#“sacrifice” and it's just a picture of soul

[dailyhmsw]

loop 47

sacrifice

[thisispoggers]

Drew these cuz I forgot my sketchbook lol anyways have sun Serena and Benjamin moments

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)

I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.

It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time

tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b

When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.

It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆

Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!

I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.

The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.

Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.

And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.

“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.

“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”

“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.

Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”

“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”

Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”

Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.

Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”

“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.

“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”

Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”

Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”

Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.

What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.

“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.

“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”

He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.

"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.

“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."

Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”

“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”

He sighed, “I’m not.”

Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”

He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”

“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.

Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.

With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.

With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.

His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.

His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”

This is ridiculous.

Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.

Nothing.

"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.

He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.

He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.

Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.

After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.

So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.

It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.

Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.

In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.

But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.

Still.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.

He held his breath, unconsciously.

With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.

"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."

Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.

Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.

"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.

But today, they were soft and out of focus.

"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.

"Am I dreaming?"

He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."

"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"

Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.

Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.

"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."

He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"

You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.

"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.

A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.

“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.

“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.

You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”

His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.

"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.

"When was your last time, mon cher?"

Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."

"You're in hell now."

"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.

"Look at me."

Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.

With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.

Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.

He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?

Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.

He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."

Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.

He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.

A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.

"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.

He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.

No.

Not enough.

Too soon.

A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.

He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.

When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.

Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.

He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.

"My doe?"

Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"

"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."

The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.

"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.

Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"

Suddenly, silence.

The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"

"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.

"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.

"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"

Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.

"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"

"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."

"Yet..." She cocked her brow.

"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."

Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"

"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.

She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"

His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."

He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.

But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?

"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."

Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.

For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.

To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.

He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.

Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.

The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.

One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.

You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.

And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.

Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.

He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.

When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”

༻Masterlist༺

[filmbyjy]

ONE NOTE (COMPLETED)

PAIRING > sim jaeyun x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS > When you turned 18, you heard your best friend’s favourite song. Turns out, it was just one of the various signs to finding your soulmate. However, you couldn’t bring this up to jake. Not when he was in a happy relationship with your other best friend! Would you choose heartbreak or sacrifice your happiness for the sake of keeping the friendship

GENRE > soulmate au + best friends to lovers / facing a crisis that you don’t want to break the perfect relationship your two best friends have.

FEATURING > leehan and taesan from boynextdoor, an oc for your girl bestie named aria & the rest of enha in your friend group.

SCHEDULE > every two days or so

TAGLIST > closed as smau has ended

START: 18 August 2024 | END: 28 January 2025

PROFILE: the fam | mental health club

ONE: wingwoman

TWO: souls bonded

THREE: elephant in the room

FOUR: so sorry for your future

FIVE: it's not jake

SIX: i accept it

SEVEN: will we ever be close again?

EIGHT: happy birthday jae

NINE: she's been a nastay gurl

TEN: or was it? [written]

ELEVEN: it's glowing

TWELVE: it's just not fair

THIRTEEN: pretending to be like me

FOURTEEN: hanahaki disease?

FIFTEEN: most touching story [written]

SIXTEEN: aria is a bitch

SEVENTEEN: into you

EIGHTEEN: the first petal [pictures + written]

NINETEEN: I have to ask

TWENTY: it’s kinda suffocating

TWENTY-ONE: no thanks

TWENTY-TWO: candid photo

TWENTY-THREE: a heavy topic

TWENTY-FOUR: she has no friends! [pictures + written]

TWENTY-FIVE: I DIDNT BLOCK YOU ON KAKAO??

TWENTY-SIX: good, weep

TWENTY-SEVEN: love makes you truly blind [written + pictures]

TWENTY-EIGHT: moving on

TWENTY-NINE: disgustingly creepy?

THIRTY: my two girls

THIRTY-ONE: family drama [written]

THIRTY-TWO: I'm cooked

THIRTY-THREE: living with a baddie

THIRTY-FOUR: two d*cks??

THIRTY-FIVE: morning smooches [written + pictures]

THIRTY-SIX: my apolocheese

THIRTY-SEVEN: I caved in

THIRTY-EIGHT: (name)’s puppy

THIRTY-NINE: the love architects

FOURTY: silly little family

fin

got any questions to ask the cast or author?

ONE NOTE: asks

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere self-aware Dick Grayson—He really enjoys winging it.

Yandere Dick Grayson thought you were a god(dess) from another world. He first became self-aware while on patrol. He got hit in the face and sustained a concussion after the fight. He saw you for the first time—only your face. He became aware of the pictures on the pages of the issue you were reading. You picked up another one and opened it up, and he was still there. You watched something with Dick Grayson, and he was there. It was so incredibly overwhelming for him. He simultaneously exists in so many forms of media. 

It makes it that much easier to stalk you.

He can just as easily slip out of a show or movie and watch you through your phone, maybe your television, or your computer.

Yandere Dick Grayson doesn't tell anyone about you. He asks Tim to search for alternate dimensions, but he simply brushes off Tim's questioning. He needs to know exactly what this is. He deludes himself into thinking you have chosen him. There has to be a reason you are now connected. You must be some sort of higher being that needs his protection and help. He needs to figure out how to get to you.

Yandere Dick Grayson talks to you a lot. He addresses you by name; he learned it by looking through your online accounts. He talks about everything from the most mundane to the most personal. He bares his soul to you. He hopes that one day you will do the same in return. After all, he's never been this vulnerable with you before. 

It's startling the first time, but you think it must be some strange side plot. He must have a new love interest with your name that the writers haven't introduced yet. 

Yandere Dick Grayson has an unbelievably arduous time maintaining normal romantic relationships. He is madly devoted to you, but he has to maintain his normalcy. His family may think he has lost his mind or had it manipulated if he told them what he sees and who he loves. He can barely find it within himself to go on dates with those who fancy him. He grows bored almost instantaneously. He imagines them in your visage, and it eases the ache in his heart a little. He needs you. He craves it so dearly.

Yandere Dick Grayson does the most rational thing he is able to think of. He makes a shrine devoted to you and offers things to it. You have to do a double take when you see this. You begin to ignore any media surrounding him. It just keeps popping up. He breaks the fourth wall and begs you to forgive him. He has everything he's learned about you. He needs you. He's so ashamed. He's so used to being confident and having it all together. When with you that all crumbles. 

Yandere Dick Grayson is willing to support you through his hard time. He may be having panic attacks and beating himself off the page, but he knows you'll come back to him eventually. His dear deity would never forsake him. You wanted him to love you after all. Right? You did, obviously! You're just shy. No mortal has willingly worshipped you this much before. You're just busy in your world. You'll come visit him again.

Yandere Dick Grayson who eliminates your distractions for you. He simply pulls a few strings, sacrifices some people, and offers lost souls to demons! They drag you into his world, and he is so overjoyed. You are just a little frazzled. That's why you look so scared. Don't you worry. He'll keep you safe for the rest of his life. He may even sell his soul to make himself immortal so he may stay with you forever.

[brograndpa]

From how the Ascension ritual was described in game though, I think you're missing a huge aspect as to why the ascension was so important to Cazador and Astarion. Both of them are naturally power hungry individuals, so all it does to their personalities is set loose all their worst aspects because they have nothing to fear anymore. Other than that, the infernal contract is made to be an exchange of 7000 souls for the salvation of one. Astarion regains his humanity through ascension in a way that his spawn self literally can't. It's not just about being able to walk in the sun, it's about regaining his capacity to feel and love in a way that's not co-dependent.

Astarion even says it himself when he ascends that he no longer feels that vampiric hunger anymore. He is truly himself again as he was two centuries ago before he became a monster—for better or worse. Considering certain details about his time as a magistrate that were axed from the full version of the game, ascension is the closest thing we can get to seeing the man he was before Cazador, though it will never erase what was done to him. The same goes for his eternal spawn ending, with the major caveat being that one version is a survivor, while the other is a victor.

D&D Vampire Lore Dump #5

Vampire Psychology Is extremely depressing! The changes vampirism inflicts on the psyche, plus vampire morality and the state of their souls; How they deal with conflict; Vampires' relationships with others (including other undead); vampire "mental health" and depression naps.

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER FOR FIRST TIME READERS: D&D is decades old, spans five editions, several settings and hundreds of writers. One guy establishes a piece of lore, and then the next picks it up goes "nah" and writes something else. I collected info from four different source books, all from different editions, which naturally don't entirely agree on how vampires work. Lore never stays consistent and may contradict itself. You may see information somewhere else from a source I don't have that contradicts what I wrote here. If you read this and like some of this stuff but not other bits, take the good and ditch the rest. Larian themselves have not written BG3 totally compliant with some established D&D lore or the original games. You do what you want.

Feeding | "Biology" | Hierarchy | Weaknesses and Cures | Psychology

Are vampires evil? As a rule, yes. Gleefully so. Vampirism, the condition, is inherently evil/harmful. Vampires as individuals may be more complicated, as they are still people with their own personalities, and vampirism can affect them atypically or with varying levels of severity. There are exceptions to norms and rules...

