sending you a smile, their feline companion is gone, but their ever present bloodstone feather chimes like a bell as they brush dust off an old couch, you laugh sheepishly, hoping that the tempest winds outside took your thoughts away so you could focus, "I'm sorry, you said we could go just about everywhere and I needed some time alone. Hopefully it's not any trouble?"

They cluck at you, taking a new accessory from their coat and placing it behind your ears with a cheeky poke to the nose, you blink as you touch it, a red, red rose, "Oh please, not at all! I'm a professional of my word you know? I was just worried is all, you're basically part of the troupe at this point and your lover boy has been staring at you with such concern, you know? So I thought I'd check on you."

Their concern makes you blink, with a small bite of confusion to their wording, "I've only helped you folks perform for three days now?"

They chuckle with amusement, the tone raspy and crowing as they perch themselves upon the couch, "Doesn't matter! We've had folks who stayed and helped for less time, we still consider them troupe members. Once taken in by the Astoria, you're part of it for all time, can't I have some empathy for someone so clearly pining?", You jolt, the director gives you a knowing smile, mercury amusement and gallium understanding, how did...? "Broken hearts are as dangerous as broken minds and wills to a person, take it from me. I've told and been part of one too many stories to know that all too well, now, why don't you tell good old uncle Raven what ails you?"

That makes you snort, rose quartz embarrassment mixed with xanthic amusement, "Uncle, really? Weren't you the one who said you'd actually take someone to court for emotional damages if someone tried utilizing gendered terms for you?"

They squawk, ruffling your hair with a click and hiss, as they jump up with ruffled feathers and a raised chin, mock offended, "Oh kiss my grits! This ain't about me here. This is about your longing making me sad and me being willing to hear you out from the goodness of my heart, and there you go! Spitting on my good will! As I was about to offer to make you tea, no less."

You laugh and you catch a grin on the director's lips from the reflection of a mirror, you wave them on, "Alright, alright. I'll humor you, will you want some help deciding the next story to tell while at it?"

They wink, prancing around the room for the kettle in the corner, "You know me too well! You're a wealth of new stories, I can listen to you pour your little heart out and grill you for inspiration at the same time. That way your heart will be lighter than a leaf on the wind when you next see your lover boy"

Settling in, you wait until Raven has made you both tea, getting comfortable and taking a sip.

Mhm, coming to the theater was a welcome change of pace. And talking to someone who wasn't Link about this would likely do you good.

(So preoccupied you are with your thoughts and the vaguely floral tea the director had broken out of storage and brewed, you don't notice the way another figure shows up on the reflection of the mirror just as the thunder booms, and how Raven's gloved fingers tighten a fraction as the shadows flicker oddly once you drink the tea. The cinnabar of their smile turning iron speckled with guilt and tense as they spot bloodstone tiger eyes on the doorway. Before turning fireplace warm once the Hero of Skies popped his head onto the doorway after a few hours of listening to you want, they offer him a spot of tea.)

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The storm still raged on relentlessly outside, it's screams and howls those of lost souls and old forgotten or yet to be remembered deities rending the air with water and thunder, it's been almost a week since you all had started staying in the theater, everyone had settled into a small sort of routine, as it didn't seem like the storm would cease to rage anytime soon. You'd all wake up (checking your weapons as you go, just in case, your dagger on your sleeve a common secret among the Chain members ever since a bad run in with the Yiga, Artemis had taught you and Warriors well and if any of the troupe members notice, they didn't press), go through the usual daily routine you all had while under an actual roof, Wild, you and Twilight would cook with occasional aid from either Raven themselves who twitched and squawked about the injustice of allowing guests to cook before Edgar would cuff them over the head and take over or a very chipper Amelia whose early morning energy could only be likened to a ray of sunshine Anabella would trip over her feet and possibly kill a grown man for, and in turn you'd all take your turns occupying themselves for the day, the troupe making sure to give everyone their due space until the early evening, which is when you'd all take to storytelling.

You couldn't help your small grin as you let yourself be led by the hand by Twilight, blindfold coming off as he twirled you around as you deliberately sang an incredibly off key note, laughter and chuckles being draw from your boys as you were set down onto the stage and raised your tune, his pelt slipping off your head like the heavy, but comforting cape it was, his smile campfire warm and oak steady, Raven's crowing laughter being hidden by a coughing fit before they seemed to compose themselves enough to continue on with a straight face, "And so the wolf, once a princess, remembered the prince. And thought she'd never sing again, and it wasn't very good-" they choked as you deliberately hit a note that sounded like a dying cucco, you can vaguely see Cal coughing into his fist, First shaking his head in amusement in contrast to Sky's summer breeze laughter while Time's lips barely twitched with honey sweet amusement and Wind wheezing agaisnt a laughing Spirit's side, mission accomplished! The director sent you a look, mockingly ruffling his feathers, "Commit less to the bit darn it! I won't be able to finish if I'm rolling around on the floor!"

Your smile widens with cheek, topaz bright with delight, "No such thing as overcommiting to the bit!"

"For what it's worth they don't sound too bad when not trying to sound like a goat going into labor." Cut in Twilight, using your head as an arm rest, you playfully shove him off, you briefly catch a smirk on Warriors face, Four chuckling while Legend leant agaisnt his side for support, good. Him and Hyrule looked off kilter recently, if you could make them smile by playing the fool this once, you'd be glad.

"Oh by the Goddesses- I'm almost regretting allowing you to volunteer on stage. I'm never listening to Priscilla ever again, anyway!" They clap their hands, clearing their throat, "The prince couldn't care less, for he had a dear friend back to him. And so they stayed on that cliff's edge, enjoying each other's company and lived happily ever after!"

"That was a shockingly sweet story," Smiled Hyrule, "Short and simple but just sweet enough."

"Can't believe the rancher actually made half decent royalty though." Jabbed Warriors, though you can feel the amusement in his tone like drinking songs after a long time of conflict. "And that the final conflict was basically triggered if someone ever messed with the vet's raccon pile of stuff."

"Excuse me?!"

"You're excused."

Twilight gave him a side glare then nodded at Hyrule, seemingly deciding that Legend could deal with Warriors well enough and after you playfully darted around him like a prancing doe, snagged his pelt back, you sighed at the loss of warmth and the feeling of security, but ushered him off the stage, "Never been on stage before and have no wish to do so on an official capacity, thank you. But Dusk would have my hide if I didn't pick a thing or two to add to entertaining the village children if nothing else. Have to say that last twist was a shock though." He sent you a glance and smile, "You're awfully good at playing the amnesiac, I'll say. Almost had me panicking."

You chuckle sheepishly, sitting at the edge of the stage, accepting a bit of warm tea cup Raven had brewed for everyone, "To be fair, there's a reason for that Wars, there's technically a companion story for the witch, but the actors need to go through a specific series of actions to be allowed to perform it side by side for consistency and that would be cruel on Twi. Could say the same to you, you make quite the dashing, kind prince. Thanks for coming up here."

Was that a tinge of crimson on his cheeks? You tilted your head and blinked, must have been a trick of the light, "No problem at all."

Edgar nodded, not even looking up from the script as Anabella and Amelia cuddled together to the side after a job well done, "You both together definitely made our job easier. Barely had to cue you both."

Raven nodded with a grin and wink, their voice carrying over the stage and to the audience, "You sure none of you boys want to quit this questing nonsense and join us here on the Astoria? I pay well and give benefits! Byron has lowered prices on potions on the village, plus free food and lodging."

Wild shook his head with a hum, "Tempting, but still no."

Raven clucked, their disappointment exaggerated but understanding as they leafed through the scripts you've both brainstormed together, "Ah well, worth a try. Come here then, I want your opinion on our next pick for today, I think we can squeeze a short one separated from the original deal as a bonus."

You nodded, getting up and handing Priscilla the empty tea cup back before walking over, pausing, did... Was there a hollow space beneath the stage? Experimentally, you let your steps weight a bit more onto the stage. That sounded like a trapdoor, huh. Why only use the attic? Maybe it was stuck? You catch Time's eye, he inclines his head questioningly, you mouth at him 'I'm fine, later', then bound over to Raven's side, looking at the scripts, "Any you had in mind? We're probably exhausting my mental stock at this rate if none of the noted ones do."

"Well I'm not about to go on the Hyrulean ones just yet, you have any idea how performing the same old legends over and over again can grow dull? No matter how many twists and turns one adds?" They deadpan back, you cover a wince as Four and Sky twitch, before picking one of the sheets at random.

Your voice sounds distant to your ears as you pinch the parchment between two fingers, analyzing it critically, then presenting it to the director, "How about this one? Should be short enough right?"

The Director peeks over your shoulder, head tilted from side to side, the feather on their hair seems more bloody than usual, as if the crystal would flow crimson and stain the hardwood floor. That cat is back on their shoulder again, looking at you with sharp, intelligent eyes.

(Too intelligent, hisses your mind, as mercury heats into burning iron at a forge, then cools, something is wrong wrongwrong

Come now, relax, it'll all be alright. Play along

Nothing is wrong, it's all in your head.)

"Penta the Beautiful huh? Are you sure?"

You nod firmly, "Yes. This one will do quite nicely."

(Raven's ever present smile dims, the embers of a warm fireplace and stories around the fire dying a quick death, Anabella holds onto Amelia a bit tighter as Priscilla pales, quickly leaving the room guided by Byron after ushering you back stage for a change of ensemble and to hand you the appropriate props while Edgar resolutely keeps an eye on the cues the director handed him.

The Chain notices, because of course they do, and trade a look, Spirit trades a look with Wind and slips away to the entrance with Warriors to try the heavy door.

It's locked, the shock of magic making the captain hiss. Though the air remains unnervingly sterile.)

The stage is set with no fanfare by Byron, and you walk back out with a fine white dress suit and boots to match, a mix of a suit and a dress, your head feels clouded, as if you're trying to traverse the deep fog of the Lost Woods with naught a single lantern or guide in sight to light your way, you vaguely hear Director Raven start to talk, echoing and crowing raspily with the first words that every good tale start with, "Once upon a time, there was an once prosperous kingdom. Home to a handsome king, a beautiful queen, and the king's sister, one day the queen fell ill and eventually passed for no cure could be found and no magic could heal her. I suppose some things are simply fated to happen, but the king, maddened in his grief, started lusting for none other..." The director paused, sneering with a disgusted shiver, you think that if they truly were a bird, their feathers would be ruffled, "His own sister."

You could see the exact second that each Link cringed back, those with siblings of their own (or who actively looked over others as siblings themselves) turning to ash white and to thistle green with revulsion and horror, the director nodding along with a hand over their head in a mock swoon, "I know! How could such vile thoughts manifest in a ruler's mind? It's preposterous! Outrageous! Horrifying! Though the words of a proposal did indeed leave his mouth, his sister princess was equally bewildered and disgusted, spitting venom from her spleen with rage."

That was your cue.

You growled, snarling with fury hot enough to rival a dragon's flame, allowing poison to sharpen your tongue, "You may have lost your mind, but I shall not lose my modesty or my shame! Why would you offer me rotten eggs when you need fresh ones?! How dare you!", somewhere in the audience you hear a choke, but you continue on. Committing to the role with a dedication you didn't know you possibly possessed, feeling vaguely disconnected from your body and actions, "I regret that you have a tongue to speak of such lecherous actions towards myself and that I unfortunately have the ears to hear such a suggestion. Am I your sister or cheese cooked in oil? Either way those and siblings not mix! Either way, go find a holy spring to bathe in so you may set your mind back on straight." You gesture towards yourself, baffled, "I am not a morsel that would make anyone lose their minds over, so what on Farore's good land about me could have made you grown so sick in the head?"

The director continued on, tone dry as they set their hand on a hip, "I'll spare you the monologue, my dear audience, because I'm sure it would make both you, me and our poor performer here retch and that would be a waste of Sir Wild's lovely cooking. It essentially boiled down to her hands. So, after acquiring her answer, she left in a flurry of rage and conviction, after all, if it was her hands that caused this..." The director trailed off, pausing, mouth clicking shut.

As if not willing to continue on.

(The pain in your head was getting worse.

"If it was his love for her hands which caused this, all she'd need to do is chop them off.")

Conflict passes through their slate gray gaze, before determined resolve settles into it, their tone quiet and tight, "... No. I can't go through with this anymore.", They swivel, running to you with quick strides, you feel the agony of your head splitting open, in between the haze you see more than react to the blade. Your blade held in your hands, twisted in such a way to sink into your flesh, blood beads onto your sleeve before Raven catches your arm in their hands, twisting towards the now alarmed heroes with panic on their face like a someone realizing they'd just went somewhere to die, "Listen! It's not safe here, specially NOT for them. I'm so sorry. Take them and get out through-"

That cat is there in a flash of darkness, it sinks it's claws into Raven's shoulder, the director crying out and letting go of your arm to try and get it off, leaving the dagger to slice deeply. You can see Time slam into a magically erected barrier around the stage as it's crimson eyes gleam with malice and satisfaction. The cat bites at the director's shoulder, tearing away the black ribbon holding the red gem they always wore. You hear Legend screaming and Hyrule casting a spell at the barrier, the shockwave palpable as it does not budge

You'll never know what they wanted to tell you all, though the flash of desperation, guilt and apologies will likely haunt your nightmares as their head fell off.

All of the lights go off.

And in a flash of thunder, you hear a sigh behind you. The barest tips of a clawed hand making your skin crawl with revulsion.

"Well... I'd like to say I'm surprised. But I'm really, really not that they didn't have the nerve to fully go through with it. Pity." That awful, awful voice is colored with disappointment while they pass you by, you think you feel the brush of a scaly tail around your legs and a blade at your throat. You try desperately to wrestle control back to your own body when you can't hear the Chain anymore. They stalk dance gently at your side, the rustle of cloth as someone bends down, the crystalline, padparascha crimson feather Raven always wore in their hair gleams in the dark with a melancholic light of their own, "Ah well, at least they did half the job I wanted them to and held onto what I needed. Still, just proves that if you want somebody gone that you just have to do it yourself."

You feel a feather light touch on your chin, tilting your head up, your heart freezes alongside your body as you lock gazes with the bloodstone empty gaze of a feathery mask, the figure in front of you wears a dark hood, caliginous and fleeting like the memories of a nightmare hanging onto your mind by it's very claw tips. It blends in perfectly with the darkness, liminal and just on the edge of the negative spaces of reality.

They smile with all of the sweetness of rotten things and arsenic and it makes you sick.

"Dear me... You are so, so pathetically helpless like this. I can take my time with you, can't I? To tear everything that makes you yourself piece.by.piece..." the touch tightens, nightlock claws sink into your skin and drawing blood, you feel like screaming but your mouth won't open, your body betrays you as you drown and drown and fall. It makes the thing behind you hiss out a laugh and you are certain you won't hear a more wretched sound in your life as they study you like a pinned butterfly, "How very precious, it fills me with joy, but really it's more disappointing and disgusting. It's almost enough to make me want to die!" The being in front of you snarls, all venom and the burning flames of a madman, before they calm, smiling a dagger sharp, hateful grin with a hum, "... Ah, whatever. Let's get this show on the road properly this time, shall we? You wait for your cue darling." They mockingly pat the snout of the Shadow in front of you, narrowingly dodging a snap of teeth with a cackle, before they disappear in a flurry of obsidian and ember feathers.

They clap, and the light returns to the theater. Their mismatched hands are spread, clawed and gloved and you see a cloak of black feathers laid over their entire body, the tip of dagger sharp, silver heels making them tower easily over the pool of blood from the director's severed neck.

"Good evening, blood red dogs of Hylia!-"

They barely finish their sentence before the boys move, arrows and magic set loose at the figure in a blur, the figure dances back, tsking as they appear on the chandelier now, lounging nonchantly and revealing your form at blade point from the Shadow, struggling to remove your dagger from your arm. You can almost feel their disapproving look as they cross their arms at the face of furious glares from the heroes of Hyrule, "Rude."

First does not look amused as he stays Sky's hand from unleashing a Skyward Strike, the other's eyes as frigid as the storm outside, "We are going to need you to let our companion go before any apologies are given I'm afraid."

"And I'll be needing you lot to stop snapping and growling like mutts before making any negotiations like that." The figure snaps back primly, a pot and tea cup appearing nearby, with a flick of their wrist two things appear on their hands as freshly brewed tea poured itself which makes a shiver fun down your side, alarm and panic gnawing at your skin and exposing your fragile heart with almost clinical curiosity as they toss it down.

A dark iris purple Minish Feather earring, and penumbra dark, torn fairy feathers, you think you still see the bits of wisps clinging to it like blood and the exact moment Four tenses, colors prismatic as they flash over his eyes and Hyrule freezes, Twilight sending them a concerned look, though his hand doesn't move from his sword.

The display is enough to keep your companions on guard, but not react, that thing atop the chandelier perfectly positioned to crush you without a second thought leisurely sipping tea. Before addressing the Chain below, "Now that I've successfully gotten your attention by indicating the extermination of vermin I've had to recently do, why don't we talk? I'm perfectly reasonable, I promise not to bite or anything, blood is quite the nuisance to clean off rhe stage after all."

"Very well," Time's voice cuts through the silence, composed even as his mind is running a mile per minute, "May we make some inquiries?"

Their lips curl in amusement, a slightly mocking edge to their relaxed lilt, "There we go, was being polite so hard? You may, one at a time though!" They look down at the Shadow, which hisses up at them, eyes focused on the heroes, the edges of it's existence flickering oddly, casting itself over walls and the now scorched wooden floor, "Don't want to agitate our friend here you know? Or else we'll have a sparrow singing very very soon." They sing song, you can feel Warriors cringe where he stands, but he's also the first one to jump to questioning at Time's slight nod.

"Why are you working with the Shadow?"

The figure shrugs, pouring themselves a second mug, "Why does anyone do anything? Complete and utter, sheer boredom is why. It had a good sales pitch won't lie, I haven't been bored since you lot decided to stay here."

You see the way Legend's eyes narrow, a scowl on his face and tone biting, itching to move, "What did you do to them?"

"You'll have to be more specific, if you mean your little friend here. Nothing really, they came up on the stage and used the knife themselves after all." The masked figured clucked, shrugging, "As for the rest, you can blame Raven. They lost their nerve when they shouldn't have and dragged the troupe down with them, when I gave them one job besides watching my theater, plus..." they sighed, placing Raven's feather by the thorns holding the mask grafted onro their face, clicking their clawed, bloody hand agaisnt the tea cup, uncaring when your blood mixes with the sugar cubes, "They also failed to do proper research, I mean doesn't help certain nasty little disgraces-" they growl pointedly at the Shadow at that, who snarls back, making a twisted duet of mutual, black loathing come to life, "Also made their job harder, but seriously. Even a braindead donkey could have done a bit more research."

"What do you mean? No need to insult Raven like that! They were nice." Blurted out Spirit, you can practically feel the poor dear itching to snap the whip to snatch you, Wind holding onto his an Cal's wrists like a vice so they wouldn't make any sudden moves, First tapping Calamity's back and looking at the hooded being's perch, making Calamity's eyes narrow and Sky slowly let go of the possible Skyward Strike, thankfully enough. Being crushed to death would not help your boys get out of here.

The hooded and masked figure twitched, head listing lazily to the side, unhurried, as if bored or maybe dissapointed as they sighed apathetically, it gave you gooseflesh, but you dared not move an inch, struggling against your own limbs and with the Shadow at your back, "I mean I was just taken by surprise. You know, I wouldn't have taken the heroes of Hyrule for liars and oath breakers, and also against the laws of hospitality. Shooting arrows and magic at your host within their own home? For shame! Didn't your parents teach you better?"

You could see how each of the heroes bristled, but seeing crimson beading against your unwilling, trapped skin stayed their blade, though that did not stop Legend from snarling up at the hidden figure, sipping tea as if it was watching an incredibly entertaining play, "Oath breakers? That's rich coming from you! Raven said we could stay here safely and then leave once the storm was over!"

"And you attacked one of our own first." Added Warriors, his tone as glacial as the winter winds, enough to freeze anyone down to the marrow.

They incline their head, voice distorted, the screaming echo of scavengers like nails on chalkboard and as refined as a well curated blade, "True, though neither they nor I never said you'd all leave unharmed, did we? And you didn't keep your end of the deal either." Their tone goes dryer, as they throw the tea cup away without a care in favor of throwing their hands up, as if it was the Chain being unreasonable and not the person who presumably did something to Shadow and Hyrule's own Shade, you can see Sky barely keeping his grip on an enraged Four, "Besides! I didn't attack them, they kindly volunteered to go up stage on their own. You're all so up in arms for something that's part of the performance, a little injury is a small price to pay for the bit."

"A 'little injury'?! I doubt they'd try cutting off their own hands for a BIT." Stressed Hyrule, snapping out of his shock, in response to that, the cloaked person shrugged.

"I mean a little disarment never killed anyone."

Wild looked seconds from firing another arrow, teeth gritted and bared as Twilight sent a furious glare to the one perched atop the stage, just above the lights, ready to knock them down and crush you if needed be, "I'm pretty sure it has, actually."

"Anyway! You're all so caught up on semantics, by the Three, so uptight. Does having the splinters so far up there not sting?" they glanced at the Shadow, the obsidian and granite lizalfos glancing back at them before hissing at Time, ready to lunge, teeth stained with Director Raven's blood, "This the kind of tough crowd you have to deal with? Yeesh, no wonder you yap more than a kicked dog at times." They turn back to the Chain, clapping their hands, "In any case, let's make another deal, shall we? I'm a playwright of my word after all. You could leave your little friend here to become one of my actors and go on your merry way." You swore you felt your heart stop, blood rushing in your ears, you barely caught the sharp glint of a hollow smile beneath the crow shaped mask and their next words, "Or! If you're really that attached-", they send you a bemused look, "Can't see why but hey," shrugging, they continue on, unrelenting like a hunting wolf, "You can act instead. I'll send you all into different tales and should you finish them in accordance to the script, I may let you just leave without too much of a fuss. No catches." They point to the Shadow, "Can't make any promises for that one though, it's a solo act you see, if anything I'm just lending the venue and he was lucky to rent first, the wretch."

"And if we refuse?" Probed Time, you could see the gears turning in his head like clockwork, trying to find a way to swing this in everyone's favor so you all can get out alive.

The vulture in crow skin only smiled wider, "Then none of us gets them and you die here, I'll let the Shadow tear you apart to it's void soul's delight, and kill them on the spot." The blades press against your arms against your will, and you twitch, trying to wrestle control back and only getting pain for you troubles, muffling a yell, "Maybe put them in a soup and make jewelry out of the bones that I don't reuse in a broth, I'd look pretty dashing in a crown." They giggle, unhinged cruelty into every word as they clap their hands, voice rising to a screeching crescendo, "Oh oh! Or just roll them down a barrel filled with spikes on a hill, or make them dance and dance and dance on hot iron shoes until they drop dead! Haven't decided yet, so many choices, so little time. It's almost enough to leave me hot and bothered." The true owner of the theater sighed, longingly hugging themselves before turning a cold, hard tone to the heroes, "You sure you want to risk that?"

