#( the divines are very hands on despite being ‘dead’ gods )

[endawn]

pax 🤝 leliana: god(s) talk to me

[nereidprinc3ss]

haunted

in which spencer reid takes you to a haunted house and you're being very brave about it... sort of.

fluff! warnings/tags: reader wears a skirt, reader is a scaredy cat!!, established relationship, kithing, my favs derek and penelope featured, haunted house stuff, talk about the physical composition of human eyeballs and mentions of harvesting them/eating them but it's not serious, FAKE very fake Halloween gore, I know those tags just escalated so quickly my bad, mention of a spooky clown, just haunted house stuff ok!! but its really not a scary fic I promise!!!! a/n: this is for my bff @gublersg1rl !!!! I hope u all like!!!!! Also yes the title was extremely creative I was feeling divinely inspired and revolutionary let’s not talk abt it

“Okay, no, no—maybe we don’t have to go in. I don’t think it’s gonna be that good.”

As you say it you’re wearily eyeing the crowd of screaming teenagers who are sprinting from the haunted house attraction’s exit, leaving a trail a swirling leaves and candy wrappers in their wake. Spencer laughs, gently hugging you back to him as you subconsciously begin to drift away from the line. 

“I knew this would happen.”

“Nothing’s happening.”

“You’re scared. You want to chicken out.”

“I don’t,” you snap, stepping back and adjusting your sweater. “I’m just… I’m cold. I wanna go back to the car.” Spencer does some adjustments of his own, coming close and reaching around you as if going in for a hug but instead tugging your skirt down slightly in the back. You let him finish and then bat his hand away. “Would you stop that?”

“You said you were cold! I’m trying to help you.”

“By making my skirt one inch longer? That’s not going to help.”

He holds his hands up defensively. “Okay. Sorry. I won’t touch.”

Immediately your serrated edge is dulled and you lean against him, barely steering clear of a pout. “No, please. You’re warm. And you’ll protect me.”

He smiles down at you, cheeks and nose nipped sweet pink by the chilly breeze. His hair looks very nice today, his eyes are extra sparkly in the dark, and he’s framed by mostly bare tree branches scattered around the fairground—nothing more than dark palms clawing at the sky, a full white moon cradled in between black branches. The autumnal night is perhaps too cold for the tartan mini skirt you’d chosen, but Spencer told you it looked nice. Of course he doesn’t put up a fight when you slip your arms around his waist under his coat—only wraps his arms around you in return.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect you. But between us Derek and Penelope will bear the brunt of the jump scares.”

“Who said my name?”

You look over your shoulder to where Penelope is shivering despite wearing her own and Derek’s coat, and Derek is eyeing the two of you, enjoying a bag of caramel corn like he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer says, and you laugh to yourself, pulling him even closer like you’re trying to leech the warmth from his body. “Okay, you do have to face forward though. I don’t want you to trip.”

“No, Spencer!” You argue, but he’s already unlatching your arms from his middle and turning you in place. 

“You’re fine,” he chuckles, holding onto your hips. “I’m right here. Be brave.”

The line has begun to move forward again, and this time, it’s not stopping. Your heart pounds as at the behest of a teenaged bloody scarecrow you follow Derek and Penelope into the dark mouth of the red clapboard facade—a sort of farmhouse design that had seemed charming from afar and deeply sinister up close. Speakers play a loud creaking sound over spooky music and your eyes slowly adjust to reveal a foggy corridor lined with doors and creepy paintings.

As soon as the first evil little girl pops out of a doorway, you scream right along with Penelope. 

“Oh, my god,” Spencer laughs under his breath as you stop dead in your tracks, holding the group behind you up. When Penelope and Derek move on, you stay stuck, knowing that the threat has disappeared for the moment but still looms. Spencer gently ushers you forward. “Stay close behind Penelope, and it won’t be as scary. Come on, we have to keep going.”

“I hate this so much.”

But he ignores your comment, guiding you forward down the shadowy hallway and whispering the beginnings of a tangent over your shoulder. 

“You know, the first haunted house attraction was in London in 1915 at a fairground just like this. They picked up in America during the Great Depression as an attempt to distract young hooligans from resorting to property damage for fun.”

“Hooligans?” You mutter, teasing him even while terrified, carefully eyes the suspicious staircase leading up to a fenced in landing, shrouded in darkness. “We’re not going up there, are we?”

Just then a man with a sack over his head and bloody axe emerges from the black, launching himself down the stairs. Again, you scream, this time sprinting out of Spencer’s hold and through a cobweb veil into the next room. 

“Jesus fuck!” You gasp, clutching your chest as someone made up to be a sweet old grandma gone mad and soaked in blood and viscera turns around to greet you with a manic grin. 

“Oh, a pretty girl! Is that you, dear? My long lost granddaughter? Or did I put her in a pie?”

The acting is subpar at best, the script even worse, but what really discomforts you are the bloodied rubber limbs swinging from the ceiling and the fog machine in the corner that keeps burping out thick white clouds with a little hiss. You turn around, running directly into Spencer’s chest. He catches you by the waist and you cling to him, digging your feet in to try and stop either of you from proceeding any closer to your new friend. 

“And your lover—so handsome! Mm, what a delicious pairing you two’ll make! Maybe in my specialty cream of eyeball soup?”

She cackles. Spencer pushes you carefully forward as you peer over his lapel, and he actually stops to look into the woman’s pot as she stirs it. 

“Spencer—”

“You know—the human eyeball is by all accounts difficult to harvest without essentially popping the outer wall of muscle and connective tissue and then you’re losing the structure of the sphere—and stop me if you know this—but water constitutes about 98 percent of vitreous and aqueous humor which in turn make up eighty percent of the total volume of the eye so to say your soup would be cream of eyeball is—”

“Buddy, you’re holding up the line!” Someone shouts from behind, and Spencer offers an awkward apology to the grandma who was beginning to look more and more uncomfortable, hurrying you along through the kitchen from hell. 

“I cannot believe you just did that,” you hiss, still clinging to him. “That poor woman probably thinks you’re a serial killer now.”

“I was trying to humanize her for your benefit—”

Another scream from someone else, another cheap jump scare, cuts him off, and by this point you have your eyes squeezed shut, squeaking at every noise, and Spencer is damn near carrying you through the haunted house, walking you awkwardly backward through the various rooms. 

He cradles the back of your head and presses his lips to your ear as a chainsaw revs somewhere nearby and you hear Derek and Penelope yelping just ahead. “You’re being so brave,” Spencer murmurs, though you don’t miss the smile in his voice. "If I was a malevolent spectre I would definitely steer clear of you. I'd be too intimidated."

“Shut up. Ah!”

“Baby, that was a plant. You know the actors can’t touch you, right? You’re not in any danger.”

“I don’t like being scared, Spencer.”

“Then why did you suggest the haunted house? I said we should do the maze.”

“I don’t know! I—” another man popping out of the wall, another roar that you only hear, sequestered safely against your boyfriend’s coat. “Oh my god, are we almost done? I can’t do this anymore.”

“Yeah, the entrance is right ahead. No more actors, okay? I can see the whole room, it’s totally empty.”

“I bet that's what they want you to think, they lull you into a false sense of security and then—”

Cold air kisses the back of your legs as Spencer walks you toward the door, and the stifled soundscape widens again as you exit the house breathing air that doesn’t smell like sawdust and fog machine juice and fake blood. 

“Nope. We're really all done, see?”

“You survived! Oh my god, I survived!” Penelope calls, and you lift your head from Spencer’s chest, looking up at him. He’s grinning, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. 

“You honestly handled that better than I thought you would. I actually think I saw the guy dressed as a clown jump when you screamed.”

“If I ever say I wanna do something scary again please don’t listen to me. I hated that so much.”

He examines your face for a moment before determining that despite your rattled nerves, you’ll be okay, and comforts you with a quick peck. “Do you wanna go get caramel apples now?”

“Yes, please. And then can we do the maze, and just like—I don’t know, sit there and… meditate for a little while?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Just… don’t think about what could be lurking in the corn.”

You give him a little shove. “You know, I only did that haunted house thing because I know how much you love Halloween. I’m being a good girlfriend and what do I get?”

He pulls you close again and kisses your hand. 

“You get a caramel apple,” he says, like it’s obvious, and more than that—worth every trouble in the world. “Come on.”

You give him a begrudging smile and allow him to lead you, hand in hand. Maybe it is. 

[kissitbttr]

cake testing with miguel for the wedding!

a/n: featuring a very possessive miguel

continuation from this!

—

it has been one of your favorite wedding plans that you always look forward to. When your best friend got married, she took you with her to help her choose which one was the best. The caterer brought six classic flavors and both of your eyes twinkled with excitement. The same goes for your best friend. You and her almost demolished that one special raspberry lemon cake with her, since both of you have a sweet spot for fresh fruits.

You could guess which one ended up at the wedding reception.

And now, getting to do it with your soon to be husband, Miguel, just seems like a dream come true.

"So, Darla isn't gonna be with us since she's got errands to run, her assistant is going to replace her today." You inform your fiancee as he drives.

He squeezes your thigh with his hand as an answer, focusing his eyes on the road. You look up from your phone to watch him drive. A smile graces upon your lips as you think how good he looks while doing it. Furrowed eyebrows in concentration, a small pout on his lips with one hand on the wheel.

Fuck, he looks absolutely delicious.

Miguel senses your gaze on him, causing him to glance at you for a second before a grin spreads across his handsome face.

"What?"

You shrug. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Look sexy while driving"

He snorts out a laugh before making a turn. "I don't"

it's your turn to snort as you shake your head. "Humbleness is good. But God you're a liar."

"Ah, si? But you do love me, no?"

"Unfortunately" You answer, causing him to pinch the inside of your thigh making you giggle. "If we're not on our way to the boutique, I would hop on that dick right now"

He groans at that, eyes shutting briefly as the thoughts of you riding him in the car fill his mind. And seeing the seductive smirk on your face and how divine you look in that white sundress, it's already hard enough.

''Just say the word and I'll pull over mami." He's dead serious. You could see his hand gripping tightly around the wheel.

"And be late? No can do. Plus, I dressed really nicely for today and I do not want to ruin that."

"We can be quick" He tries again, smirking at you. "20 minutes top."

"Knowing you, it could never be 20 minutes. An hour and a half maybe." You point out, re-applying the gloss on your lips before smacking it. "And that's why I'm always late to work"

"You're killing me here, Y/N." He sighs loudly, pulling over to where the boutique is. "I never hear you complain about you being late when my cock is buried deep in your pussy, anyway."

You feign an offensive look as you slowly turn your head at him, shooting a soft glare. "Excuse me? What happened to getting rid of the first-name basis?!"

Yes. You made it clear from the start of the relationship that you refuse to be called by your first name anymore. It simply just won't cut it. You made sure to give him hell every time he called you that, even if he had done it by accident. Miguel was silently pulling his hair because you can be quite mean about that. Though he won't admit how you driving him insane is sexy. Like, really, fucking sexy.

it's a turn-on for him at this point.

"Shit, my bad" He parks the car as you both get ready to walk out. "Sorry baby." He leans over to peck your lips with his hand still on your thigh. The action makes you smile.

“That’s better”

Miguel gets out first, not allowing you both to walk out at the same time because he wants to be the one who opens the car door for you. Despite you telling him that you're perfectly capable of doing that by yourself, he argues with the fact that gentlemen always open doors for their women. Your heart does a somersault every time. It never goes away.

"Got everything, mi amor?" He asks as he extends his hand which you take, before shutting the door. You nod at him, and the two of you walk into the boutique hand in hand. "Dios... You look so good right now, I might just have to fuck you out here"

You gasp at that, slapping him in the chest, earning a low chuckle from him. "Easy there, tiger. I'm not going anywhere" You scold him but secretly love it when his filter's off

“How can i take it easy when your… Girls look so inviting?” His eyes glances at your breasts being pushed up by the cups of your dress, gulping at the sight. “They want me to play with them” A pout on his lips making your heart melt.

“Ugh, Miggy! please do not call them girls” You whine, shaking your head. “I thought we agreed on ‘tits’? Just tits.”

“Alright, alright fine… You’re no fun sometimes” He jokes, kissing your cheek. “Now, is this it?”

You nod, pushing your sunglasses up to the top of your head. “Darla said we can just walk right in.”

Miguel opens the door before allowing you to walk in first as he follows from behind. Red orbs scanning over the interior of the shop. It’s pretty. Lots of flowers in each corner, the paint is mostly pink and white.

“So is this where you and Darla had done the cake testing?” He asks, hand snaking around your waist.

“Yes! It’s so beautiful isn’t it? It’s like something coming out of fairytale or that ‘Enchanted’ movie we watched the other day. Darla really did amazing with this one. Though i did advice her to fix up the ceilings a bit and enhance the structure on that specific corner there.” You point with your manicured finger. “I offered to redesign and oversee the construction more. Just to help her a bit.”

He hums, squeezing your waist before planting a kiss on top of your head. “Look at you go… My little architect” He mumbles softly.

There’s no doubt on his mind that he’s proud of you. He loves seeing you work and help your friends who are in need. And that smart little brain of your is one of the things that made him fall in love with you in the first time. Jess had introduced you to him one time when he was scouting for a new architect to remodel the Spider Society’s HQ.

He was definitely entranced by your beauty when he saw you walked into his office with Jess by your side. You looked so sophisticated and elegant with glasses and the dress you had on that time. Long hair fixed into a messy bun as you shot him a smile before saying your name.

From that moment on, he was hooked. And made it his mission to make you his.