...except for the rule that vampirism is a curse and it does corrupt one's emotions and values, twisting them to be monstrous parodies, inversions or extremes of the original quality to at least some degree.

One of the most notable traits vampirism is that it will twist and inflate is the individual's pride, and arrogance is a universal trait. It definitely doesn't help when the vampire in question was already a self-absorbed idiot in life. Many vampires are completely consumed by delusions of grandeur.

Even when they want to be good people, vampires are flat out described as typically being "innately selfish" which "makes a good alignment difficult to uphold."

Vampirism also instils sadism and violent tendencies - vampires enjoy violence and hurting people and when they experience rage the sensation is made more powerful.

That vampirism corrupts its victims isn't that surprising, considering the origins of vampirism all seem to lead back to evil Powers who exist to corrupt people the exact way vampirism does. Demons, infernal pacts, Archdevils, and evil deities like the Dead Three…

However, a vampire can resist this corruption. There is at least of a fragment of the mortal they were in a vampire, the "part of it that is still mortal [and] yearns tenaciously for the things it had in life," even as the parts of them consumed by vampirism scorns those impulses.

If their will to do so or their attachment to a specific part of their identity is strong enough then individual vampires can retain/maintain some part/s of their mortal self intact and untainted by the curse. Vampires do not necessarily begin their unlives evil-aligned and have the option to struggle against their condition and be more than their curse tries to make them, if they chose.

It doesn't help that their nature is enforced by their "upbringing." The combination of vampiric nature with the trauma that they're "born" into leaves an incredibly strong inclination towards evil alignments eventually.

Maintaining a good alignment is beyond the "typical" vampire, but neutral alignments have been seen in those who don't want to be the monsters their master made them into. They can choose to help others and resist their worst impulses. Notably while the 3.5e description of vampire spawn as pcs says that they are traditionally evil and typically find good difficult to uphold due to their nature, that exact wording means that being good-aligned or leaning towards it is not impossible. It is unfortunately far easier for vampires to backslide than to move forward, and there is no escape from the constant instinctual drive to become evil for as long as a person remains a vampire, but it can be done.

"The arts of creating and controlling undead are Evil […] but undead themselves [vampires included] are not always evil." - Lords of Darkness (1e)

And on the bright side of innate vampire inclinations, vampires don't have the inherent hatred for the living possessed by other undead! (They just tend to think mortals are inferior and usually only bother to look at them if they're in need of slaves and/or food…)

Vampires without souls are a special exception to morality here, they are fully evil and have nothing within them to counter the vampiric instincts, but first we need to talk about the state of a vampire's soul - a topic of much bickering.

-

The soul in D&D canon is basically the essence of life and personhood - without it, while the brain may continue to fire neurons and circulate hormones, the individual feels "empty" and grows increasingly disassociated from those emotions and the world around them. They lose their personality, emotions and ability to form genuine relationships as everything they were starts to fade away into nothing.

Here's a quote from a soulless dude talking to the woman he loved up til the moment he lost his soul and couldn't love her any more that I think sums it up quite nicely: "I… I do not remember your love […] I have tried to. I have tried to recreate it, to spark it anew in my memory. But it is gone… a hollow, dead thing. For years, I clung to the memory of it. Then the memory of the memory. And then nothing. […] I look upon you and I feel nothing."

So, in 1e undeath destroyed the soul. In 2e I'm not sure if they had one - no, I think? 3.5e and 4e I don't know ever answered the question. 5e says they do have a soul, but it's corrupted in the manner already discussed.

In the Baldur's Gate series? Yes, they do. Aside from the whole 7000 souls thing, back in BG2 there's a vampire you kill whose soul is in agony and lingers to beg you to kill him and thanks you when you do for freeing him from undeath. In BG3 you may read Cazador's subconscious thoughts- as he mourns his mortal life, "the monster that will not end" and wishes to die. The soul is still there in the background, but it really wishes it wasn't.

In the case of vampires that don't have a soul all that's left behind is a flesh puppet piloted by a curse, echoing emotions they can't feel based on memories of a mortal life they can't really understand because all they are is a void filled by the violent, selfish, power-hungry monster that is pure vampire while the person they were is gone forever.

And even they're having a bad time! In BG2 we have another vampire: an elf whose spirit/soul is long gone, and she's still subconsciously screaming in horror at what she's become (which says a lot considering how evil she was to begin with. Like, "drain the life from the population a whole city, killing them to empower myself" unrepentant Evil).

-

Revisiting that "innately selfish" thing; The one thing vampires prize above all else is their own skin, and they will usually avoid risking it at all costs. A vampire might be willing and able to put aside the urge to be a selfish asshole, if it's for the sake of something they care about enough, but that's rare.

Vampires often rely on strategy and avoid straight-up fights. A "fair fight" is a foreign concept. They don't face an unknown enemy face-on until they know what they're dealing with, and will generally keep their distance trying to manoeuvre themselves into an advantage. They'll pretend to be more affected by their weaknesses than they are, to trick an opponent into letting their guard down. For example, pretending to be turned by a cleric, only to sneak back when the party's asleep and kill them then. Fleeing to either draw enemies into a trap or to sneak back for a backstabbing is a very popular tactic amongst vampires.

They also like to try and weaponise whatever social skills they have. Seduction, intimidation, coercion, bribery… whatever they think they can use to try manipulate others. They infiltrate the echelons of power, turning the rich and influential into their puppets. Build spy networks. They'll try to divide groups of potential enemies by exploiting their weaknesses, trying to weaken the group by turning the group against each other and enticing others to betray their allies in exchange for allying with the vampire. Vampires do so like to collect minions. Whether it's an innate desire for domination or a side effect of beginning unlife without autonomy, it's hard to find a vampire that doesn't (want to) have an army of servants and a desire to control people.

-

Speaking of minions, Vampires have a knack for necromancy and commanding their fellow undead considering them obviously inferior and so obviously existing to serve them. You'll often find other kinds of undead in the service of vampires.

Other sapient undead in turn think that vampires are obnoxious morons! Mummies think vampires are disgusting because they drink blood and they have little patience for vampires' tendencies towards peacocking and melodrama. Ghouls prefer to avoid interacting with vampires because they're arrogant pricks. Wights think vampires are "embarrassing poseurs trying too hard to pass themselves off as living beings." Mohrgs respect the vampiric drive to seek power, but look down on them for depending on the living to survive.

Vampires make the absolute worst company for other vampires; they're solitary predators, competitive and highly territorial and two free willed vampires will fight if they occupy an area together. It won't necessarily be combat; it might be fighting through their minions; or sabotaging each other's political machinations or something - but one needs to feel it has defeated or driven away the other. When it does come to a fight, it can often dissolve into animalistic violence. An example given of vampires in combat is of two vampires trying to kill each other with their bare hands, "hissing and spitting like cats". As vampires get older they learn to control their instincts and temper, and they can ally with their peers temporarily, but this too will inevitably collapse under the stress this cooperation puts them under. The only vampires another vampire can (barely) tolerate are the ones it controls or the ones it's magically brainwashed into "loving". If a vampire must deal with another on less unequal terms, they do it at a distance and they engage in a careful exchange to ensure the deal does not benefit the other party more than it benefits them and does not place one in control of the other in any way.

Young vampires often turn their loved ones in order to avoid losing them to age, disease and death. This obviously backfires, as the loved ones can only stay with them as slaves or enemies.

Despite the instinctual side of being a vampire ensuring that they can't be around each other, as individual people, vampires can have compatible personalities and feel affection for each other without being chained to one another (by doing it from a distance) - Mortals, of course, do not pose this issue. They pose other ones related to power dynamics and being a potential food source.

As vampires always seem to be utterly selfish fucks who treat everyone else as garbage that exists only to be ordered around, nobody expects them to care about anything or anyone else. And that's why people get caught off guard when a grieving vampire - against all expectations of vampire behaviour, arrives - sometimes out of nowhere, to exact vengeance on behalf of whoever was killed. Typically vampirism will try to warp affection into obsession and a desire to possess, but vampires can care about others.

Also when vampires feel strongly about another person, they definitely don't respond very healthily to losing them. Vampires seem to largely respond to the initial hit of grief by going into a blind, animalistic frenzy where they massacre everything within arms reach. After that they become utterly consumed by vengeance, which can spiral horribly out of control.

One day, inevitably, the stress and misery of eternal unlife gets too much. Depression is a given. Paranoia is also incredibly common. Whatever coping mechanisms the vampire has steadily spiral out of control. If the vampire's choice happens to be violence and hedonism, then they rapidly devolve into an utter monstrosity. Often the vampire's struggles become increasingly obvious until they're killed either by hunters or another vampire. Suicides also occur.