Silence descends upon the theater like a widow's shroud, seems you're all at an impasse, you're unable to move and while you're certain your boys could overpower whatever that monstrosity is and deal with the Shadow, none of you could be sure they could do it before the Shadow slit your throat or that being (person? No, it felt too unnatural to be human.) Knocked the chandelier down or made good on their threat.

The masked unknown simply summoned themseles a second mug, pouring more tea, "Take your time to answer. I can wait. Though if you ask me the choice is extremely obvious, come on now, what's one more or one less for your little group? It's not like they're important to the narrative anyway-"

"No tricks?" Cut in First, you see the being twotch at the interruption.

"Rude. Seriously, does Hylia just likes to pick the feral ones and set them loose upon the world? Seems like bad business." They pause, then hum, "Then again, maybe not, I hear her incarnations can be quite unhinged. Quite the match made in hell, you lot then and those Demise decides to live rent free in huh? I almost feel bad now. Yikes, my condolences." They pluck a bouquet of camellias, roses and acacias from the inside of their cloak and throw it down to the Chain. You're not even surprised when Wild snags the fire rod from Legend and sets it aflame.

"Holding our friend hostage and talking about actively killing them doesn't inspire us to play nice." Gritted out Four. Grip tight onto his sword.

"If you feel bad then just let them go!" Gestured Wind from his side.

"Your criticism has been noted. I only don't concede because I can't see any reason why you'd want them around." The figure drawls back before answering First, "No tricks or catches or too much of a fuss, all you have to do is play along the script and play nice. Do that and in theory we shouldn't have much trouble. Maybe I'll even be nice and throw in one of those rewards like the places you all crawl through do on occasion, why not?" The Shadow roars at that, they snap down at it, "My theater, my rules! I'm bored okay? Let me spice things up!"

Time breathes, you can see the lonsdaleite persistence come back to the forefront, "Then we accept."

The figure stills, before shaking their head, they leap down from the chandelier, gliding across the stage with quick steps as the feeling of drowning recedes, the Shadow begrudgingly letting you go as you gasp, the figure snags your arm in one clawed hand, drags you to the edge of the stage, then kicks you off with a sigh, thankfully, Twilight and Warriors are there ro support you as they turn towards Time, tone blank as they extend that same clawed hand, "Way to pick the boring choice, but fine. I shouldn't expect much of a surprise I suppose." They shake hands, you feel the hum of magic settle into the air, twisted and wrong it almosy brings that drowning feeling back, water trying to pull you down as they grin and step back, opening a blank, black book, snagging the crystalline quill and using your blood as ink, they write, everything goes dark quickly as the Shadow snuffs out every light again as it dissolves, spreading ober every single nook and cranny of the open space.

You think they bare their teeth at you specifically before snapping the book shut, "Let me weave you a tale!"

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

Scene IIII End. Thus closes the Opening Act.

#linked universe x reader #linked universe au #lu x reader #linked universe fairy tale au #fairy tale typical violence #fairy tale typical dark themes #reference to Penta of the Chopped Off Hands #told y'all not to get attached to the theater crew #Reader is going through it and frankly it's probably gonna go downhill from there #wonder how many will catch the reference with Twilight #I thought it would be cute to be fair. Reader has a lot of knowledge from our world and they'd likely convert as many stories as they could #for variety if nothing else #Dink's hired help here just wants to watch the world burn and preferably roast Reader over a fire while at it #why? that's for me to know and y'all to find out lol #they're not really relevant to the plot. they're just here to kick it into gear. cause chaos. be dramatic and bully Dink #specially if he messes up the venue #No Shadow Links were Permanently Harmed in the Making of this Chapter #WintertimeStoryteller Stop Clowning Yourself and Stick to the OG Outline Challenge (Failed Miserably) #That moment when you write and rewrite the chapter and has a nice little plan for the story #but sleep deprivation and life happens so you have to throw it out the window #Reade is all over the place because they're meant to don't worry. The theater just Does That #no beta we die like my sanity #no beta we die like First and the Hero's Shade #WintertimeStoryteller Writing #Hopefully it's at least half decent

[koqabear]

Lamb To The Slaughter

♫: Gods & Monsters, Lana Del Rey

"An act of kindness goes a long way, your parents told you once; their words stuck with you all your life, your pure heart never failing to follow their philosophy— though, it seems your naive self was left unaware of just how far an act of kindness can go."

wolf hybrid!beomgyu x lamb hybrid!fem!reader x herding dog hybrid!soobin

Genre: smut, hybrid au, angst, porn with the world's smallest amount of plot

Word count: 15.8k

Warnings: barely edited oops, heavy predator/prey themes, injuries/blood, use of scents, scent glands and scenting, mentions of kidnapping and murder, psychological abuse i guess… this fic doesn’t let you forget that they’re hybrids btw, (showcases animal-like behaviors and habits), soogyu are stronger than the mc, obsessiveness, manipulation

Smut Warnings: DUBCON. threesome, mean dom!gyu, soft dom!soobin, sub!mc,inexperienced!mc, pet names (pretty, doll, good girl, etc.) manhandling, marking, subspace, possessiveness, choking kinda, dry humping, praise, praise kink, humiliation, dacryphilia, fingering, exhibitionism/voyeurism, degrading, orgasm control, dumbification, finger sucking, cum eating(?), spanking, begging, mind breaking, unprotected sex, jerking off ig, jealousy, hair pulling, rough sex, corruption kink maybe, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, double vaginal penetration… brief mentions of breeding, creampies, knotting, claiming, mc blacks out. (lmk if i should add anything.)

Notes: look at these stupidly long paragraphs of warnings oh im gonna kms. this story almost had me plucking my hairs out one by one, i’ve never been so stressed out by a pwp before. it was originally an ot5 au and was supposed to come out during october but… yk. shit happens. (i saw a post that changed the entire trajectory of this fic)

[This story contains dark content. Please read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]

The forest at the edge of the village is something that should’ve been closed off long ago— but there’s no resources, no men to work on the border, no money— so the townspeople have resorted to old myths and tales to ward off wandering children and defenseless women instead.

There’s a killer in the forest— fairies will lead you down the wrong path and trap you in the woods forever; there’s a hidden pond so deep that if you fall in, you’ll sink forever. Typical tales that are told around the bonfire, where people cower and whisper from the thrill of the stories. Yet with each varied warning, one thing stays the same.  

There are wolves in the forest.

Large and strong and invincible, with a terrifying bloodlust and noses so keen they could spot you the moment you cross the barrier; tearing you to shreds, eating you alive and forcing you to feel the pain all throughout it. The wolves are always hungry, insatiable, and lurking about for its next prey— anyone who would enter the woods willingly would be deemed suicidal. 

You’ve never been one to believe such tales; how could you, when you’ve grown alongside the forest?

There are wolves in the forest, that much you’re sure of— but the fantastical tales and myths are nothing but a farce, crafted from the fear of the unknown and the dark, entangled landscape that lies past the backyard of your small cottage; belonging to your deceased parents, now left to fend on your own and care for the gardens and lush plants your mother had carefully cultivated since you were a child. 

She taught you everything you needed to know about the forest; which paths to take, which areas led to steep cliffs or poison ivy, and where to find herbs and plants that would aid to the medicinal business your family ran— you were fascinated by the craft, even as a young child, learning with eager eyes and an even more eager mind as you stored all the information in your small, worn down journal; the pink material of the cover faded and torn at the corners, filled to the brim yet still useful to you as you took it with you on every trip.  

Tonight, you pull on a warm coat dress; it’s thick and durable, a cute piece gifted on your birthday by the baker’s son, the border collie family always making sure to look after you since the day you were left on your own. The shawl sewed into the coat hangs over your shoulders like a small cape, adding in extra warmth as you look out the window and onto the cold scenery; the leaves have begun to abandon the trees, and if you hadn’t memorized the forest layout like the back of your hand, the covered paths might’ve concerned you— but you’re confident as always, grabbing your wicker basket and perching it on the crook of your elbow, glancing down to make sure your journal is already inside— and with one last mental check to make sure you have everything you need, you slip on your boots and make your way outside. 

“Soobin,” you say in surprise, swinging the door open, getting scared at the sight of someone already waiting for you outside— the said man only smiles at the sound of his name, laughing fondly at the way you press a gentle hand against your startled heart; his ears perk up at the sight of you and his black hair is slightly disheveled, though you guess it’s probably from his habit of running a hand through it whenever he’s restless— he holds a basket of his own, and your eyes fall onto it with a curiosity you don’t bother to hide.

“Hello pretty,” he smiles softly, the nickname never failing to make a heat flush up the back of your neck— you really hope he doesn’t notice your flushed expression, his eyes narrowing with fondness as he brings his basket up, opening it to show you the contents, “I made an extra batch of bread, and I thought you’d like some. Business will get busy for us both soon, and I’d hate for you to get hungry because you don’t have time to eat.”

He’s sweet and caring, and it never fails to leave your knees weak— he looks at you with nothing short of affection, raising a brow in curiosity and glancing down at your already occupied arm— his brows furrow, biting his lip in thought as he finally pieces everything together. 

“Are you going to the woods?” he asks softly, reaching past you and into the doorway, placing the basket of bread on the table next to the door— his hands are immediately coming up to your shoulders, smoothing out the soft material of the coat with narrowed eyes— and they’re filled with worry again, ears angling down and tail swaying slowly from side to side, searching your face that can’t seem to lie to him, “It’s dangerous to go at this hour, you shouldn’t.”

“It’ll only be dangerous if you continue to stall me,” you tease, shrugging his hands off and wrapping your own around his elbow, tugging him until you’re both stepping out of your home; he allows you to, and you’re locking it up with ease, even as he continues to tell you not to, to go another day, another time— you huff, shaking your head and frowning at the way he begins to offer to come with you; his instincts must be kicking in again, eyes filled with a calculated look he only sports when looking out for your safety— and with you being nothing but a fragile little lamb in his eyes, this look was something you’ve become very familiar with. 

“No, you mustn’t come with— it’s dangerous, and I’m the only one who knows my way around the woods,” you scold him, and even though he stares at you with that intimidating, stern look, murmuring about something about his keen senses, you stand your ground, “I’m too one-track-minded to guide someone else through these woods— I’d hate for you to get hurt because of me.”

He sighs— and you know you’ve gotten him good by the way he remains silent, stalling his leave as he tries continuing to reason with you— but you keep refusing in return, cooing softly that you’ll be okay, that you’ll be quick. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he finally says, refusing to back down even as you express your worry; after a moment of bickering, you finally give in. Your eyes widen in surprise as he gently pulls you in for a hug, engulfed entirely in his embrace as he rests his chin on your shoulder, inhaling your scent with a content sigh— warm, comforting and pure, like jasmine with the hint of a pure, soft vanilla, his nose subconsciously poking at your gland in search for more— and you shiver at the feeling, engulfed in his calming scent, a sage and rich pine, allowing yourself to melt in his arms and hold you tighter, ignoring the way your heart begins to race the longer your remain there. 

“Come back to me safe.”

Soobin is just as solemn and loyal as he was the day he declared that he would always protect you— and it makes your heart race a bit faster, a dopey smile stuck on your face as you wave him goodbye— you sigh pathetically the moment you’re finally in the woods.

The leaves crunch under your feet and birds chirp in the distance; it’s comforting to you, humming softly to yourself as you walk the paths you need to take without much of a thought, gathering herbs and plants as you slowly check them off your list; everything goes as smoothly as it always does, your mind in awe as you witness the sun beginning to set. 

You should get going soon; it was never ideal to be in the woods after dark, no matter how familiar you were with the landscape. The thought makes your steps quicken and your eyes sweep over the land in acute concentration, looking for the last plant on your list— you’re freezing entirely when you hear a shift against the leaves. 

You’re still; was it a false alarm, or a harmless rabbit passing by? You’re not entirely sure, wicker basket heavy in your hand as the other presses firmly against your heart; trying to settle your heart rate, breathing deeply as you look for any signs of movement, any signs of life around you. 

Just when you think the coast is clear, you hear it again; rustling against the leaves, harsh and erratic as something else greets your ears— sharp pants and sounds of struggle, a pained yelp resounding into the vast space and sending you into action before you can think twice. 

You round the thick oak tree ahead of you, searching for the source of the sound— and stumble back in surprise, an involuntary gasp escaping you as sharp eyes and equally sharp teeth point your way— a man lays before you, injured and weak.

Except, he’s not just a man; that much is made clear to you the moment your eyes sweep over his frame once more, taking in the ears that press flat on his head and his fangs that remain bared at you, the injured man—wolf hybrid— growling lowly at you and shuffling back to curl against the thick tree that once covered him; your hands shake as you hold onto your basket a little tighter, wide eyes sweeping over his figure and inevitably landing on the source of all this commotion; a twisted ankle, rendering the man before you immobile. 

You must run— you must, and it’s all your instincts seem to yell at you, your muscles becoming rigid with tension, white ears pressing flat against the top of your head and fluffy tail quivering with fear— but you have yet to, something about the look in the wolf’s eyes making you ignore your instincts, just for a second; behind the dangerous fangs that glint beneath the remaining light and his eyes that are narrowed threateningly, you can still see the pain he’s found himself in.

Something inside you clicks— your weak heart twists and your hands grip your basket a bit tighter, a voice in your mind telling you that you can’t just leave him like this; you can do something to help. Next thing you know, you’re taking cautious, slow steps toward him, hands held out to show that you’re nothing close to a threat— though you’re sure that the smell of fear that rolls off you in waves is enough of an indicator— and your soft voice is whispering out your intentions, continuing your approach even as he bares his teeth at you in warning. 

“I want to help you,” you say softly, finally at his feet as you place your basket gently next to him; and he growls at you once more, though you don’t find yourself to be afraid— if he were dangerous, he would’ve attacked long ago. It’s the only thought that repeats itself in your mind like a prayer, pretending as though your hands don’t tremble as you reach into your basket, as you grab the herbs you were just stocking up on and the bandages you carry for emergencies. 

He lets out a particularly harsh growl that makes you jump; it makes you hesitate to touch his skin, bruised and broken and bloody, eyes jumping to meet his— and though the action was meant to be confident, nothing can hide the fear that taints your eyes, the way your frame shrinks slightly when you’ve found that he has no issues holding eye contact— and after a standstill moment, you finally continue, ripping a piece of the bandage and attempting to clean the wound as best as you can. 

You’re a bit clumsy at first; unable to look away from the man, his strikingly dark red hair that's matted to his head from a thin layer of sweat, dirtied clothes and face that’s twisted in a mean glare— but eventually, it softens, the deep heaving of his chest calming as he watches the way you tend to him with deft hands, not seeming to care if he’s soiling your pretty coat as you tug him closer to you. 

The bandages are tight on his ankle and you’ve placed herbs within to help soothe the swelling— all tricks you’ve learned from your mother, from the times when you would run about carelessly and twist your ankle in some hidden hole, only calming your cries to see her work her magic on you.

Reassuring words don’t do much in the grand scheme of things, but you still whisper them sweetly to the injured man before you, dry bandage cleaning along the rest of his calf as you tell him to rest, to try and not overexert himself. And though you don’t know if he can understand you, though you’re unsure of where he came from— because as far as you know, wolves have been banished from your village for decades— you still find yourself caring for him. It’s something he can pick up on in your eyes, gentle and reflecting the last of the sun’s golden rays that leak through the woods. 

It’s quiet; it’s peaceful. Warm fingers lingering on his skin much longer than you intended, a curiosity leaking through your wide eyes as you take in his figure, the tall dark ears that stand on his head, the tail that lays on his side, thumping rhythmically— and you think you’ve finally found the courage to ask who are you? Lips parting to speak, you’re cut off by the sound of rustling, a new overwhelming scent overtaking your senses; something is approaching. 

The man before you doesn’t seem to be worried; it’s you that’s whipping around to the source of the sound, shrinking pathetically once you spot something emerging from the dark, thick mass of trees behind you; eyes, multiple pairs, glowing and angry as they stare at you like you’re their next meal— you’re not sure how many pairs there might be, but you’re stumbling to your feet quickly, eyes widening as you realize that the sun has set long, long ago.

You almost slip on the leaves beneath you; one last glance at the man behind you shows that his hands were out as though to catch you, expression twisted with what you’re surprised to see is… concern. But as a rough growling begins to surround the two of you, a sharp pang of fear courses through your body, the gravity of your situation finally sinking in as your eyes sweep around the area in one last, terrified glance.

They’re targeting you.

Before you can think twice, you’re turning on your heel and running— though nothing follows behind, you still let adrenaline take its course, shallow breaths and teary eyes guiding you back to your home; you don’t realize how crazed you must’ve looked until you’re finally reaching your front door, a worried Soobin immediately interrupting your flee and scooping you into his arms, whirling around to shield you away from the forest.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? Dear, what happened?” he’s breathing out the concerned questions against the crown of your head, arms wrapped tightly around your middle and the only thing keeping you up as your knees buckle with fear; his gaze sweeps down to the state of your cute coat, the once pristine and pink material now dirty and bloodied; his hands hold onto it with a newfound panic, lifting the coat and attempting to find the source— it isn’t until you’ve let out a few pathetic sniffles that you can finally reassure him the blood is not yours.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen to you? Oh, I should’ve—” Soobin has pulled away to cup your face in his hands, wiping away the tears that escape your sweet eyes like a fountain; thumbs caressing your tear-streaked skin lovingly, brows knitted together as his concern pours off him in waves— and you shake your head softly, attempting to dissuade the guilt he must’ve felt for leaving you on your own. 

“It’s fine, I’m not hurt,” you croak out, grabbing onto his waist for support as you finally regain the strength in your legs, “I just— had some encounters with a wolf— but I’m safe, they didn’t hurt me, I’m just a bit shaken, is all.”

“A wolf?” Soobin asks, much more concerned by your words as he pulls away to inspect you once more; his hands run gingerly over your shoulders, running along them until they’ve stopped at your neck, eyes honing in on the spot for a moment before he sighs in relief. His gaze is hardening once more, cupping your face and looking at your sternly as he speaks. “Where were they? Did they follow you? Did you interact with them?”

“No, no— it’s alright, I’m alright, I promise,” you breathe out, hoping that Soobin doesn’t notice the way you shrink under his gaze, the way your body warms up at his touch— but he’s much too concerned about your safety to pick up on it, dismissing every cue of your body as nothing but fear, instincts heightened as he looks behind you and back at the forest you just came from. He watches the woods carefully, eyes narrowed and ears perked in concentration— but nothing happens, and he’s left to reluctantly believe your words, even if he wants nothing more than to run into the woods himself and make sure there’s no threat to you. 

After a moment of observing the forest, Soobin is turning back to you, and his gaze immediately softens at the sight. The brave front you put up isn’t fooling him, and it’s quite obvious that you’re still shaken from your encounter, delicate ears still pressed close to your head, eyes wide and scent muddled with distress— like rotten flowers, earthy and pungent— and with all the adrenaline ebbing away from your system, you’ve found that your legs have become pure jelly once more; Soobin is quick to catch on to the way you tremble and hold on to him tightly. 

“Oh, my doll,” Soobin sighs softly, fishing for your keys in your coat pockets and unlocking the door for you, leading you inside with a careful hand— as though you were made of porcelain, still shaken and anxious as he leads you to sit down, “it’s alright, you’re safe now— I’ll keep you safe.”

Soobin insists on taking care of you long after you tell him you feel better; he’s keen to protect you through and through, keeping his distance yet still doting on you as he makes you tea, helps you out of your coat, and even offers to wash it for you— the sight replaces the heavy fear in your stomach with butterflies. 

When he bids you goodbye, his eyes are soft, his movements slightly reluctant— but he must, it’s unlawful for him to stay the night with you; an unclaimed little prey like you, spending the night with Soobin, even if he was nothing short of perfect and kind, was enough to have the town gossiping like a storm. The very thought has your cheeks hot and your tongue stumbling on words, telling Soobin to get home safe with a shy, sweet voice— and he brushes his thumb against your cheekbones, smiling fondly before he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead; he lingers there, and you think you might just melt against him before he finally bids you goodbye. 

Your heart still races long after he’s gone; you suppose all this makes up for the fact that you forgot your basket in the woods, mourning the fact that you’ll have to go back to get it tomorrow— but for now, you’re content with giggling softly at the memory of Soobin’s lips against your skin, completely unaware of the eyes that watch you twirl around your kitchen happily.

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

When you wake up, you find something peculiar at your doorstep; your wicker basket is placed before your feet, pristine as it was when you first took it out. 

Your brows furrow, looking around the area and wondering how it got here— your mind is going back to the wolf you tended to, eyes slowly sweeping over the dense forest, ears twitching in attention, listening for even the slightest rustle of leaves, wondering if he’s still lingering— but the world around you is still, and it seems to be only you here. You bend down to pick the basket up carefully. 

Everything is intact— your herbs, your bandages, your worn down pink journal— and the closer you bring it to your face in order to inspect it, the better you’re able to catch something peculiar; a scent, your nose twitching in curiosity and your eyes narrowing. The unknown scent only grows stronger the closer you get to the handkerchief you used to line the inside, and only then are you able to get a good sense of it— light and heady, like an amber and smoky smell filling your nose, finding yourself oddly enticed by the scent. 

You’re far too wrapped up in attempting to decipher the complicated notes of this new scent to notice someone approaching; your senses have gotten so used to Soobin’s presence you no longer find yourself alert around him, only perking up at the approaching sound of leaves crunching and the familiar, sage filling your senses— tucking the basket behind your back, you send him a meek smile, cheeks heating up as you silently hope he didn’t see you curiously nosing at your basket. 

“Hey, pretty thing,” Soobin rumbles out lowly, smiling fondly at the way you practically preen at the name; you’re terrible at hiding your expression, the way your ears twitch at his words not helping your attempts to seem nonchalant before him. 

“Hi Soobin,” you smile, fingers restlessly playing with the wicker basket behind your back as you tilt your head curiously, “what’re you doing here today?”

“I needed to check on you,” he says immediately, a soft oh leaving your lips at that, “I couldn’t sleep well knowing I just… left you here on your own. I needed to make sure you were safe.”

“Soobin, it’s fine, really,” you reassure him softly, fluffy tail wiggling behind you at the fact that he confessed how worried he was about you, his dedication to keep you safe, “Nothing happened— as long as I’m in my home, I’m safe.”

Soobin wants to argue against that, you can tell. But you don’t give him a chance to, inviting him in with a tug at his arm, smiling at the way he immediately relents; you tell him about your plans for today over a cup of tea, that you have to make a few deliveries to some homes across the village— Soobin practically jumps to offer to come with. 

“You– won’t you be busy?” you ask shyly, staring down at your teacup and stirring your spoon in  a feeble way to distract yourself. 

“No, I’m not needed at the bakery today,” Soobin immediately reassures you, reaching over the table to place a delicate hand over your own— and you stiffen, a heat rushing through your body at the sudden contact; the smell of sage wafts over to you as his thumb rubs soothingly over your skin, your mind mulling over his offer as you bite at your lip in thought. 

He’s eager to hear you say yes; his tail wags slowly behind him, ears perked up and eyes honed in on your every expression— and after a moment, you finally nod meekly. 

