#༄ - Bloodlust Eyes || Demon!Verse

[floral-flames]

❤

━━━‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Desperately bored, unwanting of the little things this realm had to offer- grew tiresome of those around him, false loyalty. Hisoki was growing restless, the demon growing more and more fed up with this little corner of the realm he ruled- sought out more, needed more. Yet, a certain mistress of his always seemed to be the one thing that kept him here, confided him in some sick twisted way- and Hisoki simply stuck with it, for he was twisted in his own way.

"Fetch me some wine, and where is my dear Aanrietta?"

Yet another long sigh came forth, rolling off Hisoki's lips ever so perfectly it seemed, darkened eyes focused on the map that laid before him. "So tiresome" the demon huffs, head shaking ever so slightly before he laid it against his hand- waiting impatiently for his request, for his dear to come keep him company.

@rosawept || Aanrietta

[floral-flames--a]

‘ ✋🏻 ‘ - Hisoki & Aanrietta

                My muse’s reaction to yours running their fingers through mine’s hair 

          Long awaited or barely cared? Hisoki couldn’t tell these days, mind so pre occupied with a million of things. Yet, as that familiar touch was felt, the presence of someone that the demon had long missed -if possible- his mind completely came to a halt, though brows furrowed for even he couldn’t recall the last time he felt Aanrietta close. 

          Hisoki knew the woman liked to play her games, go off for who knows how long luring in another with a simple snap of those fingers- the very ones that had found there way through long strands of midnight black, causing the demon to sigh in response- to let his eyes fall shut for a mere moment. 

          “And what brings you back to me” 

[queer-goddess-of-the-hunt]

Raeda: An Owl House Playlist

Spotify Link

This playlist is a combination of songs that suite the ship and the characters as individuals. I love these two so much.

As always, I will probably continue to update this playlist over time, feel free to send me suggestions.

List of songs and quotes/explanations under the cut :)

Your Song from Moulin Rouge! The Musical “And you can tell everybody this is your song; It may be quite simple but now that it's done; I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind; That I put down in words; How wonderful life is while you're in the world” I specifically chose this version because it uses strings instead of piano.

 Eda’s Requiem and Raine’s Rhapsody - Epic Orchestral Cover by Kāru It is literally their song, I had to.

Thank You For The Music by ABBA “What would life be? Without a song or a dance, what are we? So I say thank you for the music; For giving it to me” This song is very close to me as a singer, so as a Raine kinnie, I had to.

Love Of My Life by Queen “You will remember when this is blown over; And everything's all by the way; When I grow older, I will be there at your side; To remind you how I still love you (I still love you)” Ouch, here’s the first bit of angst. The part that I quoted in particular I think applies heavily to these two. Also, pretty string in the beginning.

I Hear a Symphony by Cody Fry “I used to hear a simple song; That was until you came along; Now in it's place is something new; I hear it when I look at you” This is an absolutely stunning piece (as is every single song by Cody Fry) and the lyrics fit so well with Raeda.

Bird Set Free by Sia “And I don't care if I sing off key; I find myself in my melodies; I sing for love, I sing for me; I shout it out like a bird set free”

Witch Hunt by VISTA “I'm running like the whole damn world's on a witch hunt; Throwing stones and blaming; Secrets in the closet, send demons on the run; With bloodlust, bloodlust; How am I to know who to trust, who to trust?” I think this song just fits the BATS/CATS really well in general.

Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives “There are times when I still wonder about you; You are someone I have loved, but never known; And you'll never see the reasons I had; For keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you” This entire song fits well, with Eda hiding her curse from Raine causing them to break up in the first place. I also blame this animatic for this song being in this playlist.

My Love, My Life by ABBA “I've watched you look away; Tell me, is it really so hard to say? Oh, this has been my longest day; Sitting here close to you; Knowing that maybe tonight we're through” This part is clearly the moment Raine broke up with Eda. “You are still my love and my life; Still my one and only” Yet after all this time, they still love each other.

Songbird by Fleetwood Mac “ And the songbirds are singing, Like they know the score; And I love you, I love you, I love you; Like never before”

In Our Bedroom After The War by Stars “Listen, the birds sing, listen, the bells ring; All the living are dead, and the dead are all living; The war is over and we are beginning”  New beginnings.

Six Pieces, Op, 51, TH 143: VI. Valse sentimentale. Tempo di Valse by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky Gorgeous piece by Tchaikovsky, one of my favorites, and it’s a violin version. Valse sentimentale translates to Sentimental Waltz. Take from that what you will.

I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston I think the song title speaks for itself honestly.

I Write the Songs by Barry Manilow “My home lies deep within you; And I've got my own place in your soul; Now when I look out through your eyes; I'm young again, even though I'm very old” As I was making this playlist, I was trying to thing of any music related songs and this came to mind. This particular verse works well.

City Of Stars from La La Land “City of stars; Are you shining just for me? City of stars; There's so much that I can't see”

trust by Christina Perri “Words that hurt the ones you're lovin’; Hatred for who you’re becomin’; I knew better than, yes; I knew better than; To trust myself; To trust someone else” Eda was so determined to hide the truth from Raine.

Take Flight by Lindsey Stirling Another beautiful violin piece. I mostly chose this one for the title, but it in an amazing piece.

Paper Rings by Taylor Swift “I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings; Uh huh, that's right; Darling, you're the one I want, and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this; Uh huh, that's right; Darling, you're the one I want” Eda loves shiny things and Raine, what else can I say?

Francis Forever by Mitski “On sunny days I go out walking; I end up on a tree-lined street; I look up at the gaps of sunlight; I miss you more than anything” They really miss each other after the breakup.

Stormy Weather by Etta James “ Don't know why; There's no sun up in the sky; Stormy weather; Since my man and I ain't together; Keeps raining all of the time”

We’ll Meet Again by She & Him “ We'll meet again; Don't know where; Don't know when; But I know we'll meet again some sunny day”

My Heart Is Buried In Venice by Ricky Montgomery “ Now my heart is buried in Venice; Waiting for someone to take it home” “Say, say what you mean; Tell me the truth or tell me you're through”

Ready Now by dodie “Feet firm on the ground; We stood hand in hand; And I told the world; That I have a plan; Together, we sang; "I'm ready, now"”

Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper “After my picture fades and darkness has; Turned to gray; Watching through windows; You're wondering if I'm okay”

Bad Reputation by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts “I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation; Living in the past, it's a new generation; A girl can do what she wants to do and that's what I'm gonna do” This is fully an Eda song.

Right Back Where We Started From by Maxine Nightingale “Do you remember that day (that sunny day); When you first came my way? I said no one could take your place; And if you get hurt (if you get hurt); By the little things I say; I can put that smile back on your face” This is a much more upbeat one, they deserve to be happy after everything.

Demons by Imagine Dragons “ I wanna hide the truth; I wanna shelter you; But with the beast inside; There's nowhere we can hide” The owl beast.

Boys Wanna Be Her by Peaches “The way you rock, don't stop; Girl, you got the chops; Flip-flop, she bops, self-taught; You look so hot” Honestly, who wouldn’t want to be the owl lady?

Cherry Bomb by The Runaways “Can't stay at home, can't stay at school; Old folks say, "You poor little fool"; Down the streets I'm the girl next door; I'm the fox you've been waiting for” Young Eda? Young Eda.

This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) by Natalie Cole “I'm so glad, you found me in time; And I'm so glad that you've rectified my mind; This will be, an everlasting love for me” They get a second chance!

Mary On A Cross by Ghost “You go down just like Holy Mary; Mary on a, Mary on a cross; Your beauty never ever scared me; Mary on a, Mary on a cross”

W.I.T.C.H. by Devon Cole “ She don't wanna be anybody else; She's a woman in total control of herself; It's such a wonder to be under her spell; What a woman, in total control of herself” Honestly, I’m such an Eda simp, I’m not ashamed to say it.

I Put A Spell On You by Nina Simone “I put a spell on you; Because you're mine” I had to include it (I stand by the fact that the Nina version is the superior version.)