When vampires feel the weight of their unlives pressing down on them they usually go into hibernation in the hope that the rest will refresh them a bit and alleviate the stress. Or at least shut out the world. In a state of hibernation the vampire's thoughts are slow and sluggish; a single thought can take months or years to process. They have no sense of the passage of time or hunger as they experience strange dreams mixed with memories and the occasional vague impressions of their surroundings. The vampire has no way to know or control how long they will be in hibernation for. It will last at least 40 years, and has been known to last for centuries. In this state a vampire is significantly weakened, physically and mentally. Being forced to wake before their time may kill them, and if they wake "naturally" it will take 3-10 days for their minds to fully shake off the hibernation state. The vampire must feed within 12 hours prior to laying down in a safe space, underground and surrounded by several feet of rock/earth on either side (including above and below) in order to enter hibernation.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Tag list: @sh-tposter2021 @casmosmoon @hoesindifferentshows @daffodildelight @stuckinaoaktree @this-is-music @good-so @farleyis @starksdaughter20

Part 1

It has been a couple of days since your confession and Hobie was conflicted on whether he should rip the preverbal bandaid off and tell you of his secret identity, and possibly putting you at risk for potentially dangerous circumstances in the future, or keep you in the dark for a little while longer until he felt brave enough with himself and his situation to come forward; After all personal relationships -whether platonic or romantic- and Spider-Man never went well together. It was a sacrifice placed upon the shoulders of all variations who were chosen to dawn the mask of Spider-Man.

For if the legacy of being Spider-Man was a death sentence to those who are close, Hobie doesn’t want you death to be treated as his ‘canon event’ or whatever hand fisted bullshit excuse Miguel was trying to ram down everyone’s throats in order to justify in allowing a loved one of theirs to die. Hobie refuses that being the case and due to his righteous mistrust of Miguel, he kept your name out of his mouth unless it was within the presence of the few he could trust; Miles, Pavitr and Gwen.

‘So they have a crush on you.’ Pavitr began.

‘Yeah.’

‘And you have a crush on them.’ Miles jumped in.

‘Ain’t no point in hiding it.’ Hobie cooly replied because why should he bother hiding the obvious.

‘So…what’re you going to do about it?’ Gwen finishes and Hobie only shrugs in response, ‘dunno.’

Pavitr made an face of exaggerated shock and looks over at Miles and Gwen, who were already expecting this reaction from him as they exchanged looks with him, before looking back at Hobie. ‘Dunno, the person you like has expressed that they like you too-‘ ‘-it wasn’t me they were talking to Pav, it was Spider-Man, clear difference. No need to rom-com it.’ Pavitr waved his comment away and continues on his tangent, ‘they like you, you like them and your response to all that is; Dunno?!’ Hobie -again- shrugs. He really didn’t know what to do, yes the feelings between you two were mutual but that didn’t mean he was going to risk your safety over them; no matter how deeply he feels them to the point where the mere idea of you being put at risk because of him acting out of his selfishness in having you, made him physically hurt.

Hobie would rather enact upon his selfishness in a way that meant letting you go and moving on to someone who wasn’t going to be putting your life in constant danger, whilst also getting to shamelessly cling onto some part of you in the process; even if that meant just being your friend, even though he already knew that wasn’t what you wanted. ‘What do you want me to do Pavitr?’ Hobie began, ‘Go up to them and be like ‘remember the talk you had with Spider-Man up on the roof? Yeah that was me and no I’m not having a laugh because I like you too.’ He made a face at this, ‘nah I’d rather them call me a nonce for the rest of my life, well that is if they still want me in their life afterwards for lying to them this entire time.’ He murmurs the last part to himself mostly and it was silent for a while as he, Pavitr, Gwen and Miles sat on what has been said.

The later three shared a look between them as Hobie looked at a picture of the two of you that he kept within the pockets of his vest, smiling softly to himself as the echos of your laughter ran in his head like a melody he could set his soul adrift to on his most sleepless of nights. It was obvious to Gwen, Pavitr and Miles that Hobie held you close to his chest, right where his heart is; Gwen in particular was aware of how much of an impact you had on Hobie from the times she spent at his place and it was obvious as to where it was that you touched as Hobie made it apparent to keep it that way. You’ve made a home for yourself within Hobie’s heart and she knew that he’d fight to keep you in his life.

‘Hobie,’ he lifted his eyes to meet theirs, ‘would you rather be afraid to tell them who you are for the rest of your life, or tell them while you still have the chance because from what you’ve already told us about y/n, they wouldn’t hate you or call you a nonce, whatever that is.’ Miles mumbled under his breath as Hobie raised his brows, ‘has it crossed your mind at all that you might just overthinking all this? Not to say the fear ain’t real, what I’m trying to get at is this; you should pursue what makes you happiest, regardless of the fears you may have because in the end isn’t it better to have love and lost then to have never have loved at all?’

Hobie mulled on Miles’ advice once he got back to his reality before finding himself standing on that very same rooftop where his conflict began, looking down as he clutched his mask between both hands in contempt, so much so that he didn’t even hear your voice call out to him until you were right next to him. ‘Hobie? Everything alright?’ He had told you prior to meet up on the rooftop of some abandoned apartment complex that you were more then camisole with at this point, but the way he said it made you feel as though there was something eating away at your best friend and you weren’t about to let him go through anything alone without you.

Upon realising how close you were to him, Hobie was slick enough to hide his mask behind his back when he addressed you, stuffing it into his back pocket so that you wouldn’t get overly curious as to his hand placement but then again you were always as observant as him when he noticed the way your eyes lingered, like you already knew what this was about; to which Hobie wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case for it would make this situation a lot easier for you to process what you already knew. ‘Yeah, everything’s cool, why is it that you think somethings up?’ The raise of your brows only told Hobie that you weren’t buying it, ‘oh I think there is but it looks to me that you need a little prompting.’ and without missing a beat your hand was halfway to reaching for his back pocket when he caught your wrist, holding it there as he looked at you incredulously. ‘The hell was that for knobhead.’

You shrugged, ‘like I said, you needed prompting otherwise you wouldn’t be defending whatever’s in your back pocket so adamantly as you are now.’ You were smart, Hobie had to give you that as he lets go of your wrist and decides to quit the unnecessary prolonging and pulled out the mask from his back pocket, chucking it into your awaiting hands as he then sat himself near to the edge with his back facing you so he couldn’t see the look upon your face when you say, ‘so this is what you were hiding from me…I knew Spider-Man felt too familiar and now I know why.’ He heard your footsteps get closer before stopping all together as you sat yourself next to him.

You were both silent but it was a silence loud enough to dampen out anything else in that moment and Hobie didn’t know where this silence would lead to, and neither did you as you were now realising that you had confessed your feelings to your best friend without knowing it; which was already enough to take in but for that friend to also be spider-man was a whole other thing to unpack. Where you mad that he didn’t tell you? No, not even in the slightest but you were more worried then you could ever be mad, after all you just found out your crush and best friend was spider-man for fuck sakes so of course you’d be more worried for his well being. ‘Here,’ you tell him, holding out his mask for him to take, ‘you can have it back.’ Hobie did as you asked and took his mask back, but before it was fully in his grasp you yanked it away from his reach, causing him to look at you.

‘Give it.’ He tells you straightforwardly but you stood your ground as you pressed a finger to your cheek, ‘not until you tell me something first; did you know I had a crush on you prior.’ Hobie shrugs. ‘No, honestly it wasn’t until but you admitted that you liked me that somethings started to make sense.’ You hummed, content with his answer but you weren’t through quite yet. ‘Do you…feel the same.’ You once again asked but this time your voice wasn’t as steady and strong, it was fearful and hesitant; something Hobie never wants you to be when near him.

‘Of course I do, I thought I made it obvious when I personally dealt with those who chatted shit about you behind you back, I thought it was obvious that when I let you into my heart, that there would be no way that I was letting you go but with this,’ he gestured to the mask in your outstretched hand, ‘made it all the more harder for me to do that without putting you in danger; I was hiding this other life from you to protect you but you were always too observant for your own good but it’s one of the many things I love about you.’ Hobie admits, happy he finally got it off of his chest. After hearing all that, you gave him back his mask and rested your head against his shoulder, murmuring, ‘your such a hassle.’

Hobie smiled for what felt like the first time in a long while throughout this whole situation and slugged his arm over your shoulder before resting his head on top of yours, ‘yeah but I’m your hassle.’ He says before pressing a kiss to your head, feeling you as you snuggle into his side, smiling to yourself, ‘how unfortunate.’ You say half heartedly as Hobie joins in, ‘yeah, poor you.’