“It’s only a house or two, but the walk is… it’s far,” you say, standing at the doorway and reaching over for your basket, placing the bottles and jars filled with homemade remedies inside carefully— but before you can continue your explanations and tuck your basket snuggly into the crook of your arm, Soobin is taking it from you, his brows knitted together as he stares down at the item in confusion. 

“I thought you lost this,” he says quietly, rotating the item in his hands, taking in its pristine condition with a frown— his ears are perking up and his tail is straightening, head whipping over to you with wide, concerned eyes. “Did you go into the woods to retrieve it?”

“No!” you say, oddly defensive as you shake your head adamantly, “It just— it was at my doorstep this morning, I think someone might have found it—”

“The wolf,” Soobin sneers, his tone much darker than it was mere moments ago— it makes your ears flatten against your head and your figure shrink, his scent turning earthy and thick and rendering you docious and pliant— his eyes are darting from the basket and back to you, only to go back to the basket in order to examine it closely; the moment Soobin brings it closer to his face, you’re able to see the very moment where that same, smoky scent enters his senses— his pupils dilate, and his nose twitches. 

The same scent as before. Soobin recognized it as the same scent that you were drenched in the moment you found him, shaken and face aghast— your coat and skin reeked of nothing but that scent, wanting nothing more than to take you inside and replace it with his own— but the most he could do in the moment was hold you close and hope that it would wash off. 

The owner of this scent must have brought you the basket back; Soobin’s head races to find meaning, to find reason, adrenaline coursing through his body that yells at him to take action; this must be a threat—you’ve been followed, they know where you live.

“It isn’t safe for you to stay there anymore,” Soobin proceeded to tell you, only confessing how he felt once you were far, far away from your home— from the woods. And you could only shake your head at that, the reassurances an automatic response in your head at this point. 

But Soobin wasn’t going to go down without a fight this time; knowing that the wolf was out there somewhere, that he knew where you lived and even went as far as to visit your home— it made Soobin tense with anger. 

“That wolf was at your doorstep without you knowing,” Soobin continued to reason, all throughout your walk back, “you don’t know who they are— what their intentions are.” 

It was only then that you decided to mull through his offer to stay, or for you to stay with his family— images of a bloodthirsty wolf at your doorstep filled your mind, and you couldn’t help but feel like your nine year old self again, sitting at a fireplace and telling each other scary stories about the forest only a few feet away from you— your young self would always be left shaken and paranoid, asking your parents if you could sleep in their bed. 

Maybe you’ve become too used to being independent; you’ve survived this long on your own— most lamb hybrids you knew couldn’t walk around at night without having a trusted predator around to protect them, just in case— yet you were so used to depending only on yourself that you seem to have forgotten how truly vulnerable your species is; Soobin made sure to remind you with a stern look and crossed arms. 

“I don’t see why you’re insisting so much, binnie— I promise nothing happens here, this place is dead,” you tell him as you make dinner for the two of you, the sun now long gone and the man still stuck to your side, leaning against the counter beside you and watching you cook dutifully— his eyes drift over to the window behind him, looking over his shoulder and at the dark, gloomy forest that obscures his view; his eyes can’t help but narrow and pick apart each shape he sees, nose keen and eager to sense any changes, any hint of that smoky smell— but he sees nothing, and he’s turning back around to catch the way you send him a slightly incredulous look. 

“I understand why you might feel this way— you’ve been on your own for longer than you can remember, after all,” Soobin says softly, taking in the way your eyes remain downcast and you shy away from his gaze. Hesitantly, he shifts to stand behind you, a gentle hand placing itself on your bicep before his head lowers to rest on your shoulder; his forehead rests against you, able to smell the restless, flowery notes of your scent— despite the strong front you put up, Soobin’s keen senses are still able to pick up on the tenseness of your body, the way you keep glancing out the window and into the forest unsurely. 

“You have to allow yourself to be helped— there’s nothing wrong with that, doll,” he coaxes softly, ears atop his head twitching at the sound of the shaky sigh you let out— the stove is turned off, and the food is done— but you don’t seem to care about that much. 

Carefully, Soobin nudges at your jaw with his head; allowing your neck to tilt slowly, to expose it to him as his nose runs along your skin delicately, until it’s pressed against your scent gland, inhaling slowly and taking in the intense mix of smells and emotions within you— and he presses his lips softly against it, a gentle kiss that turns your scent sweet and fresh like a blooming flower; your heart pounds against your chest for a second, then proceeds to relax against Soobin’s hold the moment his scent invades your senses. 

“I’m here to protect you.” 

His words stick to you for the rest of the night— as does he, his presence reassuring enough to make you forget of why he was here in the first place— enough to allow you to miss the glowing eyes that peek from the edge of the forest as you get a glass of water in the middle of the night, taking in your drowsy figure and eyes that are heavy with sleep; unaware of the pair of eyes that take you in hungrily, the tongue that runs along a sharp set of teeth, nose twitching to get another gust of your sweet, clean scent, the muddled vanilla that makes his mouth water. 

With Soobin lying in the guest bedroom, you’re almost able to forget that there are wolves in the forest. That there is one that has now set his sights on the cute little lamb that tended to him with wide eyes and an innocent heart. 

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

It’s early in the morning when you bid Soobin goodbye; your cheeks are flushed and you’re barely able to look him in the eye, despite not having done anything more than talk the whole night. He finds your shyness nothing short of endearing, placing one last affectionate kiss on top of your head before he tells you to call him if you ever need anything— to never be afraid to ask for help. You nodded to his words with a soft smile. 

Watching him leave had left a bit of an empty feeling in your heart; you couldn’t seem to help but watch him leave pathetically, standing at your doorway even after he had long gone; his scent still drifted around in your senses, the warm and sturdy scent helping you remain calm as you finally went back inside— closing the door behind you, you were pleasantly surprised to see that your home still smelled strongly of him. 

You had over ten different orders you needed to work on; you were able to busy yourself with making medicine throughout the rest of the day, boiling herbs and making remedies for colds and illnesses and burns. It was a tedious and slow process, and as you finally began to reach the end of your list, you couldn’t help but frown. 

You ran out of two different herbs needed for these next three orders; without them, you wouldn’t be able to make the medications at all. 

Glancing out the window, you gulped; it wouldn’t be another thirty minutes before the sun set, but after your encounter a few days ago— paired with Soobin’s warning and harsh reality check— you were much more hesitant to go into the woods on your own. 

You could call Soobin— ask him if he’d like to accompany you, stay put until you finally had proper protection. You mulled over the idea for a moment, your traitorous mind whisperering encouraging words in order to see him again; it’s just for protection, you told yourself, walking over to your landline phone before you began to dial his number, tangling the long cord around your fingers absentmindedly as you did; you tried to dismiss the nervous pounding of your heart, the way you bit at your lips in anticipation of hearing his voice again.

“Hello?” you’re gulping slightly at the sound— part of you wasn’t expecting him to actually answer. Clearing your throat softly, you muster up the courage to do what you’ve been hesitant to for so long. 

“Hi Soobin,” you start softly, listening to the small hum of acknowledgement from the other side, “I— I’m sorry to bother, but I just wanted to ask; I have to make another trip to the forest— it’s urgent— and I… well, I was wondering if you’d be able to accompany me. For protection.” 

The shyness and hesitance in your voice is horribly apparent; it makes you face burn and your hands grow clammy, feeling as though there’s a lump in your throat as you wait for him to respond— it feels like eternity, but in reality, it’s merely seconds—- and you’re practically slumping against the wall in relief when he gives you a soft of course I can in response.

“Wait for me inside until I get there,” he says, and you nod, letting out a sound of affirmation as well, “I’ll be quick.” 

Soobin hangs up promptly after; you’re left to scurry around your home in preparation of your trip, changing out of your sullied work clothes and into something more comfortable— inevitably, the same coat from before finds itself wrapped around your form, and as you wait by the doorway with your wicker basket in hand, you realize with a smile that the item is practically drowned in Soobin’s scent— the item is wrapped around you tighter and your nose is burrowed deeply into the soft plush-like material, your senses spinning with the warm, earthy smells that belong to the man. 

The sun is setting— but he’ll be here soon, a fact only proved by the sound of footsteps your keen ears manage to pick up on; you’re practically racing to make it to your front door, only to pause at the sound of something else— more footsteps. 

Instinct brings your body to the floor and away from all windows; your back is pressed up against your door, ear pressed tightly against the wood as you remain alert, subconsciously holding your breath in fear of getting spotted in any way— but whoever is currently surrounding your home knows you’re here, judging by the way they take careful, calculated steps closer to your door— you will your heart to remain calm, to not alert them that you currently lean on the very item separating the two of you, but the fear that courses through your veins is simply too strong. 

Your mind is racing a mile a minute; you try to calculate who it could be, why they’re here— and you’re thinking back to Soobin’s warnings the night before, eyes widening as you scold yourself for being such a naive idiot— because as you pick up of the soft sounds of sniffing and low growls, you realize that you’ve managed to lead a pack of wolves right to your home. 

It all happens too quickly; you’re running from the door at the sudden spike of scents, like a dirty smoke that approaches your door in the blink of an eye— the wood practically flies off its hinges with the way it’s broken into, a scream involuntarily leaving you as you grab the nearest thing to you as a weapon— the fire pit poker is thin and old in your hands, but that’s the last thing on your mind as you back away slowly, taking in the wolves that make their way into your home with sheer terror. 

One, two, three— it’s only three of them, but it’s enough to have your limbs trembling and your ears pressed flat against your head; tall, broad figures, disheveled in appearance and looking at you with eyes dilated, filled with nothing but a carnal hunger that makes your stomach twist into knots. 

It’s a standstill. They watch you with coy smiles and blown out eyes, watching as you press yourself against the wall, wondering if you can make it to the back exit of your home if you try enough— but they’re perceptive to even the most miniscule movement, every twitch of your muscle garnering a step closer from any one of them; you remain still, and so do they. It’s silent, save for the ragged heavings of your chest and the low grumbles that resonate from theirs— they have yet to make a move, locking eyes with the tallest and watching as his lips quirk into a smile.

You feel nauseous. They’re toying with you.

They could easily take you— kill you— in a split second; the second you try to run, they’ll be hot on your heels, outmatched three to one and left at their mercy entirely. And judging by the way they practically salivate at the smell of fear that radiates from you, you don’t think your fate with them will end well.

You gulp. They watch you, keen eyes taking in the way your throat bobs, the tears that fill your eyes— the way your legs look as though they’ll give out on you any moment now, the flimsy poker in your hands nothing but a joke as you point it at them in warning— as though it would do anything, they muse. 

One of them, with a head of ginger hair and eyes sharp as a knife, begins to approach; you tense, bringing the poker forward more, inhaling sharply and taking a step back— but that only garners a sharp growl from another, with pitch black hair and a gaze so threatening it renders you pliant; hesitantly, you meet the eyes of the man who stands before you, narrowed eyes taking you in with amusement. 

He reaches towards you— again you tense, flinching at the movement and weakly yelling at the wolf to stay back—! But it can only come out as a breathless whisper, your entire being rendered useless, instincts doing nothing but telling you that this is it; accept your fate, it tells you, weakening your muscles and sending off waves of fear so thick the room reeks of death and rot; your figure shrinks the moment he grabs your poker, ignoring your clearly empty warning as he lowers it forcefully, fighting easily against any strength you had left. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he smiles, baring his teeth that only makes your blood run cold— sharp canines, strong and in great condition to bite and chew even the toughest of meats— “We’ll take good care of you.”

A sharp growling impedes the man before you from closing in on you, from taking away what little space was left between you— the sound is loud and furious, making the three wolves before you turn immediately in search of the source; including you, the foreign sound making your knees buckle and the poker fall from your hands as you paralyze with fear. 

Standing in the doorway is a figure you remember quite well— the sight of him makes your eyes widen and you heart flicker a dim light of hope, watching the way he sends the three wolves before you a pointed glare, enough to make the two nearest to him avert their eyes the moment his gaze lands on them. 

“Beomgyu,” the wolf near you sneers, “what the hell are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother answering the question; his eyes land on you, on your figure that visibly trembles with fear, nostrils flaring at the scent that radiates from you and fogs the room— and he growls. 

“Get out.” 

It’s a simple command given by the man— Beomgyu—  to the others, eyes filled with an unbridled rage that makes the others flinch; they’re confused, glancing to where you remain frozen before they’re turning back at the man, as though waiting for him to back down on his words— instead, he bares his teeth, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed with rage, and repeats himself. 

“I said, get. Out.”

Silence; you can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears as you watch the two wolves glance at the man with the bright head of ginger hair— as though looking to him for their next move. The two remain in a standstill, refusing to look away from the other, as though silently communicating. And after what feels like eternity, the wolf near you scoffs, lips upturned in annoyance as he finally looks away— he turns back to you, eyes scanning your shaken figure, and he smiles the moment your eyes meet.

“Don’t expect any mercy from him.”

You’re sure you might be on the verge of fainting as you watch them all exit, one by one; tails practically tucked between their legs, only wolf to make a fuss being the orange-haired one from before; you watch the two of them bare their teeth and make comments you can’t quite pick up on, pressing yourself firmly against the wall and jumping the moment they snap warningly at each other— a threat to bite, the sight of their sharp fangs enough to have you retreating slowly to the exit of your backyard. 

The second his back is turned from you, watching the wolves retreat to the forest, is the second you make an attempt to escape— hurried steps leading you to the kitchen, walking backwards in order to keep an eye on him— your shaking hands remain pressed against the wall in an attempt to keep yourself upright, keen eyesight taking in any small movement from him, body alight with adrenaline as you wait for the moment you can book it. 

His ears, a dark auburn just like his hair, twitch; his head snaps over to where you stand, dilated eyes meeting yours in milliseconds. 

You’re turning around to make a run for it— the floorboards creak behind you from the very sound of Beomgyu running after you, a yelp leaving you involuntarily; your feet are falling harshly on the cool tile of your kitchen, but before you can so much as outstretch your hand and reach for the doorknob of the back exit, strong hands are wrapping around your middle and spinning you around, away from your last taste of freedom. 

“Please!” you cry out aimlessly, a pained groan falling from your lips as your back collides with the wood of your counter; you’re pinned into the very corner, tears pricking at your eyes and weak hands pressing against the strong chest of the wolf before you— your eyes remain glued to the floor, soft tail trembling with abandon and ears willing hopelessly to hide your face. 

“You’re running? After I just saved you?” is all you get in response, his voice gruff and genuine as he remains unfazed at the weak pushes against his chest; his arms cage you in, body impossibly close to yours as he looms over you, watching the way you cower and make yourself shrink with wide, interested eyes. “Why do you run from me, my flower?” 

The pet name makes your stomach lurch; a soft sob escapes you, eyes closing in defeat as your mind makes peace with your demise— your shoulders shake with every attempt of yours to breathe properly, every inhale only flooding your senses and clogging your mind with the scent of the wolf above you, like a thick smoke that burns your lungs and leaves your thoughts impaired.

Beomgyu is all but salivating at the sight of you; your soft, fragile body, the tremble of your limbs, your pure and fluffy ears that are pressed flat atop your head, hands subconsciously gripping onto his shirt in a feeble attempt to keep yourself upright— your heartbeat overwhelms him, quick and panicked just like your scent; it makes his brows pinch together and a confused pout form on his lips, the familiar, delicate flower no longer radiating from your figure.

“Are you scared of me?” he murmurs, ears twitching in curiosity as you remain silent; he leans down, willing to get close even after you continue to shrink away in response, curling into yourself and keeping your chin tucked in dutifully; his hand flies to your waist in attempts to prevent you from shifting away any further, rough claws digging in through your dress and making you jolt in surprise— a shaky breath leaves your lips, the wolf that continues to inch closer to you, cocking his head in fascination. His eyes all but burn through your skin. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers, lips brushing against your temple as he speaks; you remain frozen, stiff, feeling the way he continues to wander down, nosing at you softly in search for a sign of that sweet, intoxicating smell you once gave off. 

“You’re safe with me— remember?”

Your voice remains stuck inside you— all you can muster is another shaky breath as you feel his lips brush against your jaw, wandering along until he’s at your ear— then he trails down, forcing your head to tilt as his nose runs a soft line along the column; a weak whimper falls from your parted lips the moment he presses down against your pulse point, feeling him inhale slowly before he presses a soft kiss against your sensitive neck— like an automatic reaction, warmth blooms from the spot, spreading through your body, your heart telling you to calm down— but you refuse, and though Beomgyu is able to smell the sweet vanilla and the flowers that blooms from his action, it all dies into one muddled mess that leaves him to huff frustratedly. 

His hands have begun to wander— large and warm, sharp claws scratching at your garments and running up your sides before he hugs you tight, pressing your figure flush against his— and as have his lips, pressing soft kisses against your scent gland repeatedly, in search of the scent that he was only granted a mere glimpse of— soft, careful kisses at first, listening to the way you whimper and cry against him, trembling hands balling up his shirt in your fists— only to feel himself grow more desperate, out of control, his lips parted and harsh as he presses his kisses against one of the weakest points in your body. 

Beomgyu’s nose is sharp, is able to pick up on even the slightest changes within your scent— so when he picks up on the warm, subtle twinge of vanilla that peeks through everything else, he’s unable to find himself exhibiting restraint. Warm and wet, you feel his tongue press against your skin, the sharp, accidental scratch of his fangs following after— and you gasp, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling above you as your mind finally processes what his intentions truly are, feeling your instincts take over soon after— the moment of clarity passes, and your vision fogs; your body melts against Beomgyu’s.

You’ve been sandwiched between the counter and Beomgyu’s body; even more so now that Beomgyu’s felt you submit to him, head lolling to the side and displaying your most fragile part to him, a smell of vanilla, warm and sweet like a pastry, filling his lugs soon after— you’re presenting yourself to him, eyes glassy and lips parted as you simply let out a shaky exhale. 

Your legs are parted with every attempt Beomgyu makes to get closer to you, feeling him stand in between them as he continues to cage you in, continues to kiss and lick along your exposed skin, huffing and sighing in satisfaction with every soft keen you let out in response, your mind and soul still convinced that your time has come to an end. 

From a distance, Soobin senses it; he sees the dim lights of your cottage, the door that is left ajar, crooked on its hinges— most of all, he’s able to pick up on the intoxicating sweetness that escapes from the cottage, the innocent jasmine that’s intertwined with the scent that travels with the wind— and his ears stand straight, keen senses straining to hear the soft sob that leaves your delicate lips��� his body reacts before he can, and he runs straight to you. 

The sharp call of your name is all Soobin can get out before he stumbles to a stop at the kitchen doorway— his eyes remain wide and focused on the sight before him, body on edge and tail stiff as he grits his teeth in rage. 

Your doe eyes meet his instantly— they’re shining and incoherent, and Soobin wonders if you’re even conscious of where you are, of the way you whine out his name in the most fragile tone he’s ever heard. The rest of you is covered— you’ve been pressed tightly against the kitchen counter, back arching backwards due to the sheer pressure of the body that weighs you down; ragged clothing covers your own, the pink coat obscured by a white flowing, dirtied white button up, falling off the owner’s shoulder and pooling at his elbow— Soobin’s eyes follow the line of movement, taking in his arms disappear behind your waist, forcing your lower halves to be glued together, your dress bunched up at your thighs from the crude way they’ve been forced open. 

“Soobin,” you whine again, taking his attention as he watches a hand of yours appear from where they were caged in, outstretching shakily toward him before it falls limp, hanging over the arm that pulls you closer against him. 

Dark, long hair covers the face that is buried in your neck— ears of the same color adorn the top, twitching with interest at the sound before they stand forward— roughly, the head emerges from its hiding place, eyes blown open with nothing short of hunger; the wolf before Soobin bares his teeth and growls, hugging you tighter against him, stepping back and shielding you away from the dog’s view. 

Soobin doesn’t hesitate to mimic the other’s threats— he means every bit of it and more, face alight with rage and body poised in an aggressive stance— and though your face has been tucked into the wolf’s chest, though the arms that wrap around your body attempt to prevent you from being seen at all, Soobin is still able to catch glimpse of your tail that quivers with fear, of your figure that shakes pathetically from instinct. 

Loud, angry growls and spiked scents fill your senses and leaves you docile; Soobin’s sharp, strong pine mixes with Beomgyu’s thick, intoxicating smoke, painting the scene of a burning forest as they continue to warn the other, narrowed gazes and sharp canines creating yet another standstill. 

Beomgyu’s eyes catch onto Soobin’s restlessness with ease— and before he’s able to make a move, Beomgyu is manipulating your body once more, spinning you around and pressing your back firmly against him, feeling the way you follow his every command without a second thought— and when you present yourself to him for a second time from pure instinct, Beomgyu grins; his eyes lock with Soobin’s and his head cranes down, dangerously close to your scent gland that continues to release its tempting smell.

“Stay.” is all Beomgyu growls out, eyeing the way Soobin freezes immediately, wide eyes watching the way Beomgyu’s mouth opens, tongue lolling out lazily before it’s running slowly against your shoulder, gliding along until it stops dutifully against the joint of your neck, pressing down to feel your pulse— Soobin flinches, undoubtedly wanting to lunge forward, but is stopped again by the wicked smile Beomgyu sends him, sharp canines meticulously on display. 

You’re all left frozen— Beomgyu’s arm that has been thrown around your waist toys with the hem of your cute coat, the other that presses against your heart feeling the quick pounding against his palm— and he laughs, inching his hand up slowly until it’s around your neck, his index and thumb exuding little effort to keep your head upright, watching your eyes slowly meet Soobin’s.

“Any sudden moves,” Beomgyu begins again, eyes flickering down to your neck, watching the quick rise and fall of your chest with fascination, feeling the way your throat constricts with every swallow against his palm— and he smiles, looking back at Soobin and allowing his tongue to run over the top row of his teeth leisurely, “and she’s mine to claim.”

Silence; Soobin takes a moment to weigh his options, to inspect the scenery before him— the wolf means it, Soobin is quick to realize, seeing the way he all but drools over your exposed neck and faint figure— and he meets your eyes again, attempting to decipher what you may be thinking, only to realize that you’re not composed at all; you’ve been stripped down to nothing but your basic survival instincts, and yet it seems as though your brain has told you that it’s best to give up any fight you have left inside you.

Soobin feels his jaw ache from the way his teeth grit together angrily— and with a soft huff, he becomes the first to look away from Beomgyu entirely, turning his head in defeat and forcing his body to back down. 

“Good dog,” Beomgyu coos mockingly, grinning unabashedly at the sight of Soobin’s face twisting up in anger; he turns to you, placing a slow, lingering kiss on your cheek before he murmurs softly into your ear. “My flower, don’t you want to show him how perfect you are for me?” 

Beomgyu doesn’t expect a response from you; the way you whine and shift restlessly against him is enough, having already felt him rutting against you the moment he had you caged against the counter— and he continues to do so, even now, the hand on your throat forcing you to tilt your head, allowing him access to suck and bite on the clean canvas of your skin; your eyes flutter shut, and you’re left to rely on his strength to hold you upright, body rocking gently with every thrust that is delivered from the wolf behind you. 