“Ms. Y/L/N and Mr. O’Hara?” Both of your ears perk at the sound of someone calling your names. You see a man, who’s probably in his late 20s emerging from the back with a smile. No doubt about it that he is quite handsome.

“Hi there! How are you? My name is Cameron, i’m Darla’s assistant. And my my, Darla didn’t say anything about her client being beautiful.” He chuckles as he lets out the joke. “She said you are stopping by for the cakes?” He flashes his toothy smile at you, and only at you.

Miguel frowns, at that. That doesn’t seem professional now, does it?

You choose to ignore that comment before smiling. “Yes, we are actually! I mean, I’ve done it with Darla about two weeks ago but my fiancé haven’t. So I’m bringing him, so he can taste it for himself.” Your hand squeezing your lover’s arm that is still settled around your waist.

The man nods, smiling as his eyes aren’t leaving yours which makes Miguel even more uneasy. And the way he looks at you from head to toe makes his blood boil.

He knows how men think, and he thinks. No, he knows that this asshole is basically undressing you with his eyes.

But Miguel is not the type create a confrontation. At least not anymore now that he’s with you. So he might’ve to push those feelings aside because he knows how much this means to you.

“Well step right here, I’ve prepared it all just for you, Ms. Y/L/N” He winks, gesturing you to follow him to where the cakes have been displayed.

Is he fucking serious?! Miguel thinks.

“So 6 different flavors, yes? Chocolate Lava, Lemon Raspberry, Strawberry Champagne, Red Velvet, Hazelnut Praline, aaand Hawaiian. That one is vegan” He checks off the last one on the list. “Customer’s favorite always been the Praline or Lemon Raspberry. You look like you deserve the latter. The best reserved only for the prettiest”

Again, you ignore his comment. “Oh well i tasted the Strawberry Champagne and it was amazing. But I’m leaving it to my fiancé here, so he can choose” You look up to him and notice there’s a slight frown on his face. “Baby?”

Miguel regains his composure when you call him, snapping him out of the thoughts of him killing Cameron in his mind. “Oh. Yeah yeah. Sure. You know my taste buds don’t matter just as long my woman is happy”

He makes sure to emphasize the words ‘my woman’ just so the guy can get the picture but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it.

“Well, we’re in this together so your taste does matter, as well.” You’re completely oblivious with the soft glare that Miguel throws at Cameron’s direction. Hands softly picking the forks from the table to cut a piece,

“Here. Let’s try the Chocolate—“

“Why don’t you feed it to me, mi amor?” He asks, looking at you with a smile. “One fork for two.”

If he can’t be violent then he’s got to find a way to make sure that this Cameron fellow understands that you’re fucking off limits.

You raise an eyebrow at the suggestion. “Sure, papi” You mirror his expression before cutting the cake, lifting it to feed him,

He takes a bite. Eyes dead set on the man who stands awkwardly from across, gaze looking anywhere but him.

“Hm” He nods. “That one’s good. Dark chocolate is it?”

“Right?” You ask cheerily. “Darla is amazing, i swear i need them all 6.” As you turn to fees yourself with the chocolate cake.

He shrugs, wiping a bit of the frosting from the corner of his mouth. “You’re the bride baby, you can have all 6 for the wedding, i don’t mind. I got the money for it anyway.”

You smile at him, kissing his jaw. “I love you, but we can’t be too greedy now can we?” A giggle escape your lips.

Oh he knows. He just wanted to make sure that son of a bitch gets it through his thick fucking skull that you’re his.

The two of you continue to feed each other’s cakes— more like you feeding it to him to be honest— rating each and every single one. Making sure to put a mental note on whichever you prefer before coming back next week and pick one.

Miguel glances at Cameron every now and then and watches how he stays quiet for the rest of it, letting you and Miguel do your thing. Probably too scared after seeing the intimidating look on his face.

“Gotta say, Strawberry Champagne and Chocolate one are amazing.” Miguel points, rolling the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. “You sure have a great taste, cariño. Confío en ti con todo.”

“Gracias, mi corazón” you put down the fork back on the table, smiling up at Cameron. “That’d be all i guess, yeah? But i think we’ll be back next week to pick one for sure. Will Darla be here?”

“She hasn’t said anything about it but uh, i-i’ll make sure” He stutters a bit, smiling nervously and trying to avoid Miguel’s death stare.

“Okay then. Well, thank you, Cameron for assisting us today. We have to get going now, still have a lot to work on” You offer a polite smile to his direction. “Shall we get going?”

Miguel nods, eyes still fixated on Cameron. “Yeah sure. But uh.. Can you wait for me by the car? I just need a few words regarding with the cakes with Cameron”

He’s not letting this off easy.

You watch how his eyes trained to the young employee, scrunching your brows as Miguel turns to look at you with a soft gaze. “It’ll be just a minute, baby.” He presses a reassuring kiss on your temple,

“Okay” You nod, smiling softly. waving a hand at Cameron before walking towards the exit. Soon as you’re out of their sight, Miguel turns his gaze back on Cameron. The young man looks like he’s about to piss in his pants.

The two stands in silence for a while as Miguel looks at him up and down.

“You ever gotten your ass kicked, Cameron?”

The question throws him off guard. Eyes widening while his mouth hangs open.

“S-sir?”

“It’s a question. Yes or no.”

“Well uhm, n-no sir” Cameron shakes his head. “Wha-“

“You do know that me and my girl came as a couple, yes? Or are you fucking blind?” Miguel’s eyebrow raises at him, arms crossed over his chest.

“I see that, Mr. O’Hara. I-i didn’t— I’m sorr-“

“You flirt with every customers? With their soon to be bride? Or is it just my woman you’re after?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth.

“N-no, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No as in what?”

“J-just her, i-i mean your woman.” He nervously confesses,

Miguel lets out a dry chuckle. “Let’s get one fucking thing straight, kid.” He leans forward, balling his fists before resting them on the table

“If you ever flirt with her, look at her or hell, if you even think about her when we come back next week, i will make sure no one remember how you look. And trust me when i say that this is not a threat but it’s a promise. Understood?” His voice laced with venom as he points his finger at Cameron’s chest who gulps,

Nodding quickly, he answers. “Understood.”

“Very well” Miguel retreats, taking a bottle of water from the table. “Stay away from my wife”

With that he walks out of the boutique, breathing out a heavy sigh, unscrewing the bottle cap before taking a gulp.

“How’s the interrogation goes?” You speak up with a playful smirk. “Did you manage to make him piss?”

He looks at you as he walks towards the car, shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” He replies.

Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms. “I saw you, papi. You almost kill the kid.”

“Again, i don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiles innocently, both arms snaking around your waist to pull you close. Seems like a good kid. So i didn’t say anything”

A laugh escapes from your lips, one that he loves most—besides your perfect moans— “I know you, O’Hara. Like i said, a bad liar.”

“Alright fine, you caught me” He holds his hands up in defense. “He’s lucky i didn’t punch him.”

“That would be a sight for sore eyes.” You tease. “You know there’s nothing to be afraid of, right? Ain’t any other man could possibly steal my heart like you did three years ago.”

“Yeah well maybe if you stopped looking so fucking beautiful with your big pretty eyes and soft pouty mouth, then maybe men wouldn’t try to chase you off and i wouldn’t have 50+ competitions” He complains. But in reality he doesn’t mind.

“Oh excuse me, Mr? You don’t think i got one too?” You ask him through your lashes since his physique is towering you. “I had to put your ex back in her place at the Gala we attended three months ago, you remember? Slimy bitch.”

He laughs hard at that, head shaking at the memory of you confronting Dana was truly one of the unforgettable moments he has of you. “So, what’s next on the agenda?”

You look back at your phone before replying, “Seating arrangements on 112th street. Now this, we can use that 20 minutes up for something else since they’re running late.”

Miguel’s eyes harden as your finger running up and down his chest. “You mean—“

“Offer still stands. Want me to ride you while we wait?” You chew on your lower lip, gazing up at him and giving him your best doe eyes.

“Baby, if i ever said no to that question… Please feel free to grab my gun under my desk and shoot me in the head” He states, making you laugh as you throw your head back.

-

This feels like shit :/ I’m sorry but i need to clear out a few WIPs in my drafts

Though i still hope you all like it!

[robin-evry]

anyone with yuu who's a child of hades i beg

Sure thing

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐃 ( 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 ) ⚰️👻

A demigod is a part-human and part-divine offspring of a deity and a human, or a human or non-human creature that is accorded divine status after death, or someone who has attained the "divine spark".

Demi-God!yuu are calm and collected would be reserved and yet sarcastic towards people, they are very blunt and straight forward person.

They would have eye bags due to their part time job as a judge for souls due to their father having other businesses in the underworld.

They rarely sleeps, plagued by vivid dreams or visions of the underworld. When they do sleep, it’s short and restless, leading to their permanent eye bags. Despite this, they always seem alert, almost as if their connection to the underworld sustains them.

Demi-God Yuu’s presence often makes people around them feel a slight chill, as if the shadows grow darker in their vicinity. Some students find it unsettling, while others are drawn to the mystery.

Also Plants around them tend to wither slightly, and candles flicker or dim when they enter a room.

loves learning about ancient myths, especially those relating to death and the afterlife. They spend hours in the library researching past civilizations, and their knowledge often surprises the professors.

They have the ability to sense spirit, summon the souls of the dead for guidance And borrow their power for a short time.

Demi-God Yuu eyes seem to reflect the vast, empty depths of the underworld, almost like looking into the abyss. Some say staring into them too long makes you feel like you're being pulled into the shadows.

While Grim loves causing chaos, Demi-God Yuu is always there to rein him in. They take on a more parental role, ensuring Grim doesn’t bite off more than he can chew. Grim, despite his bravado, is secretly afraid of Yuu’s “death glare.”

They have a dry, dark sense of humor, often making grim or morbid jokes that leave others unsure whether to laugh or be scared. Ace and Deuce are the usual targets of their deadpan quips.

Despite their grim aura, Demi-God Yuu has a gentle side that comforts lost or lonely souls, both living and dead. They seem to attract those who need guidance, offering quiet, profound words of wisdom when needed.

Demi-God!yuu is a powerful necromancer, By knowing the knowledge of the undead as well a sacrifice of blood they can create or summon them to zombies to aid them with a flick of their hand. They can use this power as servants to do their order. They also can use the powers and abilities of the undead freely as they do.

This ability can stand anything as long as they're dead, animals or people can summon as long as they know the knowledge and the soul structure of the thing they summon. Animals with more complicated structures will need more concentration as well blood.

They also can reanimate skeletons, summon Skeleton Warriors, bring back the dead, manipulate ghosts. Crowley has forbade them from using any necromancy magic due to being illegal in twisted wonderland.

They often seeks solitude in graveyard, finding comfort in the stillness and quiet. They sometimes have long conversations with the spirits buried there, enjoying the peaceful connection to the afterlife. The ignihyde dorm or dismonia dorm reminds them of the underworld so they usually tend to hang out there as well to play video games with idia, or hang out with the dismonia gang.

When faced with peril, Demi God Yuu is unfazed. Whether it’s a magical duel, a rampaging monster, or a chaotic spell gone wrong, they remain eerily calm, calculating the best way to neutralize the threat. Their classmates often wonder if they even feel fear.

They're connection to the underworld has dulled their senses. They can’t taste food as vividly as others, and colors seem muted to them. The only exception is the color of flames—they are drawn to fire, seeing it in a vibrance others can’t perceive. It’s one of the few things that remind them they’re still connected to the living world.

The ghosts of Night Raven College are particularly fond of them They feel understood and respected by someone with such strong ties to the afterlife. They frequently visits the ghost dorms, chatting with the spirits about history, the past, and lost legends.

Demi-God yuu's favorite hobby is to solve puzzles as well as literature, they are new members of the board game club, you can find them playing board games with Azul and idia.

Since them being the child of hades, since he's the god of the dead as well treasure and wealth, Demi-God Yuu grew up in a rich lifestyle, they are the richest in NRC, their wealth is infinite. By far they have turned ramshackle into a palace with the help of undead workers they summon to help them build it.

The dorm has become the most luxurious out of all the other 7 dorms as well being guarded by zombies, and yet it still carries an Erie feeling for whoever dares to enter the dorm without demigod yuu permission. Some students say the dorm Carries multiple undead and spirits servants that serve under demigod yuu and grim. It has a beautiful garden filled with multiple flowers, but by far the ones that stand out the most are black roses that Demi-God Yuu personality plants and take care of them. It's also known that dorms usually have a lot of crows or raven hanging around the castle.

Grim and first years has been spoiled by Demi-God Yuu, luxurious beds, food, etc anything he asks for demigod-Yuu will give it to them with no question asked, this creates a situation where grim would fake cry and run towards them saying that ace and Deuce is being mean leaving him to be pampered by them. Of course demigod-yuu is aware of his tricks but finds it amusing so they never bother. The first years usually receive gold of jewelry from them and when they ask what's the special occasion they just shrug and walk away.

Demi-God Yuu also believes you can solve little matters with money, during the Octavinelle arc, when Azul was about to speak, they put a large bar of gold in the coffee table.

Azul : okay now let's start negotiation-

Demi-God! yuu : put a large bar of gold on the table

Azul : I assured you prefect I'm not so easily swayed by money-

Demi god!yuu : put another large bar of gold on the table

Azul : I am not easily swayed -

Demi-God Yuu : put another large bar of gold on the table

Demi-God Yuu has a natural talent for negotiation and persuasion. They’re able to strike deals or mediate conflicts, earning respect among the students for their diplomatic skills. But they usually find bribing an easier way And only negotiate during serious moments.