Venus Fly Trap by MARINA “ Don't underestimate me; 'Cause one day you're gonna see you're in a losing battle; Babe, you'll never stop me being me; I got the beauty, got the brains; Got the power, hold the reins; I should be motherfuckin' crazy; Nothing in this world could change me” Hell yes, Eda, keep being you.

Roundtable Rival by Lindsey Stirling Violin! It’s my favorite instrument to listen to, I’m so glad Raine plays violin. Also, this song is just really cool.

Thus Always To Tyrants by The Oh Hellos “Let me die, let me drown, lay my bones in the ground; I will still come around when the time for sleep is through; Over hill, over dale, through the valley and vale; Do not weep, do not wail, I am coming home to you”  I love the title of this song.

ilomilo by Billie Eilish “ I tried not to upset you; Let you, rescue, me the day I met you; I just wanted to protect you; But now I'll never get to”

Seven Nation Army by 2CELLOS

Still into You by Paramore “ I should be over all the butterflies; But I'm into you (I'm into you); And baby even on our worst nights; I'm into you (I'm into you); Let 'em wonder how we got this far; 'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all; Yeah, after all this time, I'm still into you”

Dream Sweet in Sea Major by Miracle Musical “She knows you heard her; Staging music murder; In line before the show began; To be where I am; Children born of one emotion; Our devotion's deepest ocean; No division reasoned we'll be free”  This is less to do with the lyrics and more to do with it being an epic piece with lots of strings.

You Found Me by The Fray “In the end, everyone ends up alone; Losin' her, the only one who's ever known; Who I am, who I'm not, and who I wanna be; No way to know how long she will be next to me”

Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos The lyrics are irrelevant, I just think this is a fun song that they would play and dance to.

Separate Ways (Worlds Apart) by Journey “ Someday love will find you; True love won't desert you; You know I still love you; Though we touched and went our separate ways”

When We Were Young by Adele “Let me photograph you in this light; In case it is the last time; That we might be exactly like we were; Before we realized; We were scared of getting old; It made us restless; It was just like a movie; It was just like a song”

[feuerwizard]

Caleb's eyes flicker with a guarded intensity as he considers her words, the weight of his own secrets pressing against his tongue. He knows all too well the allure of keeping one's past locked away, a fortress of memories fortified by silence. The scars that map his skin, both visible and invisible, whisper of stories untold, tales of survival and sacrifice that he has yet to share with another living soul.

"Ja, we all have our demons," he says at last, his voice low and measured, each word carefully chosen. "Some we carry with us, others we leave behind. But they are ours to bear, and ours alone." His gaze drifts to the horizon, where the sun is beginning to dip below the treeline, painting the sky in shades of amber and crimson.

For a moment, he is lost in thought, the weight of his past bearing down upon him like a physical presence. He knows that there are parts of himself that he may never be able to share, wounds that run too deep to ever fully heal. But there is something about her presence, the way she speaks of her own bloodlust with such unflinching honesty, that makes him want to trust her, even if only a little.

"As for your request," he says, turning back to face her, his expression unreadable. "I am well versed in the art of self-preservation. Should the need arise, I will do what I must to stop you, to protect myself and those around us. You have my word on that."

📩🥀 ❝  there is no wound that you can give me that i have not already given myself.  ❞ @feuerwizard circe – accepting!

oh, but that's fascinating. the part of secret that hankered for blood, for violence was overwhelmed by the part of her that yearned for people, their stories. it's unclear to her if this is meant to reassure her or if the wizards words were something else. it was quite a different reaction than the others had given her to the confession of the bloodlust that coursed through her veins. 

the tiefling cocks her head, pondering the man in front of her, previously vulnerable gaze turning pensive. "looks like we both have some stories to tell. not that i remember any of mine." curiousity was going to get the better of her, would be the thing to kill her one day she was sure, but her words weren't pushy. he could keep his secrets. for now, at least. 

"i would hope that should i wound you, you'd do what it takes to stop me." this, however, was a question (or perhaps more of a request), left lingering in the air between them as she combed his expression, hoping for some kind of promise. the beast in her blood was calmed at the prospect of the promise of violence, at least.

[leagueoflegendsimagines]

Pull me from the dark [Blood Moon Jhin x Reader]

"I'd like a Blood Moon Jhin x reader please, I haven't seen one! Thanks in advance~"

Here is a little something to keep you entertained while I deal with boring, painstakingly frustrating university matters!

Final year is already bringing so much pain and we have just started today.

Note: While this isn't fully a soulmate type of deal... I'd like to think that the demons inside our favorite champions do have a very similar system - where they search for the right soul capable of balancing their mortal counterparts. It's more of an unofficial soulmate situation, with them being demons and, in correlation, beings not fully understood by the mortal realm.

I'd say this type of thing is my specialty - do I believe in fate and predestination? I do, to a certain extent.

This will most certainly have multiple parts. I absolutely adore the Blood Moon canon and I will write as much as I possibly can regarding this theme.

The sky was beautiful - glittering stars scattered around in meaningless constellations, their beauty pale and almost insignificant in the shaded, quiet mystery of the full moon.

It was breathtaking in such a shattering way. Hauntingly familiar.

Your wide, fearful eyes watched the sky with a macabre sense of anticipation, waiting for the crimson color that you have come to dread and yearn for simultaneously.

A forbidden pleasure. So close - yet so far away.

They would come with the crimson moon.

"Why are you always gazing at that cursed moon, my sweet angel?" Your soon-to-be husband appeared behind you, strong arms wrapping around your delicate frame. You could feel the warmth of his body through the thin, cooling silk of your night gown.

It almost made you recoil in repulsion.

The man who saved you from the poverty caused by war.

A war that took away your whole family.

A man who forced you to accept a marriage disguised as a mask of generosity.

Maybe you'd feel grateful, in another life. Maybe you'd even grow to love him. But not... here. Not now.

It just felt wrong. Your body trembled with anxiety and nervous disgust - something that your betrothed saw as excitement, the result of his egotistical touch.

"Soon, my love. Soon we'll be married and then..." The hand on your hip paused when a shallow pool or red crept slowly, but gradually, upon the moon.

A small mercy.

"Another night of bloodlust. The moon turns to crimson so often nowadays - they are gaining more power." You threw the man behind you a confused look. You were well versed in humanities and even a bit of science - but this man would never let you touch anything that held any information concerning the blood cult.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about. They won't come here - there are barriers protecting the property. This place isn't worth the effort for them." You heard the sharp hiss of igniting fire, followed by the hazy scent of a strong cigar. "You should go to sleep early. Close the windows, draw the curtains. No lights. We don't want to attract their attention."

You nodded absentmindedly and, soon enough, you heard the door closing. A glance to the delicate, elegant table living its quiet life on the balcony - a cup of tea. An unfinished essay on the mythological beings of Ionia anything, everything to keep your mind busy, why this life sentence and old books. Your pale hands wrapped eagerly around the steaming cup of jasmine tea, brought forth a few minutes before your betrothed's appearance.

As the buzz in your mind managed to quiet down under the soothing influence of the jasmine, your eyes returned to the vast lands of the manor. The nights were getting colder.

And it was so, so quiet. No sound to be heard. Only the wind, rustling the slumbering aura of nature with violent, erratic efforts.

Was it the moon or just the chilling weather?

Naturally, you would go to sleep. Close the windows and curl into the comfort and warmth of your bedding - awaiting a new morning, full to the brim of mundane preparations and appointments. To be become a concubine of the manor's lord was, after all, quite an honor.

An honor you'd gladly pass on.

Normally, your eyes wouldn't linger on the elegant autumn coat resting on the dresser.

You wouldn't be tempted to put it on and sneak outside, into the restless silence of the nature around you.

What did you have to lose, after all? You'd only take a quick walk, get as close as possible to the borders of the property - try to catch a glimpse of them and leave.

You didn't know what to expect, sheltered from the reality of the cult by the lord of the manor. And before that... well, the demons weren't exactly interested in a small, world forgotten village.

You didn't know who they were. What they were. What they wanted.

But you wished to know. And your curiosity pushed you through the slumbering shadows of the tall trees, midnight dew bringing a chill into your bones and flesh. By the time you reached the so-called barrier, you were shaking from the icy bite of the grass, unforgiven to your unprepared attire.