[acid-ixx]

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

partly inspired by @l0vergirls and @on-leatheredwings.

i like to think that jason todd as your yandere would be very subservient in a sense that he's willing to drown deeper into the depths of corruption and bury all of which hurts you. he's already killed hundreds, no thousands— you eventually lose track of your kill streak the moment blood touches your fingertips— what more can a couple of your foes or even harassers do? you don't even need to acknowledge his existence to guarantee that by the time the clock strikes the dawn of another evening, another life or even lives would be taken justly (in jason's eyes) to ensure you would walk the streets without the need to periodically check your back for any thieves or to feel adrenaline rush through your veins whenever you hear something out of the picture. no, you wouldn't, not when your savior, red hood, would be quicker than all to eliminate any dirt on the street.

sure, jason's moral code was to never murder low-life criminals but hell be damned if any filthy hands lay on your body. he would rather be shot with his very own collection of guns, than let your eyes glint with fear, with trauma he was so accustomed and hardened to. whereas bruce would be known to prioritize missions, jason would immediately abort his the moment he was given a signal that your safety was compromised. jason todd is a child of gotham, and he knows she wouldn't be merciful enough to spare a breathtaking soul such as yours; a life he promises to cherish with the second life he was blessed with. he knows, for sure, that you are the one to hold the very privilege to take his life. but while he's alive, he would take every opportunity to make sure your life was every bit as comfortable.

jason todd is never gentle with his identity as red hood, but as robin, as your jason; he is a man whose actions speak a thousand words. with him as your protector, he has taken to a habit of making sure you know he isn't there to hurt you, but rather keep you safe. and you know it in yourself to not see him as a threat. you would be greeted with your favorite copies of books, either limited or collector's edition. oftentimes, your table would be filled with warm food the moment you step inside your apartment after a night shift. sometimes, you would feel his presence in your room, just right after you enter would you know that he was in there minutes ago, leaving small trinkets or gifts that reminds him of you. they may be jewelry, or music boxes, or keychains. pieces that remind you that under that thick wall of hatred, there is a heart filled with a love for creativity.

he may be known as violent, but with you? you are his everything. your knuckles would be kissed by his bloodied, busted lips, softly, patiently with every reverence in the world. every kisses you sear him with are kisses to his wounds; bruises from which he knew he took for you. your waist or hip would be protectively caged in his scar-filled arm, the other ready to point a gun at another who perturbs his peace. his chest is your safe haven, you can lay on it at any moment and sleep to your satisfaction. his hold on you may be tight, but it would never be as tight as the fingers that would crush the throats of the people who would dare to even make you cry.

jason todd is your right hand man— never beneath you, never above you, but he will kneel for you as he would offer the land of the damned if you would ever accept his sinful sacrifices. all you have to do is say the word, and your very own lover would be glad to shed more blood for your namesake.

[lizpaige]

okay wait I find the TRC graphic novel major arcana tarot assignments are so interesting and I am assuming that MStief had a say in this, so let me share some quotes from her book about tarot for the individual card meanings. Tarot has all different meanings with similar themes, but I thought it'd be interesting to look at what stief thinks about these cards herself.

All quotes are from Illuminating the Prophecy by Maggie Stiefvater. I highly recommend the book if you're interest in tarot or just are obsessed with the series.

BLUE - JUSTICE "When you see the Justive card, it reminds you that you may have fudged the rules a little and got away with it, or you may have persuaded others that your dubious choice was a correct one, but the universe believes in an absolute right or wrong, and you will get what you deserve based upon that. This card is also a reminder that your reward or punishment is often unseen. A bad turn performed on someone else will haunt you years later, and likewise, an unnoticed kind event will create its own reward inside you. At the end of it, you will become the product of these actions: you are the Justice. There's an intense comfort to knowing that you have this control, especially if you feel your good intentions are being taken poorly." - pg. 41-42

ADAM - THE MAGICIAN "Regardless of who or what you believe in, the Magician is an extraordinary master of all trades, and he is resilient because no matter what the world throws at him, no matter how much he loses, he will always have the most powerful tool at his command: himself." pg. 21-22

GANSEY - THE CHARIOT "The duality that the Lovers card mutters about becomes a proper problem by the time the Chariot shows up in a reading. There are two sides to you, seemingly opposite, and you keep being thrown from one to the other. In many decks, this card depicts two beasts of different color pulling a chariot; when they agree on a direction, the chariot moves forward swiftly. When they disagree, the chariot grinds to a halt. You've ground to a halt... "The chariot's not moving because you can't figure out how to get yourself in line. You can't figure out which you you want to be. The Chariot isn't really about choice, though. It's about balance. You aren't cutting one of the beasts free so that you can move on without it. The chariot will move with only pone of them, but not as fast as if you found a way to make them both move in the same direction. The Chariot tells you that there is a way to satisfy the warring parts of you. Find your self-control, embrace your dark and light sides, and enjoy the ride." pg. 33-34

RONAN - THE LOVERS "This card can represent actual lov ers, and when it does, the love pictured is epic - the pairing pof two souls so complementary that it seems obvious that some greater power has designed them for each other. But it can also represent a duality inside you, and the complementary pairing it refers to is your inner self and your outer self. Just like in a great love affair, everything is perfect when both sides of you are working in harmony. And just like in a great love affair, the world crumbles when you war with yourself. The card speaks to the power of wholeness and knowing yourself." - pg. 31-32

NOAH - THE HANGED MAN "The Hanged Man is all about sacrifice - not a martyr's sacrifice, but a scholar's sacrifice. He goes not only willingly, but pleasantly toward his hanging, certain that the time spent in agony will be worth it... When this card shows up in your reading, it's a sign that whatever answer you seek is not going to simply be handed to you. You need to level up in some way, and it's going to require a genuine effort on your part. It doesn't mean that it requires hard work or a huge sum of money... It requires you to literally prostrate yourself on the altar of wisdom, holding yourself vulnerable, looking deep inside yourself for answers. You've got to let go and be willing to let knowledge and transformation take you." - pg. 43-44

[aventurineswife]

Stages of Shadows:

R O U N D 7

(Special thanks to Natto for graciously allowing me to use their incredible artworks. Please support their amazing work by following them on Instagram: @yattapan. Thank you, Natto (if you're reading this, lol), for once again allowing me to use your artworks with full credit given to you! I hope you enjoy this!)

The atmosphere was heavy, the tension almost suffocating as the stage transformed into the grand finale. A shimmering, otherworldly glow enveloped the set, mirroring the heightened stakes of this final performance. The audience, now deathly silent, awaited the clash of wills between two souls fighting for vastly different reasons—Aventurine, the desperate gambler with nothing left, and Sunday, the serene dreamer with everything to prove.

The spotlight fell on Aventurine first. His usually flamboyant demeanor was absent, replaced by an air of exhaustion. Still clad in the tattered remnants of his costume from his performance with Veritas Ratio, he looked dejected, his movements sluggish. The loss of his only true ally weighed heavily on him, and the brutal pace of the competition had left him unprepared.

But even in his brokenness, Aventurine stood tall, his voice carrying the raw, unfiltered emotion of a man with nothing to lose. The music began—a haunting melody of sorrow and defiance.

“Oh, in a blink, gone

Blink, gone

I can’t let it go

Blink and gone”

Each word was drenched in anguish, his voice cracking as memories of Ratio and [Name] flashed in his mind. The stage darkened, flickers of dice and shattered mirrors reflecting his inner turmoil. Aventurine didn’t need theatrics—his pain was the performance. He sang as though tearing his soul apart for the audience to witness, and with every note, his desperation bled through.

His body swayed with the rhythm, unsteady yet deliberate, as he painted a picture of a man grasping for control in a world that had long abandoned him. The final crescendo left the stage in silence, save for the faint echo of his voice.

The spotlight on the stage shifted, bathing in ethereal light. Sunday emerged, calm and composed, his eyes glowing with an unearthly intensity. His tailored suit, immaculate and adorned with intricate golden patterns, gave him the air of a divine figure descended from the heavens.

The opening notes of his song resonated like a ticking clock, a calculated prelude to the grandeur that followed. Sunday’s voice soared—smooth, commanding, and heartbreakingly beautiful.

“The clock goes tick-tock, tick-tock

Just enjoy this

Blink, gone

Oh, in a blink, gone

Let’s go”

Where Aventurine’s performance was raw and chaotic, Sunday’s was ethereal and methodical. Each movement was a carefully choreographed expression of his ideals—a vision of a serene, pain-free world. Illusions of a tranquil paradise filled the stage, showing a dream-like utopia where suffering ceased to exist.

The audience was mesmerized as Sunday’s voice carried them through this perfect world, but beneath the beauty lay an undertone of melancholy. He wasn’t just singing about peace—he was mourning the sacrifices required to achieve it. His sister Robin’s face flashed in his mind, followed by memories of their lost family.

Aventurine stumbles slightly, his steps faltering as Sunday’s voice soars above the audience. The exhaustion from his back-to-back performances and the emotional toll of losing Veritas Ratio weigh heavily on him. Yet, even in his weariness, there is a flicker of defiance in his eyes. His voice, though strained, refuses to falter completely, cutting through the symphony of cheers and Sunday’s ethereal melody.

Aventurine extends both arms outward, his body swaying slightly, drawing on every ounce of strength he has left.

“Today, this moment

Won’t ever come again

The party’s getting started

And let’s go crazy high”

The audience begins to clap in rhythm with his movements, their energy reinvigorating him slightly. It’s not enough to match Sunday’s grace, but Aventurine’s raw, unfiltered passion keeps him in the game. His performance feels less like a show and more like a cry to the universe, a desperate plea for freedom, hope, or perhaps just acknowledgment.

“Wave both hands

Let the rhythm take over

This music

On and on”

(credits to @ilriyum on X/Twitter)

Sunday glides effortlessly across the stage, his every move a calculated display of elegance and precision. He feeds off the crowd’s energy, his ethereal voice carrying a hypnotic quality that captivates everyone watching.