Ruggie is seen trying to get close with demigod-yuu trying to be on their good side for some treasures, he once helped them get their favorite drink which is milk tea in the busy cafeteria and they paid him back using 5 solid gold coins, this left him in shock and they continued on their day without looking back. Right now he's by far more eager to help them in exchange for some gold, and this causes some tension around Leona and them.

They also bribed Crowley by making grim a student, originally he was against it but when they bring out a chest full of solid gold saying that they will pay forward grim tuition for four years in NRC and if the gold is not enough they will add more and boom grim became an official student at NRC.

Another popular rumor that pops up is who is by far more richer kalim or demigod-yuu, which became a hot debate in NRC. And of course it's Demi God Yuu is richer than kalim, what do you expect their father is the god of treasure and they will never run out of money.

Their favorite fruits are pomegranates, you can always find near their bed a bowl of pomegranates seeds in their nightstand. They also wield a bident in combat, they are very skilled with it as well.

When the great sevens introduction and they met with the statue of hades Disney version, they had the surprise Pikachu face and said "wtf that's my dad".

Likes to go out on nightly walks when they can't sleep, and that's how they come across with idia, originally he was awkward around them until both of them learned about his fascination with the underworld. He will ask for a bunch of questions about it in exchange for demi god yuu is taught by idia how to play video games. And one point idia will ask them if they could bring back his brother and Demi-God!yuu still haven't given him an answer yet.

I imagine demi god yuu aesthetic would be similar to gothic or dark academia style, when they go out, they are very stylish and very prim to the bottom, But when at home they wore a giant oversize hoody and very sloppy, they look unrecognizable to their outside version, even during the VDC when vil visits them and meet them in their home attire he's first reaction is who are you, basically it's like a light switch they found no reason to be stylish in their own home just wear an outfit your most comfortable in, This is just a personal idea you guys can add if you like. and I also imagine them not being big fans of the sun, they usually wear an umbrella and sunglasses to cover themselves from the sun.

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEBLOG: Wakfu Season 4, Episode 4 [PART 2]

I wonder how long he's been standing there. Did he come an hour early? 20 minutes early? Just standing there, doing nothing...

Dios mio... la creatura!

Something very weird happened with the Eni queen/leader. In s2, her cape and hands were like this because she was sitting, in this season — it's just part of her design. Did nobody check this stuff? Am I going insane thinking this is an error? Did she look bad when her cape was down? What the fuck is happening?

Once again, something very silly is happening with Sufokia, if they have an empress and a king. My headcanon to fix it is "the king is a consort-king" or something.

(*sobs in Ankama, or, really, 89% of all media, not understanding that whoever marries the ruler of the nation is a [insert title]-consort, and does not have as much political power or the right of succession* *Hysterically convulses in "99% of all Queens were Queen-consorts, and the title itself, by default, usually means a consort. For this reason, female rulers (rare non-consort Queens who came to throne due to lack of male princes) typically named their husbands "Princes" and not "Kings", because the title king always implies a higher degree of power than a queen; therefore, it might be reasonable to assume, that in this fantasy setting, a Ruling Empress's husband might be called a king for this reason* *Foams at mouth because Ankama just forgot they mentioed Sufokia having a king and I'm trying to cope. badly*)

Also since I'm on this tangent already, YES, this means that Sadida rules of throne succession are:

1. extremely easy for outsiders to abuse (say what you will, but "the spouse inherits the throne" is a BADDD rule to combat conquest by foreign nations, there's a reason it was children or blood-relatives of the ruler, besides patriarchy/divine right of kings/whatever — the spouse is an outsider. All it takes is a princess, who is Wonderful at poisoning, being married off to a foreign nation and whoopsie-daisy, their country is now Her country, and therefore her Family's country),

2. it's unrealistic,

3. probably just bad writing for the sake of drama.

If you're curious why I know all this shit.......... I have a blorbo in a different fandom, and his entire thing is that he was married into a royal family and then tortured by his queen wife in a sort of gender-bent Henry VIII arrangement (except he was kept alive against his will and there was no divorce or church splits). God bless that blorbo for making me learn.

These Huppermages were repurposed from the movie concept art, btw.

I find it quite interesting, that Joris has the authority to be present here...

My personal theory/headcanon is that he is their mediator, and they just call him to their meetings so that, instead of yelling at each other and declaring wars, they can talk to him (and therefore, yell only at him and declare no wars).

Ugh, once again, I am not entirely fond of the English subs. First the translation error about the brotherhood of forgotten/tofu, and now they are making Joris say this spring chicken thing...

It doesn't fit his character and reads weird. Just leave it as "I'm not that young", like in the original. It's more fitting for Joris to speak in negative sentences ("I am not young") than in affirmative ones ("I am old") because he is not fond of stating direct facts about himself and his life... besides the fact that he's standing in front of multiple world leaders.

[kicks my legs cutely thinking about the fact that Joris, older than every king and queen in this place, and fully convinced of his excellence and wisdom and heroism, has been forced to bow down to them for his entire life despite hating at 90% of them for their political decision] I love his commitment to being the protagonist of an 18th century Russian novel about being doomed by the narrative.

Also, kinda wild. You'd think that during Ogrest's chaos they'd— actually I think everyone was too dead to hold meetings during that, nvm.

I wonder what they would do, if the maker of the eyes wouldn't reply. Just stand there? Or is this speech more of a formality — something he always says, in the lead-up to the meeting?

(I am once again reminding you, this blog is LITERALLY about overthinking crepinjurgen lore! Ankama gave no shit while writing this. I'm just doing this for fun.)

He's so unimpressed. Probably still trying to gauge what the fuck is going on.

THE LITTLE SMILE— he's trying to suppress it so hard in the first screenshot here. He's probably glad that Yugo seems to be in good spirits about what's happening, even if he himself is still quite worried.

His expression here is a beautiful mix of "PLEASE DON'T FUCK THIS UP" and "it is a canon event, I cannot intervene"

Literally, Joris's expressions at this moment should be analyzed frame by frame. You can feel the desperation. He now understands that there is a high possibility they are fucked. Because his bestie (who is always right) is an impulsive 20-something year old boy who knows nothing about politics or what people can do, and his mom is a god, and the leaders of the world aren't going to like whatever the fuck is going on, and he KNOWS what they might do, and what might happen, and oh god oh fuck oh god oh fuck—

"Yugo :) perhaps you shuoild :) um. :) ease them into it. :).... :("

He's trying to keep smiling, so hard. It's crazy.

Joris has lived through the huppermage genocide. He knows people don't need that much of a reason to begin killing. He understands precisely just how fragile the position that Yugo and his people are in. He understands his own place in the pecking order, too — he isn't going to act like Yugo's friend if these people are watching.

And neither Yugo, not any other Eliatrope is able to understand this. There are cruelties in this world that they are fundamentally unable to grasp without having truly been seeped in it before.

Like, what is he even to do here, to make Yugo understand how bad the situation is. All he can do is stand there looking haunted, while receiving unprecedented amounts of psychic damage.

If I was Joris at this point, I would simply pull out a flask of whiskey and a cigarette. The political situation has now gone completely unfixable. There is no going back, now that she has said these two lines.

Someone native to the World of Twelve and old enough to understand politics would know how bad this sounds. But to her, these are good things. Of course they are, since she knows what is good and what isn't, and everyone in her world has always accepted those things as good.

Basically: the conflict between WoT and Eliatropes is that a nation of people from a world of teletubbies-level conflict, — with no bigotry or nations or poverty or hunger or theft or inequality, or ulterior motives, — has been added to a "game of thrones" type society with no explanation. And now they are all forced to try and understand one another.

If I was Joris at this moment, I would simply shoot myself in the temple with a gun. If things were bad before, they are horrible now. She is talking to world leaders as her children. It might have been alright even with Eliatropes, but these people aren't Eliatropes.

DO I EVEN NEED TO COMMENT ON HOW BAD THIS IS? IN A WORLD WHERE COLONIALISM, RACISM, SUBJUGATION, AND SLAVERY ARE REAL? IS SHE ON CRACK?

I would give anythign to see Joris's expressions as she's saying these things. I think he should be trembling. Staring vacantly into space.

To someone from a world of violence, a world with "no violence" seems like a world where violence is hidden, and enacted to stop them from voicing their disagreement with the status quo.

Tot has described this as a sort of conflict between the modern world approaches to society — and named China and America as examples of what he was inspired by, while writing Eliatrope.

I will not get into detail on my feelings on it (China is often extremely criticized in the west for things every country in the world does due to racism)

But this might point us towards the fact that the world of Eliatropes wasn't as free of conflict as the show portrays it to be, and it was, in fact, Just A Society, with all that entails. In which case, things get morally morally gray... might explain why, in the earlier drafts of the season, she was meant to be the main antagonist — and why it was decided against.

(Is that maybe why Qilby is so embittered — his experiences were silenced, and he was made to suck it up, only confiding in Shinonome? She does constantly shut up Yugo and Qilby, not letting them speak up about their grudges against each other to keep the peace— [I am quickly silenced by tangent police])

[kenjakusbraincum]

Reverence

Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: Sukuna finds you clinging to life by a thread, trapped underneath the rubble of fallen buildings, after the final showdown. He saves you, deciding you’d make a good pet to keep him company at his lonely mansion. Word count: 8.9k Tags/warnings: Afab reader + gn language but the word ,whore’ is used, true form 2 dicks sukuna, dubcon, masturbation, fingering, penetrative sex, dacryphilia, size difference, biting, bruising, belly bulge, creampie Author’s note: First fic I’ve written in ages!! :> Feedback is very appreciated! This may be a part 1 depending on how inspired I get.

The razed city is quiet around him as he stands and scans the aftermath of his destruction. A moment of calmness after a catastrophe, similar to the rays of sun after a thunderstorm. But when he looks up into the sky, no sun shines down on him. The city is engulfed in dust, and beyond it, dark clouds gather above, weeping over the fate of the world that now lays in his four hands.

Everyone unfortunate enough to be close in the moments the battle went down is gone. Everyone who fought him has either died or escaped. He wasn’t a foolish man. He knew he would win, and once again on top of the world… what awaited him was loneliness and boredom. He let them escape. One day when they think they’ve grown strong enough to face him again, they will entertain him. But for now, they’re gone, and he’s bored.

Then there’s a rustle. Little rocks topple over each other in the ruins. You push them out of your way, crawling out from under blocks of concrete. Bloody, dusted, dirty… and still, he finds you beautiful. He follows you with sharp eyes. Under any other circumstance, you would’ve noticed you were being stared at. But now it’s different. Your vision is blurred by blood dripping from your forehead into your eyes, and every movement of your body hurts. You are dying, you know that. You just don’t want to die under a rock. If you’re going to die, let it at least be in the open. Let it be under the bright blue sky, under the sun, so you’re at peace. But when you turn around to lay a final look at what you wish for, you are met with a heavy gaze of four red eyes.

You’ve sparked his curiosity. A human who survived his divine chaos. A human he’s seen before, in passing, while possessing Yuji. His eyes always did linger on you, but he’s always had something more important to focus on. Now, you’ve fully got his attention.

-

The warmth of sunshine that you so badly wished for in your last moments welcomes you when you wake up. Reborn. You shuffle around in bed, letting out a strained noise. You look around to find you’re alone in the room. Your memories slowly come back to you as you sit up. Fighting alongside your friends. The falling building. Crawling out of it’s remains. The pain, god the pain. It’s all gone now. You look down on yourself, dressed in sleeping robes. Clean. Not a scar on your body. The light soreness you feel is probably from too much sleep. But despite the fact you’re healed, you feel uneasy. You search through your head for your last memory. The realization comes to you grounds you with it’s heaviness, and you feel like you’re sinking into the depths of the earth.

Your friends didn’t come back for you. They either died, or left you to die. But you ended up here instead. This was Sukuna’s home, unmistakably. Where else could you have ended up, after the last thing you saw was him? Who could’ve possibly rescued you from him? Who could rescue you now? Your fate was sealed the moment you were crushed under debris, but you were supposed to be dead. This was a change in plans. This was an impulsive decision, that someone is yet to see prove it’s worth. Or disappoint.

You understand immediately what position you were in. The situation is very clear. The entrance to the garden from your room is closed, undoubtedly to prevent you from running away. But truly, even if it was open, how far would you get before getting caught and inevitably punished? And where would you run? Where in this world, that now belongs to him, is it safe to hide, and how far away is that place? No, running away is impossible. In a way, the safest place from Sukuna was his home. Surely if he let you reside in it, that meant something. Fighting was another foolish option. You discarded it as soon as it crossed your mind. You don’t even have to instigate to know you’d lose. Everyone lost. You were no different, despite of your strength and potential. Besides, your gut told you that running and fighting wouldn’t end in simple terms such as being killed immediately. No, if he brought you here, there was no way he would just kill you. He likes to watch people suffer after all.

Your only option is to stay. You are grateful he gave you this time alone to come to terms with your fate. You understand that staying here, and staying unharmed, would mean compliance. Obedience. Something that went against your very essence as a person, and as a sorcerer. You laugh with unease. Just as you begin to imagine what your life will entail from now on, the door opens, and you’re met with a short white haired person. Sukuna’s minion. You recognize them from before.

‘’You’re awake.’’, they exclaim with no emotion. They look at you, but it feels like they’re looking straight through you.

,,I am.’’, you say after a moment. An attempt to break the discomfort.

,,I didn’t ask.’’, they shoot you with a stare, a warning.

,,S-sorry…’’, you correct yourself immediately, trying to cause as little problems as possible. It’s merely your first interaction in this estate, and you already find yourself backtracking. Giving in.