For a few moments, you huffed in disbelief at your own stupidity. Clad in such a thin nightgown, with only a pair of traditional slippers covering your feet.

The coat did its job, of course - but your lower body was so cold it didn't bring you any comfort whatsoever.

You were almost freezing.

Prepared to stay for only a small amount of time, you felt incredibly disappointed when 15 minutes had passed with no sign of life whatsoever. Maybe your lord was right. Why would they be interested in his manor? Why would they be anywhere close to this particular place? You were close enough to the city - but not close enough to attract too much attention.

You watched the main road with a determined but steadily bored gaze. And when you heard the sharp song of a nocturne bird, you turned your gaze to the manor with a heavy sigh.

Useless. Completely useless. You could've just gone through the forest for your usual nightly stroll, but no. You just needed to satisfy such a stupid little curiosity -

As you pulled the cloak closer to your body with a sharp hiss of frustration and pain - the cold in your bones was spreading, numbing your feet and hands - you heard it. A loud, desperate cry that was getting closer and closer.

Your mind was too hazy from the cold, from the sleepless hours to hide. You didn't move, not even when the desperate form of a man ran your way. Begging, begging, begging -

A shot. His flesh bloomed into beautiful, crimson blossoms as he fell on the ground.

Silence.

Stillness.

You held your breath, eyes wide and fearful - like a doe caught by a wolf. Your fragile fingers gripping the collar of your cloak, you kept your eyes trained on the bloody, majestic mess of the man's now lifeless body.

You heard footsteps.

Slow. Measured. Confident.

The mocking boredom of an experienced predator.

Your body started shaking even more as they approach you, little by little. But you refused to raise your gaze to the man that stopped in front of you - blocking your view of the body.

Your heart stopped for a few seconds when you realized that, in your careless exploration, you had left the lands of the manor.

You had no protection.

With a shaky, measured breath you lifted your chin a bit - not enough to look at him. But enough to study his attire.

Elegant. A fighter and an artist - all in one strong, confident form. If he hadn't killed a man in front of you, maybe you'd feel fascinated.

You couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped your blue lips when strong hands warm, so warm wrapped around your own, pulling your freezing fingers into bathing warmth. Your body relaxed involuntarily at the kind gesture and you allowed yourself a moment of respite as you studied his hands with renewed interest.

Elegant. Strong. Confident. Long fingers - the hands of a skilled artist -.

Claws.

But he wasn't hurting you. No, his hands kept rubbing circles into your palms - trying to stimulate the blood flow, you realized.

How could a monster be capable of such kindness? You were a stranger. A foolish stranger that had a death wish, apparently.

A few moments passed like this. Your gaze grew heavy with sleep and an overwhelming tiredness, the sudden rush of adrenaline slowly fading from your system.

This stranger... his touch made your soul flutter in ways you couldn't have ever imagined. It felt different from your master's touch.

It made you feel alive.

Your eyelashes fluttered innocently as you closed your eyes, your pale and frozen lips parting in a soft, inaudible sigh. As you stayed there, pale and unmoved - strands of thick, healthy hair framing your lovely complexion - he decided that you were the most beautiful imperfection he had ever seen.

As a human and as a demon alike.

When he raised one hand to run a claw across your cheek, you shivered so violently he almost cut through the soft, icy skin. That very claw raised your chin a moment later - and you were forced to face him.

No...

Not him.

A mask.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. It was a mask, but... it almost seemed alive. Pulsing with life. With vigor.

And his eyes... his eyes were full of burning flames.

Unreadable. Such power. Such intensity.

You breathed out as you stared at him with fear and curiosity shining in your wide, watery eyes. What could he possibly want from you?

When he leaned down, his hellish breath touching the bare skin of your throat, you tried to step back. But you couldn't. Not with one of his arms wrapping itself around your waist, coiling with the strength of pure iron. Forceful, demanding, confident.

Like someone who... knew what he wanted.

With a daring power that couldn't be found even in the most influential men of their world - like her master - .

When a long, vicious and hot tongue touched your skin you fainted. Was it the shock? The sleepless night? The cold?

You woke up in your bed the next morning, surrounded by worried servants.

They had found you in the early hours of the morning, unconscious on the stairs leading to the mansion.

For a moment, you thought it was a dream. A nightmare, you told yourself but the twisting, nervous energy in your veins betrayed the last pieces of excitement left behind .

And then you saw it - a crimson bracelet resting quietly on your small wrist. It looked... ethereal. As if it belonged to another world.

You touched the heated gold - the glowing crimson gems - with a look of disbelief.

Left alone, you hurried to hide it in the desk's drawer.

It felt dangerous.

it felt forbidden.

[umbrx]

For the Love of Life (V)​

❝ Rummaging in our souls, we often dig up something that ought to have lain there unnoticed. ❞ Lamy might’ve found that very quote written in a worn book bound in red leather sitting in the bookshelf behind herself, had her attention not been so thoroughly held by other subject matters. Had he plunged his hand into hers? She didn’t feel particularly different, and yet, she was unsettlingly aware of her own heartbeat. Lamy tried not to show it, but she was scared out of her mind. Her glare hardened at his joke, and she peeled her eyes off her weapons.

Watching the figure lounging on the bed like a hawk, she tenderly patted the shoulder beneath her tang top’s strap, gaze never leaving his. Even though dried crimson and acid-green saliva stained the fabric, there was no wound, she noted. Her arm wasn’t hanging on by mere tendons any longer.

A quick glance to the side confirmed that her blue leather jacket laid neatly slung over the foot of the bed. She had the sudden urge to take a shower and scrub her skin red and raw, the water turned scalding hot, and it had nothing to do with the sooty gunshot residue that coated the side of her ear. Greek tales came to her mind, and she glared at the platter of cookies being offered to her as if they were a personal affront against her love for sweets. Was this how Persephone felt when being offered a pomegranate? As she wordlessly watched him stuff his face with pralines, she wondered how many more cardinal sins one could fit into one body. ❝ Who the fuck are you? ❞ she asked, ignoring how her words cracked at the syllables.

...

It started off as a shiver running down his spine, and the feeling intensified the closer Lamy was to pulling the trigger. The moment of ANTICIPATION when her drive was made clear, when ( should she be successful ) she crossed the point of no return. A life taken, another existence CEASED by her own hands. Has she ever wondered what happened to the souls she had slain? What eternal damnation truly meant? What taking a life, regardless of its form, meant? He knew she could pull it, he COUNTED on it, hence why those bullets weren’t in the mag. Yet, it didn’t make the moment any less beautiful. 

A few quick breaths, a widening of a smirk, a hammering of a heart he had forgotten existed inside his ethereal body. The Devil was ecstatic, as if he had experienced ENLIGHTENMENT anew. Like a manifestation of a dream to cure his boredom, like a dove flying to signify the beginning of a new chapter, this woman, this MORTAL filled him with a satisfying glee and laughter. Pure, uncontrollable LAUGHTER.

His chest tightened from the sheer greedy consumption of air, shade-hidden eyes shot towards the crystalline dome above, glinting with MIRTH just as the crystals did with light. Such thrill, such desperation, such persistence! A caged bird desired to fly away regardless of the turmoil she had to weather. When put in a corner where she had limited options, she chose survival. Just as he hoped she would! He was willing to bet on the despicable humanity she was privy to, on the habits and behaviours he had observed in those filthy creatures, and desired of her to manifest that BLOODLUST he often influenced and point it all at him. It was expected, it was PREDICTED, and despite it all, she still found a way to surprise him. To EXCEED his expectations of her. 

For a mere second, the knife she grasped looked like an angelic weapon, and while DEADLY, there were ways of avoiding it. He reacted, naturally, as it was in the core of all beings to put survival on the first place. Shadow-like flames shot up at the same time as his back left the mattress, ready to chain her down. It was when she grasped his hair that he realised it was just a knife. The faint glow it gave off was probably holy water, which — he wasn’t sure how well versed in demonology she was — didn’t really do much to higher ranking demons, let alone princes of Hell. A secret he’d keep for himself and let her believe what she will. Unless, of course, it was a purposeful fluke and he played right into it. A way for her to see whether there would be ANY reaction at all, whether he was INVINCIBLE or NOT. The information he had gave out could be played in his favour as well. He intended to do that. Doflamingo was ADAPTIVE, and above all MANIPULATIVE enough to pull it off.