“The verdant lights

They tickle my eyes

Before this piercing, radiant moment

Fades away”

Meanwhile, Silver Wolf’s hacking progresses, bypassing layer after layer of security with calculated precision. The Stellaron Hunters work in perfect synchronicity—Kafka provides cover with an unnerving calm, Blade slashes through attackers like a phantom, and Firefly moves with steely efficiency, clearing paths for the others.

[Name] stands frozen, their eyes locked on the screen. The duel between Aventurine and Sunday plays out like a tragic opera, each note, each move, a battle of wills. Robin’s words echo in their mind: “Please, take care of my brother.”

Aventurine, clearly struggling, still manages to force a grin as he raises his head toward the dazzling stage lights, as if mocking the Aeons themselves.

“Oh, in a blink, gone

Forget everything and just enjoy it

Oh, in a blink, gone

Don’t miss this moment

I’m tellin’ you Blink, gone

Don’t leave any regrets”

Sunday’s voice carries the final note of the verse, and the crowd erupts in cheers. He glances at Aventurine, his expression unreadable, but there’s a moment—a fleeting one—where his calm exterior cracks, revealing something close to pity or regret.

As the spotlight turns fully to Sunday for the next refrain, Aventurine falters, his exhaustion nearly bringing him to his knees. The crowd senses the shift in momentum, their cheers leaning heavily toward Sunday.

At that moment, a small yet defining gesture happens. Aventurine lifts his hand again, not in defiance but almost as if reaching out—for guidance, for strength, or perhaps even for forgiveness.

“Come on,” he mutters under his breath, his voice too faint for the audience to hear. “Lady Luck, don’t leave me now.”

Blade pauses for a split second to glance at the screen. His expression, usually impassive, hardens slightly, as if recognizing Aventurine’s desperation.

The cacophony of the performance and the roaring audience was deafening, but all of it faded into the background as [Name] made their decision. Their heart raced, each beat like a war drum echoing in their ears. The sight of Aventurine faltering and Sunday’s silent yet relentless push drove them to a boiling point. They couldn’t just stand idly by anymore—not when their friends were being crushed under the weight of this twisted spectacle.

Just as they moved to intervene, a firm, unyielding hand clamped onto their arm. They spun around to see Blade, his face as cold and impenetrable as ever, his crimson eyes locked onto theirs with a silent warning. His grip was iron, unrelenting, and his intent was clear: Don’t do this.

“You’ll get yourself killed.” Blade said in a low, cutting voice, his tone almost a growl.

But [Name] didn’t flinch. Their resolve was a wildfire, blazing brighter than the fear Blade tried to instill.

“I don’t care anymore,” they shot back, their voice trembling, not with fear, but with determination. “I’ve already lost enough. I won’t let them lose their lives because of this sick game!”

They yanked their arm free from his grip with surprising strength, their eyes meeting Blade’s in a clash of willpower. For a moment, Blade’s expression flickered—was it frustration? Pity? Respect? But before he could react, [Name] turned and bolted towards the backstage area.

“Foolish.” Blade muttered under his breath, his knuckles tightening around his sword’s hilt. Yet, despite himself, he didn’t chase after them.

“Oh, in a blink, gone

Blink and gone

Relish the present

In a blink, gone”

The music thundered in the distance as [Name] crouched behind the wall, their breaths coming quick and shallow. The smoke bomb felt heavy in their hand, not because of its weight, but because of what it symbolized: the line they were about to cross. They stared at it, their fingers trembling. ‘What happens after this? Will anyone believe me?’

But there was no time for doubts. Their friends were in danger, and hesitation wasn’t an option.

“Clear your mind

Leave the burdens behind”

With one last deep breath, they pulled the pin and hurled the smoke bomb toward the guards. It hit the ground with a clink before releasing a thick, choking cloud. Startled shouts erupted from the guards as the smoke enveloped them. [Name] seized the moment, springing to their feet and dashing forward.

“Make this party yours

And no, don’t look back now”

The haze blurred their vision, but they kept moving, their instincts guiding them. Their heart pounded in their chest as they reached the next door, yanking it open and slipping inside before the guards could recover. They slammed it shut behind them, leaning against it for a moment to catch their breath.

“I can’t look back now,” they whispered to themselves, their voice barely audible over the muffled music and the chaos outside. “My friends come first.”

“Neither yesterday nor tomorrow

Exist for me

It’s this moment, or no”

Silver Wolf grinned as the loading bar finally filled. “And boom—we’re in.”

She tapped the final key, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. The screen before her flickered, revealing a flood of hidden files, video feeds, and data logs. “We’ve got everything: backstage feeds, audio recordings, the works. This show’s dirty laundry is about to go viral.”

Kafka, standing guard nearby, tilted her head with an amused smile. “Efficient as always. But let’s not celebrate too soon. We’re still not out of the woods.”

Blade, stationed near the entrance, cut down another approaching security guard with cold precision. “Focus,” he said, his voice sharp. “We don’t have time for games.”

Firefly, her eyes scanning the area, frowned as she noticed something amiss. “Wait—where’s [Name]?”

Kafka’s smile faltered, and Silver Wolf glanced up from her screen. “Didn’t they stick with us?”

“Yes,” Firefly said, her tone tense. “But, they were just here a few minutes ago…”

Blade’s grip on his weapon tightened but he didn’t open his mouth.

“This dark, crimson air

Embraces us

And lifts our spirits”

Sunday’s movements were fluid as he closed the distance between himself and Aventurine, his eyes gleaming with an enigmatic intensity. With a deft motion, he pulled Aventurine’s microphone down to rest against his neck, switching his and Aventurine’s off. As the crowd roared in anticipation of what seemed like a dramatic pause, Sunday leaned in close, his voice a quiet murmur meant only for Aventurine.

“Why fight it, Kakavasha?” he whispered, his tone smooth, almost coaxing. “You’ve already given everything to this game. Let it consume you, let them adore you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Aventurine froze for a heartbeat, his eyes widening. The words slithered into his mind, planting seeds of doubt and exhaustion. Sunday’s voice carried a dangerous allure, like a siren song laced with manipulation. For a moment, it felt as though the weight of it all—the expectations, the pressure—might pull him under.

But then, like a flame rekindled, Aventurine’s resolve surged. He shoved Sunday away, his frustration clear as his hands trembled while fixing his mic. “Don’t you dare.” He hissed under his breath, his voice low enough that the audience couldn’t hear.

Straightening up, Aventurine turned back to the crowd, forcing his lips into a defiant smile as the music swelled. His voice cut through the air with renewed strength, even as anger simmered beneath the surface.

“And this hot, fiery thrill

Blazes up in the sky till the end”

(credits to @sviteer on X/Twitter)

Sunday staggered back, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The crowd cheered wildly, oblivious to the tension crackling between the two performers. To them, it was all part of the act.

“Oh, in a blink, gone”

Sunday’s presence was almost otherworldly as he moved effortlessly, his voice slipping into a haunting melody that seemed to lull the entire audience into a trance. Every note was perfect, every movement graceful and hypnotic. His eyes glinted with an ethereal intensity, as though he were above it all, controlling not just the music, but the very atmosphere.

“Forget everything and just enjoy it

Oh, in a blink, gone”

The crowd’s cheers swelled, their adoration for Sunday palpable, but for Aventurine, it felt like the walls were closing in. His breath was coming quicker now, his exhaustion seeping through despite his best efforts to hide it. Sunday was a master of this game, effortlessly gliding through the performance while Aventurine fought to stay afloat. The gap between them was widening, and the weight of it was crushing.

“Don’t miss this moment

I’m tellin’ you Blink, gone

Don’t leave any regrets

The clock goes tick tock tick tock

Blink, gone”

Aventurine could feel his grip on the performance slipping. His voice was strained, each word a battle against the fatigue threatening to overwhelm him. Sunday’s power, his control over the stage, was too much. And yet, Aventurine couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when Ratio’s memory burned in his chest like a fire that refused to die. Not when he had to prove that he was more than just a pawn in this twisted game.

His frustration bubbled over, the momentary doubts clawing at his resolve. Why was he even still here? He should have been able to defeat Sunday. Why couldn’t he just be free of this… this pressure?

But the moment he faltered, he could almost hear Ratio’s voice, that quiet reminder of the bond they shared, and his resolve hardened once more.

Sunday, however, was watching him, his gaze almost calculating. He knew exactly what was happening. He could see Aventurine’s struggle, the cracks in his composure starting to show. Sunday’s lips curled upward, an almost imperceptible smile. He was enjoying this, watching Aventurine wrestle with his own limitations. To him, it was all part of the game.

The crowd erupted as Sunday’s performance reached its peak, his ethereal grace pulling them deeper into his web. But Aventurine… Aventurine was falling further behind.

“Don’t let it go…” Aventurine murmured to himself, his fists clenched, trying to find that last bit of energy within him to push through.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to focus, to fight past the fatigue. For Ratio. For [Name]. He couldn’t stop now. Not when the finish line was in sight.

Aventurine’s vision blurred as the memory of Ratio’s final words flooded his mind, louder than the pounding music, sharper than the pain in his chest.