They let out a tiny tsk sound. ‘’What do you remember?’’, they ask. They sound completely uninterested, and their eyes are empty.

‘’Everything.’’, you reply sadly. It comes across as a smile.

‘’You don’t need catching up then.’’, they sigh, not considering that maybe you would like to be caught up as to where exactly you are right now, and how long have you been sleeping. ‘’My name is Uraume. I’m assigned to help you transition into this new environment.’’, a moment of silence, and they scan your face for a reaction. ‘’Master will see you. The ladies will come to prepare you and dress you up promptly.’’, another pause. Uraume lets you process the information. ‘’When you are around Master, you should act properly. Do not look up at him without permission. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do everything he says with as little delay as possible. He’s your Master now. Obey him and address him as such.’’

Silence drowns the room. The instructions strike a wave of fear and anxiety in you. What bothers you now is not whether or not you’ll be forced to do things you don’t want to, it’s will you be able to do everything right? Will you slip up, or forget an instruction? Will you embarrass yourself, or more importantly disappoint your master?

‘’Understood?’’, Uraume asks, clearly annoyed judging by their tone. You wonder if they’ve asked this twice but you haven’t heard the first time. You simply nod, and your head droops down. Uraume watches you. ‘’When you’re ready knock on the doors, the ladies will come in. Don’t take too long.’’, they say and turn back to the open door. ‘’I’ll see you later.’’

You sit with yourself and think about your future. Every passing second makes it more imminent and clear.  Seeing as there’s no other option, you make peace with your future of servitude. You can only imagine what it entails. You’d be lucky if you were assigned with mopping floors or chopping human meat in the kitchen. Deep down you know that the job you’ll be assigned with is a much less dignifying one. You rationalize things in your head. Since there’s nothing else you can do, you might as well try your best to avoid problems by being good at what you’re tasked with. You sense that it will rid you of all your pride and personhood. Your innocence, that you’ve been saving your whole life for a moment that’s supposed to be special. It will be special, but not in the way you’ve always imagined. It will be ceremonial, a symbol of entering a new chapter in your life. You dread this. But, the alternative is death, or possibly worse. Between those two, you’ve already made your choice. You’re not going to die twice.

You will yourself to stand up and knock on the door. Get it over with as soon as possible, you think. Once the deed is done it will be easier. Two women open the doors and greet you with a deep bow. You’re confused as to what about your presence warrants an extraordinary show of respect. You guess that in the hierarchy of this estate you are above the measly servants. But just by a little bit.

The women guide you down a long hallway, into a bathhouse. They begin to undress you, and there’s not much you can do to protest. Not that you’d say no to a warm bath, but the discomfort is still there. You feel watched, violated, even when their touch is light, even gentle. The women sense this, and they incorporate asking questions into their routine, checking if you’re okay with this, that. It helps you relax, at least a little bit. Over the course of the next few hours you’re thoroughly bathed, shaved, and dried. By the end of it, you don’t mind the little spa treatment you got. It makes the situation seem a little less bad, if you pretend you don’t know why you were taken care of with such precise detail. They dress you up, wrapping you in expensive silk and comment on how beautiful you look.

It’s true, you look mesmerizing. Your skin glows under the dim lights. If it wasn’t for the sadness in your eyes… no one could tell that a day ago you were on the verge of death. Time came to thank your Master for gracefully giving you a second chance.

Uraume waits outside of the bathhouse. They eye you up and down, as if they’re checking if the women did a good job at making you look presentable. They nod and the women are discharged. ‘’Did you enjoy yourself?’’, Uraume makes small talk as they lead you back down the hallway. Nothing in their voice suggests they’re interested in your answer. Everything they do feels like they’re filling out a form.

You don’t know how to answer. ‘’Yes.’’, you answer. It’s not completely truthful, but your emotions are too complicated to explain. Especially since no one here cares about them anyways.

Uraume doesn’t look at you. ‘’Master knows when people lie to him.’’

You’re caught off guard. Are you that bad of a liar? Once again, your impulse to come clean wins over you, and you spew words. ‘’I didn’t mean to come off as ungrateful..’’, you say.

‘’You need to work on it more.’’, they say. You wonder if they could spare you at least one word of encouragement for trying. You wonder if something like that even crosses their mind. If they think about this at all. Or is this a routine they’re used to from before. ,,Master has been busy today. Try not to get on his nerves.’’, they add after a moment.

You stop in front of a huge, monumental door. Uraume faces you. They give you a long stare, fix your collar and tuck your hair behind your ears. Anxiety never left you, but now it’s drumming in your ear, overwhelming you. It feels like static in your whole body, rendering you weak. Your palms sweat and tears begin to pool in your eyes.

Uraume notices. You are their responsibility after all. Master won’t be happy with them if you come in crying and disheveled. They try to come up with something that would console you quickly. ‘’Don’t worry too much. Master wouldn’t go out of his way to heal you from imminent death just to kill you immediately after.’’, even they sound like they’re not sure what they said is completely true. Was Sukuna really above doing such a thing? Somehow the statement has an opposite of the intended effect, and you feel even worse now.

Uraume grabs your shoulders and looks you intently in the eye. What they say sounds like the most sincere thing that’s left their mouth so far during your conversations. ‘’You will be fine.’’. With that, they open the door and enter before you. You try your hardest to stop yourself from crying.

‘’Master, I’ve brought them.’’, they say, bowing deeply. There’s no answer from the inside, but he must’ve approved, since Uraume opens the door fully and lets you in.

You exchange one last stare with them and step into the room. You do as you’ve been told and keep your gaze fixed to your feet. The atmosphere engulfs you instantly. The air is thick and heavy, the room smells like death. You pass by a couple of pools of blood, fresh and dry ones, and you feel your hands start to shake. There are bones piled around his throne. The weight of the air, his four eyes watching your every move, and the aura of evil, pure evil. You feel as though you’re pushed onto your knees. You weren’t instructed to do so, but it comes to you as an impulse. You do it out of reverence, out of instinct. Out of paralyzing fear. You plant your hands in front of you and kiss your forehead against the cold ground.

‘’Master..’’, you say. It comes out shaky and desperate. You get no approval from him either. You feel his stare in your bones.

When he finally speaks, it’s not directed at you. ‘’Leave us.’’, he says, and you hear the doors close a moment after. You feel his stare lift from you for a second, before you’re granted his full attention. He observes you for another moment, that feels like an eternity.

‘’Stand up.’’

You stand up immediately, straightening out your robe with your hands. You stare at the bones before his throne. Some of them human, some animal. Some old and dusted, some fresh with hints of pink flesh and blood on them.

‘’Come to me.’’

You raise your gaze enough to scan where exactly you should come to. You’re disheartened to find that there’s no such thing as stairs to take you to where he’s sitting. You don’t hesitate for too long, suspecting it may anger him. You place your foot on the pile of bones and climb towards him, quite unceremoniously. You come to a stop a couple of steps away from his feet. You needn’t look directly at him to see how huge he is, sprawled in his seat. His head is leaned against his palm. One of his hands taps the armrest impatiently, the other two sit still at his sides.

Your eyes are fixated on the bones, trying your best to maintain balance on the uneven surface. You hear him tap his thigh twice, signaling for you to come closer. You choose your steps carefully as you enter his personal space. There’s nothing but him to hold onto if you fall. You sit on his knee clumsily, keeping your hands in your lap so as not to touch him without permission. One of his hands comes down on your back immediately, and you shiver.

,,Obedient.’’, he notes. ,,But that’s not what I meant.’’

In a moment, his hands are on you, pushing you back up and guiding you into a different position. He grips your hips, and heavy hands settle you in his lap, making you straddle him. Your legs struggle to stretch far apart to accommodate you in this pose. Your heart pounds in your chest, so loud you’re afraid he may hear it.

Once again you fail to control your words. ‘’Master, I’m sorry, I misunderstood...’’, you cut yourself off before you go into babbling. He must have accepted your apology, because his hands pull you closer by the hip, grinding you against his bulge. Your insides throb at the contact, and you don’t know what to do with your hands.

He finds your flustered reactions amusing. ‘’You may look.’’, he says, and meets your eyes with a smile.

You do as you’re told, returning the stare. Your eyes explore his face for a second before settling on his eyes. Everything you do is unsure, even looking at him. You don’t want him to find it offensive. You don’t have any ideas what exactly you’re dealing with. He stares back only for a moment, before he moves on to your body. He feels your cheek, hair, the fabric of your kimono, your hands and nails. You shudder against the gentle touch. You didn’t expect to be handled with such care, even for this short moment. You don’t think for a second that he will stay this gentle. But you want to cherish it while it lasts. You relax into his touch and observe him. Four eyes judge every detail of your presence. Strawberry blond hair slicked back, strands tucked behind his pierced ears. Strong jawline, accentuated by his tattoos. Wide shoulders, bearing four arms. You feel small and weak in his lap, more aware than ever before of just how powerless you are. Just how much your life hangs by a thread that is his good will and mercy.

‘’Beautiful.’’, he observes you, not quite meeting your eyes yet. His gaze lingers on your lips, nose, cheeks. ‘’Well behaved too, it seems.’’. You shudder under his praise, and the hand that trails gently down your back, teasing you. Two hands sit snugly on your hips, holding you in place. The last one travels from your shoulder, to your neck, lingering for a moment as he drags his finger against your throat. It crawls up to your cheek, cupping it, brushing the soft, flushed skin.

‘’Yes.’’, you say, catching yourself spilling words again. Your mind doesn’t quite work in this moment. You’re completely dazed by his energy, his touch, his gaze. You’re helpless as you feel yourself clench around nothing, slick pooling in your most sensitive parts in response to his advances.

‘’Yes what?’’, he asks, thumb hooking under your chin and tipping your face up.

‘’Yes Master.’’, you correct yourself quickly, catching immediately what it is he wanted you to say. In this moment, you think of Maki. You think of how she would have done anything to get herself killed before ever uttering the words of compliance that just escaped your mouth. You have no spine at all. You’re not, and never were nearly as brave as her. You’d always crumble in the face of danger. You imagine the look she’d give you, if she knew what you were doing in this moment.

‘’Good.’’, Sukuna’s low voice snaps you back to the present moment. His thumb finds your lips, swiping over them for a moment before stopping against them. You part your lips in response, and he inserts his thumb into your mouth, pressing against your tongue. You let out a tiny noise in response. You don’t need to be told. You seal your lips around him and start to suck. You close your eyes in focus, feeling the taste of his skin in your mouth. In a moment, there’s a hand on your throat, pressing just lightly enough to warn you. You open your eyes and blink at him, compensating for another mistake by sucking harder. Underneath yourself, you feel his bulge awaken, twitching in response to your efforts. So snugly pressed against him, you wonder if he feels you throb too. Your body works against you. You’re enjoying this.

‘’So willing to please..’’, he says. ‘’As you should be. You have quite a favor to return.’’

You lower your head, his words reminding you why you’re here. He must’ve sensed that you forgot, even for a moment. You pick your words carefully. ‘’It’s true, Master.. you saved my life, and for that I don’t know how to thank you enough...’’, you sound pathetic to yourself. Maki’s eyes loom over you again. She is the devil on your shoulder, whispering to run, kick, scream obscenities. Anything, just not to give in to his command. But you already have.

‘’You needn’t concern yourself with that.’’, he says. The hands on your hips guide you slowly into a grinding motion against his crotch. You sigh at the contact. ‘’You’re here to serve me.’’

‘’Master...’’, your words come out in form of a whine. Your hips move slowly in sync with his hands, your body assumed in complete submission. Pleasure builds inside your core, making you almost forget you stopped mid-sentence. ‘’Whatever you need.’’, you stare into his eyes intently. You’ve truly sunk so low.

Sukuna huffs in amusement, watching you move against him desperately. He’s satisfied that you catch on quickly. But his stare is focused on where your body meets his. He’s leaned against his palm again, pondering what to do, how to test you next.

That’s when the doors open. You freeze in panic, and look back to see Uraume, bowing deeply once again. Next you start to feel shame. You’re straddled snug against the man who razed a city, killed people, innocents, maybe even your friends. And now there’s someone watching you while you’re at it. Uraume pays you no mind, or they pretend not to. They look straight through you, into their master.

‘’Master, I apologize profusely for interrupting. It’s an urgent matter.’’, Uraume says, and looks at the ground.

Sukuna’s finger taps on the armrest in frustration. His demeanor changes, pleased expression exchanged with a frown. You feel the switch in energy in the core of your being, and fear grows in your chest again. He stares at Uraume for a while, then he reverts back to you.

‘’Come back to me tonight.’’, and with that, his hands push you off his lap and you stagger back to your feet. Your body mourns the lack of contact.

‘’Yes master..’’, you mumble and bow, then make your way down the pile of bones again. Sukuna doesn’t react, at least not that you can see or feel, so you guess he doesn’t have a complaint on how you said your goodbyes to him. You walk back to Uraume, swallowing your shame. They wait for you at the doors and lead you outside.

A couple of turns later you’re back in the room you woke up in. Your bed was made in the meantime and a new set of sleeping clothes waited for you nicely folded on top of it. Your eyes linger on the door to the terrace.

‘’Can I see the garden?’’, you ask, and turn back to Uraume.

‘’Master doesn’t allow it yet.’’, they say.

‘’Yet?’’, you narrow your eyes. Uraume starts to get visibly annoyed by your questions. Their voice however remains unchanged.

‘’Good behavior earns privileges.’’

,What a privilege, to go outside.’, you think to yourself, and look back through the window.

‘’You seem to be in Master’s good graces already. I’m sure you’ll be allowed outside in no time.’’, Uraume speaks what sounds like words of comfort for the first time.