Caught only in the mere second it appeared ( short lived as it was ), his grin widened. A flash in golden eyes far from divine, yet equally ethereal. How lucky was he to see an ancient power exist in a mere human? How BLESSED was he to have such a bird in his grasp, caught between his fingers? How truly ADORED among all was he to be given such power to control for his own means?

How the Hell was she struggling against a mere lowly demon when she had such a secret within her? Was she truly pathetic or just uneducated?

❝ What if I’m into that, fufufu! What then? You’re already getting kinky and we haven’t even discussed limits yet, fufufu! ❞ Chest shook with amusement anew at her reaction, at the face she made. He enjoyed making her uncomfortable, and he enjoyed the entertainment he gained from it. Initially, his goal was simply to make her his DOVE, but her attempt at taking control made it clear there was SO MUCH MORE to her. Yes, there was something uncanny, demonic and fascinating in her, just like there was in Anna Karenina. He remembered how, just after Kitty had the same thought about her, Anna was asked to stay for supper and rather than staying, she left. Just like his dove wanted to leave too. The fact that humanity was capable of producing something as beautiful as the novel was surprising enough. To see a human embody a character from a book he had referenced was even more astonishing. Perhaps – JUST THIS ONCE – if asked, he’d reply that he LOVED humanity. He’d give them the honour of being liked by him.

If he desired so, his chains would pierce her through. If he desires so, his shadows would strangle her until her dying breath. If he desired so, he would scorch her skin with flames. What he desired, however, was to crush her beautiful soul. As the reality sunk in, as his words pierced her walls, he would witness the change on her face first. ❝ Come on, babycakes, you’re not that dumb. ❞ His grin was MOCKING, just as were his words. He let the silence settle over them, let her eyes roam his face and let her mind wander. He knew she must’ve had a good idea, and he knew she was simply in DENIAL. ❝ Let’s start connecting the dots, hm~? You were losing to a lowly demon in the streets when your handsome, kinky and straight out of your fantasies saviour came to your aid and offered you a deal. ❞ By the tighter grip on his hair, he would assume that she didn’t share his sense of humour. His hand slid towards hers, right underneath her palm until he intertwined their fingers. The grip on golden locks eased, and he felt the cold metal press against his neck tighter. He didn’t move to do anything about that. He’d MAKE HER take it away on her own.

❝ You can tell when you’re in the presence of a prince of Hell, right? ❞ Accept the fact you’re royally screwed. ❝ Which sin am I? ❞ ALL OF THEM, in reality ( since he was their creator ), but one tended to be part of his title. PRIDE. The sin he deemed above others, one that characterised his greater than life ego. One which was deemed the reason of his fall from grace and his enlightenment. The sin which set everything in motion.

His thumb caressed her hand, purposely trying to shift her attention elsewhere. ❝ As to why you’re here with me... because your potential is wasting away while playing demon hunter. Maybe you don’t know what you desire, maybe you’re afraid of what it could be — who you could be. Yet I see greatness waiting for you, a chance to find out the truth. ❞ Has she ever wondered why she wasn’t progressing further like other demon hunters? Why her progress seemed to reach its limit and hadn’t moved? Has she already questioned why, despite the FEAR she felt around him, she was able to ACT? To FIGHT? Why she found STRENGTH in his presence yet was struggling for her life in that alley? ❝ Why are you afraid to question things you were told when it’s the greatest strength you were given, birdie? Are you afraid you’ll like my answers, or worse yet, find yourself drawn to me? ❞

[secret-engima]

So the Demons Verse is inhabited by fantastical races, yes? Not, I assume, JUST humans and daemons? What other races are there, and does each kingdom have it’s own main race? ie. demons for the Night Kingdom, humans for Lucis, such and such. (Maybe merpeople for Altissia, can we please have merfolk in Altissia??) And how do these other kingdoms react to the new Accursed?

Yes actually! Lucis is actually the most mixed kingdom for Historical Reasons my brain is too tired to make up on the spot rn. The original population was primarily Human, but that was back in like- Somnus’s time. By now everyone in Lucis is so used to seeing Elves, Dwarves, Fairies, hybrids, and the occasional Mer that no one bats an eye. That said, the other kingdoms are more heavily biased toward one fantasy race or other, even if the other races are scattered throughout.

Yes, Accordo is a kingdom of Mer. Altissia, the capital, is their only above-water city, meant to facilitate trade and communications. The canals are their primary roads but there are all sorts of waterpark style lanes and pools and things on the level of the stone streets so people can chat and be eye level.

Tenebrae is a kingdom of Fairies, deceptively delicate looking beings who are about the height of a human (not teeny thank you) and with razor sharp teeth. The Oracle is a Fairy Queen btw.

Niflheim is an Elven run kingdom, because I said so and because having humans be the evil empire dudes is boring. Of course, because of all the territory they’ve conquered, there are a LOT of other members from different races in there (barring merfolk, because the Niflheim continent is traditionally Desert and that was before they managed to tick off the Glacian and get cursed to nigh-on eternal winter).

Then of course, because fantasy world, there are other kingdoms that weren’t there in canon. Galahd is it’s own kingdom for one (inhabited by humans who hoard the magic art of skin-changing to themselves) that is a long-standing ally with Lucis, if an aloof one. There’s also a teeny kingdom up around the Rock of Ravatogh primarily inhabited by dwarves. Supposedly because they’re too stubborn to leave despite the semi-active volcano right outside their capital but mostly it’s because nobody ELSE wants to come near the semi-active volcano and they like their privacy and the lack of invasion risk this gives them.

Up in Niflheim, mostly by the shores or way up in the mountains, there are still human-run kingdoms btw. Niflheim leaves those scattered kingdoms alone (for now) because frankly all of those humans stubborn enough to live in first a desert and then a SNOW covered desert (and/or near the choppy waters of the ocean) is a bit too stubborn to be worth crushing (yet). Nobody is entirely expecting the uneasy non-aggression treaty to last up there, since the new and young (by elf standards) Emperor Aldercapt is not the relatively reasonable type his father was.

Also there’s a kingdom of humans who claim to be Solheim survivors by the way. Not sure where, probably way up past Vesperpool where you can’t get to in FFXV.

Nobody likes to talk about them.

They’re arrogant and nuts and only leave everyone else alone because the Night King’s kingdom would be right on their doorstep if they caused any trouble.

Speaking of, Insomnia’s kingdom isn’t just the city, it’s the entire island on which the city is founded and also a little bit of the mainland besides.

Anyway, on your other question: FICLET TIME. 

Word of the new Accursed spreads ... slowly. Most don’t believe it, only notice something is up because the daemon attacks have stopped (daemons can travel through shadows all around the world barring warded areas like cities and Havens, they just don’t LIKE to, apparently it makes them feel slimy and tired, but the original Accursed made them do it so the attacks were worldwide things). At first they think like Mors did, that something is Up and everyone privately bids a sigh of relief that Lucis is the next door neighbor to the Accursed and not them (Barring Galahd, who is the oceanic next door neighbor, they all begin battening down the proverbial hatches).

Only the Oracle suspects something drastic and unseen has changed, because she ... she FELT something. Unexpectedly in the night, as if the entire world had cried out in surprised relief. She had woken up with a start and all of Tenebrae had woken up with her to gawk as their magically grown, softly glowing trees and flowers all lit up until it was as bright as day and then just as quickly faded back to their normal soft glow. But she has no idea WHAT happened, just that it was after that the daemon attacks stopped.

And then stay stopped.

For a year. And then a year and several months. No sound, no sight, no word, no whispers of black magic trying to build in the dark places to form the cursed Night Clouds that let daemons roam free in the day (note: daemons in this world will not die if subjected to sunlight, but OH BOY will they get sunburn and will get sick from it. Moon, starlight, and greatly diffused sunlight is okay, but cloudless/mostly cloudless days? Not even the Accursed could force them out of their homes then).

And then, just when everyone’s nerves are at their tightest-.

Lucis is overthrown.