“Take care of yourself, Gambler. Do stay alive. I wish you the best of luck.”

The words echoed over and over again, a reminder that had become his burden, his motivation. The bittersweet final smile Ratio had given him just before slipping away was the last thing he could remember of his friend—of the person who had believed in him when he had nothing left to offer.

The memory of Ratio’s fall, crumpling to the stage, blood staining the ground, was a haunting image that would never leave him. Every detail felt like it had carved itself into his soul.

“Stay alive…”

The thought carried weight now. It wasn’t just for himself anymore. He could hear Ratio’s voice as clearly as if he were standing right there. It was a voice that reminded him that, despite all the pain, there was still a purpose, still a reason to fight, to survive.

But the effort to keep going, to push past the crushing exhaustion, was too much. His legs wobbled beneath him, and without realizing it, blood began to drip from his nose, staining his lip. It was a sign of how far his body had been pushed, how much he had neglected his own well-being in the pursuit of something more.

His head throbbed, a deep, pulsing pain, but Aventurine didn’t falter. Not yet.

With a gasp, he shook himself out of the memory, forced himself to refocus.

“I won’t stop… I can’t stop.”

He looked over to Sunday, whose effortless performance was only pushing the gap between them. But not today. Not today, he swore. For Ratio. For [Name]. For the promise of something better.

He wiped the blood from his lip, still shaking, but his gaze remained steady. Aventurine was going to finish this—no matter the cost.

The music blared, a feverish beat that rattled through the air, echoing the tension between them. Sunday’s performance had become a carefully crafted illusion, mesmerizing the audience, but it was the vision of Aventurine—slumped and struggling—that broke the illusion. Every step, every strained breath, was a silent cry of defiance.

“Oh, in a blink, gone

Forget everything and just enjoy it

I'm tellin you blink, gone”

Aventurine’s vision swam. The figure in front of him, wearing the same pristine white suit he had seen so many times before, was none other than Ratio. Sweat glistened on his brow, his posture firm as though the events of hours ago never happened. As if he hadn’t been shot and left to bleed out on the cold stage. Aventurine’s heart twisted.

“Doctor…”

But as the hallucination blinked, it shifted—flickering like a faulty signal—and Aventurine realized the truth. This wasn’t Ratio. This was Sunday, playing the cruel game of the mind. Sunday’s voice, soothing and familiar, had been twisted into something else entirely. A manipulation, not of words, but of perception.

“Leave no regrets

The clock goes tick tock tick tock tick tock”

Aventurine’s throat tightened, his breath ragged, but he refused to look away. His mind was clear now, more than ever. The hallucination was just that: a ghost, a reflection of the pain, the guilt that haunted him. He tore his eyes away from it and, through the haze, saw them.

“Oh, in a blink, gone

Forget everything and just enjoy it”

[Name].

‘My God, My Universe…’

His heart surged. They were back. The figure he’d longed for, the one who had kept him tethered to this fleeting world, stood there, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. His pulse raced in recognition. But they weren’t alone.

Beside them stood someone else—a figure he never thought he would see again.

Robin.

Her eyes locked onto Sunday, filled with a strange, unspoken message, her presence more powerful than any weapon. She had come back, alive. Somehow. And Sunday saw it too.

“Oh, in a blink, gone”

Aventurine didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, every step toward [Name] a prayer, a plea to not let this moment slip away, to not let the chaos of the show swallow him whole. His hand reached out, desperate, trembling, but his heart was full of determination.

“Don't miss this moment

I'm tellin you blink, gone”

Sunday, watching with wide eyes, understood the unspoken challenge. He had no time for hesitation. His sister, Robin, was watching, waiting for him to make his move. He couldn’t disappoint her. The scoreboard flickered, a stark reminder that time was running out.

“Leave no regrets

The clock goes tick tock tick tock tick tock”

Time was up, and it was clear who had won.

“Blink, Gone”

The shot rang out so suddenly, a deafening crack that seemed to tear through the very air, freezing everyone in their tracks. The audience gasped, the music faltering as the blood splattered across the stage in a violent burst. For a moment, it was chaos—confusion, panic—but for [Name], everything slowed to a horrifying crawl.

Their eyes locked onto the figure, standing just a few feet away from them, his form poised in a way that seemed almost serene. The bullet had hit him before anyone had even seen it coming. His body jerked, a sharp intake of breath, and then he crumpled, falling to the ground as the crimson pool spread beneath him, staining the stage.

The scream tore from [Name]’s throat before they could even think.

(credits to by @yuun0110 on X/Twitter)

[Navigation]

[jaybejaybeyes]

The more time passes, the angrier I get about the Meljay ending. Or, more accurately, the lack of one. And no, I’m not even talking about the criminal absence of a single meaningful, soul-baring conversation between them after act 1 s2. I’m talking about all the wasted potential here. Because just imagine the depth the show could’ve explored if it’d actually leaned into their fallout.

Think about how broken Mel must’ve felt after she reached out to Jayce, vulnerable and raw, only for him to turn his back on her. That could’ve hardened her, made her colder, crueller. And Jayce? Who’s such an openhearted, trusting guy with Mel? The only way I can understand him pushing her away in ep8 is if he knew he was about to sacrifice himself fighting Viktor and couldn’t bear to let her get hurt (that said, I hate that trope, there’s nothing worse than one half of a pairing deciding unilaterally to take away the other’s right to choose whether to stay or leave). At least that explanation would’ve been something. But we got no introspection from Jayce, no reflection on their relationship, only his outburst that felt out of left field.

And the tension we could’ve had?? Them wrestling with their conflicting I-need-to-destroy-arcane vs I-am-arcane???

But wait, let’s flip it around for a second. What if they never fell out? What if, after everything, they had a tender reunion, realising they were now (still!) the only people who truly understood each other? What if Mel finally let herself break down in front of him, letting herself be vulnerable, and Jayce found a (however fleeting) reprieve from the madness of his mission to stop Viktor?

Imagine the old Jayce, the one who dreamed big and loved deeply, breaking through the armour the new Jayce’d built up. Imagine their bond with Mel deepening in the aftermath of not one, but two shared traumas (first, bombing, then ending up somewhere unknown, suffering horrors against their will). Picture them finding some solace in each other, healing together, clinging to the idea that maybe,  maybe, they could have something resembling happiness again.

And when the inevitable heartbreak came, it would’ve been absolutely devastating. Not because Jayce “chose Viktor over Mel” (we don’t tolerate this sentiment in this house), but because Jayce knew he was doomed. He knew that Viktor’s fate was entwined with his and that he’d have to make it to the end alone, whether to save Viktor or destroy him. Maybe he even told Mel this, and she understood, because she saw what Viktor meant to him, and she knew their connection was special on so many levels. 

And yet she still hoped. She hoped Jayce would defeat the Machine Herald and come back. She hoped she could finally stand up to her mother and find freedom. Maybe they even dreamed of running away together someday, like, hijacking one of the Noxian ships and leaving everything behind to process their traumas (okay, two kudos and I might think about writing such a fic, lol).

But instead of any of this character study, we got... nothing. Not even a satisfying reason for their fallout. No contemplations from either of them about what they meant to each other. Just a glaring void where their dynamic should’ve been. So, so disappointing.

[literatureloverx]

Would BSD men sacrifice their true love for the sake of the world, or would they let the world burn?

I know you are on a break for a while, so feel free to reply any time you feel like replying. However, I do sincerely wish you are resting properly and eating well. You are being missed and appreciated, our dearest Snow White, who is as beautiful and graceful as her name!

-🛵🌻

Awww, you’re flattering me, 🛵🌻-anon! Thank you so much. ♥️ Please forgive me for keeping some of these brief without much explanation—I’m still unwell. 🥺♥️

Please keep in mind that my requests are actually closed! I made an exception because this one intrigued me.♥️

Would BSD men sacrifice their true love for the sake of the world, or would they let the world burn?

Featured characters: Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Nikolai Gogol, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.

BSD MEN x fem!reader

I know this might surprise many of you, but I believe FYODOR might actually be capable of sacrificing the world for his darling. While we don’t know much about him, we do know he is intensely focused on his singular goal and unwaveringly confident in it. However, love is unpredictable—it can make even the most logical person act irrationally. Fyodor, being a semi-canon yandere and canonically willing to gift his darling an entire country as a Valentine’s Day present, shows that he could prioritise his darling in unexpected ways.

Though he is detached and calculative, this doesn’t necessarily mean his obsession lies solely with his ideal world and not his darling. His perception of love likely wouldn’t be romantic or warm—after all, this is Fyodor we’re talking about—but that doesn’t make it any less consuming. If he were to sacrifice the world, it would likely appear to be a practical, impersonal decision on the surface, though it would stem from deeply personal feelings.

Of course, his darling would have to bear the burden of being his weakness, paying the price for making him burn the world down for her.

DAZAI doesn't see a reason to live and has a complicated inner moral compass —if he even has one at all. If he were to find another reason to live beyond his darling, he might let the world burn to protect that purpose. Otherwise, he would likely choose to sacrifice his darling along with himself, as he would want to die together with them.