Of course you are in his good graces. Because you left all dignity at the doors of his throne room. He stripped you of it, without any effort. His energy alone forced you to your knees, his words struck directly to your core. You wonder how much more you’ll have to endure before being granted the simple mercy of feeling the sun on your skin. ‘’Thank you.’’, you say to Uraume. You appreciate their sentiment.

‘’Are you hungry?’’, they ask. You wonder if anyone in these premises knows, or cares about your name. Or are you that worthless to them.

‘’Yes.’’

Uraume nods and leaves the room to bring you some food. You sit by the terrace door and look outside.

-

You can’t see the sunset from where your chambers are located. All you’re left with is the little piece of sky, uncovered by the surrounding trees, and the limits that windows impose on your view. The outside of the estate looks weirdly peaceful, like it’s not a home to a monster. All sorts of animals appear in the garden, from bugs to birds. As the night falls, you hear the faint sounds of frogs, and even catch sight of a little hedgehog, trotting from one bush to another. The garden truly seems like a little piece of heaven inside what effectively is your prison. Your heart longs to see it, to spend time in it. To smell the grass and feel the earth, your mother, against your skin.

You’re called to him again when the sun has already set, and the last bits of light leave the night sky. Uraume holds the door open to you without a word. You’re forced to part your eyes from the outside, and look to them instead. Their head is low, their stare adorned with what you recognize as pity. You haven’t felt fear about the imminent encounter until you’ve seen them look at you like this. Now it’s starting to creep up on you all over again. Static. Tingling and restlessness. Maybe they know something you don’t, perhaps about what kind of mood your master is in now. You stand up and follow them out. It’s easier to just get it over with, you think again.

Uraume knocks on the door and opens just a crack. ‘’Master, as per your request.’’, they bow. Once again there is no verbal confirmation. You know he’s reacted when Uraume moves to make space for you to come in. You start to see patterns in their interactions.

His chambers are dimly lit, the interior hard to see. He sits on the edge of his bed and stares your way. You feel it again. A lump in your throat. A force of understanding that has you picking up your robes and falling to your knees. If he wasn’t in the mood before, your willingness to serve now puts a smile on his face. You don’t get to see it though. Your face is touching the ground.

‘’Leave, Uraume.’’, he says. You hear the doors close shut, and note that he sounds a bit more impatient than before.

You feel a bit easier when Uraume isn’t there. Something about another pair of eyes observing your ordeal made it all the more difficult.

‘’Come.’’, he says, and you hear the familiar tap. You look up to see his hand on the spot next to him on the bed. You struggle back to your feet and walk over to him hesitantly. Your hands sweat, and you try to wipe them off of each other. You overthink every little detail. How close to him should you sit? Is it better to sit further away and be lulled closer, or sit closer and be pushed away?

‘’Well?’’, he asks, eagerly watching you debate with yourself. ‘’Or do you prefer my lap?’’

You’re not quite sure what’s the right answer. ‘’Wherever you wish, Master…’’, you reply, reminding yourself to stare at the ground.

He sees every doubtful thought reflect on your face. He knows you’re being diplomatic, neither wanting to refuse him, nor make requests. ,,Pick.’’, he challenges you.

Your mind races as you think through the positives and negatives of either choice.

,,I’m waiting.’’, he follows up with a warning. It sounds sinister. Giving up any further mental efforts, you pick up the fabric of your clothes and climb onto his lap again, dipping your knees into the bed besides him. He hums in response, seemingly satisfied with your choice. A pair of hands quickly finds your hips again, drawing you closer, he seems to like to hold you in place. Once again you’re seated snugly against him, layers of fabric being the only thing parting you from his bulge. ‘’Look at me.’’, he says, tilting your chin up. ‘’Let’s continue where we left off.’’

You do as he says, meeting his eyes. You try to gauge his mood. For now, he seems content with you. You let yourself relax. So far, there’s nothing unenjoyable about your encounter. Other than the nature of being made into a servant, of course.

‘’Do you know why you’re here?’’, he asks, rocking you slowly against him. Your hands sit at his hips, clinging to the scrunched up fabric of his kimono. You’re not quite sure you’re allowed to touch him deliberately. You wish to, though. You yearn for a connection, after all you’ve never been in this position before.

‘’To serve you, Master.’’, you reply, blinking at him with doe eyes. Nothing about this situation should be arousing, yet you find your insides clenching at your own words. Effectively you’re trapped, with no chance of another untimely interruption. You’re going to be made to do things even if you’re unsure of yourself. Even if you don’t want to. But you’re still pushing against him, searching for more of him, on your own accord. He has a power over you.

‘’True.’’, he tucks your hair behind your ear, leaning closer into you. You can feel his breath on your face, hot, dangerous. ,,But you’re not my servant.’’, he thinks out loud. ,,Or a slave, for that matter. Let’s crown you as my pet.’’

Another throb.

,,A source of entertainment. A subject of training. My little human jester.’’

You imagine looking at yourself in the mirror, at what you’ve become within a day of being under threat. A piece of you wants to mourn, a piece of you wants to spit on your reflection. What comforts you is that, even if your friends are alive, they will never know the extent of your compliance. They will never know the words that leave your mouth as you sit upon a monster’s lap, wanting more. ‘’How can I entertain you, Master?’’, you ask.

A reserved, but wicked smile graces his face. ‘’Undress.’’

Your heart sinks. But you move, standing up from his lap and taking a step back. So he has a better view. You hesitate, but eventually undo your obi and unwrap your kimono and undergarments, discarding the clothes on the ground. The cool air touches your skin, making you shiver. Your hands sit at your sides, feeling your goosebumps. He observes you carefully from his seat, his eyes exploring your naked form. When he’s satisfied, he motions for you to come closer with his finger. You follow, drawn in by desire.

He doesn’t let you sit back yet. You stand between his legs, as his cold hands start to feel you up. Plush soft skin, reactive to his every advance. His touch is gentle, but hungry. Impatient. He grasps at your waist and behind, fondles your chest between his fingers. One of his hands teases your thighs, your stomach, before finally dipping between your folds. You whine out loud as his finger brushes against your sensitive bud, and feels up your wet entrance. Pleased with your reaction, he draws his finger back to your bud, spreading your essence to ease friction. Your knees buckle and you gasp again.

‘’So responsive.’’, he comments, as he starts to rub circles around your sensitive spot. ,,Has anyone touched you like this before?’’

‘’N-no, Master, just me..’’, you say, hiding your face in shame.

He likes your response. He likes your shame. He will make you feel so much more of it than just this. You’re all his for the taking. ‘’Lay down.’’, he commands, and withdraws his hand from between your thighs. He stands up, and just for a moment before you climb into the bed, you get to see how tall he is in comparison to you.

‘’Not that far away.’’, he says. You wiggle back so you’re closer to the edge of the bed. You lay on your back, propped up on your elbows, legs spread wide for his viewing. You try to do your best. He looms over you now, fingers finding your private parts again. He rubs you carefully with one hand, the other feels your entrance again, and one finger dips in. You sigh, head leaning back at the foreign feeling. Two fingers and the pain of the stretch already pricks at you. A whimper escapes you, but you lull yourself to be quiet. It’s only his fingers, after all. They’re thick and long, and practiced, as they explore your insides. He’s doing you a favor.

‘’You’ve been such an obedient little human. You deserve a reward.’’, he says, his words making you squeeze his fingers. You moan as sparks of pleasure rattle your body, his fingers effortlessly finding the spot inside you that makes your leg shake. You forget about your manners. He stops, and you look back to him in desperation. ‘’What do you say when I reward you?’’

‘’Thank you Master!’’, you look at him through hazy eyes. Standing above you like this, he looks like a god. In complete ownership of your smaller, sprawled out body. You feel filthy, but his fingers inside you make you see stars, make you completely forget how you got here in the first place. You’re overtaken by a perverted, primal instinct, as you near your orgasm and force your legs open wider. The squelching noises of his fingers working out your hole fill the room.

Sukuna responds to your movements with a devilish grin. ‘’’Close, little pet?’’, he asks you, almost mockingly. His fingers massage your spongy walls, the sensitive spot in the depths of your fragile body.

‘’S-so close… Ahh!’’, you mewl through the moans, squeezing your fingers in a fist.

‘’Don’t hold back.’’, he says, eyes fixated on you, his own erection starting to strain unbearably against the fabric of his clothes. ‘’I may be generous, but that doesn’t mean I’m patient.’’

His words are truly your command. His energy, his presence, it strips you of any agency you have over yourself. Your body shakes to his words and pleasure washes over you, blacking your vision out as your eyes roll back. It rocks you, your hole throbbing, squeezing hard around his fingers. He rubs you through it gently but persistently, until you’re so sensitive you’re closing your legs to make him stop. You don’t have time to be embarrassed, coming down from your orgasm. He is entertained, but his hands are on your knees in no time, spreading them back apart, reminding you you’re far from done. When you look back up at him, his stare spells a warning. You quickly react by symbolically spreading a little wider, and tilting your hips to give him access.

‘’Would you rob me of my turn, pet?’’, he asks, undoing his obi.

‘’No! Never, Master..’’, your eyes travel down his figure as he discards his clothes. Even from this angle, his sculpted body looked massive in comparison to you. You wonder if it would engulf you if he lied over you right then and there, leaving only your clinging arms and legs as evidence that there is someone underneath him at all. Adorned by tattoos and muscles, he looks monstrous, imposing. You look at him with admiration, as your gaze drops to his hips, and the essence of his manhood. The two of them that hang from his crotch, rock hard and throbbing at the sight of you. At first you are taken aback, but after a moment you realize the math is right and it’s weird this hasn’t crossed your mind earlier. He does have a pair of everything else, so it makes sense he’s double gifted down there too. The base of his cocks is crowned with a low hanging set of balls, plump and ready to be drained. Nervousness that paints your face and changes your demeanor. You’re suddenly very aware of just how small your frame is compared to him, and the size of his cocks.

He likes watching people’s reactions. He is a cruel man after all. He likes his subjects nervous, fearful. A little resistance even excites him. But your pale face and tense body almost make him feel sorry for ruining your relaxed composure. Almost. It also happens to make him throb with desire. Underneath him, your face is contorted in fear. You think he might just kill you. What a painful and degrading death it would be, to die split on his cock like at the stake.

‘’Don’t like what you see?’’, he smirks at you, teasing, his demeanor seeming to change in an instant.

‘’Master, it’s not that... it’s just that...’’, you stutter over your words. Embarrassment and horror cojoin in your excuses. ‘’I’ve never done this before. I don’t think I can…’’, your eyes meet his and you trail off, leaving your thoughts unfinished. Sukuna doesn’t consider his subjects. He is a man who takes and takes, without a second thought, or a look at the person he’s taking from. His stare does linger on your fearful eyes though. He notices that in himself, feels himself slipping up from his usual behavior. An impulse comes to him to assert dominance aggressively, but he doesn’t react. He remembers how easily you submitted to him in the first place. He doesn’t need feats of aggression to scare you into compliance. You’re very compliant anyways. It’s just that you make him feel the closest emotion he’s felt to guilt in a very long time.

‘’Scoot back, pet. Hands and knees. Just one will do for tonight.’’, he says. You doubt he tried to comfort you, but thinking of it like that makes it easier to bear.

You obey him and turn around, crawling further onto the bed on all fours. He follows you, knees dipping into the mattress. His words are of little comfort as he crawls over you like a predator over his prey. Fear rises in your chest and you feel your heart start to pound again. He settles over you, heavy hands landing on your hips and pushing your thighs further apart to accommodate him between them. Another hand lands flat on your back, the plane between your shoulder blades, so small against his massive palm. So fragile against his brute strength. He could break you if he wanted to. Yet, he barely even pushes you.  

‘’Down.’’, he says, urging you to bend, allow him better access. You follow instructions, letting his hand guide your torso lower until your chest is pressed into the mattress. You feel uncomfortable, bent into this position that is completely new to you. Your slick folds are exposed for his viewing, your opening gaping with a shameless noise. He’s going to take you from behind, like an animal. You won’t even see, or feel your suitor, the man who will claim your innocence.

‘’Master..’’, your voice trembles and you turn your head to the side, searching for his gaze. He looks from your body back to you, listening. ‘’I’m scared..’’

He huffs, his expression not changing to signal he’s unhappy. Rather, he seems amused. Noticing that doesn’t help you feel any less scared. His first reaction is ,you should be.’. But he doesn’t want to send you into hysterics. He likes the peace and quiet. ‘’Relax pet.’’, he says, more of a command than a suggestion. ‘’It’ll hurt less.’’

You will yourself to relax, trying instead to focus on something else. However there’s little else to think of in a position like this, just him, his hands on your hips and back, keeping you snugly in place for him to use and enjoy. Your mind wails in anticipation.

You feel his wet tip grind against you, feeling the familiar need slowly come back to you as it rubs at your clit. His grip is unfaltering on your hips, holding you in place as he starts to enter you. You cry out loud, and your body instinctively tries to wriggle out of his grasp, escape the intrusion.

Sukuna growls, his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise, and he pushes you back onto him.

‘’Where do you think you’re going?’’, he says, audibly displeased. His rock hard member protrudes deeper into you, and you shut your eyes tight and grip the sheets so hard your knuckles go white. You wanted to be brave and quiet, wanted even to babble an apology, but as he advances, stretching you open painfully, you cannot help but cry out loud. Tears drop from your eyes and you bury your face into the bed.