Oh, OFFICIALLY it is fine, King Mors still reigns, there weren’t even any casualties, but all the spies and witness reports and shaky letters to family in other kingdoms say the same thing. The Accursed marched on Insomnia with a horde of daemons that were incalculable, Night Clouds rolling out all the way to the capital of Lucis, covering the city sky as if the wards meant to prevent that exact event meant NOTHING. Then, just as quickly, the horde turned and left and the clouds retreated.

They took the Crown Prince of Lucis with them.

Ohhhhh boy the gossip and panic. The disbelief and fear, because what has happened, what has changed to give the Accursed that much power? Surely something MUST have changed or else he would have done that and more long ago. Even the Empire quails from the implications, ceasing its tentative pokes at it’s sister continent for fear of stirring Insomnia.

But four more years go by and the attacks never resume. Hunters and travelers report daemons spotted at night, wandering by doing who knows what, but they ... are non-violent. They do not attack travelers or try to chase down caravans, they just go about their night as if they had never had a bloodthirsty thought in their lives (until someone attacks, and then suddenly the bloodlust is back and the offender is torn to shreds). People learn fast to just leave the daemons alone and be left alone in turn, but it Freaks People Out.

Finally, FINALLY, the tension cannot be born, and Queen Sylva herself leaves to investigate, her husband in place as regent and her daughter safe and sound, a new Oracle in case ... she ... well. Hopefully that won’t happen.

She flies alone, hidden from view with magic, and lands respectfully at the border of the Night Kingdom. Her magic flares, not enough to be anything like an assault, but enough to be noticed. A greeting of sorts. No Oracle has done this since ... centuries at least, more perhaps, but legends speak of this ritual, of a date and time and way for the Oracle to meet with the Accursed and be let free afterward (for amusement, not honor, but everyone knows the Accursed likes “playing by the rules” just to prove that the rules cannot stop him from winning). She hopes the legends are right.

An hour later, her escort arrives. She holds her head high as the daemons lead her into the dark.

The city is not anything like she imagined. It is dark, yes, but not nighttime black. This is the dull light of dusk and twilight, sunlight filtering through the clouds just enough to support the curling greenery reclaiming the ruins of the ancient city, not enough to burn the skin of the inhabitants. Foreign magic weaves through the air and ground, but it does not reek like the black arts Sylva has encountered in the wake of the unseen Accursed. This feels different. Old and wild and ... calm. Dangerous, incredibly so, but passive. A predator watching her pass by, too relaxed to bother tearing her apart.

More than the magic, the city is ... ALIVE. Daemons flit to and fro, not screaming and bloodthirsty like she has always seen, but calm. They chatter and warble in a tongue she doesn’t know, haggling in marketplaces and gossiping as she and her escort pass by. A few small ones that could only be called children scamper by, pausing to blink at her in awe and Sylva feels just as surprised. She didn’t know ... she didn’t know daemons even HAD children. No one did. Most assumed the Accursed just ... created them when he needed more using his black magic.

Then she sees the human and the world stops. She jerks to a halt without thinking and her escort stop with her, growling angrily at her pause but she does not care. Her wings flick out from her back in an expression of shock before settling.

The human looks just as surprised. He gapes at her, clean and well dressed and healthy, if pale from such low light. Then, to her increasing shock, he bows and falls in step with the escort, bossily pushing a daemon out of step to take its place with a low, inhuman chatter noise that sounds like a coarse imitation of the daemon’s tongue. He tentatively smiles at her after taking his spot in the escort and she cannot think of how to react. Especially when she spots MORE humans lurking in the streets alongside the daemons, talking and haggling and pausing to stare at her.

What are ... what are humans doing here? The Accursed hated all the races, but the fairies and the humans were easily the ones he hated most. How had they survived?

She does not get a chance to ask, because by now they are approaching what must be the Accursed’s home, a towering building untouched by the ruin of the others. She is led inside and straight to a throne room that fits all her expectations (dark, ominous, with furs and trophy racks lining the walls, lit with will o’wisps) save for the inhabitants. Especially its king.

The Accursed is nothing like she expected. He is human. Physically he looks only about ... oh perhaps his late twenties or thirties, only a little older than her little Luna, who is only just now learning the rites and spells of Oracle magic. His hair is black and neatly kept, his clothes are fine, if a bit worn, and his skin is pale, but not unhealthily so. More strangely, she sees none of the signs of black magic she knew she should have been. His skin is not bloodless white, there are no patches of thick black stones from where the evil magic has managed to break free of his body and crystalize and a hundred other symptoms that are all ... not there. She thinks it’s an illusion until he straightens up on his throne and meets her eyes. They are blue, blue and clear as a summer sky. There is no hint of acidic yellow, no smoky swirls of black-grey where whites should be, no slitted pupils. His eyes ... are normal.

No black mage, no matter how skilled or old or cursed, could cast an illusion on their eyes. That was the price for using that magic. That was an unbreakable rule of magic itself. Magic had its colors, and those colors effected the eyes of the wielder and those effects could NOT be hidden (especially not while using spells, but even just passively. It was why Lucis Caelums always had blue eyes, and Oracles always had white-blue).

She stops, barely notices the daemon guards calmly filing out, as if she was not even a threat to be watched anymore, and tries to understand what she is seeing.

There is movement at the Night King’s side and she is startled to see Prince Regis, King Mors’ missing son, the one captured and dragged away as the price for Lucis’s continued existence. He is not a tormented, enslaved wreck she would have expected, he is dressed well, his face is unmarred by pain, his eyes, too, are clear of any curse or enthrallment as he bends down to whisper something in the Night King’s ear, almost like an ... advisor of some kind?

She reaches out with her magic, just a tiny tendril, out of sheer disbelief, looking for the spell that must be placed on the human prince no matter what her eyes are telling her. Before the magic can reach the prince, the Accursed’s gaze sharpens and his own magic snaps out. But instead of the biting pain of black magic meeting white and both burning the other in a flare of agony, her magic is given the equivalent of a light, scolding rap on the knuckles. A teacher warning a child to mind their manners and Not Touch and her wings flick as she tastes the unmistakable ozone-rainy texture of crystal magic on her tongue. Old and deep and far more powerful than she’s ever known it, not since the original rites and spells for it were lost, more powerful than any in written history even, but unmistakable.

The man on the throne is a Lucis Caelum.

“You have journeyed far,” says the Night King, the impossibility, on his throne as his magic settles down again, his lips twitching in a gentle sort of amusement she cannot comprehend, “to grace us with your presence, Queen Oracle. You come alone, as well. Are you not afraid?”

“Have I need to be?” She asks cautiously in return, “Has the hospitality of the Night King on this honored day and night, upheld since the times of the Fall, been rescinded?”

It is not her Oracle senses, or even her Queen sensibilities that spot the flicker of surprise and lost confusion on the man’s face, but those of a mother who is used to seeing her children pretend to be wiser and more mature than they are to impress her, only to stumble when they encounter something unknown. Another whisper from Prince Regis and the expression clears and his eyes light with understanding that is so innocent and fascinated that she cannot stop or shake the new, terrifying and fascinating, realization from her bones.

“It has not,” says the Night King smoothly, “yet I must ask, for what reason do you come?”

“I come,” she says slowly, “to greet the newly crowned Night King, and, if it pleases His Majesty, to receive answers to some questions.”

There is a frozen silence where the humans lurking in the shadows all gape at her. Then-.

Laughter. Soft and short and weary, but honest and not unkind, “I was wondering,” says the man (boy, for although age clings to his bones like a heavy cloak, she does not think he is a man by Immortal standards, not yet, or at least he shouldn’t but is, just like all children forced to grow up too fast) as he stands up and begins limping (limping and what blow could permanently injure an Immortal? Those who survive even burning to ash on the wind? She can think of only one answer, and the surety of her realization grows) down the stairs to meet her on even ground, “if anyone on the outside would figure it out.”

He stops before her, amusement mixed with only a thread of wariness in his eyes, a human too old to be natural, an Immortal too young to be ruling, “What gave me away?”