“So sweet for me,” Beomgyu groans, his hands letting go of their respective places before they begin getting busy; your legs feel shaky and you’re left to watch as he undoes the ties of your coat, slipping it off before he reaches to bunch your thin skirt at your waist— you gasp softly, face heating up at the feeling of being so exposed, hands flying to pull down your skirt on instinct— but you’re granted no such reprieve, stilling immediately as a growl leaves Beomgyu’s lips at your action.

Soobin’s head is snapping back at the two of you at the sound of the threat— his eyes widen and he inhales sharply, a clear mistake that only makes Beomgyu grin— your scent, thick and progressively needier, clouds Soobin’s mind, clouds his judgment, unable to do anything more than stare at the way Beomgyu has you in his arms, canines still glittering under the soft lights of your home as a constant warning. 

“You smell it too,” Beomgyu speaks, his words less of a question and more of a fact— Soobin’s eyes dilate and his nostrils flare that moment Beomgyu’s lithe fingers begin to wander around the hem of your panties, feeling your thighs press together and your hands grip at his forearm shyly; from Soobin’s distance, he’s able to pick up on the tears that hang on your waterline, the way your lip quivers from the humiliation of being exposed so crudely. 

“Innocent thing…” Beomgyu murmurs, dipping down to swipe the pad of his middle finger across your slit, listening to the yelp that escapes your lips, feeling your body buckle against him— and sure enough, a spike of your scent follows after, like an addicting toxin that only fuels the desire of the two canines before you, “So tempting. So good.” 

You’re crying softly at the way he continues to tease you, overwhelmed by the foreign sensation, mouth parting in shock as his hand sneaks past the waistband of your panties; you feel as though shocks of electricity flow through you the moment he brushes against your clit, teasingly at first, only to begin circling it steadily soon after— and you can only moan and whine for more, unknowingly bucking your hips forward in search for something else that can satisfy you. 

When your eyes meet Soobin’s, you can only feel a hot wave of shame flow through you— his expression is unreadable; is he embarrassed of you? Disgusted, ashamed that you have already given in to the simplest threats? You’re not remotely near as strong as he is, you defend yourself mentally, you’re sure that it was either this or— or…

“You filthy mutt,” Beomgyu spits out beside you, laughing softly at the way Soobin has yet to take his eyes off you, eyes narrowed meanly and brows tugged together, an expression that could be easily read as rage— but Beomgyu knows better, watching as the said man jumps at the sudden sound of the other’s voice, gaze hardening the moment they lock eyes; Beomgyu huffs out another mocking laugh. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Beomgyu asks, as though he were sharing a secret— behind you, you feel his hips buck against you, able to feel the hardness of his cock as he uses his free hand to press just below your navel, forcing you back on him— and you gasp, his ministrations against your clit never ceasing as he continues to fuck against you slowly, groaning breathlessly at the feeling of your warm body against him; Beomgyu’s eyes never leave Soobin’s, however, pupils filled with nothing but a mocking joy as he continues breathlessly.

“You want her.”

Another wave of arousal floods though you at his words, filling the room and reaching the two men before you with ease; you’re able to see and feel the way their chests rise slowly, the way they take in your essence before letting out pleased sighs, their own strong, heady scents filling your senses as you simply flutter your eyes shut and whine with need.

“No need to deny it,” Beomgyu grins, leaning his head against yours fondly, middle finger abandoning your clit to tease your entrance, your mouth falling open and hips twitching in surprise at the feeling— the man behind you simply watches with amusement, watches the way you meet Soobin’s gaze shyly, body heated up with embarrassment as you can only let out pathetic cries and breathless gasps with every new stimulation— and Beomgyu’s finger enters you slowly, meticulously, angling himself just right; your vision is fogging at the stretch, hands gripping onto the strong forearm that helps keep your upright as you merely beg for more. 

“I’m sure she’d love to give you a show,” he continues, palm pressing against your clit, other hand guiding your hips to roll steadily against his hand— he chuckles softly at the way you’re pliant for him, following his every command without a second thought, “filthy, greedy thing.” 

Though Beomgyu directs those comments at you with a voice of acid-like hatred, the way he stares at you is anything but; his eyes are just as keen as the rest of him, willing to not miss a single reaction you make for him, from the way your voice breaks with need to the way your fingers twitch helplessly against his skin— his body buzzes with a desperate energy, his cock pulsing and begging to be inside you the longer he feels you rock helplessly against him— lucky for him, you seem to be getting just as desperate. 

“Get your filthy hands off her,” Soobin seethes, though he’s unable to make a move to get you away— a single twitch of his tail enough to garner a harsh sneer from Beomgyu, teeth snapping together in warning— the idea of having you claimed, taken, and possibly killed by the monstrosity that holds you hostage is enough to keep Soobin complacent for now, undoubtedly waiting for the moment the wolf no longer has easy access to such a vital part of you to make his move.

Beomgyu doesn’t heed the other’s comment— if anything, he laughs, prodding a second finger at your entrance, forcing the other to listen to the way you perk up and cry in panic, poor inexperienced body not used to the stretch, to the curve of his fingers as he presses against your soaking, tightening walls, calloused skin making you shiver as he forces you to grind against him, to fuck yourself on his fingers. 

“Hmm? Don’t touch her?” Beomgyu asks, curious fingers stretching you open slowly, grinning at the way you throw your head back against his shoulder and whine, a hand slapping over the arm that currently fucks your slowly, pressing against it in feeble attempts of getting more, “What, does it upset you that you won’t be getting to her first?” 

With a particularly calculated thrust of Beomgyu’s fingers, you’re jolting up and letting out a broken moan; he proceeds to continue to abuse the weak spot within you cruelly, watching with an amused gaze as you continue to fall apart against him like clockwork. You’re getting wound up quite quickly, not used to the intense feeling of pleasure being provided to you— and Beomgyu takes in the sight eagerly, smiling in amusement before he’s stopping abruptly, watching your head hang and your chest heave from the sudden loss of stimulation. 

“Does it anger you?” his fingers slide out from your cunt slowly; you twitch at the feeling of emptiness, barely processing the way his hand slowly snakes its way back up, grabbing at your neck and forcing you to look forward again— his fingers, covered in your arousal, prod at your mouth, and in your dumbed state, you can only follow his commands and part your lips dutifully; your tongue circles around his digits and your lips close around them, flushed face painting a lewd scene that only makes Soobin tense; beside you, Beomgyu smiles wickedly. 

“Knowing that you’re about to watch her get fucked open— get knotted good— by a wolf?” 

Soobin thinks he might be seeing red at this point; his hands remain by his side, closed into a tight fist that has his nails threatening to break through his skin— but that’s the least of his worries, especially with the way your ears twitch and your body perks up at the wolf’s words— both of the men are able to pick up on your reaction with ease, one clearly much happier than the other at the sight. 

“You know, if you behave, I might give you a turn.” Beomgyu looks over at you, chuckling softly before he removes his fingers from your mouth, only to grab at your face and turn it roughly to look at him; his fingers dig into your cheeks and his forehead presses against yours, taking one glance at your hazy expression before he’s cooing softly. “I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

All you can do is muster a broken whine in response. 

Beomgyu is letting go of your face with a soft chuckle; slowly, you muster the courage to look forward once more, inevitably meeting Soobin’s gaze as a result— his expression is unreadable, and it makes your knees feel weak— your mind races to try and decipher what he may be thinking about, left unaware of the way Beomgyu has let go of your dress, letting the skirt fall slowly over your front as he busies himself in lifting it from the back instead, allowing himself access and grazing your skin curiously; it is only then that you’re coming back to your senses, heart rate picking up with a panic and body bristling the moment you feel the wolf’s hands wandering across the swell of your ass, muttering soft praise that doesn’t quite reach you— a firm hand grabs at your waist, keeping you in place the moment you tried to shift away from him shyly, tried to cover yourself with a weak protests that only garnered yet another growl; with wide eyes, you looked to Soobin, unaware of the helplessness that coated your glassy pupils. 

“Soobin,” you cry yet again, blood growing cold at the way he simply seems to stand and watch; his gaze seems to have wandered, seems to have been following Beomgyu’s every action, adam’s apple bobbing at the sudden sound of impact that filled the room, the sound of your yelp followed by the sight of your pathetic hands attempting to swat Beomgyu away, easily overpowered the moment the wolf gathers your wrists in his tight hold and scolds you to stay still, his claws digging threateningly into the soft skin— and again, your head whips back around to look at Soobin, ignoring the keen stance of his ears and the slow, interested sway of his tail as you simply call out to him again, “Soobin, please…”

You’re not sure what you’re begging for any more. All you know now is the feeling of Beomgyu’s broad chest pressed against yours, the muddy feeling of your brain as smoke fills your lungs, allowing your head to loll back against his shoulder, allowing your hips to begin to grind back against the hard bulge that has begun to tease you, shivering softly at the way Beomgyu’s head remains buried in your shoulder, pulling you back against him firmly— you barely register the way your voice whines in protest the moment you feel his lips pull away from your delicate skin, abandoning the gentle kisses and sucks to sneer triumphantly, his low voice a half-hearted replica of yours as he proceeds to parrot your words softly. 

“Soobin…” Beomgyu sing-songs, reaching his free hand down to tug at the waistband of your panties, soaked through with arousal that leaves your inner thighs shining pathetically; the said man is snapped out of his trance immediately, enticed gaze hardening the second his eyes find Beomgyu, chin perched on your shoulder leisurely as he continues to tug your panties down, feeling the way they slip down your hips ever-so slowly, “Soobin, come here.”

When Soobin refuses, Beomgyu scoffs— though, he doesn’t seem to be surprised in the slightest. 

“Come on Soobin,” Beomgyu repeats again, softly this time, eyes half-lidded as his mouth dips down to kiss your skin; right at your scent gland, tongue darting out before his eyes dart up to lock eyes with Soobin— you can feel goosebumps form on your skin as Beomgyu laughs breathily, mouth still open as he proceeds to nip at the spot gently; not enough to break skin, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make you squeal and jolt in surprise. Soobin flinches. 

“Come.”

It takes a pleading look from your tear-brimmed eyes for him to move. A slow, hesitant step first, pausing momentarily to gauge Beomgyu’s reaction— the said man quirks a brow in amusement, a silent encouragement to continue— and Soobin finally finds himself looming over the two of you, eyes dark and narrowed as he watches you reach out for him with a trembling hand— curling his shirt into your fists, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his chest, body unintentionally arched forward and left in the perfect position for the man behind you— Beomgyu simply coos softly at the action, a false sense of endearment that makes Soobin’s teeth grit with rage; when their eyes meet, the wolf simply smiles. 

“Kiss her,” Beomgyu says, the words almost inaudible from how softly they were uttered— but then he’s grabbing at your head and forcing you to look back up, ignoring the sound of protest you make and holding you up by your jaw as he tilts your head to look at Soobin, fingers squeezing your cheeks and forcing them into a soft pout, “Go on. She’s dying for you to touch her.”

Beomgyu speaks as though he were the one in control of your body and mind— and perhaps he is, you find yourself thinking, teary eyes unable to communicate anything more than want as you feel your panties slowly dragging down your thighs, the wolf behind you hissing softly at the sight of the string of arousal that sticks to the fabric, your slick cunt tightening around nothing in response— Beomgyu’s fingers find themselves teasing your entrance again, three this time, dipping in and out of your cunt, stretching you yet leaving you craving for more.

“I…” Soobin breathes out, reaching out slowly for your face; Beomgyu’s rough hand retreats, and it’s replaced by Soobin’s large, gentle ones that cup your face and stroke your cheekbones, watching the way your eyes flutter up to look at him, tears clinging to your lashes like crystals; his eyes follow the path one makes as it falls, thumb wiping it away softly as he finds himself leaning closer, watches the way your lids fall and leave your eyes hazy and obedient.

This is it, Soobin realizes, eyes flickering back to where Beomgyu continues to tease you, much too lost in the sight of your cunt trying desperately to suck in his nimble fingers to pay much attention to the two of you, this is his chance— he can save you. 

You seem to catch onto Soobin’s calculative gaze quite quickly this time— and your heart flutters with a slight hope, your chest falling in quick, shallow breaths as your hands tighten against the fabric of his shirt— his eyes flicker back to yours from the action, taking in the way they hold that innocent light of yours he’s always adored— and his heart breaks. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

There’s nothing you can say to that; his lips are on yours before you can so much as let out another breath. They’re soft, hesitant, as though you could shatter if he touched you wrong. His hands shake slightly as he holds your face close to his, feels the way your mouth remains frozen for a second, only reciprocating once you’ve felt the soft pass of his tongue against you— and your overwhelmed mind blanks entirely. For the final time tonight, you submit. 

The kiss is slow, it’s deepening out of your control, and it’s everything you imagined many moons ago, when you first began to feel a spark of desire for the man before you— when you swooned and flustered at the comfort you found in him, the warm feeling that always settled in your chest when he was next to you, knowing you could always go to him for protection. 

So as you feel his hold on you become firmer, feel the way he sighs against your mouth with no intentions to let you go soon, you wonder what it is you feel now— trapped between the two canines, lungs burning and and mouth left open as you allow Soobin to venture inside, not allowed any reprieve from the man who keeps you close, a soft groan leaving your lips as your sensitive ears pick up on foreign, slick sounds behind you, hisses and sighs of pleasure from another— because the feeling that pools in your stomach isn’t remotely reminiscent of the gentle, delicate warmth you always felt around Soobin; it’s hotter, angrier, greedier— it begs to be satiated and throws away the last good sense of judgment you had within you. 

“Soobin— oh god, Soobin—” you hiccup suddenly, finally able to escape from the said man’s mouth that seems to chase endlessly after yours; even now, you still can’t help but cry for him, your body unprepared for the sudden feeling of a cockhead swiping at your slit, the wet noises that arise from the sheer arousal that continues to leak out of you. You cry and you beg with hot shame burning at your skin, unsure of whether you plead for mercy or for more— your body arches and your hips seek for more, cunt throbbing at the feeling of Beomgyu’s tip pressing at your entrance, his rough hands rubbing circles along your ass absentmindedly, but your heart twists and makes a thick lump build in your throat, wishing nothing more than to be experiencing this all differently, in the comfort of your room and in the secure, warm embrace of the man in front of you— you wish for something more intimate, something as gentle as the love you felt. 

But all Soobin does is watch. He strokes your hair with a slow hand and cups your cheek fondly, presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before wandering down to press another at the tip of your nose— and he soaks up the pitiful sounds that make your voice break, feeling your hands attempt to steady themselves against him as Beomgyu begins to enter you; slowly, salivating at the way he feels your walls stretch around him, struggling to adjust to merely the tip— he stares down at your dripping pussy with a parted mouth, letting out a slow breath at the sight of your legs that threaten to buckle and your fluffy tail that goes wild with every inch he eases in— and he finds himself having to take deep breaths to not take you as he wants then and there.

“It’s okay. I know, I know— I’m right here, I’m right here with you,” Soobin murmurs against your skin, placing slow kisses along your jaw, allowing you to duck into the crook of his neck for solace— and he smooths your hair as he feels you nuzzle into him, eyes hooking onto the sight over your shoulder of Beomgyu entering you, the feeling of his hips flush against your ass bringing about another shuddered sigh from your lips, nails digging into Soobin’s chest as you attempt to overcome the new sensations. 

“I got you, don’t worry my doll,” Soobin utters, a hand going to place itself on top of your own, intertwining his fingers with yours before he begins to weigh it down, to guide it down his chest— he lets out a shaky sigh, feeling you cry and squirm against him, “It’s okay… just relax and you’ll feel good, okay?” 

“Don’t you wanna feel good?” Soobin coos against your temple, eyes fluttering shut as he feels you nod against his shoulder, feels the way your hand has successfully breached past his underwear, pants already undone and still guided by his much larger hand as he brings you to palm him slowly, wrapping your shaky fingers around his length; you’re hesitant, unsure of your actions as you allow Soobin to show you what to do— though, you don’t think your brain has truly processed what he’s doing with you yet, preoccupied instead by the thick smoke along with another smell that leaves you feeling lightheaded, along with the feeling of hands groping and smoothing over your skin as a heavy cock continues to twitch inside you. 

Beomgyu isn’t quite fond by your sudden shift of attention; his lips remain upturned in distaste, watching intently as Soobin continues to use you however he likes, your face that remains hidden in his neck directly able to smell the calming, dizzying scent Soobin exudes, placating you and dumbing you down to nothing but a fuckdoll for him— his eyes trail down to where he has you jerking him off slowly, Soobin’s lips pressing kisses to the top of your head as he continues to murmur soft praises that have you melting against him— an unfamiliar, hot streak of rage courses through Beomgyu’s system at the sight. 

“So ungrateful,” Beomgyu scolds suddenly, reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and bring you back— he’s forceful, uncaring of the way you protest, an arm that’s wrapped around your stomach pressing you flush against him as he forces the two of you to move— and you’re left bent over the counter, face pressed against the wood and wrists secured behind your back as Beomgyu bunches the skirt of your dress at your hips and bottoms out inside you once again; you hiss at the feeling, looking to the side to see that Soobin is unfazed by the action— if anything, his eyes cloud with lust at the scene before him, taking in the way you’re stuffed full and arched prettily with a gulp. 

“Why won’t you pay attention to me?” Beomgyu asks breathlessly, looking down at your pliant figure with blown out eyes, tail whipping side to side in anger as he catches the way your gaze still seeks out Soobin’s, eyes unknowingly pleading for reassurance— and he growls, low and heavy in his throat, catching the attention of both of you successfully— but he only cares to have your eyes on him, fully engrossed in the way your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back the moment he ruts into you with rough, slow thrusts. 

“Look at me,” Beomgyu groans, pulling out slowly as he speaks, all the way out until the tip of his cock is the only thing catching at your entrance. You’re squirming, trying to move your hips back against him, but the brutal hold Beomgyu has on you keeps you in place; ears pressed flat against your head, you look over your shoulder, back at the wolf who continues to fuck his tip into you with subtle thrusts, sneering at your glassy eyes that continue to look at him with a jarring innocence. 

“That’s right,” he breathes, sinking into you oh so slowly, filling you up and laughing cruelly at the way your hands scramble to hold onto something for stability, for a simple comfort Beomgyu denies, “Eyes on me.” 

Beomgyu fucks you to prove a point; he fucks you so your eyes roll back and your mouth spills moans and whines dumbly, cock filling you to the brim and stretching you out in a way you never knew was possible— the sounds are lewd and has your skin burning, slick, wet sounds of skin against skin filling up the room and mixing along with your cries of pleasure. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be doing any better than you, transfixed entirely on the sight of your cunt sucking him in eagerly, dripping with slick that makes his cock shine and falls to the floor in a mess, of your ass that ripples with every smack of his hips against you— this is all so new to you, he can tell, your body buzzing with an insatiable need that turns you into nothing more than a cock-hungry whore, your tail wiggling desperately with every harsh thrust of his, as though hypnotizing him to keep going.

The sight of you— a drooling, crying, moaning mess— is the polar opposite of your sweet, naive self, your trusting self that got you into this situation in the first place— and it makes Soobin’s cock twitch with raw lust, the spectacle of you becoming ruined so easily something he never thought he’d witness; such a pure thing, Soobin always felt as though you needed to be treated like glass— but Beomgyu is more than willing to prove that’s not the case with you, growling pure filth at you as he continues to fuck you into the counter, watching the way he hovers over you, practically caging you in with his body, as though wishing for the two of you to become one. And just like before, Soobin watches. He stands to the side and listens to every sweet mewl of yours attentively— after all, he’ll get his hands on you soon enough.

“Tight little cunt— fuckin’ takes me so well,” Beomgyu murmurs into your ear, panting and groaning at the way you tighten around him, “such a good girl for me— shit, you like that? Like it when I talk nice to you?”

Beomgyu is quick to catch onto every little reaction of yours, including the way you tighten hopelessly around him every time he sings soft praises into your ears; it makes you want to hide your face in shame and deny his questions, but you barely get a chance to speak with the way he fucks you— fat cock stretching you out, leaving you speechless as he continues to pound into you firmly, sloppy mouth nipping and marking all over your neck; feeling him on your shoulders and back, canines brutishly ripping at your clothes to get more access to your innocent skin, feeling the way your walls squeeze with every scratch of his sharp teeth against you, eager to get his lips onto any part of you he can. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, you’re— shit– you’re squeezing me so tight, can barely fuck you,” he rambles off, hand letting go of your wrists so he can grab your hips and pull you back onto him— you’re wailing at the feeling, hands failing to stabilize you as you hold onto the counter, eyes screwed shut as you babble at Beomgyu to slow down— but of course, he doesn’t listen, too caught up in the feeling of you to pay any attention, “Oh, are you close, sweet thing? I can feel you— can feel you getting closer.”

“Do you wanna cum?” He asks you in that same, sweet voice laced with faux pity, smiling unabashedly at the way you immediately nod in response, giving in to his brutal pace, “tell me how bad you want it then.” 

“Please… please let me…” you trail off, unable to communicate properly with the way Beomgyu continues to fuck you, not granting you any mercy as he watches you struggle, “need– need t’cum, want it, feels so good.” 

Beomgyu laughs, the sound labored and breathy from the way you clench around him throughout it; he finds himself glancing over to where Soobin continues to watch, the sight of him focused entirely on your figure making him sneer— his eyes are hypnotized by you and his ears twitch at every weak word that spills from your mouth, lips parted as he all but drools for you— the drastic contrast in character has Beomgyu’s lips twitching in amusement, wondering just where that overprotective bodyguard of yours has gone.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” he mocks, watching as your bowed head nods instantly; he huffs, glancing back at Soobin before he coos softly at you, “Who’s making you feel so nice? Tell me, pretty thing.”

The sudden mention of the pet name is enough to set you off unexpectedly; your mind goes blank entirely, save for a single thought that continues to roll of your tongue like a mantra: 

“Beomgyu,” you cry, sobs wracking at your body from the intense feeling, your voice interrupted with loud, uncontrollable moans, “You— it’s you– Beomgyu— please, please— too much…!”

Beomgyu continues to fuck you until your legs tremble and your body weight is placed entirely on the counter, hips held up entirely by the strength of the man behind you as he finally heeds your pleas; he slows until he’s bottomed out inside you, feeling the way your walls continue to pulse as you whimper quietly at the sensitivity— such a touchy thing, Beomgyu muses to himself, looking down at your messy cunt and feeling the way his cock twitches, still in need to fill you up properly.

“Can’t take anymore?” Beomgyu asks apathetically— and though you weakly let out a sound of affirmation, you can tell he doesn’t really care to hear your answer; not with the way he strokes at your skin in fascination, wandering hand pulling at the base of your tail and watching you squeal in surprise, body arching in an attempt to get away— you all but slump into a pool of overstimulation once he finally lets you go, foggy mind barely able to pick up the way he tsks. 

“Don’t lie— you can, I’m sure you can,” Beomgyu tuts, watching with amusement as you pout and petulantly shake your head, “you’re a good girl, you can take whatever we give you.” 