He grunts as you envelop him, coating him in a mixture of your blood and wetness. He pushes through your resistance, the feeling overwhelming, even for him. Your walls cling to him so tightly he has to put mental effort into not releasing right then and there. He moves slowly, caring just enough to not break you. In no time he’s fully sheathed in, his balls pressed against your clit. You’re so incredibly full, you think you may just pop. Sukuna bends over you, and you feel his hot breath on your back. You turn around to see him through a blur of tears. You’re a sobbing, mewling mess. Filled to the brim with his want for you. It brings a smile to his face.

‘’How does it feel, pet?’’, he asks. He truly doesn’t care for your answer, he’s just entertained by your measly crying voice.

‘’H-hurts..hurts so much, Master!’’, you sob.

‘’Shame.’’, his head leans in closer to yours, and you can see nothing but his glowing red eyes. ,,Because it feels heavenly to me.’’

With that, he starts moving. You gasp, holding onto the sheets as he rocks your body with his thursts. Slow and deep, mercifully you think, his cock heavy inside of you, spreading you thin. His hips meet the soft flesh of your ass with a slap at every stroke. The stretch burns, but the discomfort dissipates slowly, as his fat tip stroking your sensitive walls, sending hints of pleasure through you. You feel him whole, every vein and ridge and curve of his cock.

Slowly your tears begin to dry, and your painful sobs are replaced by lustful gasps and moans. His eyes keep coming back to you from time to time, observing your reactions to his every move. Your head is turned to the side, and at first you avoid his gaze, ashamed of crying like a weakling. You know there’s nothing he despises more than that. Now that you’ve began to accept him, welcome him inside of you, you look back. Eyes blinking back at him idly, innocently, as your mouth drops open. He grunts as he fucks you, the sound low and masculine. He picks up the pace and the room echoes the sounds of your squelching wet cunt and the skin of his hips, thighs and balls meeting yours with every push. His cock rummages through your depths with abandon. Your moans follow his frequency, as you feel pleasure build in your core slowly, each of his movement coaxing you closer to another orgasm.

Your hands ache with the need to touch his body, to feel him close, feel his muscles tense and relax as he breaks you. The pleasure sparks inside you and you’re restless, craving another release so bad. Your legs tremble, toes curl, you start to push back, meeting his hips mid stroke.

‘’Enjoying yourself, pet?’’, Sukuna asks, dipping his head closer to you again, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. Straight to your core. You tighten around him, nearing your release and he growls.

‘’M-m, yes Master! So big... Feels so good!’’, you stutter, reduced to a trembling mess, clinging desperately onto anything you can get a hold of, in hopes of delaying your orgasm. He hasn’t moved a finger to please you this time around and you’re already fluttering around him. ‘’M-master..please.. Wanna touch you, feel you..’’, you open and close your hand in tune with your words.

His hand digs into your hair and tugs, picking the upper half of your body up from the bed. ,,What was that, pet? A demand?’’

‘’No! No Master.. I wouldn’t.. I-I was begging!’’, you backtrack immediately, your neck straining from the force he’s pulling you with.

He relaxes the hold and you fall back into the previous position. He is satisfied with your answer, but he won’t grant your wish. ‘’You may not.’’, he says, and exhales shakily as you tighten at his words again. ‘’But you’re cute when you beg.’’, you do it again, and he knows you’re close. ‘’Such a horny little human. How quickly you’ve changed your mind.’’

‘’A-ah, Master.. Gonna, gonna cum..’’, you whine, his cock hitting your insides perfectly, his pace steady, unfaltering.

‘’I’ll allow it. Whore.’’

With his last word, you’re tipped over the edge and your orgasm drowns you. Your breath hitches, hands grip the sheets, and the whole world stops as pleasure shakes through your body like electricity. You trash against him helplessly, your body not fully under your control. His hands finally release your hips, and your quivering body slumps against the mattress, your cunt fluttering around nothing as you lose contact with your master. You’re left a moaning, sensitive mess, sticking to the sheets in your sweat and juices. Your shaking legs still, and you feel numbness envelop your body

Sukuna gives you a moment to ride out the aftershocks. Then he straddles you and leans his weight against you. His hand crawls under your body, stopping to grip your breast and continues to pick up your cheeks between his fingers, turning your face towards him. His eyes are threatening, and he doesn’t need to tell you anything. You know what he wants.

‘’T-Thank you, Master. S-so good... Thank you! ’’, you say, your hand itching to feel his face. He chuckles, takes both of your hands and traps them underneath his on either of your sides. Tonight, he is adamant on not allowing you to touch him.

Satisfied with your answer, he guides his cock back into you and continues where he left off, chasing his own end. With your legs closed like this, you feel even tighter around him. You’re trapped between his heavy body and the mattress, unable to move a muscle as he picks up the pace, withdrawing and snapping back in with each powerful thurst.

‘’Good pet. You know where you belong.’’, his grip tightens on your wrists as he nears his release, growing weary and relentless. ‘’Under me. Always.’’, he growls into your ear.

You meet his eyes and hold his gaze, enticing his pleasure with your words. ‘’Yes Master! When-whenever you need me!’’, you moan, and let your mouth hang open in an ,o’ shape.

His pace slows, strokes getting sloppy as his orgasm draws close. He breathes hard, face close to yours. You feel him waver, feel him slowly lose his composure. Feel him come apart slowly nestled in the warmth of your insides. His brows are furrowed, eyes tight shut, mouth hanging loose. One of his hands crawls under your belly, propping your ass up just a bit, for a better angle. He feels himself inside you, a bulge protruding in your lower belly as he holds you in place. This is the final push that makes the coil of pleasure inside of him snap. He comes with a guttural, animalistic groan, and comes down biting your shoulder. His cock twitches violently, kissing your womb as he empties his load inside you. He groans through every spurt, hot and sticky as he paints your inner walls. His thighs shake against yours, his whole body rocked by the powerful orgasm. One he hasn’t experienced in what could be hundreds of years.

You feel so completely full of him. As he comes down from his high, he licks up the blood off your shoulder, tongue hot over the place where his teeth punctured your soft skin. He finally lets go of your wrists and sits up, slowly withdrawing his cock. Beads of his cum follow his cock, leaking out of your empty cunt. So much of it, you feel dirty letting it drip out of you like this.

He takes a moment to observe you, laying there fucked out, marked and utterly claimed by him. You let out a helpless noise, feeling your hurting wrists. The bite on your shoulder will leave a bruise, same as the place his finger dug into your hips. Your cunt aches from the assault of his cock inside it. Weakness takes over you, and you feel like you can barely move. He doesn’t consider healing you. He wants you to be reminded of him, constantly. When you stand up on wobbly legs, when you take off your clothes to go the bathroom. When you turn in bed. When you look into the mirror. He won’t let you forget, even for a moment, where you are, and who you belong to.

He stands up from the bed, and you turn your head to search for him. ‘’Master? Have I..’’, you stutter when you meet his eyes. His gaze is attentive as he fixes his ruffled hair, slicking it back. He gives you a moment to finish your sentence, but you don’t. You just sit up in his bed, pulling your knees to your chest. Hiding from him, as if in shame. Your hand searches for covers to pull over yourself. You’d most like to disappear under them. How pathetic you are, you think. Searching for approval, for praise, from a man who took you with no regards to your wishes or feelings. Why would he compliment you? You’ve hardly been anything but a fucktoy for him, not even worthy enough for him to fuck you looking at your face. Tears begin to pool in your eyes, emotions from your first experience overwhelming you. You crave touch, affection, anything to contrast the treatment you’ve received until now. If he would let you, you would cling to him like a newborn would to it’s mother. Like your existence depends solely on him, and he is your entire world. But he is not a man who likes to be touched. Not a man who likes intimacy. You could only dream of a kiss, of tenderness of any kind.

When you look back, Sukuna is standing above you, a piece of clothing already wrapped around his waist. His hand feels your cheek, the expression on his face almost soft, but still dominating. Seeing you cry in doubt you haven’t done a good job truly somehow makes him more satisfied with you. You show a great concern for your master. He likes to be the center of people’s worlds.

‘’Weep not, my pet. Your efforts will not go unnoticed.’’, he says, voice still as stern as ever. ,,I’m happy with your servitude.’’

Your eyes lighten up as you look up to him. His stare is docile, but threatening, as you remember that after all you are supposed to keep your head low. You duck down in apology. ‘’T-Thank you, Master.’’, your voice falters, but Sukuna is still satisfied with how quickly you pick up on your mistakes. He finds you’re quite easy to work with. He turns and leaves you, for only a moment, to sit and reminisce about this whole encounter on his bed.

‘’Uraume.’’, he then says, in a relaxed, almost quiet voice. You don’t think you’ve even heard the doors open, but the white haired monk stands in the corner of the room. Have they been there the whole time? You spiral in shame as they nod and approach you, their hands finding yours. They pull lightly, urging you off the bed. You didn’t think about where you’ll spend the night, but it makes sense it won’t be here. Sukuna wouldn’t let you touch him, see him, he wouldn’t kiss you, much less let you share his bed while he sleeps. You feel used, dehumanized. It hurts, but you stand up. Uraume picks up your clothes from the floor and wraps them around you lazily, doing enough just to cover you up until you’re back in your room.

‘’Rest up, pet. I’ll keep you quite busy during our times together.’’, Sukuna tells you, and gives you one last look, before he disappears in the shadows of his chambers. You bow to him and follow Uraume out.

What follows is a walk of shame. There is no one in the hallway, and Uraume walks in front of you, but you feel the weight of a thousand eyes. You watch each wobbly step with care, so as not to make further cause for embarrassment. Uraume lets you in your room. It is lit by a single candle. You stare at it’s faltering flame as Uraume disappears, leaving you alone for a moment. So this is what your life will look like from now on.

Uraume returns with a warm, wet towel. ,,Clean yourself up. You have a fresh set of clothes on the bed.’’ Their stare, empty as ever, finds your eyes and lingers for one last moment. ‘’Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.’’

You stare at the towel in your hand, not returning their gaze. They eventually move, closing the door behind them and leaving you alone in the room. You do what you can to clean yourself, wrap yourself in sleeping clothes and lay on the bed. Squeezing your knees to your chest, you long for comfort, for warmth. For any reminiscence of humanity that you’re yet to find in this mansion.

[dreampearls]

those tags specifically were in response to another rb that mentioned cyno; it doesn't have much to do with the original post other than cyno acting another potential foil to collei like nahida is (but because so little is known about his past its hard to draw any conclusive parallels)

i think nahida and collei as foils is so interesting on the fundamental basis of collei being a nonbeliever & nahida's existence challenging the idea of an absolute all powerful god. like collei's past disdain for the gods was because she viewed them as neglectful of humanity; meanwhile nahida's entire existence was one completely neglected BY humanity. i really like the potential conflict between them and the ultimate resolution involving the acknowledgement that the gods need humanity just as much as humanity needs them

[shadykazama]

Did you get a request? It's headcanons for Haarlep, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor accidentally confessing to their gender neutral crush who likes them too. Thanks!

Sure thing! Sorry I took so long 🥲

Haarlep, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor accidently confessing...

Haarlep ❤️‍🔥

Was it even an accident? He's very calculated, wins every game he plays- at least in HIS eyes he wins and that's all that matters~

After you come to the house of hope and Raphael is dead, Haarlep goes back to his old master, Mephistopheles. But an archdevil like that rarely has need for an Incubus like him, so he's mostly free to play.

He uses your glamour often, but it's simply not the same as tasting your flesh himself.

He'd visit you every now and then, to get a "refreshment" on you, since you were so very sought after by his hellish clientele.

But one night in the midst of a mind numbing session, he let's slip, "Oh little mouse, if I could take you back to the hells and feast from you each night, I would~"

You'd both pause, and he'd make a perfectly surprised expression, complete with wide eyes and a hand covering his open mouth. His tail curled up deviously.

Whether his exaggerated expression was to cover up his own surprise or the fact that he'd planned to say it all along- you'll never know, but suffice to say the course of your relationship became much more... intense after that.

Dammon 💙

After the savior of Baldur's Gate told everyone who'd been supplying their gear on their adventures, Dammon was flooded with work!

He honestly couldn't thank you enough- but at the same time, there was a part of him that missed being your go-to. He rarely saw you these days, too collapsed with work to see you for long whenever you'd drop by.

But as fate would have it, he'd gotten a break on the very same day you'd decided to drop by.

Despite the promise of work, Dammon's eyes lit up upon seeing you, and he quickly wiped the sweat from his brow to greet you properly.

He was shocked to find however, that you hadn't come to ask anything of him. Rather, you'd remembered from one of your conversations that he'd said he loves the smell of a certain rare flower. That it would become more potent in the heat of his shop, and drown out the smell of iron and sweat. Aaand you'd just so happened to come across a few on your latest journey.

He'd laugh as he took them from you, holding them to his nose to take in the smell.

"Ah just as lovely as I remember, but not half as lovely as you, I'm afraid..."

Just as soon as the words left his lips, his cheeks lit up brighter than his furnace.

Despite your surprise, you still manage an endeared smile, he ends up scattering to apologize but you cut him off with a kiss.

Rolan 💜

Getting saved by you was starting to get old

You were just some stupid adventurer!

Some stupid, reckless, brave, incredibly hot adventurer.

So when his newly found position as the owner of Sorcerer's Sundries was threatened by some idiot who opened an entire wall of cursed tomes...

He shouldn't have been surprised that you showed up.

You were either messing with him or had some divine luck of being wherever someone needed help- ESPECIALLY when it was him. You were there on each of the worst days of his life recently, like some haunting good luck charm.

He grimaced as he watched you. This would take hours to clean up- but at least the entire building wasn't destroyed.