She stares into his eyes and feels the ancient power of her bloodline, the intuition that marked them as seers, stir. For a moment she tastes memory and pain, a curse willingly taken to spare the lives of others, a price willingly paid as blood weeps free of should-be mortal wounds. For a moment memory not her own whispers poisonously in her ears “The throne sits only one.” and in her blood another voice responds, “Off my chair, Jester, the King sits there.” She pushes it away, those are not her memories to keep or her burdens to bear. Those belong to the young Night King standing before her, looking at her without fear, but instead nostalgic fondness, as if he looks at her and sees the ghost of another at her shoulder (one of her ancestors perhaps, and the thought gives her pause).

“Your eyes,” she settles on finally, “the original Accursed had yellow eyes.” She has never seen him to know of course, but all practitioners of the Black Arts got them before the poisonous magic killed its own wielder, and the Accursed would have been no different despite his stubborn survival in the face of the death curse Black Magic gave all its wielders.

There is a flicker of surprise, then sadness, “Yes,” he agrees with a knowing that comes from experience, “they were.” He blinks as if to banish a memory, then dips his chin in greeting and gestures a hand toward one of the side doors of the Throne Room, “It is far too early for dinner,” he says politely, “but I am certain Ignis would be able to make something light to help you relax from your journey. Will you talk with me over tea?”

Feeling off balance and aware he could tell despite her calm facade, she dips her chin and flicks her wings in a return greeting, one monarch to another, “I would be honored.”

[tearoomsaloon]

I kinda miss big bad possessive stay-the-fuck-away-from-my-wife killer emperor

Kinda? honey I miss tf out of him

He was right, she was not fucking ready to join him on a campaign.

Physically? Yes, she’d been training with a lightsaber for a little over two years and had been well versed in weaponry for longer. Her use of the Force was strong, aided by her husband’s teaching and guidance.

But mentally? No, fuck no, she wasn’t prepared for this. The bloodshed, fine, not like it was new, not like she didn’t know it was coming. War games? Unfamiliar but still expected. Kylo turning into a raging animal with almost no resemblance to the man she’d grown to know?

Yeah, that was fucking her up.

She’d been on the same part of the battlefield as him once and, having borne witness to him all but transforming into something with almost no scrap of humanity left, she opted to stay with the war cabinet and plan their advancement. Luckily she had a decent understanding of their forces and the terrain, able to make sound judgment calls and helpful suggestions.

At night he would return to their shared quarters on the cruiser high above the planet’s atmosphere. He was always covered in blood, sweat, and grime. She didn’t know how many times she had to tell him she didn’t care whose fluids he had on him and was more upset by the fact that there were fluids, period.

He would scrub himself clean as best he could before crawling into bed beside her. Held tight in his arms, she knew she ought to feel safe, protected, that the beast was on her side, loved her unconditionally, but the fact that such a feral, violent creature lurked under his facade made her stomach sink. Her husband—forced husband, darling husband, frightening, monstrous husband—was probably the most vicious thing she’d ever seen and he loved her, deeply.

“You’re on edge,” Kylo’s voice rumbled behind her, reverberating against her back.

“I’m fine.”

“Rey.” He said it in a singsong, squeezing her tighter to his chest. “You’re lying to me.”

“Are you always like that in battle?”

“Like what?”

“Like a… Monster.”

“I don’t know. I don’t usually remember it much.”

“So you just go into a bloodlust and completely forget?”

“It sounds worse when you put it like that.”

“Have you always fought like that?”

“No.” He kissed the back of her neck and she, traitorous girl, leaned into it. “It’s worse when I’m protecting you.”

“I don’t need you to—”

“I know, I know, you’re more than capable of defending yourself, but it’s not about that. It’s about having someone I desperately want to keep safe. If you got so much as a scratch I can guarantee I’d paint the ground red.”

Against her better judgment, she decided to fight beside him the next morning. They were making good progress on the ground against separatist forces and she felt confident it wouldn’t be too brutal.

Damn was she wrong.

It didn’t matter how many she took down or disarmed, there were another ten soldiers to take their place. She could feel her arms growling numb as the adrenaline wore off and her overtaxed muscles began to scream for a reprieve.

One false step, one bad calculation, and blaster fire railed her in the side. She screamed as she went down, lightsaber knocked from her grasp.

Kylo, not even eight feet away, changed almost immediately, his expression from stoic to bloodthirsty. He called her fallen saber to himself and let it ignite into an adversary’s chest. His eyes went from alive to cold, demeanor distinctly animalistic. He bared his teeth and howled.

Several troopers assisted her to her feet, shields up to deflect any incoming fire. She heard Kylo’s rage more than she saw it, too dizzy to keep her eyes open. She was given a numbing agent and a small amount of bacta that wouldn’t do a thing. It was a few minutes before the clamor died so slightly and her demon of a man reappeared. He took her swiftly into his arms to a transport ship, snarling orders along the way.

“I’m going to mount his head on the wall,” he growled to her as they left orbit. “Or skin him into a rug.”

“Love, please—”

“No one injures my wife.” It was a roar, a snarl, a howl. “Absolutely no one.”

Rey tightened her grip around his neck, grateful for the contact. “I hate to admit, but that’s kind of hot in a way.”

The roughness left his voice. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s like, the amount you care really does something for me. I—you know what, I’ll explain when I’m healed.”

“I really don’t get the correlation.”

She nuzzled into his neck, closing her eyes. Not much longer until they reached the medbay. “I promise to tell you later, all right? I don’t want to give you any ideas now.”

“Fine, you’d better keep that promise.”

[lovestobrag]

⎨The Basics ⎬   ➥Legal Name:  William Pratt ➥Nickname/Alias:  Spike ➥Birthday: September 29th, 1853 ➥Birthplace: London, England ➥Sex | Gender | Species: Cis male | Vampire ➥Preferred Pronouns: him/he ➥Sexual Orientation: bisexual ➥Spoken Languages: English, Spanish, Mandarin, Latin, Fyarl, Luganda

⎨A History Lesson⎬

➥Education: Well-educated, studied at the University of London as a young man.  ➥Who were they in school? (class clown, mean girl, etc.): The obedient student ➥Occupation: Shit-stirrer and occasional demon-basher  ➥Occupation they wanted as a child: poet-laureate  ➥Socioeconomic level now: lower middle class ➥Living conditions growing up: lived in a well-off area of London with his single mother ➥Living conditions now: Living in a run-down house outside of the city ➥Criminal Record: none

⎨Relationships⎬   ➥Parents: Anne Pratt, sired by Drusilla ➥Siblings: none ➥Significant Others: verse dependent ➥Ex-Significant Others:  Buffy Summers, Drusilla  ➥Children: None. ➥Best Friends: The Scoobies (sort of), Winnifred Burkle,  ➥Pets: None ➥Rivals: Angel ➥Enemies: the First

⎨Let’s Get Physical⎬   ➥Character’s Build: small and compact, but fit ➥Height:: 5′9″ ➥Hair Colour/Style: curly medium blond hair, dyed platinum and kept slicked back. ➥Eye Colour: steel blue, yellow when he’s got his ‘game face’ on ➥Body Modifications: none ➥Scars/Birthmarks: several scars on his chest ➥Powers/Abilities: superior strength, speed, agility, super human senses, bloodlust ➥Restrictions: sunlight and religious artifact vulnerability ➥Physical or Mental Illnesses: undiagnosed depression ➥Addictions:  Mortley’s cigarettes, Passions, and hot chocolate with minimarshmellows

⎨The Juicy Stuff⎬   ➥Vice: Lust / Greed / Gluttony / Sloth / Pride / Envy / Wrath ➥Virtue: Chastity / Temperance / Charity / Diligence / Forgiveness / Humility / Kindness ➥Religion: atheist ➥Alignment:  Lawful / Neutral / Chaotic || Good / Neutral / Evil ➥Hogwarts House: Slytherin ➥Element: fire➥Character Tropes: antihero, badass longcoat, big brother instinct, closet geek, even evil has standards, good is not nice, i am very british, inferiority superiority complex, love hurts, the nicknamer

tagged by : no one, stole from @ozwolff

tagging : You!