In doing so, he would simultaneously honour Odasaku's dying wish to save innocent people and do good, while also fulfilling his own desire for a double suicide—albeit in a twisted and tragic way.

CHUUYA… my beloved Chuuya. He would sacrifice you for the sake of the world, but not without crying his heart out in the process. He’s someone who carries his heart on his sleeve, no matter how much he tries to mask it with his tough exterior. This decision wouldn’t just break him—it would shatter him. He’d be haunted by the memory of what he’d done, the sound of your voice, your smile, and the warmth you brought into his life.

After that, he would never be the same. Chuuya, with all his passion and fire, would lose a part of himself—his joy, his light, and perhaps even his will to keep going. Though he wouldn’t let the world burn for you, his sacrifice would scorch his soul in ways no one else could see. He would shoulder the weight of the decision, carrying it like an eternal wound, always hidden beneath his bravado.

I don’t believe he has it in him to let the entire world burn just to keep you. Chuuya’s sense of duty, his unwavering commitment to the people he cares for, and his understanding of the bigger picture wouldn’t allow him to prioritise one life over billions. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t destroy him. Deep down, he’s just a man with a heart far too big for the world he lives in.

Yet, in his own way (or maybe even literally), he would die the day you did. Perhaps he would let himself waste away, quietly fading from the world as he lost the only person who made it feel like home. Or perhaps he would go out in a blaze of fury, throwing himself into battles he knew he wouldn’t return from. Either way, the Chuuya you knew—the one who loved you with all his being—would be gone, leaving only a shadow of the man who once was.

NIKOLAI is an obsessive individual, deeply scarred by trauma, pain, and mental instability. He would undoubtedly let the world burn for his darling. Despite his philosophical outlook, which claims to encompass all of humanity, his approach is ultimately rooted in his own personal experiences and inner struggles. At the end of the day, everything is about him.

His so-called friendship with Fyodor is a prime example of this—he clings to it not because Fyodor is a fascinating person in his own right, but because he believes Fyodor is the only one who truly understands him. Not once have we seen Nikolai genuinely reflect on Fyodor’s goals or thoughts. Similarly, his darling would need to be someone who both understands and cherishes him, which would inevitably drive his romantic obsession with her.

There’s no chance Nikolai would sacrifice his darling for anything. However, after letting the world burn for her, would he ultimately kill her because she understands him better than even Fyodor? The possibility is disturbingly high.

Before meeting the ADA Dazai and Atsushi, AKUTAGAWA would likely have let the world burn for his darling without hesitation. His overwhelming need for validation, coupled with his devotion to those he holds dear, would drive him to extreme lengths, prioritising his personal attachments above all else. His harsh upbringing and struggles for survival have made him fiercely protective of those who matter to him, making it plausible that he would abandon the world for his darling’s sake.

However, after his experiences with Atsushi, Akutagawa would find himself in a moral dilemma. These encounters push him to question his black-and-white worldview, challenging him to consider the value of broader ideals like justice, compassion, and sacrifice for the greater good. His budding respect for Atsushi and his complex, unresolved feelings toward Dazai would weigh heavily on his conscience, creating an internal struggle.

While he may still feel a deep, almost obsessive desire to protect his darling at any cost, the lessons he’s learned would make him pause.

[thatfrailsoul]

– The one dear to your heart

tarot pick a pile reading ( → 1, 2, 3 )

( pictures from pinterest : one, two, three )

For your every step closer, guided by the purest and most genuine and loving intentions, filled with the only desire to maintain and nourish this bond... There are always more steps further, far away from you, that they make frenetically, putting even more distance between your hearts, willingly tearing this connection apart... So is it even worth it? To fight for someone that seems to do so much just to hurt you and push you away? Is it really worth it, to be so patient, to try so hard to adapt or get used to their ways? Or is your hope that all of this is just a big misunderstanding that hides their desire to have you in their life... Just a dream that will never be realised?

Slow down for a moment. Give your mind a moment of rest, allow it to step back. And listen to your heart instead, to that inner voice, to the intuition that is guiding you to the pile in which your message hides.

And if you have a moment to spare before scrolling down to your message, there is something that I would be really grateful to know your opinion about, so I can make this blog as comfortable as possible.♡

Are the previews/ descriptions at the beginning of a pick a pile reading as this one helpful? Are they able to let you know what this reading will be about and if you are interested in it? Or is this something that is not necessary, or even too much for you? Would you prefer to have a shorter "intro" to a reading, perhaps in form of the questions that we will answer in that post? Or is it more comfortable for you to don't have any intro at all?

Thank you so much for letting me know! ♡

– Pile One,

the hanged man, the seven of swords, the two of swords

There is so much love, true and genuine affection in your heart. There is so much that you feel towards them, so much that you have and are ready to give to them, only to protect them and make them feel safe by your side... There is so much in your eyes when your gaze meets theirs, that is simply impossible to not understand it. It is impossible for them to not be aware of how much they are important to you, the place that they already have in your heart...

But it is also in the same way impossible for them to not be aware of how dangerous it is for you. To be so ready to sacrifice so much of yourself for someone that keeps on pushing you back. They can't ignore how not right it is, to accept such a genuine attention, even if it heals their wounds and scars. They know that they don't deserve, they are simply not ready, to be the one that your heart cares for so much.

They are aware of it, they understand it so well, they never would want to make you go through so much... But at the same time it is the only way that they know to be efficient, in protecting those that they are hurting, even when it's what they least desire. It's the only way that they have enough strength and courage for. The easiest one to make you understand how dangerous and wrong it is for you to stay by their side.

They are honest, for once, they are showing simply and truly who they are, what is going on in their mind and their heart right now. They are showing it all to you, just the way it is, so confusing, so complicated, so painful and so wrong. They do so in hopes that you understand it yourself, that you let go on you own...

Because there isn't any play in place, there aren't any lies or deeper secrets and realities, perhaps emotions that you still hope to find. There is only a really tired and confused soul, that is going through so much, but that really wants to work on it... on their own. So they don't hurt anyone in the meantime, so they don't feel guilty for something that they did without realising, for the promises that they were not able to respect for one reason or another... Just so they can manage and be responsible only for them, what they do only to themselves, not to others that don't deserve to go through it at all.

But your affection, your care and almost annoying hope and patience with them... Is so difficult to deal with. Because you simply refuse to listen to their honest words, you don't want to see the reality of their actions that are trying to show you what it means to be a part of their current world.

It is not meannes just for the sake of it, it's true. They are trying to protect you, even if in such a wrong and hurtful way. But not for this reason it is not real or it should be ignored. They are being honest with you, and they are waiting for you to push them back. Not because they are secretly wanting to have you by their side, helping them change themselves or their life... But just because you hold onto them so strongly, no matter what... Making it the only possible way to make you let go of them - making you do so on your own.

It is time now. It truly is. You did so much for them and for this connection, no matter what type of relationship it was, if there was any at all... but you did it. You ripped open your heart and showed them how much you can love and care, how much you are willing to do for someone that is a part of your life. And they did the exact same. They showed you who they are so many times... And it is the moment for you to accept it and surrender to it truly, even if it is so different from what you convince yourself them to be. There is nothing more to it. There is nothing else that they or this connection could be.

Listen for once their answers to your silent questions, see them in their actions that are so real and painful every single time. Listen to them and understand that this is not your battle, it is not your sacrifice, it is not what you deserve. Even if you care for them so much.

For once they are doing something to help you and protect you. And if there is a good moment to accept the hurt that they gave you... It is now. To accept it, understand it, and never allow it to happen again to your already tired heart.

It is enough, you did your best. And it is time to let them go now, because this is exactly what they want, this is what they are pushing you to do for already a really long time.

P.s. And if you would like to receive more clarity and guidance about your situation (through a personal or free reading) - you can find out more about it here!♡

→ ( ♡ send me a little thank you ♡ )

– Pile Two,

the strength, the hierophant, the sun

Fortunately... There is so much more to this bond, to you and them, to your paths that so often drift apart only to realign. There is so much more to this confusion, to these ups and downs, to these questions that are filling your mind each time they are by your side. There is so much more. And incredibly enough, even after all these struggles and conflicts, you are still ready for it...

You are still ready to do it. You are still ready and willing to wait, to be patient, to do your best to understand or to make them understand.

It never changed anything, not the uncertainties, not the distance, not the misunderstandings. Nothing was ever strong or bad enough to make you even consider the idea to push them away once and for all. It isn't just any relationship, any person... It is someone that for so long was such an important part of your life, of your days and what overwhelmed your heart and mind. You learned so much thanks to them, or because of them... You grew up, you experienced things that you are sure you never would've done if it wasn't for them holding your hand every time... They did so much for you, unconsciously, without even realising it. And although you always tried to do the same for them from the very start, always tried to care for them and keep them safe, even if from themselves...they never really accepted it back. Never let you closer, or to be exact, never admitted that you are already closer than they perhaps would like to say out loud. And not only because of your care for them, but especially because of their affection to you as well... Even if it so hidden under their ways that not many would understand...