And here you came, sauntering up with that shit eating smirk to proclaim how lucky he was that you were dropping by today for a specific book.

And 'ohh he could give it to you for free as a reward~'

He couldn't roll his eyes harder, but he also couldn't help the smile that played his lips at your dramatic antics.

He didn't know what compelled him, but he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on your lips, pulling back with a victorious smirk and a blush on his cheeks.

"There's your reward, hero~ You can pay for the book."

Zevlor 🧡

He'd left them. Gods he couldn't believe it.

In his own stupor of glory he'd left his people to the absolute's mercy.

How many died? He wondered, as he made his way out of the mind flayer colony.

He'd been saved, but did he deserve it? It didn't matter- he had people to protect right now and this time he wouldn't fail.

He greeted his people with relief- and with shame. His apologies could be endless, but what he did he could never forgive himself for.

"Zevlor?" A voice called out softly amongst the crowd.

His head tilted up in recognition, hope bubbling anxiously in his chest.

And there he saw you. His heart soared, and then sank all at once.

Out of everyone he'd meant to protect- everyone he'd failed, you were the one that stood at the forefront of his mind.

His head hung in shame as he greeted you, but he was met with no sharp words, nor disappointment. Rather, warm arms that drew him in close.

You were crying, he could tell from the way your body rocked against his, and you squeezed him like you weren't sure he was real. "You're alive."

Zevlor's heart melted as he embraced you, drawing you back to dry your tears. "I'm so sorry, my love."

Your face lit up at the name, and you squeezed him closer once more.

"Never stop calling me that, and we'll call it even."

Sorry if zevlor's seems lackluster 😅 I don't know much about him, but I tried to do him justice. Anyway, I hope you liked it 🫶

[theramblergal]

something something being defined by the people in your life.

something something the kingmaker's heart—no, not the empress, that was the last lifetime that ended in the earth parting beneath your feet. (are you her, daughter of earth? yes and no.) no, this time you are the beloved of the man who is in the shadows despite being wreathed in light. the woman who pulls the strings of the man who controls all the politics of the motherland. his dark curls, his empyrean aura: he is the muse that countless poets have tried to capture but have failed; you have him in your grasp, however. he is ensnared, as you are. you only ever wanted to love him. but the gods have burdened you with their cause.

something something the queen's heiress. your fingers are stained with her blood; was it not her bloodied womb that birthed you? oh, no. daughter of fire: your flames burnt her. but no, she's not dead. she is not your mother. aren't her hands the ones that cradled you and soothed your nightmares? mother and daughter, matriarch and heiress. queens. you do it for the people. there is a distance between you that can never be mended; every time you look in the mirror, you see her. this is a vicious cycle. no, it ends with you. your daughter will not carry this bloodied burden that is a mockery of the most cherished relationship on earth. she will be cherished.

something something the empress' shadow. you walk in her footsteps, little sister. you haunt her every step, her every consequence. dark and golden, the beguiling Somaka women. you see with eyes that have seen too much every grief that will befall her. and you stay silent. the warnings and the pleas choke your throat like the ichor that runs in your veins. are you the goddess of fate and the cosmos, or the heavenly Shri's laado? both. and that's what makes it worse. you will watch as she loses and loses: her dignity, her queendom, her father, her brothers, her sons. (but weren't they yours too? or has the divinity you have risen to caused you to shed your human connections like a snake's skin?) the remnants of her love will rot in her heart like a festering plant without sunlight. her hands will not reach out to yours. the grief will twist you both into creatures unrecognizable. (no, you will always know her.) the grief will kill you. it will drive her to bitter, cold mountains.

something something—you are Krisha, Nakshatra, Kamya: the lover who rose to godhood and are still human at the very core of you.

for you, jaan: @krsnaradhika. my muse, my heart. i love you so much. (when i say this isn't half of what i wanted to write for Krishu baby, especially for Krishnaa and her 🤣)

[cherubchoirs]

REALLY got hit with the line "Now this is a fight worthy of God's Will" and I need to talk about its significance, because it was always interesting to me that it's spoken by Gabriel as the Apostate of Hate. It comes in the second half of the fight in Heresy and while that one is incredibly interesting for the character development it shows in Gabriel, I’ve been thinking more and more about the encounter in Gluttony and just how the two are linked together. I discussed Gabriel’s nature as a warrior in detail here, but in short, he is a being made to fight for God, the battlefield being a holy place for him and where he fully connects to himself as an angel and to God as he fulfills his service to Him. It lights the divine spark within him, it is what causes his passion to burn fully bright and he is completely Gabriel, the Strength of God, in those moments. So where must he be when V1 meets him within Gluttony, what can he be feeling when he has fought thousands upon thousands of machines? There is no honor in these battles, there is no real victory, and Gabriel is growing dull, numb, devoid of any meaning. The machines are beneath him, they offer no challenge and they lack the capacity to recognize him as the angelic warrior that he is. His knightly virtue is smothered, stagnant, his very soul bled dry by mindless engagement after mindless engagement. He is totally disconnected from the self, an angel without their divine purpose and instead acting as a punch clock exterminator.

When V1 arrives, it’s the same despite a flashy entrance – He is more mechanical than his opponent, relying on automatic, rote tactics and repetitive maneuvers. He gets away with it for a bit, so thoughtless that he even pauses in his taunts as his pride dimly flickers to life, V1’s own movements clumsy and poorly timed due to facing an angel for the first time. But V1 is fully engaged, V1 is tuned to every movement that Gabriel makes, the data he nearly hand feeds it – every second its AI is learning, devouring each pattern and quickly mapping out Gabriel’s now own mindless motions. Soon, it’s landing hits, soon he isn’t, soon something starts to feel off. Halfway through the battle, something is wrong. It clicks for Gabriel when he begins to bleed and it seems V1 isn’t harmed. It’s still the same machine? How long had they been fighting? Confusion overwhelms him as he attempts strike after strike and V1 dodges with ease, why can’t he hit it? Why is it still here? The only answer he can flail for is anger, to burst into a rage when the battle refuses to bend to his will, to end. He had gotten sloppy, lazy. Battle, the one thing that connected him directly to God, that was his divine purpose and made him Gabriel, has become so automatic he’s blocking it out. The fire is gone. It enrages him, he flies into a fury at V1, this stupid robot that won’t die and becomes the avatar of his dead passion. A corpse with a pulse, an angel reduced to pantomiming the purpose God gave him against endless mechanical dolls, why, why, what’s happened to him? Nothing is real, he realizes he can’t remember any of the fights he’s had against these machines and his hands have been empty of his true, heaven-forged swords for each one of them. And in his rage, in his furious motions, as he’s consumed with how pointless and ridiculous he looks fighting this minuscule machine, his body falls to the floor, bleeding. His wings support his weight no longer, and every muscle refuses to obey him. He’s lost. Everything is empty, he shouts and throws a fit in utter shock, but has he truly burned down to ash?

And when he returns in Heresy, he is choked with his own anger, his grief, at his failure but too at his total loss of connection to himself, to his God. God, now dead in reality and dead in his own soul. There is nothing left, and so he doesn’t even have a choice in becoming an apostate angel, God is dead and he can no longer even feel him. V1 enters as the avatar of that loss, burns in his mind as a last desperate attempt to claw back the shreds of what’s left of Gabriel and he initially believes he must kill it to do so. To know God’s warrior isn’t fully burned away. But then a change happens again halfway through the battle, that primal spark lights and his wings bloom into brilliant gold and indigo, ecstatic. He is wielding his swords once more, they form into his hands and he is bleeding despite pouring what’s left of his strength and passion into this last battle. V1 meets him, it learns every second and it dances in perfect time with him, a true, real battle, after all the years of the Council bleeding that passion dry. “Now this is a battle worthy of God’s will” he shouts as a man risen from the dead – V1 lights him again as the angel he had forgotten he was even with the light now torn from him, his identity is restored even as he falls and V1 moves him as God once moved him – it changes one last time into the avatar of the God he lost. This is war, this is what he was handmade for...and it has been absent for so long. This machine restores him as Gabriel, returns his love and his passion and his divine ecstasy without the need for anything else – he is Gabriel once again even without God, without his light. It’s thrilling, exhilarating, what else could he do but fall in love when he is given his self back, when he is given the chance to be everything he is without being used by another?

[letters-from-dekarios]

Following up from this letter. A short insight into Ollie is here.

[Two missives are handed to Gale during a lecture at Blackstaff Academy by his wife's imp familiar, called Dreth... who cares not a whit at the interruption he has caused. (Dreth and Gale are... antagonistic allies).]

Missive # 1

For the eyes of Professor Gale Dekarios School of Illusion Blackstaff Academy On behalf of Oleandra Dekarios

Ser Dekarios,

I am writing this letter on behalf of my adventuring companion, who has mentioned several times that you are to be informed if anything should befall her during our adventures.

Before you begin to worry overmuch, she says that she is, and I quote, "fine, and anyone who tells him differently will be sent to their gods with all haste".

In the interest of truthfulness, and at the risk of my person, I must inform you that Lady Dekarios was gravely injured in our latest delve into the bowels of the glaciers north of the Spine of the World. She served her role admirably, taking several blows meant for our divine healer, who by your wife's grace was able to survive and keep the rest of us on our feet and fighting to ultimately overcome the latest danger that permeates this forbidden space. It is by Lathander's light that your wife was returned to us, although she remains in a fragile physical state.

I assume you know that if she were to read the above sentence, that she would inform me that I "know not the meaning of fragile" and she would be ultimately too happy to "demonstrate on my femurs". Nevertheless, it is the truth, as spells as complex as Raise Dead do tend to require physical rehabilitation in the days afterwards.

As for our quest, Lady Dekarios continues to remind us that we have not yet accomplished our tasks for this delve, and she refuses to rest topside despite her injuries. We have persuaded her to rest at least long enough for her energy to be recovered. Brother Cedric has assured me that the ritual was performed without a hitch, which means we have less than a ten-day before she compels us back towards whatever lies in store.

If I may be frank, Ser Dekarios, I fear you of all people best understand her tendency to overextend herself, and I beg that you send word to any allies you may have in the region to come to our aid --- not for the sake of the mission, you understand, I believe that we have that well in hand. Instead I implore you for the sake of my companion's own well being. I will never forgive myself if her actions to protect my beloved Cedric cost you your wife.

With the utmost gratitude, Lord Petris Blackway of Luskan Servant of Umberlee

Missive # 2

Beloved, My moon and stars, Love and light of my life, My best friend through this life and the next, Wizard not only of Waterdeep but also of my heart, My reason for being and everything that is good and beautiful in this world,

I am fine.

Dreth wouldn't give me Lord Busy-body's letter so I am sending my own. Please feel free to deal with the impish little shit as you see fit.

I. Am. Fine.

Your dearest Ollie, who is very much fine and who is very much looking forward to never hearing the name "Petris Blackway of Luskan" ever again.

Sweet Ollie,

I do sincerely doubt that you are “fine”. If you were fine, these letters would not have been delivered in such haste in the mid-portion of a lecture. Nevermind, I believe my students found the delivery entertaining despite their harrowing contents.

I have arranged some time with my higher-ups. I shall be heading north to you within the day you receive this letter. Worry naught, my love, I shall not make the journey alone! Tara has elected to join me, for the sake of making sure I do not find any mysterious tomes or get abducted again. With a few spells and the help of travel sigils, it won’t take me long to find you.

Rest assured, I won’t stay for long. If I continued with you on your journey I fear you’d put my head on a stick! I am just arriving with some medicinal items and my love for a few days, then I shall return home.

You worry me at times with your everlasting adventurous spirit. You’d believe saving the world once would quench your thirst for investigation for lifetimes to come, but your physical adventure is akin to my literary indulgences and I cannot fault you for that. That does not prevent the gray hairs from growing whenever I think too hard of whatever you may be facing.

Aside from myself, I have sent word to some companions in the area you are in. They shall arrive to check on you much sooner than I, and provide a sufficient solution to any magical needs you or your allies may have. You can call me whatever names you deem fit for my precautions when you see me in a few days.

And, by the gods my dear, do stop threatening the imp. You’ve lost enough allies in this world, and I do not think punishment suffices for the creature that was only following your instruction. Perhaps you hit your head and forgot that you told him to notify me if you befall some sort of sickness or injury? I adore you, my love, I truly do, but try to not break the bones of your familiar.

My sweetest Ollie… you know I rarely have the words for your bravery. Every day, you amaze me with your self-sacrificing spirit. Without your acknowledgement of this fact of your life, you would not be so ready to help others. It is a point I have always admired of you. Let the others care for you, for once. You need not always be a provider, you can be provided for, if you let them. If you let me.

I adore you to the ends of this world and back through the Nine Hells. Do not overextend yourself too much, my dear. I shall arrive soon to tend to you. In the meantime, let the others help you. Or so help me gods I’ll incapacitate you myself and force you to return to Waterdeep before you can finish your journey.

With all the love a man can have,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

text reads: gale dekarios

[ladysirenity23]

Cult!Genshin x reader

Sagau pt.3 Liyue

Warnings: cult behavior, obsessive thoughts, religion, spoilers

[Sagau pt.1 Khaenri'ah here] 👇

[Sagau pt.2 Mondstadt here] 👇

Zhongli

Morax was your longest known worshipper - though none known previously how he got to know you, it was only common knowledge that he did worship you in his time of when he was still but a young adeptus

But of course doubts started to spiral once death came-whether it was from his wrath or another being's own bloodthirst

Was it meant to happen?