[floral-flames]

❛  you lay one hand on me and it'll be the last thing you ever do.  ❜ Futaba @ Demon!Hisoki

*  ―  𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺. || Accepting

━━━‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ This woman dare threaten him!? The Shirai Ryu's very own elite assassins' gone demon for Hisoki's true nature finally had shun through -with a little help-. Yet, even with such words that spilled from the woman's lips, the demon master couldn't help but to let out a chuckle, one so low and dark that even the not so gifted knew trouble was to come.

"A empty threat, hmm? One should be careful of saying such things, especially within my presence"

[floral-flames--a]

[miss-writers-block]

The Worst Kind of Time Travel AU

((Content Warning: Thoughts of Suicide, Suicide, Blood & Gore, Wei Wuxian))

Wei Wuxian is at the lowest he’s ever been, possessed, dying, falling apart both mentally and physically, corrupted by dark forces, and drowning in his guilt. The Wen remnants are dead, brought to disgrace and ruin by his own hand and the hands of those he once called allies (and, oh god, his baby, his A-Yuan, abandoned by his family, just as his father and mother once did to him). His Shijie and her husband are dead, both from his direct actions, leaving his brand new nephew without his parents, whom he will never know. His Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu are dead, murdered by Wen Chao because of his arrogance and folly. He’s disgraced the graves of many, wiped out a whole sect, and now he’s even massacred his fellow cultivators. Lan Wangji hates him. His brother hates him. The whole cultivation world hates him!

He hates himself. 

Cultivators who he once called brothers and sisters are calling for his blood. The sun glints off Nie Mingjue’s sabre and he can feel Baxia’s bloodlust from here. Jin Guangyao stands beside his father (the leader of the siege) and a small smile makes dimples appear upon his smooth cheeks. Lan Xichen is there as well, his expression serious and mournful. (Lan Wangji is not, and his former friend must surely despise him, to not even come to witness the moment of his death.) Jiang Cheng snarls at him with hate in his eyes and in his heart. 

Wei Wuxian laughs. What kind of overkill is this?! One thousand verses one. The odds are flattering, really. Well, if they want him dead, then fine, he’ll die. He takes the Stygian Tiger Seal out of his robes and holds it aloft. The crowd becomes nervous and he delights in their discomfort.

It serves them right, the traitors.

The dead who were loitering by the cave amble closer, drawn to the seal’s resentful energies. Tendrils of black curl around his figure, docile and obedient...for now.

He concentrates his power together and shatters his greatest weapon into pieces. The backlash blows everyone back, including himself. His whole body flies through the air and he collides with the mountainside. A jagged piece of rock pierces through his leg. He can feel the vertebrae in his back shatter and his ribs break. His right hand and arm have been blown clean off, and the phantom pain is immeasurable. He is dazed and his vision is blurry, so he must have also hit his head. He is broken and vulnerable and entirely open to attack, if he doesn’t die from someone’s hand soon, he will perish from his injuries.

But the dead recover faster than the living and the cultivators are not the ones who reach him first. 

He is torn apart. He is devoured. He is getting the ending that he deserves. The last thing he sees is his brother, horror twisting his features and Wei Wuxian’s name on his tongue, and he has one last regret. That he was not able to spare his shidi from this gruesome sight. 

He dies in that moment and wakes in the next. 

A scream of agony leaves his throat and he claws at the sheets that have twisted around him. When his air runs out he chokes for a moment before he gasps for breath once again. The air tastes like blood.

He should be dead. He should be dead. But the ache in his limbs and the pain in his head indicates otherwise. Not only is he not dead, but he is very much alive and very much himself, golden core in his possession once more and features familiar. 

He should be dead.

With a brief investigation of a room he thought long gone, he finds that he is at Lotus Pier, seven years in the past. Before his study year at Gusu, before the Wen Sect rose to power, before that awful week in the cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter, before the burning of Lotus Pier, before the Sunshot Campaign, before his mastery of demonic cultivation, before the death of his Shijie. 

He knelt in the midst of his ruined room with the morning sun pouring down upon his figure and the sweet birdsong filling his ears and he realized that he could prevent everything.

He just needed to do what needs to be done, and quickly.

He sits at his desk and outlines the events of the next seven years, explaining what and who and when and how. His hand trembles and he just hopes it’s legible enough. He just hopes that they’ll heed his words, before it’s too late. When he finishes, he makes sure to put his room back in order. He wouldn’t want any of his fellow disciples to have to deal with more of a mess than what he’s already going to make.

He should be dead.

He takes one last deep breath, whispers a prayer of courage, pulls Suibian from it’s sheathe (and it feels so good to be able to do that again), and pulls the blade across his throat.

Everything happens in a split second. The screen door to his room slides open, a spray of ruby gushes from his carotid and stains Jiang Cheng’s robes in black, his shidi’s eyes take on an all too familiar look of horror, and Wei Wuxian falls forward with one last thought, This is the last time I fail you, brother, I promise.

[Second Part]

[Third Part]

[Fourth Part]

[Fifth Part]

[desiren-a]

briefly,  on evelynn’s dramaticism in her killings.

evelynn really enjoys sex for what it is,  and she enjoys using sex as a means to get down to a murder,  her truest passion,  and she just adores lavishing her words with numerous sexual innuendos and speaking of things such as lust and desire when she really means her bloodlust,  rather than anything sexual.  evelynn is dramatic and over the top about everything she does,  in the way that she speaks and exaggerates the things that she says,  especially when it comes down to killing,  but her actions are just as dramatic.

she considers herself an artist,  not just in a modern based verse where she’s a literal musical artist and a dancer who also happens to be skilled with cosmetics and business marketing ventures,  but primarily as it applies to killing,  as many killers do.

evelynn being as dramatic as she is,  she has to make a beautifully royal mess.  she doesn’t know the meaning of being neat or tidy when it comes to the murders she commits.  you could describe them as crimes of passion,  namely because evelynn is quite passionate about everything she does,  because she just finds so much enjoyment in it.  although crimes of passion are typically spontaneous killings,  it could be argued that evelynn’s are bordering on being premeditated.  she doesn’t always look at someone and view them with the end goal being their death at her hands,  but when it does come to the end,  she may lead them to an off site to then kill them,  and it is violent,  and in her eyes,  it is beautiful.

she often stages the bodies,  and of course,  there is so much blood everywhere.  she’ll often take her time in killing her victims,  torturing them before they die,  and sometimes they may die of their wounds and the deliciously excruciating agony that they endure through the torture.  other times,  she does manage to deliver a killing blow,  rarely with additional weapons,  and more typically with her claws or lashers,  typically magically imbued  /  enhanced.  again,  jumping back to evelynn staging bodies,  she likes to be artful with it,  or paint a picture about it.  it might be a nod to who she saw them as as a person,  or it might be a mockery of them,  a mockery of their brief  ‘  relationship,  ’  or whatever.  it doesn’t always have any meaning behind it,  though.  sometimes she’s just playing with dolls.

during the tortures,  she may break and fracture bones antemortem,  but there are a lot of times where she just toys with them even after death and people will find that there are postmortem breaks and fractures,  and even further postmortem wounds.  that isn’t often,  though.  it’s no longer fun when they stop screaming.

sometimes,  she might leave these bodies in public places,  other times,  and this is most often the case,  she leaves them in less discoverable places so as to not attract too much attention,  but this is only in a modern setting.  in runeterra,  it doesn’t matter to her where they die or where she leaves the bodies.  she’s much less careful with the corpses in runeterra,  whereas in the modern world,  her victims just very often simply go missing.  she’s been the subject of multiple missing persons cases and murders as the prime suspect,  just because of her ties to them all once the bodies are found or the link is made between the missing persons that she was their former flame for even a short period of time,  but no one ever has any evidence to tie her to anything except for just the circumstantial note of her having dated them all.  she’s always in some sort of scandal because of it,  but she doesn’t mind it at all  !!  she loves the spotlight.  she’ll never get caught.  she’s a demon,  she won’t leave prints.  not any that would be identifiable,  anyway.

[witchingrey]

obey me! tidbits .

C.C. is Celtic, and part fairy or fae; or  Tuath Dé / Danann, having been abandoned by her full-blooded Mother from her original birth place within part of Ancient Britain’s corner of Northern Ireland, the fabled  Tír na nÓg before eventually finding herself living in the very human realm of the isles of ancient Britannia / Britain. Long before it established itself and wars were an every day occurrence. This lends itself to her natural longevity. 