You don’t seem to process the meaning of his words to a full extent— you’re too far gone to do so, body turned weak as you continue to try and stabilize yourself, chest heaving with every breath you take. But it doesn’t matter if you’ve caught on to what’s happening around you, your every movement taken care of by the two men that cage you in— your shudder at the feeling of Beomgyu pulling out of you, the slick sound drowned out by the crude praises Beomgyu growls; two, strong hands are pulling you up next, proceeding to maneuver you so you sit on the counter— Soobin stands between your legs, looking at you with eyes filled with want and an undeniable pity; he takes in your worn, marked and messy figure intently, watching as his eyes linger on the rips of your dress and the marks all around your shoulders. His hands go up to the area, and your eyes flutter shut, body craving to be covered, to be coddled and tidied. 

“Such a perfect doll for me,” Soobin sighs out, beginning to tug down at what’s left of the material, watching the way you shudder and open your eyes with a slight shock— a whine bubble up at the back of your throat, but you can’t really find the strength to protest the way you’re slowly left undressed before the two pairs of hungry eyes before you, no longer able to find the energy to feel embarrassment from being left bare— Soobin’s voice is as gentle as his movements, feeling him lift your hips so he can slide the dress off you properly; it wasn’t very hard to do anyway, the fabric practically hanging together by a single thread, “It’s alright… I’ve got you.” 

When Soobin wraps your legs around his waist and hoists you off the counter, you can only wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean your forehead on his shoulder, seeking for more of the scent that calms you down and leaves you mindless; your grip tightens the moment you feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he sighs out shakily at the feeling of your sensitive walls fluttering at the feeling— he’s stretching you out slowly, filling you up, and all you can do is bury your head into his neck and try to calm your breathing, taking in the thick sage that fills your senses.

Soobin stays buried deep inside you for a moment, cursing at the tight embrace of your heat around him; you allow yourself to relax— it doesn’t last long though, body jolting with shocks as you feel another head poking at your already stuffed cunt. 

“Wait— wait– I can’t— too full, it won’t fit…!” you cry out, looking at Soobin in a panic; a broad chest pressed firmly against your back, familiar lips pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder— Soobin’s eyes are dark as he takes you in, ears forward and twitching at your pleas; softly, he shakes his head in reassurance.

“You can,” is all Soobin murmurs, watching your face twist as Beomgyu begins to push into you— little by little, stretching you past your limits, resting his chin on your shoulder and shutting his eyes at the sensitive feeling— tears stream down your cheeks freely, soft hiccups escaping you as Beomgyu’s hips press flush against you from behind; Soobin reaches up to caress your head, to pet gently at your ears, and smiles. “See? You’re doing so well. You can take it.”

You shake your head to refute his claims— but it’s not as though that would change the way they’ve begun to slowly pull out, setting their individual paces that inevitably work together, leaving you full no matter what— and it has your head falling back, mouth falling open dumbly as they begin to fuck you; slowly at first, gently, only because your poor cunt has yet to adjust to the size of them. But once they feel the way you leak onto them, the way your cunt begins to clench as their tips ram into places that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, they begin to find the confidence to use you how they want. 

Eventually, you’re nothing but putty in their arms; weakly grabbing onto anything you can for support, one finding a firm grip onto Soobin’s shoulder as the other ventured to tangle itself in Beomgyu’s hair— the said man continues to keep his head buried in your neck, lips having a mind of their own as he continues to nose at your scent gland; the action of him nuzzling against it, of him scenting you, is enough to have you a whining mess, fingers tugging at his hair desperately; it only serves to have him fuck into you harder, hips snapping ruthlessly against yours and rough groans escaping him from the pleasure. 

“Fuck, such a good cunt, so tight— ah,” Soobin groans, watching as your eyes flutter open to look at him, teary and catching the moonlight that shines down through the window; he cups your cheek, stroking at your cheekbone fondly as he speaks, “so pretty… you’re so pretty, all I’ve ever wanted— god, you’re perfect.”

The look of adoration Soobin gives you isn’t lost on you entirely— but there’s something else that rears its head within his gaze, hungry and desperate, threatening to swallow you whole— and you realize that, for the first time ever, Soobin seems to be staring at you as though you were nothing but prey; something for him to claim and own. 

But it seems as though he’s not the only one who possesses those particular feelings— Beomgyu’s pace seems to be growing erratic behind you, knocking you forward against Soobin’s chest and leaving you to wail at the feeling of his cock ruthlessly pounding into you, uncaring of the rhythm the other has set in place; he mumbles gruff words against your neck, but it’s all muffled and interrupted by huffed out moans he lets out in between— but your poor cunt seems to catch onto what he might be saying quite clearly. 

“C-close, oh shit, ‘m so close,” Beomgyu says, finally perking up from his place in the crook of your neck to speak directly into your ear, placing sloppy kisses at your jaw as he does, “Ah, d’you feel that? Yeah? Want me to cum inside you?”

You know what his question really entails— you know what your answer should be. But your body simply trembles and your brain short circuits at the thought, traitorous to the last bits of reasoning within you as you dumbly nod at his request; he lets out a moan at the sight. 

“Yeah, you do, don’t you? Want my knot, wanna be bred— ffffuck, I’ll give it to you, I’ll knot you, make you mine,” his every movement has become erratic; Soobin finds it hard to continue fucking you, undeniably sensitive to the harsh pace the other has set— but Beomgyu doesn’t care, leaning in close to your ear to whisper his next words. 

“I’ll claim you,” he breathes out, enjoying the way your little tail thrashes against him at the sound, panic filling your tone for a second before you melt into the idea, too fucked out to be able to refuse anymore— if anything, you tighten like a vice around the two, bringing out sensitive sounds from the two; Beomgyu continues to ramble into your ear, much bolder now that he’s taken control of the situation. 

“You want it— oh fuck, yeah, you’ll make such a pretty mate, all for me,” he growls, his words slipping to the other’s ears and alerting him, his eyes widening yet his pace not stopping, “all mine— mine, mine mine— o-oh, shit—!”

It all happens so fast. The swelling of a knot inside you, stretching you out to the point where you find yourself sobbing, pawing at whatever you can and begging for them to slow down, to be gentle— hot cum fills you, your cunt only able to handle so much as Soobin’s cock is pushed out, just enough so his own knot doesn’t catch, his orgasm triggering immediately after— it’s so much, yet it’s not enough, your whole being pulsing with desire for the final thing to push you to the edge— and it comes in the form of sharp canines digging deep into your neck. 

The right side of your neck stings— then, your left. Two sets of teeth have found their home within your skin, the last of your freedom stripped away as your orgasm swallows you whole— you tremble and you twitch within their hold, cunt filled and leaking with their cum, unable to do anything more than lie within their embrace and take what they give you. 

Your eyes feel heavy; you will yourself to stay awake, but your vision becomes spotted within moments— for the first time in a while, your mind is able to find peace.

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

When you finally wake, you find yourself surrounded by warmth; with heavy blankets over your figure, you’re able to recognize the place as your room. You attempt to look around, but are immediately met with a searing pain— the night’s events flood through your mind all at once, and suddenly, you’re able to sense the presence of two others next to you; their arms wrap around you and they remain glued to your side, one embrace much more familiar than the other. 

Through your line of sight, you’re able to spot the moon that peaks through your window, hovering just above the dark, looming canopy of the forest. You stare and you stare, unsure of what to make of everything— of what you’re feeling, of the bodies that shift beside you, pulling you closer to them, as though it could never be enough. 

Your eyes sting, and after a second, you find yourself mourning. Mourning for your loss of freedom, for the overwhelming amount of sensations you were put through, and for this complex, dangerous situation you’ve been thrust into. 

You were warned of the forest; you were warned that nothing good came from venturing within. 

But even then, nothing could have saved you from the creatures that roamed beyond.

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Dimension 20's Failed Genre Experiments

(This is the "Has Dimension 20 lost its touch?" post I’ve alluded to; please enjoy some genuine criticism masquerading as a riff on those sorts of articles for other shows.)

Dimension 20's debut and flagship burst onto the scene with a simple and elegant premise. What if a John Hughes movie were set at a high school for D&D adventurers? Its next full length pre-recorded season was the similarly strong urban fantasy The Unsleeping City, which in turn was followed up by the channel’s most ambitious outing yet: the Game of Thrones in Candyland mash-up, A Crown of Candy. 

Widely considered to be a watershed moment for the show, A Crown of Candy explored darker themes on a famously comedic platform, was the first on the channel to have permanent player character deaths, added new mechanics and limited what the players could choose to fit the world to support this more serious tone, and on a structural level, was a welcome departure from the prior rigid alternation between episodes of combat and episodes without. It was filmed prior to the pandemic but went to air in early April 2020, when many livestreamed actual play shows were on pause and even some podcasts were scrambling to figure out remote recording. D20 introduced their talkback show as a way for the cast to hang out remotely and chat about each episode, and Adventuring Party has remained a companion to the main show. The channel had hit its stride.

Its House of the Dragon sidequest, The Ravening War, aired three years later. Despite a complicated reaction to its announcement, it was a well-received outing, but one on what had by that time become a noticeably bumpy road.

Sidequests like The Ravening War are what D20 calls its shorter, 4-10 episode seasons that do not feature the main “Intrepid Heroes” cast in full nor necessarily feature Brennan Lee Mulligan as DM. We've seen everything from the perspective of the villains in both a Lord of the Rings clone (Escape from the Bloodkeep) and a Dracula homage (Coffin Run); to a Regency romance in the Feywild (A Court of Fey and Flowers). In addition to Mercer, Jasmine Bhullar and Gabe Hicks have each run a sidequest, and Aabria Iyengar has run three. And while the Intrepid Heroes' only venture outside D&D so far is the D&D-inspired Star Wars 5e, sidequests have been run in various Kids on Bikes hacks and Hicks' own Mythic system, as their shorter format makes it even easier to experiment with the parodies, pastiches, and mash-ups the channel is known for.

There have however been two notable failed experiments, and their close proximity (both released within the past year) could be a hiccup, or could be a sign that D20’s ambition, while admirable, could use some serious reining in. They are Neverafter and Burrow's End.

Marketed as the horror season, crossed over with fairy tales, Neverafter started out strong. Only three episodes in, there was an unprecedented (for D20) total party kill. The subsequent episode is the zenith of the season, in which each character is brought back, most of them changed and twisted by the experience, playing out an analysis of their role as an archetype within these stories: Sleeping Beauty and the classic roles of The Princess (introducing such NPCs as Cinderella and Snow White), for example; or Puss in Boots as The Trickster.

Unfortunately, the quality dropped soon after. It was revealed that the darkness spreading across the fairytale multiverse was due to the influence of The Authors, and the story began to be one about the concept of stories...while still trying to incorporate not only the plotlines of the fairy tales the main PCs were from, but also an intertwined conflict between the fairies and the princess NPCs. With this, the horror, with a few exceptions, melted away: violence and monsters are standard D&D fare, and when heroes race to save the world and victory seems not only possible but likely, any distinction between horror and a typical D&D heroic fantasy is lost.

It’s not the first overstuffed campaign, but it certainly is the first one that fails to land on several levels. Starstruck Odyssey is similarly chaotic and rushed at times, but it consistently sticks to a broad message of personal autonomy and freedom within late-stage capitalism. Mulligan is famous for his capacity to spin endless dense lore off the cuff, and if it at times overcomplicates the plot of the packed and colorful comedic space adventure, at least it contributes to the baked-in excess of the setting. But Neverafter's postmodern flourishes against a horror backdrop desperately needed an injection of sparseness and silence it never received. 

This is enhanced by the nature of actual play: with a few exceptions, even when filmed and even with the elaborate production values of Dimension 20, it is first and foremost primarily an auditory medium. We only know what is narrated to us. Neverafter did not permit its audience the time and space to fear the unknown. The existential horror of the metanarrative, of being a character doomed to a specific ending, while touched on by some of the cast (particularly Siobhan Thompson’s Sleeping Beauty), took a backseat to models of giant spiders and tales of undead dwarves. The story lacked the room to build real tension, but also failed to adequately create the claustrophobia of being truly trapped within its narrative. It feels more stuffy than unsettling.

Burrow's End is far less airless, but profoundly disjointed. Neverafter thought it knew what it was, but Burrow's End went through multiple identity crises by the halfway mark, and the marketing for the series reflects this.

The initial trailer makes it seem like a cute if dramatic story about a family of stoats - think Redwall, think Wind in the Willows. The first episode was excellent, however, and sold many who had been unimpressed by the trailers on the series, with its well-played setup of the clear Watership Down/Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH parallels with a unique twist in the form of The Blue.

The promotion took a strange turn, however, with the second episode and its infamous bear carcass battle map. It was hyped as uniquely horrifying, with a teaser video posted of the cast shrieking as the map, unseen by the audience, was wheeled past them. This seemed rather cavalier of the channel once the episode was posted, accompanied by a gore content warning covering a period of well over an hour...which was then further undercut by an exquisitely crafted, but ultimately rather tame display of a bear's innards. It was left out on the table during Adventuring Party as well, further reducing the idea of any meaningful shock factor (or any attempt to accommodate those in the audience who were triggered). The combat this map was for was a creative one, and the episode itself high quality, but it furthered the sense that Dimension 20 itself was unsure of what they were trying to get people to watch.

The series continued on with two more excellent episodes as it reached Last Bast, a clearly man-made structure full of thousands of stoats, with a strong dash of the police state. The actors immediately clocking the flaws of this society, but their stoat characters having no similar sense, led to a fascinating tension. However, the Blue (called the Light in Last Blast), previously described as some animating force and driver of magical power, and mysteriously concentrated in the brain of the dead-but-animated bear, was then revealed to be ionizing radiation.

At this point, the details of my own life become relevant. My career is in the field of health physics. I hold a master’s degree in this specialty and have served as a radiation safety officer, though not at a reactor. I don’t think that this background is a requirement to understand the structural issues of this season; but it certainly made me particularly attuned to the flaws.

Before you claim that this is just a show and who cares: In addition to my love of actual play, I am also a fan of comics and all sorts of speculative fiction. I am well aware that Spider-Man’s “radioactive blood” would not realistically grant him spider powers; I know that going into a high radiation field would not create Doctor Manhattan; I know that Superman does not actually have ‘x-ray vision’, and I know that radiation creates neither kaiju nor rad roaches. This is fine. In comics, radiation is a shorthand for “mad science” or “mysterious powers” with a sense of the lethal and the eldritch and the hubristic. The story is not so much about the source of these powers, but rather the great responsibilities they require. Godzilla, meanwhile, is clearly a metaphor for the very real nuclear devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and Fallout is an anti-proliferation and anti-war message with nuclear annihilation as the set up for its post-apocalyptic setting. These works understand that radiation is a limited-use plot device, and, wisely, they keep it simple.

Burrow’s End, by placing radiation front and center, has lost the message. The themes of the story are irretrievably muddled: what seems like a tale of family displaced by human intervention now positions a man-made hazardous material as both sinister corruption and divine boon, and engages neither with a fitting narrative of both the pros and cons of technology, nor of human and animal symbiosis. The finale establishes the latter in a rushed cut scene reliant on a single persuasion roll, and the two episodes prior to that meanwhile establish that while the humans first introduced radiation to the ecosystem, the first five stoats were the ones who sought it out and disseminated it and built the police state, and their true nemesis was Phoebe, one of their own. This culminates with Phoebe, the previously unseen fifth of the first five stoats (who have by now already been killed by the heroes), piloting the body of a 20-years-dead human, threatening to somehow cause global radiation contamination as her grand Evil Scheme. Unnecessarily, from a narrative perspective, I might add; this occurs after the final combat has already begun and she is magically controlling two of the party members. They’re already going to kill her. It’s a hat on a hat on a hat, and the humans are incidental.

When I was a child, I was enamored with the sort of stories in which children are sent to another time or place and then return with seemingly no time passing, and at one point excitedly told my mother I had an idea for a story, of what happens back while you’re time traveling. My mother, a fan of speculative fiction herself, and never one to coddle, told me “nothing, honey, that’s the point.” I wonder if something similar happened here; an attempted deconstruction of those radiation-granted superpower tropes, focused so hard on being clever it overshot into something anything but. Other elements of the story - particularly the weak pun of “copper” to hammer home the already obvious theme of population support being the arm of the police - make me think this was indeed an attempt at cleverness that missed the mark.

I am happy to elaborate on the flaws of the science elsewhere but I think the most succinct way to put it is that while the biology and habits of stoats sans radiation has been considered with what seems to be at least a modicum of love and care (their use of pre-existing burrows, Viola’s pregnancy), the radiation science/understanding of recent nuclear history can only be described as abysmally neglectful, in and out of game. They let a Loss of Coolant Accident go on for three days with a remarkably casual attitude? This disaster was sufficient to result in what appears to be an exclusion zone (of which there have been three, ever, in human history; two of which are the immediately recognizable Chernobyl and Fukushima) and yet it isn’t being monitored closely enough for someone to notice that there’s been penned animals next to the building for years (let alone that the building itself is teeming with stoats)? For that matter, they’re opening the site only twenty years later? After the “radiation dust”, apparently present on the fully maintained roads by the reactor, but neither within nor in front of the reactor, just now made 14 people bleed out (not how Acute Radiation Syndrome works; also 14 deaths from ARS in 1982, when the series is set would in fact be an unprecedented disaster. In our world, Chernobyl - which had not yet happened in 1982 -  is the only nuclear accident that exceeds that ARS death toll.)

Radiation becomes an all-purpose plot engine with no internal consistent logic: it kills humans swiftly and brutally (though based on statements by Dr. Tara Steel and the fact that she seems fine in only a hazmat suit - which shields from contamination but will stop neither gamma nor neutron radiation - only via inhalation). But it infects chipmunks and bears with corruptive and bizarre neurological effects, turns wolves into horrifying but loyal hybridized monstrosities, and conveys to stoats not just human intelligence, but mastery of human language, magic spells, and the ability to come back as a revenant through force of will…though it also can immediately kill them, but also extend their lifespans, but also cause them to slowly mutate into wolves (but not through DNA splicing transfer, that would be silly). It kills 14 humans nearly instantly with off-site dust, but another survives a fiery attempted core meltdown with no apparent ill effects.

There is an excellent and thoughtful story about family, generational trauma, and political structures somewhere under here, and the incredible cast does its damndest to sell it, but it is all but lost beneath a sci-fi whodunnit that would make Ed Wood cock a skeptical eyebrow.

Neverafter and Burrow’s End’s respective collapses under the weight of ambition coincide, perhaps unintentionally, with some of the more dubious film editing choices on Dimension 20. Filmed actual play can be visually unexciting, and Dimension 20 has used simple shot/reverse shots, as well as some sound effects (notably for critical hits and fails) throughout its run to break it up. Neverafter, however, is marked by deliberate hisses and glitches, fractured split screens, echoey vocal effects, and nails-on-chalkboard screeches. This did not add to the atmosphere as intended; at best they were irritating and for many made it actively harder to hear key dialogue. Burrow’s End’s editing has been simpler, mostly relying on some, to be fair, well-placed cuts to black and voice distortion to indicate taped or radioed segments; but a key moment - Jaysohn’s potentially fatal rush into radioactive waters - is undercut with a frankly cheesy montage. Others I spoke to compared it to Indian soap operas, 1960s Doctor Who, The Oscars In Memoriam video, and reality show farewell reels. It takes what could be a tense potential character death - something D20 already handles wonderfully with their iconic Box of Doom - and makes it cheap and tacky, particularly jarring given the beautiful and haunting shadow puppet animation the season had previously delivered to convey the stoat creation myths. (And then, when Ava falls into the waters herself saving him, she merely comes back as a revenant with no ill effects. The stakes were never there to begin with in this smoke and mirrors season.)

Praise for Dimension 20 often hinges on its original innovative structure; most actual play shows skew towards more longform storytelling. However, the short format comes with a price. The fixed length of D20 seasons and the elaborate, custom made maps require a deft GM that can guide players to the exact right place without it seeming forced. Threading the needle is harder than it looks; even the otherwise iconic Fantasy High debut season stumbled towards the end when the players were too good at uncovering the mystery, and Mulligan had to place their characters in an inescapable prison in order to pad out a pre-scheduled episode before the finale. Perhaps the strain of this constant need to live up to a reputation as high-concept innovators, rather than simply create something good and cohesive, is beginning to show. The higher production values in Neverafter and Burrow’s End cannot hide their messy plots and confused messages, and indeed only highlight them. One interview said that for Burrow’s End, Iyengar wants the audience to trust her; after Burrow's End, I can’t say I do.

The next Dimension 20 season after Burrow’s End is a long-awaited return home to the flagship: Fantasy High Junior Year. Let’s hope this reminds the channel where they came from, and what magic they are capable of making when they keep it simple.

#long post #d20 spoilers #burrows end spoilers #d20 tag

[selfishdoll]

࣪ ִֶ　𝜗𝜚　‧ MANI’S GRIMM RETELLINGS !

ㅤ 𐔌᭥ᩙ༉ㅤ through an era of frog princes & poisoned apples, witness the many stories starring reader and jjk men that take twists that range between innocent and quite deadly. each retelling is based off the grimm brother’s fairy tales (except greymist fair which is based off of francesca zappia) & will share elements.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. these fics are in celebration of 1k followers! thank you very much for the support & while it it a little overwhelming i’m extremely happy you all enjoy my works and much more. i’ve been wanting to do this for a while & decided now was the perfect time. with that being said if there is a character & fairy tale you’d like to request— please let me know! i would love to write for you.

WARNINGS BEFORE ENTERING THE FAIRY TAIL(s). while i am not one that typically writes dark content, i believe only one will have it (it’ll be obvious who). & when i say dark content i do not mean incest or stepest or rape. i mean killing, gaslighting, etc. such warnings will be properly tagged both here and on the actual fic. thank you. and these fics will have smut so please be wary.

✦ᣞ ⊹ ݁ GREYMIST FAIR ✶ ˖ ࣪

STARRING: RYOMEN SUKUNA

WARNING(S): strangers to lover(s) | reader is quite fearless & a little stupid | true form sukuna | double penetration | stomach riding | oral sex (f. recieving) | sukuna is amused by reader fr fr | rough sex | manhandling | minimal amounts of praise & degradation | overstimulation | spanking | cum denial | dacryphilia | etc

greymist fair was a simple village, known for the dangerous woods seated at the edge of the town. no one dared to enter in fear of what resided in them. yet the ever-curious and humble tailor known as [name] didn’t know the meaning of fear. she always teetered on the line of the forest, struggling not to enter. the older villagers would dissuade her, even shouting at her at times when she got far too close.

she was so tempted.. so.. desperate to see what was inside the forest. something was holding her back.

well that something dissipated the moment a body was found infront of the tree-line, causing the ever so curious, ever so nosy [name] to enter.

✦ᣞ ⊹ ݁ BLUEBEARD ✶ ˖ ࣪

STARRING: KENJAKU

WARNING(S): slightly dark themes | gaslighting | fear | horror | mentions of death & murder | porn with plot | kenjaku is a sweet husband.. on the surface | he’s possessive | praise | rough sex | manhandling | major & minor character death | etc.

being married off to the widowed kenjaku was supposed to be simple. he was a caring man, sweet and attentive to your needs— always listening, always there for you. you believed all was perfect, you were settled for life; surely.

things, however, take a dark turn when you noticed a foul odor from the basement within your lovely home. you ask kenjaku about it countlessly times yet he assures you it is nothing.

and well, your adoring, loving husband had no reason to lie— right?