But things will start to change now, one step at a time. You will start to see their heart open up, giving you finally those answers that you never were able to find, even though you tried to have at least a vague idea of what is going on in their mind. They will show it themselves, introduce you to their soul, the one that they hid so well and for so long from everyone. That deeper understanding and connection, that oppeness and honesty, that clarity in your interactions and moments... It will finally be all here. Simply because for once and truly they will realise that there was nothing to be afraid of. That there is nothing bad in your intentions to be by their side and take care of them, be there for them, the same way they did for you when you needed it so bad.

You met them in an interesting phase of their life, in a moment of deep transformation, changes and shifts one after another. So many ups and downs that were simply too much. Enough to make them dizzy, confused about their own desires and life. It wasn't intentional, but they did pull you right in the center of it all, of the storm of all their emotions that made them so strange and every time different in how they treated others, and you of all. But it is coming to an end now, good or bad it doesn't matter. It is enough the fact itself that they will regain their balance, their peace of mind. They will be able to breathe deeply, with more serenity. They will be more relaxed, with each smile. It will be almost like a whole new person. Someone of whom you only saw some glimpses, in those times where they were so caring and sweet contrary to their usual self at that time...

And it will be all worth it. Your hope and endurance, your conviction that there was more to this person and their story, then just a bad character and negative intentions. There was more than just a desire to hurt others and push them back. There was always been a whole hidden world and story, so intimate and so difficult to share... But that they will finally tell you about. Because in the softest and most tender way you earned it, their gratefulness and trust. Because you cared for them and were patient, even when they themselves where not aware of needing it so much.

P.s. And if you would like to receive more clarity and guidance about your situation (through a personal or free reading) - you can find out more about it here!♡

→ ( ♡ send me a little thank you ♡ )

– Pile Three,

the page of coins, the ten of coins, the king of swords

Your care for them, your affection, was always so consistent, so genuine and deep since the very beginning of this bond. Since the very first time that you felt truly connected to them, in that moment so simple and intimate but that showed you how much your minds and hearts are aligned...

But as beautiful and meaningful as it was... it was just a single moment. Just one moment that was enough for you to be sure to want to get to know more about them, to get closer to them and to connect more. But also just one moment in which it ever happened. That understanding and spark between you that never appeared again, no matter how much you waited.

Time after time, challenge after challenge, no matter what they did or how much distance they put between your hearts, you always continued to look for them. For that person and soul that you felt in that one single moment... But that they kept on hiding so well no matter what.

It wasn't really a lie or an act meant to mislead you... but it was something that is not in their character. To be so free and open and close to someone. It isn't something that they do so easily or so often. And you know it well now, after not being ever able to see them this way again no matter how much you waited for them to "come back".

It became an unintentional bait. It made you care and look for someone that you felt so special and worth it, just because of that one moment of deep and unexpected connection, nourished by those little tiny bits of gentleness that you heard in their voice, saw in their gaze that met yours every time... But that safety, that fake openness and closeness that confused you so many times, was just a consequence to all the affection and care that you gave them. It was only them feeling comfortable in the safe space that you created for them in your heart. It was just a slight nourishment of something that they never wanted to take seriously, but that still was so sweet to feel and have around sometimes.

Your affection and desire of closeness was so genuine and honest... but they used it to create something so complicated and consuming, something that takes so much of you and gives so much to them. Every time they need it. A constant source of understanding, of patience, of excuses and protection to them and their actions. So much for so little, so convenient for them to have by their side... They transformed something so pure into something so calculated and 'useful', so easy to take or to put aside... but they won't be able to do it for much longer now. Not when you, as they consume you, are starting to ask the right questions, allowing your mind to take control of the situation that went on for too long.

Hold on to those thoughts, those observations, those questions and doubts that fill your mind every time they decide that they don't want to be around you now. Hold onto those fears of being just an option, someone that comes and goes, someone that they just keep here for fun... because all of this can't possibly be just overthinking. It has a deeper meaning and you know it too. You know it because you wouldn't be here reading these words, feeling this sadness, this grip on your heart if it wasn't so.

It is time to be the one that puts some space between you. But not just for a moment, just because of a whim, like they love so much to do once in a while... Do it intentionally, do it to protect yourself, to honour yourself and your pure heart that gave so many chances, so much time, to someone that used it only to play around. No matter the circumstance, the situation, the relationship... it is just not right. To be treated this way, to receive so little, when you gift so much of yourself every single time.

P.s. And if you would like to receive more clarity and guidance about your situation (through a personal or free reading) - you can find out more about it here!♡

→ ( ♡ send me a little thank you ♡ )

[fiddlesqueak-fables]

I’ve worked very hard to bring to you a series of Fromsoftware acrylic keychains, now available for preorder!

Each Large keychain is 2.5 inches, while each Mini keychain is a whopping 1 inch.

Note, Mild-Mannered Pate is slightly smaller, simply so he will look proportional next to Creighton and his big stupid axe—and thus is discounted.

________

‘Why preorder?’

I’m right out of college and trying to make my artwork into my full-time career. At this moment while just starting out, I can’t afford to order all my things ahead of time. however, if just two people order the same characters keychain, I will be able to manufacture that keychain with a profit!

‘What happens if I am the only one who buys a keychain?’

You will still get your keychain, I will just lose money :,)

‘What happens if the keychains don’t look like how they’re advertised in the listing?’

I plan to send buyers a picture of the keychain when it arrives from the manufacturer to make sure it’s fitting in with expectations! If not, they will be refunded.

‘How long will the keychains takes to arrive?’

Around 2-3 Weeks if your are the first to pre-order, much shorter if not! If you are first, thank you so much for your brave sacrifice.

[shadebloopnik]

HAZBIN SPOILERS SORTA?

I love how its sort of major agreement that Alastor would betray the whole cast. Kinda wanna see him create an exchange that would be sorta seen as unforgivable, make sacrifices just to free himself, but ALSO wrestle with the realization that he's slowly grown to care about them.

This is gonna sound so off base but

Okay, picture this, Lilith as the big bad(or at least some villain) and she's holding Alastor's leash. Imagine them facing off, and Alastor finally uses his deal with Charlie. He said she wouldn't have to harm anyone, and he doesn't own her soul, so how could he use it perhaps? Imagine he tells her to stay still.

To just. Stay still.

No matter what happens, that she'd be glued to the spot, unable to move of her own volition.

And she's frozen, he's behind her, a claw at her throat, tendrils pointing at her, threatening to rip her apart.

And he's staring Lilith right in the eye, daring her, daring her.

He offers to let Charlie live i exchange for his freedom, to unclip his wings lest she wants her daughter dead.

Imagine she speaks, after a long moment of silence, and just goes.

"Go ahead."

He freezes, claws tightening around Charlie's throat, not daring to look at the tears he can feel drip down his hand.

"What's taking so long? How bout I do it myself." Lilith would say, charging at him, aiming her weapon to stab both of them at once.

And Alastor moves to the side....

....carrying Charlie with him.

Imagine him taking a few seconds realizing what he's done, frozen on the spot, Charlie curling up in his arms.

Imagine the agonizing, sickening, disgusting, horrifying realization that he just...he can't. He cant kill her. He won't.

Imagine him looking up maybe to see the rest of the cast. Imagine him meeting Husk's eyes, seeing the cat's face of disbelief and shock at reading the Radio Demon's eyes.

Imagine realizing he can't just kill any of them, not without hurting himself too.

You know

Just

Imagine

[redvexillum]

Hazbin Hotel x Squid Game Imagine 🤣🤣🤣🤣🌸🦑

I’ve been taking a break from writing lately — life’s been a whirlwind — but let me tell you, I’ve finally gotten around to watching Squid Game. And, honestly? My brain won’t shut up about it.

Picture this: the entire cast of Hazbin Hotel — in their human forms, stripped of their demonic powers and immortality — thrust into that same deadly arena. No more infinite lives to fall back on. No respawns. If they lose, they die. Permanently. And oh, the panic, the desperation, the unraveling of their carefully cultivated masks.

Now imagine Alastor in this setting. No longer the Radio Demon, but still cunning, still ruthless. Watching him navigate those games, his ever-present grin growing sharper with each victory. How far would he go? How much of his humanity would he trade to survive? And would he try to charm his way through it — or twist his “teammates” into sacrifices?

Of course, the main character is Reader — because let’s be real, I’m an x reader writer through and through. But this isn’t your typical story. No tender hand-holding here. Reader is forced to make decisions that break their morals, their ethics, their very soul.

Can you picture the heartbreak? The betrayal? Each game stripping away their innocence until there’s nothing left but raw survival instinct. It’s not just a battle of wits — it’s a slow descent into despair. Each choice carving another scar into their heart.

And the VIPs? Naturally, they’d be the seraphim. Sitting in their golden seats, watching humanity’s downfall with detached amusement. A cruel joke from Heaven itself.

Just imagine the possibilities. The angst. The psychological torment. The shifting dynamics between characters who thought they knew each other — only to realize, in the face of death, they knew nothing at all.

Allies turning into enemies. Friends turning into pawns. Lovers forced to choose between their own survival or each other’s lives.

God, the sheer angst galore. *sighs wistfully*