With a natural, immeasurable talent for magic and power ingrained in her half-fae blood, or Sidhe, C.C. roamed between the portals of time and space without an ability to control her magic; already quite powerful as a little halfling child; she eventually came upon a teacher who would be teaching her into about her nigh two hundredth century by her own blood’s natural favoring.

The teacher had ulterior motives, and whatever happened between that time and, only a few centuries later would the ancient Witch discover to be a transferred ‘curse’ of immortality, the already guaranteed long life sealed with a curse instead of the freedom of the fair folk to which she both and did not belong. This betrayal has scarred C.C.

C.C. has an enigmatic history with Leviathan @perfectbluu​ as a child, having witnessed him once upon the seas wreaking havoc in full form; a changeling child no one wanted in long spurned rags and stale bread for company. As he wreaked said havoc upon the mortal realm; she confused him for a ‘great dragon’ and not a serpent. The girl foolishly offered a loaf of bread near the dock before concerned acolytes and fellow supernaturals took her back into a safer portal elsewhere. 

Eventually C.C. took residence in the Devildom after the entirety, start to finish, of the Witch Trials endured, and many other such things you’ll not find from her lips, finding no comfort among Man, long having been tortured, abused and manipulated in her innocent days by fire, quite literally, and other methods of heartache, tragedy and countless eternal stories that have gone into the thousands of her immortal life, one that would be consider blessed if not for the means. 

She began research into her ‘curse’ , taking many Witches and Warlocks / Sorcerers as apprentices to stave off loneliness and to make them wise in the world of demons, to whom so many easily gave their soul’s natural providence of dominion.

C.C. has spent countless years in the Devildom establishing herself as ‘The Great Witch / Grey Witch / Witch of Fate’ and other both seemly and unfriendly nicknames while keeping her blood a secret; though her nymph-like hair color, her rich, sun-colored eyes and regal features denote an otherwordly sort of beauty that no glamour could imitate. 

She is ultimately one of the key magical, non-demonic entities of myth that many young witches and warlocks aspire to be like, or in some cases, avoid due to unsavory rumors and far-fetched legends due to how long she has graced the earth both under hell and heaven.

Naturally gifted the power of seeing the strands of fate; C.C. has the natural given gift of ‘Sight’ and ‘Clairvoyance’, able to see the ‘red strings that bind’ and at times, even intervene but only on the personal vow of it being in the person’s best interest. She calls her actions of intervening for better or worse blended with knowing it is the right thing by her Sight, the Witch’s Scissors, because her Sight / Psionic abilities allows her to see the outcome. She uses it sparingly, as freedom of choice in longevity was taken from her; so too does she wish her students and proteges to find their own path. Although very few have become the latter due to either fear or unnecessary awe. 

C.C. ultimately reunites with Leviathan, finding familiarity in the yellow eyes that are not mad with bloodlust, but familiar all the same, stumbling upon him at some point in the Devildom prior to the MC arriving. She considers him her closest friend and one that has not left her in the flow of time. Aware of who he is after that long time ago as an innocent witchling girl; she finds relief that for his hermit-like ways, he seems more at peace in his hobbies. 

Ultimately, C.C. will if not in her main verse always harbor deeper emotions for the Avatar of Envy, Annie’s to be exact, having a history only she remembers awoken by him proposing a Pact, something she has avoided for many an age since her mistake with her first pact with a demon named Mao. She is notorious for being immensely and frighteningly powerful without having excessive amounts of demons for ulterior motives.  Which lends herself if she falls off the beaten path as a legitimate threat.

When summoning Leviathan, as discussed, he will take the form of a massive draconic Serpent just as she remembers him, but with sanity and reason. She generally does not call upon them, viewing their bond and mutual hurts and joys as sacred. 

Despite her curse expanding an already assured existence, C.C. still finds great purpose and an ability to see forward into her life’s endless flow due to her natural fae-given abilities, thus encouraging her timeless body to for ‘boredom’s sake’ partake in the studies of the Devildom if only to be a comforting source for young Witches. This has stopped her from becoming entirely cynical.

C.C. is easily one of the most powerful non-demonic entities in the Devildom and mortal world by hard work, natural talent, and sheer cunning. As a Witch, she is a paragon to many who seek her out for wisdom or teaching; finding she is a surprisingly gentle if not cryptic teacher known for both her beauty and her strictness. 

C.C. will only ship generally with @perfectbluu​ in Obey Me! Verse as she is highly protective of him and feels they have kindred spirits; only generally talking a liking to Beelzebulb, Satan, Lucifer and Mammon. That can easily change according to how they treat her chosen demon of pact, and will not hesitate to challenge them on their treatment of him and his hobbies as a coping mechanism, in the same sense she would feel a kinship with Solomon. A softness for Luke, and a wariness but quiet appreciation for the kindness of Simeon. She generally is too old and too busy to waste time on silly scruples of race.

Basically C.C. is known as both an enigma, her origins a secret, her age unknown, and renowned for both beauty and brains. To many witches and young magic users, she is an ideal, if not eccentric and gentle teacher who oddly enough always seems to have a knack of knowing just what might benefit their life’s path… 

[huntershowl]

‘hellhound, the hunter’ rumors masterpost.

copy-pasted from my carrd because Important +_+

no matter where or when the verse takes place, it's an important part of hellhound's character that she is notorious. if your character is a hero or of general good conscience, hellhound is an antagonist, a villain, and that's something i don't feel comfortable compromising. please keep in mind that she is a serial killer, well known to the public for her extremely brutal MO, and there isn't currently a pattern to be found between her victims other than the way they were killed – though that's something i'd love to explore over the course of our threads. of course, there is more to her character than what she's known for, that's the point of a narrative arc, but the main point of conflict within it is the duality between her true nature and her criminal persona.

so this is something i bring up in almost every thread because it follows her across cities, and across worlds: the rumors circling hellhound, whispered from fearful lips – from parents to children, from sisters to brothers. in all verses, these rumors started around three years ago, after a set of riots that took place in the city she’s from.

whether all, some, or any of these rumors are true or not is up in the air, even though some are more obvious than others ( like her appearance: the hair and the arms. )

the main rumors, known fairly commonly, are as follows: 

black hair that lets off smoke, both arms prosthetic.

her eyes turn a bright, burning red if you make her mad.

if you make her REALLY MAD, she will transform into a giant, wolflike beast and tear you to absolute shreds. 

this beast is known to differ in appearance depending on the region of the rumor. in hell’s kitchen, for example, not only is she known as hellhound, the hunter, but the beast, and she is known to take on a more demonic appearance – curling ram’s horns and spines down her back. (can you blame them? they’re a little jumpy in that area. daredevil muses get it) 

sometimes she has red eyes all over her body, sometimes she is cerberus, sometimes she is cŵn annwn, sometimes she is a celtic black dog. some say the hound was the devil’s companion once, but she broke free of her collar and escaped from hell.

if you make up your own version of this rumor i will go bonkers with excitement

she has an insatiable bloodlust and will go after anyone. children, the elderly, innocent people, anyone in her way, to get to her targets: normal adults, usually married with children, sometimes widowers or widowed. she deprives children of parents, happy folks of significant others or spouses, siblings from siblings.

some amateur folklorists say she’s a vampire: not the dracula kind, but the ancient folklore kind, the kind that rises from its grave and eats the living until there are none left.

she always seems to be two steps ahead of the law. 

has rabies? discuss.

[ze-dominant-demon]

💿 - A random song from my playlist, and an explanation of how my it could relate to my muse

(ooc) This song resonates a  lot with Zeph. Ever since his teens and the slaughter of his tribe, wife, and child at his hands, he’s battled with nightmares and the knowledge that he will never truly be a “good person”. Even learning later on of his Demonic heritage and the outside influence that sent him into that tragic bloodlust never fully stifled the guilt. The last verse, that’s not heard in the official video for this song, really strikes home:

Nothing flashed before my eyes 

No pretty angels, and no bright lights 

All I saw was the devil's soul 

And it looked a hell of a lot like my own