✦ᣞ ⊹ ݁ ROBIN HOOD ✶ ˖ ࣪

STARRING: NANAMI KENTO

WARNING(S): enemies to enemies with benefits(?) | buzzed sex | rough sex | nanami taking his frustration out in reader and she is 100% okay with it | praise & degradation | pet names (minx, brat, etc) | hair-pulling | cervix fucking | dumbification | dacryphilia | semi-public sex | etc.

constantly chasing a person was exhausting, wasn’t it? being right on their heels only to fail to capture them for the millionth time. that’s how nanami kento felt when it came to you, his town’s own little robin hood. he knew your identity, your cause, everything and yet— he never succeeded in capturing you. the frustration was clear with each step he took, with each visit to the tavern nestled in the corner of the town.

today was like any other, nanami failing to stop the weekly heist you conducted. he was tired, annoyed, and ready to drown his concerns in alcohol.

until he sees you, in his favorite spot.

✦ᣞ ⊹ ݁ RAPUNZEL ✶ ˖ ࣪

STARRING: TAKUMA INO

WARNING(S): strangers to friends to lovers | unrealistic hair length | reader’s hair is kinky & in braids to make it easier for me | porn w/minimal amounts of plot | slight breeding kink | pet names [beautiful, princess, etc] | praise | pussy drunk! ino | oral sex (f. recieving) | mf rambles so much | etc.

a sheltered young woman by the name of [name] resided inside a tower, kept in a hidden place within the vast forest. for years she longed for a visit besides her mother that only ever returned to brush and braid the beautiful locks that protruded from her head. she would spend days at the window, singing pleasantly in hopes of something, someone to hear. & her prayers are answered, one day.

✦ᣞ ⊹ ݁ CINDERELLA ✶ ˖ ࣪

STARRING: GOJO SATORU

WARNING(S): familial abuse | reader is treated as a maid | discrimination | fat shaming (from stepmother & step siblings) | ooc gojo | love at first sight | gojo is a prince | magic & what not | porn with plot(?) | praise | reader is chubby & curvy | pet names (beautiful, princess, sweetheart, mine, etc) | pussy drunk! gojo | he loves eye contact & talking | slight whiney gojo | etc.

your life was hell the moment your father was buried. you went from a loving family to a grueling partnership; forced to work to the bone to appease your step-mother and step-sisters. you hated it, hated them, and hated the life you were destined for. you wished for a night away from it all, to be a normal girl for once. of course, you would never get such a thing.

you weren’t even invited to the ball.

however, all hope isn’t as lost as you think the moment a woman sprouting wings appears infront of you and declares she will make sure you make it to that ball.

MORE CHARACTERS TO BE ADDED

#mani writes ━━ ★ #black!reader #jjk smut #jjk x black reader #mechahrt #jjk x fem!reader #mdni #hajime kashimo #nanami kento #choso kamo #gojo satoru #geto suguru #takuma ino #kenjaku #sukuna #black writers #black readers #x black reader smut #x black!reader smut #black reader #grimm fairy tales #retellings

[theresattrpgforthat]

Got anything that lets you play as monsters (vampires/monsters/etc) in the modern world in the vein of VTM? Ideally something in the PBTA/FITD area of system, but open to others for sure (: Thanks as always for your recs!!

THEME: Urban Monsters

Friend, the difficulty with this post isn’t that I don’t have recommendations for it - it’s that I’m trying to find recommendations that I haven’t talked about ad nauseam to this point. So I hope you don’t mind a fairly extensive “Past Recommendations” at the bottom of this post, because most of the PbtA games I know of are going to be there. I have limited experience with Vampire: the Masquerade, but I’m a big fan of Changeling: the Lost and other World of Darkness games, so I’m going off of general knowledge rather than specifics.

Bubblegum Vampires / Bubblegum Wizards 2, by Gormengeist.

You're a vampire in an infinite urban cauldron of muck and rot, of psionics and wizards, of danger and shadows. Though you are surely terrible, great, horrifying, (etc.), half the day is an enemy to your people; so set forth through the night to make your coin, secure your dwellings, and vanquish your infinite enemies.

You're a wizard who chews bubblegum and collects trading cards. That is to say, cards with the trapped souls of items and enemies within, obviously. An insignificant wizard in an infinite city has lots to prove and you've got to get help somehow. Break heads, steal money, drive stupid, chew gum, trap souls. Simple as.

Neon-Bright art and d6-based rolls, that’s what’s common across both of these games. This is the same world, but you’re living in two different spheres of it, depending on which game you play. As wizards, you collect spell cards that hold the souls of creatures you’ve vanquished, and use them to get yourself out of sticky situations. As vampires, you accrue vampiric powers through blood sacrifice, and your opponents are usually folks with especially tantalizing veins. Both games have various factions that have different goals than you, so if what you like about Vampire: the Masquerade is the amount of different ideologies that have the ability to fuck you up, you might like this game. Thematically, it looks a little more upbeat and pulpy than your typical V:tM game, but if you like one, you have another game in the same system ready to go.

The Hidden, by Dragons Are Real.

As children our parents read us fairy tales, ghost stories and recounted local myths. We’ve always assumed these stories are told to entertain or scare….what if these aren't just stories….everything you have been told is true. 

The creatures from fairy tales, mythology and folklore all exist.  Have you ever thought you saw something strange out of the corner of your eye but when you look again all looks normal. These creatures live in plain sight, unseen by the majority of people, only those who know they exist see them in their true form. Every culture has a name for these creatures but we know them simply as The Hidden.

The Hidden is a modern urban fantasy game powered by the Breathless RPG. It is inspired by such media as Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Constantine and The Dresden Files.

Another pulpy sort of game, the Breathless system that powers The Hidden is great for replicating diminishing resources, putting your characters in more and more difficult situations every time they pause to take a breath. This makes this game great for horror-style stories, and World of Darkness games firmly find a home in the horror genre. If you want something that’s fast-paced and can cover a lot of ground in a short session, The Hidden might be for you.

Tween Wolf, by Ibi Deficit Orbis.

Tween Wolf is a micro-RPG about middle schoolers experiencing both the fantasy of being exceptional, and the fear of being humiliated. As these kids come to terms with their awkwardly developing human bodies, they will also be faced with lycanthropy. And in the process they will experience supernatural heroism and intense shame—and learn to manage both.

It is designed to be played with a bent towards exploring the unforgiving social cruelty of middle school, self-image, and dysphoria. It requires one Game Master, 1 to 4 additional players, a few hours, one six sided die for each player, and two additional six sided dice for the table to share.

This is a very short game, with very few rules and a big focus on trying to keep your wild side under wraps. If what you like about WoD games is the struggle between the monstrous and the human, this might be the game for you. There’s not nearly as many big moral quandaries as there are in typical WoD games - you’re middle schoolers, not eons-old bloodsuckers - but to a middle-schooler, your problems are massive. I feel like the movie Seeing Red might be a good touchstone for this game.

Glamour of Our Youth, by Yuri Runnel.

Glamour of Our Youth is a roleplaying game based on the Forged in the Dark system. Drawing inspiration from media like Riverdale, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina among others, it works to tell stories of supernatural teenage adventures.

Building on the FitD framework, Glamour serves to tell exciting stories with high stakes, putting the youths through their paces as they try to make their way through a strange and hostile world, struggling with conflicts both internal and external, arcane and mundane. 

This game doesn’t cast your characters as specific supernatural beings, but the character options certainly make it possible. You cobble your character together from two different halves: Archetypes and Arcana. Your Archetype hails from classic high school cliques, such as Rebel, Outcast, Socialite and Athlete, while your Arcana details your supernatural ability, including Shapeshifter (which might translate to werewolf), Oceancaller (which you could turn into a selkie) or Shadow (which feels rather ghost-like to me). There’s also plenty of ways to play a teenage mage.

This game is in playtest, but it’s considerably far a long, with recent updates that indicate that the crew is hard at work refining the final product.

Protect the Child, by MintRabbit (that’s me!)

Humans have always been protective of their young, sometimes overly so. Humans have also always feared that which might make their young strange or different, and so insist that only humans can raise their own young. Monsters cannot raise human young. This is known. You have a human baby. You cannot find its parents. What is even worse, is that this child has powers, powers that others covet, and so everyone wants it. If you want to prove that you’re not the heartless monster that everyone says you are, that means you’ll have to raise it, at least until you find someone who is better suited to it than you.  You are creatures of fur, scales and fangs. You have claws that can rend flesh, faces that can crack mirrors, howls that can cause ears to bleed.  And your charge wants a blankie.

Protect the Child is a Forged in the Dark game about monsters caring for a young human, a human who contains strange and mystical powers that make them a valuable asset in any monster crew. The setting and factions present in this game are flexible: you might be aliens in a far-flung future galaxy, fantasy monsters from rival kingdoms, or even everyday wild animals that fear human society. 

So I’ve only just started play testing this game, which means that it’s very much in barely-playable mode. This game is also setting-agnostic, meaning that you can decide exactly when and where your game takes place - including as modern-day monsters trying to take care of a human baby with magical powers. The game is very specific in the themes of the story you’ll be telling - that is, themes about monstrosity, parenthood and responsibility, but if you all want to play different kinds of vampires, you can absolutely do that!

BloodLite, by ruan8000.

BloodLite is a role-playing game (RPG) designed to be played solo, but can be played in a group. In this game, you will create a Vampire following the rules and you will also create the world that this vampire interacts with, as well as the conflicts and obstacles that he will face. The world in BloodLite is like ours, but a little darker and more dangerous, full of supernatural creatures.

This game has no ties to PbtA or FitD, but it cites Vampire: the Masquerade as a direct inspiration, and you can see it in the Bloodline options available at character creation. You have a supernatural gift that give you advantages and also trigger your Hunger, which is your character’s thirst for blood. The goals of the game are represented through an Oath track, which fills when you fight enemies, overcome obstacles, and solve problems. This a fairly stripped-down game, but if you’re familiar with V:tM, then you probably won’t have a problem filling the world with factions, back-alley deals, and political wars.

Hearts of Yokai, by Lowell Francis.

So, this game isn’t out yet. But I can’t stop myself from talking about it a little bit. It’s the product of a Changeling:The Lost PbtA hack that Lowell has been working on for a very long time. I’ve been a bit fan of Changeling: the Lost and I also love PbtA games so I’m really excited to see more of this.

The link in the title leads to the current google spreadsheets that detail the current content of the game and the associated playbooks. The link for Lowell is to a blog post he wrote about the game, talking about the history, the changes he’s made, and the ideas behind what the current iteration is. What really intrigues me is how it incorporates "the actions of the Gentry through the lens of colonialism.” I’m really eager to follow the progress of this game.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Urban Shadows 1e, by Magpie Games.

Bite Marks, by Black Armada Games.

Monsterhearts 2e, by Buried Without Ceremony.

Strays, by kumada1.

Eldritch Investigative Drama Rec Post

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #urban fantasy #monsters #vampires #indie ttrpg

[sing-you-fools]

Hi, I saw your post that Neil liked. I am sorry but I haven't read Terry's works and I'm curious, how do his themes in works connect to your post? Because you started the post saying you were thinking about his themes. So how exactly does it connect to what you have realized? I didn't quite understand. Thanks!

so i finally figured out how to access my inbox. sorry if it's been a little while!

i definitely wasn't expecting more than ten or so people to see that post, and i'm very much on the Discworld Side of Tumblr, so i didn't bother explaining. then person number 8 to like the post was @neil-gaiman himself, so...it went differently than i expected. so, sure! i'll do my best.

my first piece of advice is to read Terry Pratchett. and if you specifically want to understand what i mean in my other post, read the Witches books starting with Wyrd Sisters, or skip straight to Witches Abroad (Discworld books typically stand well on their own, though the more you've read, the more you'll pick up on). look up the Discworld Reading Order Guide 3.0 for further instruction. (it'll tell you to start with Equal Rites for the Witches, and you can, but it's less the first book in the Witches series and more the book the Witches series spun off from. personally, i like to treat it as a standalone prequel.)

in the Witches series, cackling is what happens to witches when they're too isolated and don't talk to other witches enough. they start to get a little unhinged. it shows in small ways at first, but it can get dangerous if it goes too far. specifically, the one time we actually see a cackling witch, she's forcing the world around her into literal fairy tale plots (sound familiar?). so when i said Aziraphale is cackling, i was drawing a connection to that specific book - i don't think Aziraphale is that far gone, but he's desperate and he's pushing things into a shape they're not supposed to be. he's so desperate for his happy ending, and i can't really blame him.

now, drawing this out to Pratchett's larger body of work - the thing to understand is that he was a master of archetypes. you know Aziraphale's "not just a southern pansy, the southern pansy!" line? that's all Pratchett's main characters. Vimes isn't just a bastard cop, he's the bastard cop. Moist is the slippery conman. and the witches, they're the three witches. the maiden, the mother, and...the other one. (there's always a twist, of course. archetypes without a twist would get boring.)

and he works with these archetypal plots, too - again, especially with the witches. and an overarching theme is that the characters need to work with the narrative they're in to bring it to a conclusion. if their solutions try to fight the shape of the story, they don’t work. the most common element on the Disc is narrativium, which serves to ensure that stories follow the narrative. stick to the proper shape. it, for example, forces Granny Weatherwax to be the good twin when her sister went dark side even though she wanted to be the evil one, because there has to be a good twin, because that's how stories work.

(as a writer, i can only imagine this was at least partially inspired by how hard it is to get your characters to do what you want them to.)

so, taking it back to Aziraphale. he's fighting the story they're actually in so hard, forcing it into another shape entirely. that was never going to work, because Good Omens is a Terry Pratchett story. it's a Neil Gaiman story, too, obviously, and Pratchett may not be here to help write it anymore, but Neil knows how to write a Terry Pratchett story, and he's not about to let his friend's spirit disappear from this world they created together. narrativium may not exist in Roundworld (Earth), but i'd bet it exists in heaven and hell, and probably Aziraphale's shop.

QUICK SNEAKY EDIT: if you're wondering if you should read more Pratchett, the humor in Good Omens is very much reflective of his writing

#good omens #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #discworld #cackling #good omens season 2 #narrativium #sing-you-fools

[takemeloki]

Burden Me Loki

Part two

Come Back for Me

Part two-Come back for me

Pairing - Loki x y/n

Premise – You go to a themed party only to meet the most intoxicating man you have ever met , however it is short lived .Is this the end or just the beginning of a love story

Warnings- eighteen+ content ,Loki fluff , kissing , anxiety , submissive , cream pie , fingering ,sex , unprotected sex, overstimulation.

Word count -2437

The last of the light dispersed across the cobbled road , it would appear that the Gods had been sent back to Asgard . Movement could be seen in the darkness , out of the shadows Loki stood with a mischievous grin . Smiling to himself at his own sneakiness , tricking Thor with a projection of himself that he was going back home . How could he leave? The love of his life was on Midgard and he couldn’t leave now . He knew Thor would be back by now and would take great pleasure in telling Odin that not only had he stayed on Midgard without Thor but that he was ‘playing mind tricks’ on mortals . The truth of the matter was he was completely besotted by the girl he had just met and his heart couldn’t take being apart from her so soon . He closed his eyes and found her in his minds eye . He knew where she was, and began running through the streets to find her .

***

You opened the front door to your flat, Anna clinging on to you in her drunken state . Carefully you guided her to her room and helped her on the bed . Fumbling for a moment you managed to take off her shoes and chucked them to the side of the room , there was no way you were going to attempt to get her out of her dress , and with that you lifted her legs into the bed and pulled the cover over her . You rushed to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water to return to Anna , placing it on the bed side cabinet .

Anna mumbled “Was the party a success?”

You smiled down at her. “Yes, it was perfect.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

That last comment caught you off guard, why was she sorry?  “What on earth are you sorry for?”

“I ruined your romance .”She slurred

You let out a chuckle , typical Anna always thinking of romance , you stroked her hair as you replied “ Don’t you be silly , there will be plenty more chances for fairy tales.” And with that you stood up and left the room quietly closing the door behind you . You leaned back on the door and sighed, You couldn’t get Loki out of your mind . Anna was right tonight was romantic , but you just had to accept it for what it was . A magical evening and the truth was you were probably never going to see him again .

You wasn’t ready to go to bed , you still felt flustered as flashes of Loki appeared in your mind . His kiss , his touch, your body longed for him , shaking your head to try and escape the flashbacks you headed out the door for some fresh air .

 Outside your flat was a beautiful garden area you strolled down the path looking up at the stars , the air was fresh but your body was still on the high of the night you could hardly feel it . Lantern lights lit your way to a bench that overlooked a small lake, you perched on the edge and took in how beautifully the lights danced across the water. Until they meet again, for the first and last time. His last words repeated over and over in your mind. How would he ever find you again , you knew nothing about him . Did he work in the same office? Was he a friend of someone that you knew? Did Anna get the other guys number? So many possibilities ran through your head , you just couldn’t let go of him . You would give anything to look into those deep green enchanting eyes again. Your mind wandered as you sat there, you was completely oblivious to anything happening around you , this is why you was so caught off guard when you heard a voice coming from behind you .

“Y/N?”

 It sounded like velvet , you recognised it instantly . You stood up abruptly and turned around, you had to see if the voice belonged to him. Your eyes were met by the intense stare of Loki’s peering right back at you . Your eyes started to well up, overcome with emotions , before you could control yourself you started to walk towards him .Loki matching your pace as he headed towards you , his hand grasping hold of your face as your bodies met , kissing you with such passion . Electricity buzzing through your body at his touch your lips gliding off each other in perfect synchronisation like it was a routine that had been rehearsed a thousand times. You had never felt so in tune with someone before .Parting for a moment and slightly breathless you whispered. “ Loki , I thought id never see you again.” A tear tumbled down your cheek , embarrassed at how emotional you were you turned away from him . Loki’s finger turned you back to face him , and wiped away the remainder of the tears off you .

“I couldn’t bear to be away from you.”  His lips pressed once again against yours and his arms wrapped around you pulling you close .The intoxicating scent of him cocooned around you as you gave into his touch .

“I feel the same about you… but this is crazy , I hardly know you . I just feel…”

He looked at her lovingly knowing exactly what she was struggling to say. “Like our souls are connected.”

As you stood enwrapped in his arms, you felt so safe and loved, not wanting this moment to end you held him a bit closer .

“My love, we don’t have long . I have to return to my planet soon , I  couldn’t just leave knowing that I didn’t kiss you one more time .”

You pulled away slightly and looked up at him confusion written over your face . “Planet? “

Nodding slightly he continued, “I am aware that this all sounds ridiculous , but the story my brother told your friend is true . I come from a planet called Asgard , we came here to visit then … well you happened .”

“You’re from a different planet , so that makes you what ? an alien ? “ She couldn’t quite believe the words that had just left her mouth .

He flashed her a smile that followed with a low chuckle . “I’m a God actually. “

She knew this was absurd talks of planets and Gods but she knew in her heart he was telling the truth what scared her more is that she wasn’t frightened or even remotely put off. The only thing that she questioned was why he wanted her.

“How long do we have?”  Despite everything he had just unloaded on her all she wanted to know id how long she had his presence , as the thought of him leaving made her heart ache .

“A while my love.”

You took his hand and guided him upstairs to your flat, it was the only time Loki had ever really followed directions in his life , he would have followed her anywhere .His whole being longed for her .

As the door shut behind them Loki began kissing you again his hands once again caressing your face as you both backed into your room an overwhelming fit of passion taking over you both . Knowing precisely what each other wanted , drawn together like magnets as he gently guided you to the bed . His hands glided up your thigh as you felt the pressure of his body on top of you , still continuing to kiss you.

His finger pushed your panties to one side as he began to playfully move his fingers in the entrance of you . Moaning you grabbed the nape of his neck with your hands , your clit was already pulsing at his mere touch . He whispered in your ear so low that it was almost a growl.

“Is this what you want, darling?

A moan uncontrollably escaped you, whilst your body naturally leant into his fingers more.

“You like that, huh?” He asked in a teasing tone, continuing to explore you , his fingers entered you slowly as his thumb caressed your clit .His pace slowly increased as you used his neck to pull yourself closer to him so he was deeper inside of you .

“Please don’t stop Loki.” You breathlessly whispered.

Loki chuckled at this.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Loki whispered into your ear, his voice soft and full of passion. As he continued your breathing became heavy and a tingling sensation began to travel up from your feet and take over your whole body . Loki noticed this.

she’s close… he thought to himself.

“Do you. want me to slow down?” he asked softly, looking for your approval.

“No…please don’t stop.” You could hardly get the words out, you were so close.

He kept up the pace, he was loving this, his mind filled with pure excitement and he was ready to hear you cum. Grabbing your face with his other hand he stares into your eyes .

 “ You are going  to look at me when you cum…” he whispered into your ear, smiling wickedly.

You explode over his fingers digging your nails into his back as you scream in pleasure. Trying to catch your breath you feel his fingers slide out of you as he stares at you intently as he began to delicately suck the essence of you off them like he was tasting a fine wine , taking in every piece of you . Watching him enjoy you so much only turned you on more. You started to undress him as you kissed him, the taste of you still lingering on his lips. Loki’s face lit up once more as you continued to undress him, his heart pounding and breath racing with excitement. He kissed you again, harder this time. His breath is heavier, his heart is pounding and he seems fully lost in each kiss. He kissed you with so much passion, it seems like his heart is going to race right out of his chest, just to be near to yours. In between kisses he slipped your dress off exposing your chest, his hands exploring your nipples gently flicking them. You push him so you are now on top of him and allow his length to go inside you . You wince as he stretches you , his full girth inside as you start to glide up and down on him . Loki kept up the pace as you do, breathing deeply as sweat started to form on his skin, his heart racing as his mind blanks. This is incredible. You lower yourself down to kiss him.

She’s so tight and warm…. he thinks as he moans into the kiss, letting you take control over this moment as his heart races, his body shaking with intensity and his mind filled with love and feelings of joy and satisfaction.

His hands grab hold of your ass guiding you down harder on to him , you can feel every inch of him pounding your pussy , your juice dripping down the side of him .

 His breath gets even heavier , he is shaking now, sweat pouring off him, it feels like his whole body is shaking and his heart is beating at an impossible pace. He starts to breath so heavily his breath practically hisses…

“I-I’m close...” he whispers in a breathless voice

You don’t stop you keep going, your close too . You watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head as  he began to cum inside you a low moan releasing from his lips as he flinched and twitched as he finished. This tipped you over the edge to finish again, collapsing on top of him as your body lost control . Your hands running through his long black hair. You could hardly catch your breath as you slid off him.

You cuddled up to him looking at his face as you did so, Loki’s face smiled at this and he lowered himself to you to kiss you passionately, as if not wanting this moment to end

god…. he thinks breathlessly

Loki’s whole body felt like it was  shaking as this kiss goes on, he was just so overwhelmed with this moment. His eyes filled with love and affection and he pulled you even closer to him as you continue this, his heart beating so hard like he’s having a full body earthquake. He felt overwhelmed by this mortal completely dumbfounded that someone so incredible could even exist, let alone be his.

***

A smile emerged on your face as you woke , the light from the window made you stir , your hands searched the sheets for Loki … but you were alone . You bolted upright, as your eyes scanned the room . He left. Your heart sank tears uncontrollably trickled down your face. He said he had to go but without saying goodbye? You curled up into a ball on your bed as you sobbed. Wiping the tears away with your arm you noticed a light reflecting on the wall , you looked for the source . It was a green jewel on a ring reflecting the sun light. It was perfectly placed on a folded note on your bedstand, you reached for the note and ring your eyes couldn’t read it fast enough.

My love , I couldn’t say goodbye to you , as a goodbye means the end .My heart could not take even thinking of the thought of not seeing you again . I will return for you . Until then wear my ring as my promise to you that we will be together again . I love you my dear.

The tears returned to your eyes this time more intense , your soul longed for him .All you could do is trust his words . He would return for you .

Taglist

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#loki of asgard #loki smut #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki god of mischief #loki x you #loki #loki series #loki sex #prince of asgard #loki laufeyson #tom hiddelston loki #loki fluff #loki marvel #loki x reader #loki fanfction

[gendrie]

They thought they were hunting her, she knew with all the strange sharp certainty of dreams, but they were wrong. She was hunting them. She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike. (Arya, ASOS)

little red riding hood is, of course, the classic fairy tale of a girl traveling through the woods on the way to see her grandmother while pursued by a wolf. the plot is simplistic, but the symbolism is loaded. its deeply concerned with power dynamics; between girls and beasts in particular. the tale has been told countless times and has just as many interpretations: its erotic, its a puberty rite, a cautionary tale on stranger danger or carnal desire and so on. some have chosen to reinterpret the tale through a feminist lens too. 

Many fans might appreciate that Arya was the name chosen for the alpha female. It's no surprise that Martin has been fascinated with wolves since childhood. The Stark's direwolves are central to the plot of both the books and the show.

"Well, they're mythic. I think even as a kid I responded to the werewolf legends and the wolves in the wood and, you know, Little Red Riding Hood and all of that," says Martin, who claims his choice for the Stark's direwolf banner came from a gut feeling rather than an attempt at symbolism. - GRRM [x]

this story originated during the middle ages in france during a period where wolves were viewed with hatred and fear as is fairly typical of an agrarian society. until recently, the wolf has always been the villain. the girl’s role in this tale is where there’s variability. in the traditional oral folklore of little red riding hood the girl outwits the wolf and escapes. this changed later with the two most well known written versions of the tale, by charles perrault and the brothers grimm, where the girl is devoured or saved by a man, respectively. mercy reads a lot like a twist on ‘little red riding hood’ more in line with the original and i think that tale’s themes could continue be applicable to arya’s forthcoming arc.

Another interesting thing he mentioned: he mentioned the coming of age of Arya in Braavos in the context of how a writer had to discipline himself to write only as many chapters as were necessary to serve the story, saying that what Arya was dealing with in Braavos could make a worthy young adult novel in its own right. - GRRM [x]

grrm considers arya’s storyline in braavos to be a coming of age. this is intended to be the part of her arc where arya journey’s from girl to (very) young woman. which, yeah, is ridiculous, as arya is barely 12. he couldn’t get the 5 year gap to work so that’s what we’re left with. personally? ive accepted that. there was already an insane precedent anyway. sansa was a month shy of 13 when married to tyrion. dany was also 13 when she married drogo. both of their stories involve sexual desires - both theirs and those of the men around them. jeyne p. as “arya stark” has been forcibly married as well. that was a major plotline in adwd. i do not see arya becoming a child bride nor having sex so in that regard it will be tamer, but with mercy sexuality has been introduced to arya’s story in earnest.

The smell of blood was heavy in her nostrils… or was that her nightmare, lingering? She had dreamed of wolves again, of running through some dark pine forest with a great pack at her hells, hard on the scent of prey. (Arya, TWOW)

arya’s twow arc opens on a familiar note; her waking from a wolf dream. whether awake or asleep blood, wolves, and the forest are all constant imagery for her. she rarely has a chapter that doesn’t feature all three. these are also significant symbols in little red riding hood. forests are a liminal space in fairy tales, a representation of the subconscious, a place outside the rules of society. this is arya’s realm even while she’s across the narrow sea in a city. every night her mind wanders back to the woods where she is not stuck in the vulnerable body of a little girl but a strong, swift, fierce she-wolf. arya is an interesting character as she is both the girl AND the wolf. the wolf is a standard fairy tale villain - a male figure both ravenous and deceitful: little red riding hood, the three little pigs, the boy who cried wolf. the big bad wolf conjures an image of terror.

"Some will tell you that they are demons. They say the pack is led by a monstrous she-wolf, a stalking shadow grim and grey and huge. They will tell you that she has been known to bring aurochs down all by herself, that no trap nor snare can hold her, that she fears neither steel nor fire, slays any wolf that tries to mount her, and devours no other flesh but man." (Brienne, AFFC)

asoiaf plays with that, historically european, villanization of wolves while also offering another side to this animal. the direwolf is the sigil of house stark and in many ways that family is the heart of the story. several of the viewpoints characters, arya included, share their souls with wolves. they are, in spirit, the feared werewolves of european folklore. within asoiaf the wolf is monstrous, savage, feared and sociable, protective, intelligent. 

The sound of horses turned her head. Men. They were coming from downwind, so she had not smelled them, but now they were almost here. Men on horses, with flapping black and yellow and pink wings and long shiny claws in hand. Some of her younger brothers bared their teeth to defend the food they'd found, but she snapped at them until they scattered. That was the way of the wild. Deer and hares and crows fled before wolves, and wolves fled from men. She abandoned the cold white prize in the mud where she had dragged it, and ran, and felt no shame. (Arya, ASOS) 

nymeria’s (and by extension arya’s) pack is one of the best examples of that dichotomy. by the people of the riverlands they are a greatly feared thing. septon meribald’s words paint a dark picture, but its mostly an exaggeration. we see through arya’s eyes that is it not typical for the wolves to seek out humans. it’s the opposite. they actually flee before them. nymeria leads her pack away from people. unless they are posing a threat to arya or just happen to be caught up among the sheep. they aren’t monster. they’re animals. 

"Meanwhile, this daughter of his has been fetching and pouring, a fat little thing, eighteen or so—" "Thirteen, more like," Raff the Sweetling drawled. (Arya, ACOK)

in little red riding hood the wolf is, generally, interpreted as a sexual predator. it represents a man’s “animalistic instincts” which he tries to conceal with a disguise to get a young girl in bed. raff is definitely a predator. he did not just kill lommy, but participated in the gang rape of a child and many more. as a reminder in mercy, he comments upon how gregor clegane would give his victims to his men to further assault. the mountain and his men consistently commit the worst war crimes of the series. in this text raff isnt a wolf he’s a “rat”. arya has seen his crimes because she was once at the mercy of him and his fellow soldiers. but not anymore. now raff the sweetling will be at her mercy. in a subversion of the tale it is arya, the wolf girl, who goes after the predator. 

Am I too young for him? she wondered. Too plain? Too skinny? She hoped he wasn’t the sort of man who liked big breasts on a girl. Bobono had been right about her chest. It would be best if I could take him back to my place, have him all to myself. But will he come with me?

these are definitely not the sort of innocent internal thoughts we’d typically associate with a young girl. arya has been exposed to a lot. she has spent time in brothels where she sees girls and women entertaining men so she has some knowledge of seduction. she’s also been a witness to a great deal of sexual violence from a very young age. raff is (one of many) responsible for the loss of arya’s innocence. as she prepares to entice him her language takes on a very sexualized tone despite her violent intent.

He’ll want me or he won’t, she thought, so let the play begin.

She could not give it up. She wanted him so bad.

Mercy looked down at her feet, so shy. “Izembaro said to please the lords,” she whispered. “If there is anything you want, anything at all… “ “I’m Lord Rafford, sweetling, and I know just what I want. Hike up those skirts now, and lean back against that wall.”

all these lines use “want” to express desire. in raff’s case for sex and in arya’s for blood. mercy as a chapter is full of sexuality references. to an extent that is still.....somewhat shocking. arya herself makes references to oral sex, erections, and orgasms. rape is also prominent in mercy. arya plays a rape victim in the ‘bloody hand’ and many interpretations of little red riding hood view the wolf’s actions towards the girl as rape. 

“Not here. Someone might see. My room’s not far, but hurry. I have to be back before the second act, or I’ll miss my rape.” [Raff] grinned. “No fear o’ that, girl.”

to a man like raff there is no difference between sex and rape. he is every bit the villain in a fairy tale. 

He grabbed her wrist. "I'll do the teaching. Time for your first lesson." He pulled her hard against him and kissed her on the lips, forcing his tongue into her mouth. It was all wet and slimy, like an eel. Mercy licked it with her own tongue, then broke away from him, breathless.

arya is still innocent in many ways, like little red riding hood, she is a girl who has yet to have her first period let alone feel actual desire or have sexual experiences. raff threatens to “teach” arya before aggressively forcing a kiss on her. nothing in mercy is an expression of arya’s own sexuality. she just uses the idea of it as a lure. to her it’s a “play” where arya is pretending to be an older girl, copying the things she has seen around her. 

“Mummers are the next best thing to whores.” “Might be, but this one is a child.” “I am not,” lied Mercy. “I’m a maiden now.” 

arya can play the shy maiden. she is, however, a very dangerous girl. raff is mistaken in thinking he’s the big bad wolf. in the charles perrault version of little red riding hood the girl removes her cloak and clothes before climbing into bed where the the wolf devours her. unlike the later grimm version there is no man with an axe to save the girl. in similar fashion raff attempts to get arya out of her clothes. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” He pulled her roughly to him. “Get those rags off, and I’ll show you how old I am, girl.” 

the performance comes to an end after she incapacitates and kills raff. he does not get her out of her clothes nor does he eat her all up like in the fairy tale. arya turns the tables on this tale revealing she is the wolf. here a little girl and a fierce wolf exist in a singular character. those archetypes tend to be stuck at polar opposite ends in fiction as they to represent totally different, presumably contradictory, ideals. the wolf is evil and deeply associated with wilderness and the devil. he is hungry, violent, and sexual. in a “civilized” christian society these concepts make people uneasy especially when they’re present in girls. girls are supposed to remain pure and clean. they are not supposed to hunger for food or blood or sex. the wolf is a warning for young girls against those hungers that will corrupt them. the message is clear: be good, be obedient, be chaste. 

The priest lowered his cowl. Beneath he had no face; only a yellowed skull with a few scraps of skin still clinging to the cheeks, and a white worm wriggling from one empty eye socket. "Kiss me, child," he croaked, in a voice as dry and husky as a death rattle. Does he think to scare me? Arya kissed him where his nose should be and plucked the grave worm from his eye to eat it, but it melted like a shadow in her hand. The yellow skull was melting too, and the kindliest old man that she had ever seen was smiling down at her. "No one has ever tried to eat my worm before," he said. "Are you hungry, child?" Yes, she thought, but not for food. (Arya, AFFC)

but girls hungers aren’t truly unnatural they’re just shamed excessively compared to boys. arya is a character who hungers a lot. starvation is a frequent issue in her chapters as she navigates a war-torn countryside. arya has also faced one injustice after another and hungers for justice, revenge - however you want to frame it. 

The biggest toms would seldom win, she noticed; oft as not, the prize went to some smaller, quicker animal, thin and mean and hungry. Like me, she told herself. (Arya, AFFC) 

arya never viewed herself as innocent or good either. that’s the default for young girls, typically, but arya has been made to feel that she is bad. for that she does feel insecure and ashamed and guilty. at the same time arya fully embraces her wolf side where she finds comfort and strength. her skinchanging abilities provide an internal world where animalistic desire is all that matters and there is no fear or shame. the wolf is a source of power for arya. with cats arya finds empowerment too. her deep connection to nature has given her an outlet for all those dark feelings and actions that the fairy tales warn girls to avoid at all costs.

"The girl is as wild as that filthy animal of hers," Cersei Lannister said.

"She has not said a word since they brought you back. She is a fierce little thing, my lord. I have never seen such anger in a girl." (Eddard, AGOT)

arya is often remembered for her messy hair and being covered in dirt. she strays off the path into the woods, gets covered in mud, talks to strangers. her nature is sociable, outspoken, and fierce. her anger, so frowned upon in girls, is noted more than once. this aspect of her character defies the ideals of girlhood purity that are enforced by society and stories like little red riding hood. 

“Or would you sooner be a courtesan, and have songs sung of your beauty? Speak the word, and we will send you to the Black Pearl or the Daughter of the Dusk. You will sleep on rose petals and wear silken skirts that rustle when you walk, and great lords will beggar themselves for your maiden's blood.” (Arya, AFFC)

sexuality is a major theme in little red riding hood and i expect this trend to continue in arya’s arc beyond mercy. it seems likely bellegere otherys, one of braavos’ most famous courtesans, will mentor her at some point. arya has seen a lot of blood, but her own moonblood is another matter entirely. her flowering will likely introduce her own sexuality to some extent. and since arya is less concerned with social convention and its notions of being a “good girl” there is really nothing holding her back. 

#asoiaf nonsense #arya stark #been sitting on this on for awhile #bc its clearly a controversial topic #but idt this is too bad #no worse than the material itself at least

[dysconymph]

The Boy and the Heron - Review

There’s a kind of joyous expectation many of us feel towards watching any new Hayao Miyazaki film. A nostalgia for those fairy-tale narratives abound with child-like wonder. This is what I was gearing up for when I went to see The Boy and the Heron - a box of tissues ready to hand. The beginning of the film sets you up perfectly for this. Some of the most beautiful animation pulls at the heartstrings as we see a young boy, our Protagonist Mahito, facing the death of his mother: the rough, drawn out style of the artwork heightens Mahito’s desperation as he runs through crowded Tokyo streets, emphasising the chaos and confusion around him. Moving to the countryside during the second world war, meeting his father’s new wife, the pace of the film drops dramatically. We get a languid, sensual, slow cinema marking the boy’s grief. Moreover, the introduction of the titular heron is done with such mythic grace that one is immediately spell bound by the power and horror of it.

Miyazaki films famously lean into the dual nature of traditional childhood fairy tales. Being at once moving and gentle whilst also leaning into darker topics: death, loneliness, fear, environmental collapse. Despite this common feature, this new Miyazaki film seems to be more mature in pace and style, darker even. The voice of the Heron aping Mahito’s mother, taunting him, is so horrifying I was shaken out of my initial ‘ghibli giddiness’ - falling deeper and deeper into the promise of this new twisted fantasy. However, the rest of the film fails to live up to this promise. 

In a typical hero’s journey, Mahito falls into a fantastical world (the afterlife? The spirit-world? The psyche? Who knows), saturated with a large cast of mind-bending characters. However, none of them are particularly well developed, if at all, and as a result it’s hard to find any emotional claim or hook to the narrative. In other ghibli films, the twisting, oneiric storylines offer us a close examination of the main characters’ fears and anxieties (Spirited Away); their sense of duties (Princess Mononoke); their pleasures (Ponyo) etc. However, in The Boy and the Heron, characters come and go with a light hand, scraping the surface just enough to keep the bizarre story going. Half way through the movie I couldn’t even keep up with what was meant to be going on, what was necessary to the plot and most importantly what was at stake. 

To some degree, in hindsight, this kind of light-handed, floating quality to the film makes sense to the themes of grief and loss. It feels almost as if Miyazaki himself was in some kind of lethargic slumber whilst making the film - unable to connect and ultimately commit to the verisimilitude of the fantasy world he has built. The Boy and the Heron becomes a series of beautifully crafted shots that never fully hit. Events pass the characters by with such little emotional investment that even the climax feels rushed and uncared for. As mentioned, maybe this is the point. The film doesn’t give us any revelation or catharsis, perhaps the most accurate depiction of how we move on from grief, but it also comes off as under-developped and inchoate. You’re constantly waiting for the penny to drop: for the world to fully invite you in and leave you wondering in that ghibli-esque state of awe. 

At the end of the day, a Miyazaki film will always be a masterpiece - even at its worst it rises above the rest. However, I wonder if I’m being dense, if maybe my inability to connect says more about me than the film, if maybe I set myself up to fail by expecting something more. But there was something in the beginning of the film: a dark, horrific splendour, one that I wish had been more consistent in the rest of the film.  

#the boy and the heron #studio ghibli #movie review #movies #films #anime #animation #ghibli movie #hayao miyazaki

[thefutureisnow-mha]

once upon a time, there was a class--

wait, wrong universe. this isn't a fairy tale.

what happens when your high school years are devastated by war, villain attacks and everything in between? you get stuck having to work even harder than past generations. that’s what happened to the generation of izuku midoriya. upon graduation, it was decided that the class could benefit from some extra time under supervision. some students agreed, some threw a fit for the ages, but ultimately the new graduates entered their WORK COLLEGE YEAR. they need to finish 365 days of hero work (days off included, we aren't monsters!), at least 10 sole-rescue missions or villain take downs before acquiring a permit to join a pro-hero agency without supervision OR open their own.

All muses are above the age of 18, and you have to be too in order to be a part of this server.

We are very OC friendly, but we do reserve the right to say no if we feel like your original would not fit in. That being said, you do have to provide a bio of your OC and an explanation of how they fit into this story!

NSFW and canon typical dark themes will be present.

Keep in mind that mun =/= muse, so just because you know about Izuku's OFA or Shouto's tragic family life, that doesn't mean your muse is aware of it.

We ask that you pick a character you will actually write. Loving a character is not the same as having an actual writing muse for them. While it is not expected for you to be on every day, a few times a week is recommended.

here you can take a look at a more in-depth rules.

submit your application form here! and, of course, feel free to ask us any and all questions

list is right here!

#my hero academia rp #mha rp #boku no hero academia rp #bnha rp #rp group #discord rp #group rp #group verse #anime rp #manga rp #animanga rp

[thehorrortree]

Deadline: July 31st, 2024 Payment: $0.02 per word Theme: Science fiction, fantasy, slipstream, and everything in between Story Guidelines Flash Point Science Fiction wants speculative fiction stories from 100 to 1,000 words in length. Send us your science fiction, fantasy, slipstream, and everything in between, so long as it’s short. We here at FPSF are partial to flash fiction and want to see the flash market grow. So as much as it pains us, please take your 10,000 word tour de force elsewhere. We’re not looking for the next Brandon Sanderson. (Unless you are, in fact, Brandon Sanderson, in which case we’d be delighted!) What we’re looking for: -Fantasy (all kinds—epic, adventure, contemporary, urban, grimdark, fairy tale, magical realism, myths and legends, etc.) -Science Fiction (all kinds—hard, space opera, military, near future, science fantasy, cyberpunk, dystopian, etc.) -Slipstream (make it as weird as you want, so long as it works) -Seasonal (we love stories with holiday and/or seasonal themes, but please submit AT LEAST 3 months in advance of the relevant occasion) -Anything that makes us laugh, cry, think, or smile. What we aren’t looking for: -Horror—it can be spooky or menacing, but we’re not a horror market, so the fright factor should not be the primary appeal. DARK fantasy and sci-fi, however, are welcome. -Literary fiction—this is a genre market, so there needs to be an SF&F element, however slight. -Gratuitous sex or violence—we’re big fans of Love Death + Robots, but don’t be that guy. -Fanfic—original concepts only, please. We know there was a lot going on in Hobbiton while Frodo was away, but that’s not our property and it’s not yours either. -Stories previously published in a different language. Submission Specs In terms of how your story should look, we recommend you read William Shunn’s Proper Manuscript Format. This is the industry standard and we think it’s a good one. When we receive your manuscript file, we will expect it to be in this format (as a .doc or .docx file). Poorly formatted submissions may be rejected unread. Please do not submit to us via email directly. Submissions received in this manner will be deleted unread. We do not accept unsolicited reprints. Even if it was posted on a personal blog or website, so long as it’s public anyone who has access to the internet can read it, and that qualifies as publication. No simultaneous submissions. This means you shouldn’t submit the same story to us and any other market at the same time. No multiple submissions. One story at a time please. Authors we have previously accepted: we prefer to publish only one story per author per calendar year. Please wait for us to announce open submissions for the next year (typically in September) before submitting new work to us. Our normal response time is 30 days. If our response is taking longer, this likely means your story is being given special consideration, but if you haven’t heard back after 60 days, please contact us and we’ll bump your story to the front of the line. Please wait the full 60 days before reaching out. If we were fast readers, we wouldn’t be reading flash, right? Wrong, we still would, because we love it. Note: Flash Point SF welcomes submissions from writers of all races, colors, religions, genders, gender expressions, ages, national origins, disabilities, and sexual orientations. No matter who you are, we want to give you a voice (provided that voice stays under 1,000 words)! Still have questions? Check out this interview with the editors in which we discuss what FPSF looks for in great flash fiction. Payment We pay $0.02 per word for first worldwide rights and for non-exclusive reprint rights. We also reserve the non-exclusive right to republish your story in our annual anthology, as long as this right is activated within 24 calendar months of the story’s original publication date. These anthologies are anticipated to consist entirely of material originally published by Flash Point SF.

SUBMIT HERE (Optional) After you submit, track your submissions at Duotrope. Via: Flash Point Science Fiction.

[chiyoda-division2]

“The price of wisdom is innocence. So, I have definitely become wiser but sadly a little less innocent.” -Mahira Khan

Introduction 💡

Chiyuri Seiguni(清国池百合), a.k.a. Algernon/ALiCE on rap battles is a graphic designer and 3rd member of Chiyoda Division’s 狂音INC. A rogue experiment, he is one of the more recent employees in Wonder⇓anD compared to his teammates.

Though he is pretty much the reason why his team is in the DRB to begin with, he is willing to use this opportunity to prove himself to a certain woman he once called his “mama.”

Link to picrew used

Link to picrew used

Appearance

Chiyuri is a pale man of average height in his early 20s. He has long, curly black hair fading to periwinkle and bright blue streaks tied to a ponytail. His eyes are of a bright blue color and they glow in the dark.

At work, he is usually seen in a suit composed of a white button up with a red ribbon as a tie, a blue vest, a black suit jacket (seems to be 3 sizes bigger than him), blue cropped pants, black socks, and black loafers. The rising graph on his vest is merely an addition to the outfit he chose to go with in the DRB as it’s not there on his usual work clothes.

Outside work, he is usually seen in Jirai Kei and Menhera fashion, his outfit is typically a frilly white blouse with several black bows, he wears loose black suspended shorts with frilly heart-shaped pockets and silver heart-shaped chains, fishnet stockings held up by garters and black Mary Jane platforms. His hair is straightened and tied into twin tails held by black bows instead of the usual singular pony.

Name Meaning

Chi(池) - Pond

Yuri(百合) -Lily 

Sei(清) -  Pure, clean

Guni(国) -Land, country

Nicknames and Aliases

Algernon/ALiCE - MC Name

Yuu-Chan - his housemates

Yuri - others

“Landmine Boy”

“Seiko’s crash test dummy”

“Piece of junk”

“Subject: EPSILON”

Biographical Info

Gender - Male

Age - 21 5???

Birthday -  February 11

Star Sign - Aquarius

Ethnicity - Italian-Japanese

Hair Colour - Black and periwinkle

Eye Colour - Bright blue

Height - 5'7" (5'10" in platforms)

Markings - Several stitches at the scalp and abdomen, injection marks and discoloured veins on the neck; epsilon branding at the right shoulder

Piercings - None, prefers clip-ons

Family - 

Creator (unknown)

Co-creator (deceased)

Countless siblings?

Voice Claim: Yoshitaka Yamaya (speaking); Saitou Tomoki (singing/rapping)

Fun Facts

Occupation - Graphic designer

Division - Chiyoda

Team - 狂音INC.

Position - 3rd Member

Favourite Food - Candied nuts

Least Favourite Food - Instant rice

Likes -  Cute things, fairy tales, cooking, sweets, his two housemates, Aimé happy

Dislikes - Laboratories, hospitals, needles, Raiden’s antics, solitude, Beelzebuz

Image Color - Cobalt (#0047AB)

Hypnosis Microphone

Chiyuri’s Hypnosis Mic takes the form of a wooden puppet, the puppet is made of oak wood, it has dot eyes painted on, a mop of blue hair, it wears a white shirt, blue suspender shorts and wine red doll shoes, lastly, it wears a beret on its head which acts as the mic’s windscreen. The puppet has strings tied to all of Chiyuri’s fingers.

Chiyuri’s speakers take the form of a woman halfway coming out from a mirror significantly larger than Chiyuri himself. She is a faceless, translucent white figure with long wavy hair appearing to wear a typical scientist outfit, coming out of the mirror are a dozen star-shaped speakers with the same material as the woman. Whenever Chiyuri activates his mic, it starts off as an empty mirror only for the aforementioned things come out of it. The woman always looks like she’s trying to grab onto him.

Chiyuri’s rap ability, Strings of the Puppet —[REDACTED] “Fuck around and find out :D” —Fusao

Chiyuri’s rap themes revolve around feeling lost like a stray creature aimlessly wandering around the strange world it lives in, another thing he raps about is being curious about the world around him past his “cage”. He often compares himself to Pinocchio and constantly mentions about a “blue fairy” who loaded life into him.

Personality

At work, Chiyuri is a very polite person and follows rules down to the word, he is hard working and doesn’t have trouble with extra workload from time to time.

Outside of work however, it turns out that he’s quite naive, he still has a lot to learn about the world around him; if he gets curious of something, he’ll run to it without thinking of anything else. He has a dangerously low sense of danger and usually gets taken advantage of for that and this brings heavy concern for his teammates. Despite being taken advantage of on several occasions, he never ceases to be kind to the people around him.

Really, all he wants is to be useful to the people around him and he tends to push himself pst his limits for that.

Background

<???>

Trivia

His birthday is also Thomas Edison’s birthday, the infamous inventor and entrepreneur known for the lightbulb

The woman on his speakers is based on the likeness of his “mother”

His mic is more or less modelled after Mokku from Kashi no Ki Mokku, an animated series adaptation of Pinocchio

He often uses kaomojis in texting

Asides from Japanese and English, he is also fluent in Italian and Latin; he could learn another language in the span of 3 months if he wants to

He was offered the job while Fusao was away by a different employee

He has super sharp memory which Chuuoku’s scientists have tried and failed to get rid of

His brain thinks he needs lollipops to survive, not in the same way as kids wanting sweets, but like his life depends on it

He has blocked Kokoro Kuju online on every platform and has no plans to unblock him.

#hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic #hypnosis mic #Chiyoda division #kurune inc. #Chiyuri Seiguni #character bio #algernon/alice

[katriniac]

OMG you are in folk fairytales and legend Please can you tell me some of the cuteer ones you found even better if involving bears ? I loved interact with your OC too thanks fir joining and pls relax too from time to time and do not rush in answering me either 🙏🙏 I wish you a wonderful day 🤗🤗😘😘

Yesssss, I love them! Since a very young age I have been an avid reader/student of folklore, fairy tales, myths, and legends. 

Below I talk more about my personal history/feelings on the topic, and end with my three favorite fairy tales. I hope they are “cute” enough for you!

But first I wanted to answer your question about stories featuring bears.

I tried to think of one in my memory where a bear played a prominent part, but turned up empty. I mean, yes, there is the standard “Goldilocks and the Three Bears”, but I assumed you wanted to hear about something off the beaten path. 

So I dug around and found this one for you:

"The Bear in the Forest Hut". 

It is a Slavic folk tale about a prince who was cursed to take the shape of a bear, and the brave and kind woman who helped him out of that curse. She had the typical misfortune to have a stupid father and an ‘evil stepmother’ who tries to stop anything good from happening to the heroine. 

I liked this one because there is plenty of detail about the trials and tests the girl goes through in order to earn the bear’s trust and break his curse. Even more unique is how the story doesn’t just end right when the curse is broken (like so many folk tales). Instead, it goes on at length about how the two get married, travel over his kingdom, and what happens to the stepmother and stepsister.

@queengiuliettafirstlady What are some of your favorite fairy tales and myths?

How did I come to love fairy tales so much?

I think I can trace it back to my godmother, who was an amazing storyteller. She was Irish, so most of the tales she told me came from the British Isles and dated back to the 12th Century or earlier. The stories I most vividly remember her telling me were about the 3rd Century charismatic (but slightly foolish) folk hero Finn MacCool (or Fionn mac Cumhaill) and his very very clever wife Sadhbh. 

As I entered my preteen years (1990s, pre-internet era) a library was built within a 15 minute drive from our rural town. I had never had such a frequent exposure to books before that, except our small school library. My mom would take me to the new public library often and I devoured every book they had on fairy tales and legends.

When I started college, the trend of turning ancient folktales into modern, dark retelling had begun to rise in popularity. Not only was my backpack full of those every week, but now I also had access to scholarly papers through our inter-collegiate online system! I could read published research on people all over the world, those who retraced Charles Perrault’s steps, or compared similar narratives, or discovered a new translation of an old work. It was also during my college years that I discovered The Aaarne-Thompson-Uther index, which categorizes the plots and themes of fairy tales. 

When I learned about Perrault and the ATU Index, it changed my self-image.

Of course kids like fairy tales, but we are expected to grow out of those stories as we mature. I still had a deep love of folklore and myths well into my 20s and that made me feel a little silly and childish. But when I discovered that Charles Perreault (a historian in the 17th Century) believed the stories being shared in the oral tradition were important enough to be written down for posterity, that boosted my spirits. And when I stumbled across the ATU Index (begun in 1910, and continues to be updated annually still to this day), which took fairy tales seriously as anthropological artifacts, I was vindicated even more. 

These historical efforts were proof that folk lore, legends, and fairy tales weren't just for children. 

This short article is a MUST-READ for anyone who wants to have their love for storytelling rekindled and get pumped up to talk about fairy tales. It’s all about hope and courage.  I especially appreciated the excerpt from Katherine Rundell when she talks about “the hope that is sharper than teeth”

As I studied more and more obscure stories from around the world, I soon had a list of my top 4 favorites that I came back to:

Katie Crackernuts

The Twelve Dancing Princesses 

Beauty and the Beast 

The Myth of the Selkie

The middle two I have owned a few printed copies of. They are quite common and have many retellings/variations. But Katie Crackernuts was a story I could only read online; I had never seen it in print. 

There are actually similarities between parts of all three stories, which is probably why I love them so much.

I know you asked for ‘cute’ ones, but I don’t know if these really are that adorable. They all have happy endings for the heroines. Does that count? LOL

Katie Crackernuts (collected by Andrew Lange, first printed 1889)

This is a Scottish story about two sisters, one plain but clever (Katie) and one beautiful but simple (Anne). Despite this difference, they loved and supported one another as much as two sisters could. Through no fault of her own, Anne was cursed (you guessed it, by an evil stepmother) with the head of a sheep (or sometimes a donkey or goat, depending on the version) because the stepmother was jealous of her beauty. Katie put a hood over Anne to disguise her and left the house together, never to return.

They eventually came to the kingdom where there was a sick prince. His parents offered rich rewards for anyone who could heal his mysterious disease. Katie knew there had to be a reason normal medicine wasn’t working. She thought perhaps he was under a curse, too. Yep, he was going out at night in a trance to go under a hill to dance with fairies. So she watched and listened and investigated until she discovered the cure and how to administer it. Turns out the way to lift her sister’s curse was under that hill, as well!

She out-smarted the fairies, collected the items from them, and followed the instructions precisely. He grew well and discovered he loved her during all their time together while she was patiently investigating. When she used the cure on her sister, Anne’s sheep head turned back into a human one and the prince’s brother fell in love with her on the spot (of course he did). It was a lovely double-wedding. 

The Twelve Dancing Princesses (collected by the Brothers Grimm, first printed 1812)

This is about twelve sisters who are constantly tired and ruining their expensive shoes every night, and no one can find out why. The king has offered rich rewards and even marriage to the most beautiful of his daughters, but any man who steps up to the challenge either dies, fails the task, or is never seen again. Until one clever man (who has been watching this happen over and over) decides to try solving the mystery. The eldest sister (the most intelligent and haughty of the siblings) tries to stop him each time, but he outsmarts her as he follows the princesses into a fairy forest where they dance all night until their shoes fall apart and they drop from exhaustion.

Just like Katie in the story before, he is observant and waits until he has all the information and proof he needs to confront the princesses. He convinces the king, who is angry that his daughters were escaping every night. The man explains they were under a spell that compelled them to sneak out. The king offers him the most beautiful daughter (who is also the youngest and the most silly), but the man opts to marry the eldest because she was the only one who came close to matching wits.

Katie Crackernuts has much in common with The Twelve Dancing Princesses.

Both have very strict rules for entering into the world of fairies, and the “wasting sickness” that comes upon a human who spends too much time in that world (which is also a metaphor for other maladies that were rampant during those centuries, such as tuberculosis). I enjoy that theme of “Good luck if you’re beautiful because your looks won’t save you. You need to be wise, patient, and clever in this world.”

Beauty and the Beast

This was one of my favorites long before Disney made their movie. Almost everyone knows how the story goes, so I won’t make this long post even longer by summarizing it here. The bravery and selflessness of the heroine was very inspiring to me, and I loved the idea of being surrounded by talking furniture and not a single human! I was a very introverted kid. And I guess I loved the idea of a sad prince in an unloveable disguise who needed to feel loved.

Another thing I think is neat about that story is there is an actual author: Gabrielle-Suzanne de Villeneuve, published the story in 1740. Most folklore and fairy tales have a shared origin and no single creator. Not so for Beauty and the Beast. This one has a bonafide author, which makes it unique. Not only that, but the author was a woman! 

What Beauty and the Beast has in common with Katie Crackernuts is charity, mercy, humility, and selflessness.

The heroine not only saves herself, but she saves those who are entrusted to her. Who needs a prince, right?? Katie didn’t have to leave home to take care of her cursed sister, but she did. She didn’t have to agree to help the sick prince, but she did. Belle didn’t have to sacrifice herself in her father’s place in that unreasonable pact, but she did. She could have been disagreeable, rude, and throwing herself a pity party the entire time she was captive in the Beast’s castle, but instead she did her best to keep her spirits up and not hate her captor. (Readers: don’t come at me with the whole “Stockholm Syndrome” comment trying to be witty; it’s an old joke that was never funny in the first place.) Katie also tried hard to make the best of an awful situation, and she was never resentful to Anne or put her on a guilt trip. I was inspired by the important values and virtues portrayed by these two heroines.

The Legend of the Selkie

You asked for ‘cute’ stories, but this last one is anything but cute. The Celtic legend of the Selkie is heartbreaking, and there is hardly ever a happy ending. I heard briefly about it as a kid, but never found a published story to read. The oral tradition of the tale goes back to the 13th Century, but it didn’t make it into many books. Then the movie The Secret of Roan Inish came out in 1995. I was 15 at the time and didn’t have my driver’s license yet, so I begged a family member to bring me to the only theater in the entire state that was showing this independent film, over an hour away. It was magical. I bought the DVD as soon as it was available. It was the only thing I could find at that time (remember, the internet wasn’t really used for entertainment in 1995 like it is now) that displayed the Selkie myth, which is:

There are some special seals in the sea who can shed their seal-skin and turn themselves into human women. They are beautiful, quiet, and hard-working. And therefore they are much sought-after as wives by the lonely fishermen of the islands. The legend says that if you find a Selkie in her human form and take her seal-skin away from her, she is yours for the rest of your life. You can imagine the life of servitude that awaits the poor woman! She is usually desperate to turn the house inside out looking for her seal skin and return to the sea, or if she doesn’t find it she will murder her husband.

Fascinating!

Oof, okay. That post went on really long. Sorry. When I start to talk about fairy tales and folklore, I have a difficult time keeping it short, lol. And I didn't even get into the Greek myths! Yikes.

#fairy tales #storytelling #folklore #legends #myths #folktales #Katie Crackernuts #Kate Crackernuts #Selkie #Beauty and the Beast #The Twelve Dancing Princesses #Twelve Dancing Princesses #The Bear in the Forest Hut #Irish legend #Slavic stories #Finn MacCool #Fionn mac Cumhaill #Charles Perrault #Aaarne-Thompson-Uther index #ATU Index #Andrew Lange #Brothers Grimm #Grimms Fairy Tales #Gabrielle-Suzanne de Villeneuve #my asks #Celtic folklore

[adarkrainbow]

Due to the previous ask I ended up thinking back to a fairytale themed book I really liked, but never got to talk about here: Indexing, by Seanan McGuire.

Now, this novel is not a typical novel in format - it is an ebook that was selled as a serial, so chapter after chapter released during a given period of time to finally make a full book. Hopefully I got to read the whole thing all at once, and while I know the “serial placed in one” book format doesn’t please everybody, I actually didn’t mind. Of course being French and into literature I am used to the “serial turned one book”, it was THE big format at a time, and it also worked like those old fantasy anthologies a la “Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser” where individual stories are collected together. 

Anyway, what is “Indexing” about? We could say: SCP for fairytales. Or this cartoon for children, “Fairy Tale Police Department” turned into a dark adult urban fantasy. 

In the world of “Indexing” fairytales are real, but not in the sense that they happened in the past or that they exist somewhere in another world. Fairytales happen everywhere, live among us, and if we do not see them it is all thanks to the good work of the ATI Management Bureau, who protects us from them. Because fairytales are actually live viruses or plagues, they are abstract sentient forces that seek out to be played, reality-warping scenarios that only care about happening one way or another, and are ready to ANYTHING to do so... (If you have read Pratchett’s works, such as “Witches Abroad”, you’ll recognize a similar take on the “fairy tale” here).

And the ATI Management Bureau is a special, secret organization of the USA whose task is to identify the stories that seek to happen, and prevent them from happening - or solving them with as little people hurt as possible. Because as it turns out, when fairytales try to happen in real-life, lives get damaged and bloody consequences ensues... 

I do not want to talk more about it, because it is a short and simple concept that works really well in its simplicity. Discovering the life and identity of the characters is a key play of the pleasure here, and while the book starts with a “case by case anthology” format, clearly an over-arching story appears that blooms in the finale.

While it is a dark story, it is not a horror story. They do not shy away from the violent aspects of fairytales, and to feed into a dark urban fantasy style there are legitimate threats and darkness - it is a world where the wonders of fairytales make you shiver rather than smile. But it is not extremely harsh, and it doesn’t go into a really brutal form of horror. It is notably quite humoristic - but of course, it is dark humor. Morbid jokes, biting cynicism and creepy laughs are to be expected.

I however truly liked this book. I will not lie, I had a quite similar concept for a story of my own - and Seanan McGuire beat me to it X) But she did it in a very unique and personal style - a very clever style might I add - that truly made me enjoy this. For example one of the clever things I love about this world is how the ATI Management Bureau works - being “police officers” for fairytales they do refer to their potential cases by codes, as a policeman would use codes to refer to robberies, murders, assaults... But their codes are actually the ATU Index, which they use to try to identify which “case” they are in and what types of scenarios they are thrown into. It is a very fun element of worldbuilding, and it also allows to explore a story which is basically a guessing game.

It is another thing I really loved - it isn’t just “on-the-nose” about the world of fairytales. McGuire knows her stuff, and while the first cases are pretty straightforward “weird tales”, she then introduces us to an entire “guessing game” where the whole point is to understand which fairytale, or which type of fairytale, the characters find themselves in - with many misleading twists and turns, similar to a real-life investigation - and I just loved it. It plays so much with the codes and tropes of fairytales, and the study around them, I adored it.

(You also now probably understand why I called it “SCP for fairytales”)

The book got a sequel “Indexing: Reflections” which I read to and... didn’t like as much as the first one. Do not get me wrong, the first chapters and the first part of the sequel is really good - we explore more of the world of the first book, we have fascinating new additions, more twists... But the second part of the book becomes kind of “meh”. The great promises of the beginning are not fulfilled, the end is pretty formulaic, the explorations of the worldbuilding sometimes go nowhere, and also the “let’s explore more of this world” kind of turns against itself as the logic, rules and workings of the universe of the books gets stretched a lot sometimes, to the point I rolled my eyes a bit. A disappointing end to a good start - but the opening is still worth it I guess? But sequels are never better than the originals - we all know that.

So if you ever get a chance, don’t hesitate to take a peek at “Indexing”. If you are a fairytale fan, you won’t be disappointed (or I hope).

#book #book recommandation #indexing #seanan mcguire #fairytales with a twist #fractured fairytales #fairytale fiction #urban fantasy #dark fairytales

[animationadventures]

Finally watched Puss in Boots: The Last Wish

Amazing movie. Love the art style. It and The Bad Guys are really taking after Spider-verse for that stylistic approach, and I am here for it. I like Disney's style, but it would be cool if they mixed it up a bit too.

I generally like movies about races to the great power or treasure, like Wakko's Wish. That one was a classic. There's just something about how multiple group converge on a single location to duke it out that is satisfying to watch, and this movie did a wonderful job balancing the three main teams.

They addressed the fear of death in a very tasteful way that isn't too scary, and Death's reveal was well-scripted.

Perrito was a highlight. He's your typical optimistic sidekick who invites themselves along on the trip, and ends up being extremely helpful. I never expected him to be a pottymouth, so when he listed off a name he had that got bleeped out and was bleeped out during the insult game with Goldi and the bears, I straight up laughed because it was so unexpected for the character. His goal of being a therapy dog also became relevant during Puss's panic attack, which made for a very heartwarming, realistic moment.

I enjoyed Goldi and the bears. Their crime family dynamic was fun, the way Goldi tried to get the bears to strike a balance every time they did something. Like when they tried to grill Mama Luna for information about Puss, they either were too soft or too hard and Goldi called them out for it. They were sympathetic middle ground antagonists as a bridge between Puss's team and Jack Horner. I would totally watch a movie with this Goldilocks and the Three Bears at the center of it.

Now, Jack Horner. Up until he appeared in the movie, I completely forgot about that nursery rhyme and I liked how his whole motivation was specifically because his nursery rhyme kept getting overshadowed by fairy tales. Dude just had a collection of iconic fairy tale objects because he was that petty about it. He also fit the movie's theme of death by not caring whenever one of his bakers died.

I really liked the Dark Forest, and how its environment shifted accordingly to whoever possessed the map. That was a pretty neat trick to make the characters confront their personal issues and make them apparent to the others.

The climax at the Wishing Star was great too. I liked how the more everyone fought for the map, the higher the star rose out of the ground. And the barrier surrounding the star that killed anybody who got too close to the edge was a nice touch. Just everything that happened at the star was amazing including its collapse.

It was a fun time and a worthy addition to my collection.

#puss in boots the last wish

[readingrobin]

The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories by Angela Carter

Angela Carter was a storytelling sorceress, the literary godmother of Neil Gaiman, David Mitchell, Audrey Niffenegger, Kelly Link, and other contemporary masters of supernatural fiction. In her masterpiece, The Bloody Chamber--which includes the story that is the basis of Neil Jordan's 1984 movie The Company of Wolves--she spins subversively dark and sensual versions of familiar fairy tales and legends like "Little Red Riding Hood," "Bluebeard," "Puss in Boots," and "Beauty and the Beast," giving them exhilarating new life in a style steeped in the romantic trappings of the gothic tradition. -Storygraph

Angela Carter is somehow on another plane when it comes to storytelling. She weaves her words so elegantly, and yet there is some kind of beautiful danger to them. With all of her talks of wolves and beasts, her stories also have the edge of a predator to them, alluring and graceful, yet will also devour you whole if you're not too careful. This was my first time reading any of Carter's work, knowing that many of my favorite authors drew inspiration from her and, upon finishing the book, it's so clear how her influence survives in the horror written today. I know Neil Gaiman has listed her as one of his influences, which makes sense given the way both tend to incorporate some sort of vagueness into their works.

This collection of stories has so much depth within it that you almost need to take notes to get the full experience. That's not a bad thing for me personally, as I'm one to dissect stories that interest me, and Carter makes her writing rich with allegories and symbolism hidden within retellings of fairy tales we all know so well. Even as I'm writing a review, I'm still trying to figure out what some of them mean. It's not a collection meant for a bit of light reading, as Carter goes to great lengths to rework the familiar into something disturbing, yet truthful.

"The Snow Child" in particular was a short, yet provocative story, showing that Carter is more than willing to include a taboo or two to get a message across. Here, we see a rich man of status riding with his wife, wishing for a beautiful girl. This story, through its dreamlike atmosphere and imagery, deals with the discarding nature of the upper class, of how a man of rank can seek mistresses, young girls, when it pleases him, only to cast them aside when they have outlived their use and before they cast too much attention away from their wives.

Several of Carter's stories take on a feminist slant, dealing with themes of agency, maturity, sexual exploration, and the damaging effect of the patriarchy. The latter is an interesting one, especially as it's framed in "The Erl-King." We see a woman fall in love with a man of the woods, only to feel herself ensnared and trapped by him. She feels excited yet also terrified by his presence, which can be both intimidating and sensual. He keeps a flock of birds in cages within his hut, and the woman fears that she will become much the same. Yet, though the man treats his birds well and cares for them, they are still trapped within gilded cages. The story deals mainly in gender roles, how both men and women suffer from the patriarchy and what is typically expected of each of them.

I could go on and on about what each story means, how "The Courtship of Mr. Lyon" gives the Beauty of this Beauty and the Beast retelling a great deal of agency, predating the Disney version by a good decade, or how "Wolf-Alice" reflects the process of self-actualization and the effect of isolation in that process. I'm sure it's been the work of several dissertations in the past. But for now, I'm comfortable saying that if you're in the mood for something darker, a little more subversive, this is a collection you don't want to miss.

(4.5/5)

#the bloody chamber #angela carter #the company of wolves #horror #gothic fiction #reviews #book reviews