Morax would ask himself that same  question-as he watches both his acquaintances and rivals die in front of his eyes

He was sort of angry at you-cursed you silently(not wanting to be known for disrespecting you but he did it quietly)

Yet the geo-scaled Archon despite those doubts and trials--He, then matured over the decades he walked in Teyvat his faith in you stood still like the mountains made by geo he made all over the shores of Liyue

plus... Barbatos's 'fact' as the winged-archon would like to call it seemed a bit insulting and he somehow wanted to prove the latter wrong despite knowing its not worth wasting his energy for more important matters

In his time of living among the mortals of Liyue he understood that every thing was meant to happen

He exhaled ;sipping the tea as he watches the lanterns dance among Teyvat's sky

though his victories from the past did haunt him-- Zhongli was finally at peace,knowing that his nation were thriving and advancing without the need of Rex lapis

but what made him feel even more relaxed was the presence of what you'd call 'divine'

Zhongli's golden eyes squinted as if instinctively trying to find something he'd like to think he'd seen before

Your acolyte smiled from afar looking fondly at the docks of Liyue of where you stood with the traveller and a sea of his people

Xiao

Your presence was educated by Morax to him when Alatus was recently just saved by the hands of the cruel god

'the all mighty Creator of Teyvat'

what was so special about you?that made Rex lapis himself worship you

Not to ask that question in a tone which a certain anemo-winged archon used--but one of piqued curiousity

He always wondered about your existence whether during his time with the other yaksha's or even after their passing..

Though he could ask Morax--he'd rather not seeing how the Geo archon had his own responsibilities to deal with

No matter Xiao leaves the subject on the back of his mind and sighed as his pain continues to course through his body

For now.. as your acolyte Xiao can only say that he has respect for you for at least helping him save the people who reside in the harbour through the Traveler or through him

But can he really be satisfied with just that after witnessing your arrival at the harbour-well the answer is.. no

not when the karmic dept that the young Yaksha held for so long almost instantly disappears at the sight of your divine gaze that reflected the lanterns of Liyue

Baizhu

Since birth he was always physically weak and as the years passed by his health also weakened mentally

Baizhu wouldn't say he's a Saint like his regular customers would like to see him as-rather he see's himself as a human-and there was no doubt he was

Greed

Some people say he had that quality-and he would frown at the notion,, but can you really blame him when not careful anytime could be a dead end for the sickly man

Although the mint haired man would always feel guilty on taking advantage of Qiqi's immortality despite doing it over again--

However when you finally arrived in Teyvat Baizhu thought he would feel immense guilt the moment he mentioned about his endeavours and his reason of taking care of Qiqi--plus the fact that he treated you as you were human instead of the Creator

The mint haired man would always apologise for all the troubles he's been giving you this past hour

But instead you reassured him-well awkwardly patted him at the back is what you did-- but it was enough to quell his tears

Such a kindness shouldn't be unrewarded.. (though he Baizhu knows he's not in place to reward-but to show his faithfulness to you)he would offer himself as one of your acolytes to honor you with his body

Ganyu

The news of the Creator's arrival on Teyvat had been a shock to the people Liyue and to her as well-but it wasn't unwelcomed!

she was part of the beings who prepared the festival for you! Though not her money nor' the idea-Ganyu was glad to be working full time on the project assigned to her

She didn't need any rest and definitely didn't want to if its for you!Though your insistence of her resting will make her blink her eyes in confusion to shift to one of embarrassment ;saying she didn't need to

But with your offer that you'd let her lay down on your lap made her want to reconsider the offer

Shenhe

Cloud retainer had spoken about you through times of when she was but a child taken in by the crane adeptus

Shenhe had a feeling in her heart, though she couldn't describe it-- andit felt absolutely horrible,, something about you appearing before her, what made you show yourself now?! She couldn't explain the reason why she felt this way

Maybe it was about her childhood that was sacrificed once her father sent her to die in the hands of a demon

It was your lack of presence in one's time of need that made her somewhat feel ill about you

She hated the feeling once it showed in her stomach,she herself never wanted to feel like that when seeing you in a physical form

Though she stayed quiet at your visit-though no glaring was seen in her eyes Cloud retainer could feel the small rage that Shenhe was having behind those ropes that bind the white haired girl

But even she, knows that another feeling was bubbling up as you held her hands with a soft gentle smile for her

Perhaps she'd like to get know you in a different light if ever possible

Ningguang

As a child she struggled but she did her best to thrive in the streets of Liyue while praying that you'd make her your favourite acolyte-And she did become at least one of them

With grace and gratitude she welcomed you and traveler with open arms, Announcing her opening speech,, she stands at her most beloved magnum opus;The Jade Chamber

Pantalone

A true man of greed..but can you really blame him?as a child he struggled to even find a single penny to feed himself, eating only the crumbs that the people of the harbour dropped so carelessly

As he hates the Geo archon for not giving a single mora to him and what makes it worse that it didn't make you any different from the archon that the sea of people seem to worship so much

Where were you and the God of Contracts when he needed both of you??

He scoffed at the news of your arrival, though with newly found wealth, Pantalone didn't seem all that smiley today-in fact he had a frown all day long making others question his sudden change of expression

The black haired man told them the reason calmly-but they could tell that there was a venomous tone on the tip of his toungue

Pierro shakes his head in a disapproving way,he was acting a bit childish he knows-by the way the ginger's expression also became dark even when Tartaglia just had a laughing fit

The banker looked in the eyes of his comrades and of the Cryo archon

Just as the Northland's bank currencies are the tears of the gamblers that had set their money on pride and the blood of the poor who spent their last breath trying to gain a single mora

Maybe you'd like to earn his forgiveness that weight off a million-no-

A lifeline worth of mora would make him him forgive you as long you'll comply to every one of his desires

23_chan: I still don't know if Pantalone is from Liyue,but this is just a quick Headcanon of him--if he isn't then I'll just transfer him on a nation where he is a part of @w@

Edit:2/4/2023 11:02 pm

Edit:2/5/2023 1:05 am

[y-rhywbeth2]

I said I was done, but this still is on my mind and I lied.

Here's me bashing the mish mash of conflicting lore together in speculation on how Bhaalspawn work for my own "fuck you collective of official gibberish, this is my take on it" canon (again, BG2 spoilers):

I have settled on extraplanar outsider rather than native (despite the majority being born to humanoid parents). As outsiders their bodies and souls and intrinsically tied together in a way humanoids' aren't. If they die outside of the plane of Gehenna then their body dissolves and they return to that plane; if they die on the plane the rules are that "To die in this place is to cease to exist," as Irenicus helpfully put it. He's still around afterwards, so I assume he's referring to Charname (Gorion's Ward) specifically. Should the soul somehow depart to the Lower Planes without the living body, the body might follow it there (I think the body dies? I was never terribly clear on the exact details of what happened in that part of BG2...)

When Sarevok died, his body and soul dissolved and returned to the Throne of Blood, where he/his independent part of Bhaal's essence was absorbed into the "pool" of collected Bhaalspawn souls/essence. "Echoes" of dead Bhaalspawns' personalities exist within Bhaal/the collective, much as the mortal mage Midnight is an echo within the goddess Mystra, and sometimes they can be separated back into independent beings if a portion of Bhaal's essence is granted to that echo allowing them to reform a physical body and live again.

Sarevok was able to reform because he was given a fragment of Bhaal's essence (independent from the whole) - not enough to restore him to true demigodhood, but enough to materialise a physical body.

(There is... an interesting way to interpret the Dark Urge's creation here, where they're one of the original Bhaalspawn reborn - although it's not one I personally plan to use. Also the fact that they're apparently born from Bhaal's dead physical body, not the pool of essence, implies something strange happened, regardless.)

I'm not sure where Bhaalspawn stand when it comes to souls; judging by Bhaal complaining that Charname is "strange amongst their kin" because their soul has independence, they're not supposed to have one inherently separate from Bhaal's essence, that independence is just a quirk (Charname was explicitly a special prophecy child, they're the exception to the rules). Bhaalspawn can have the divine essence/their soul extracted from them and still physically exist, although it will eventually kill them. Their bodies are also considered part of Bhaal, he is described as existing in "the very fibre of their being[s]." Even after supposedly ceasing to be Bhaal's children, both Sarevok and Durge are explicitly stated to still carry Bhaal's essence in their bodies and will pass it on to any offspring they have. As 5e lore has retconned the possibility of having Bhaal's essence totally cleansed from a Bhaalspawn, rendering them pure mortal, I am rolling with that one and ignoring the mortal ending (I always go for the god endings anyway). Bhaalspawn remain what they are always. As I like them.

It does seem like their body, soul and Bhaal's essence are one big chunk, instead of the usual division of body and soul seen in full mortals. As he says: "he is [them]"; their "whole being is borrowed"; etc.

Which leaves the question of "Withers what the fuck did you do. What are you planning??" in regards to Durge being resurrected. I have no idea, but I didn't play the special snowflake demigod to have my special snowflake status stripped from me, so I'm clinging to "Durge is still a quasi-deity, and you cannot pry that from my cold, dead hands." Larian can even release a DLC or BG4 that tells me otherwise; I will ignore it.

"BG3-" Larian has left out, changed or ignored/forgotten a load of stuff about how Bhaalspawn work in their story (which is their right, it's DM fiat). There should be no "Little Brother Toop's" corpse on display on the hall of wonders because he shouldn't have a corpse. I'm blaming the tadpole, ignoring it and moving on.

Imoen is disqualified as an aberration; her thing is purely game mechanics not matching the lore that was established before they retconned her into a Bhaalspawn. Doesn't count.

We are not in Larian's house for this interpretation, just as they are not in Bioware's; we are in mine now and I'm ill and grumpy.

[bitter-panacea]

Goultard's backstory, comparing the Dofus manga and the special episode (+ Goultard Bazar special issue) Part 1 - Childhood

Goultard was born in Gisgoul, a small village in the Sidimote Moors, in -1111. To give you an idea of how old that makes him : he's older than Xelor's clock, older than the divine Sadida dolls, older than the 6 primordial Dofus, older than the foundation of Brakmar and Bonta.

Goultard's birth certificate

"Goul" both being in Goultard's name and in the name of the village makes me wonder if it has a specific meaning? Maybe Gisgoul and Goultard are named after the same thing, or Goultard is named after Gisgoul? (Yes, this really is the kind of thing I'm curious about...)

Goultard's the son of the Iop god and a mortal woman named Cabotine. The special issue Goultard Bazar gives us a little insight into their chaotic relationship.

"Cabotine" means someone who acts excessivelly dramatic and theatrical. From the little we see and know of her, it seems like it could be a fitting description. Cabotine had a strong character and quite the temper. Iop himself seems a little scared of her... (Her anger at Iop is perfectly justified and she did what she should have. But ALSO, I dont know what other people think but Goultard having been raised by a possibly histrionic single mother makes complete sense to me. )

(He's inherited his mother's character I'm going to cry heeeelp)

Let's get back to the manga and the special episode. The two are very similar at first, although the manga has more details.

At the time there was a small village lost in the middle of the mountains, in a place now known as the Sidimote Moors. It was a difficult time because the monsters were swarming (and the smallest were the size of a bwork). There were many missing children, despite parents' instructions. The kids at the time were hardly different from those of today.

The manga insists on what a shitty place the village was for children to grow up in. Kids often getting themselves killed by monsters, when they weren't already busy drinking themselves to death.

They were told not to drink alcohol, they were found dead drunk, not to touch eels, they electrocuted themselves, and when they were told not to play outside the village... / Goultard : Say, you guys wanna go play in the forbidden forest? / Kids : Great idea. Yea!

So, not a day went by without a mother mourning her child. Such was life. / Mother : My little one... No... / Father : Calm down, my love... We'll make another one.

When the parents realize their children have left the village and gone to the forest, they know it's already too late and nothing can be done to save them. But when a taur finds them, Goultard doesn't let himself be eaten.

Lagoon was very hungry and decided to grab the most appetizing of the children, the young Goultard. / Goultard ; You want to play with us? / But the monster, so to speak, hit a brick wall.

Goultard : You're not tough enough to have fun with us. Go home to your mom!

Goultard easily defeats the taur and the children all get home safely. But the villagers aren't too happy about it.

strangely, the children's rescue was not very well received by the people of the village. / I can't believe little Goultard could have done that! / Who cares what the kid did, this is bad! I don't need to remind you Lagoon is the offspring of a much more frightening monster... The horrible Kriture!

The villagers decide to kick Goultard and Cabotine out, sacrificing them both to Kriture, hoping to appease his anger. Some of the villagers feel remorse about this decision, but apparently not enough to help them.

Cabotine : I wonder who the real monsters are, in this world!

And when Kriture finally comes, Goultard defeats him as well.

Mayor : What... He's tearing Kriture apart with his bare hands... It's prodigious...

Everybody is VERY freaked out. But having this little killing machine on their side is the best thing they could have hoped for and they all cheer him on.

Yippee!

Goultard as a child is characterized a little differently in the manga and in the special ep.

In the dofus manga, he's a little more cocky, he's confident about being stronger than everyone else. He's aware that the villagers dislike him and his mother and that he needs to be the one protecting her.

In the special ep, he's .... he's so baby. He seems a little younger. He doesn't seem to totally understand what's going on around him. He barely talks. He has friends but stays at a distance, playing by himself in the river, without a care in the world, catching frogs to pet them... so cute... Little weirdo <3

I have to admit i have a strong preference for the special ep when it comes to this. I dont know, there's just something i adore about how adorable and innocent he looks, seemingly unaware of how bad his situation is, that clashes so beautifully with the visceral violence that suddenly and unexpectedly comes out of him....

I like both his characterization in the manga and in the special ep. But to me, they would best reflect him at different stages of his life.

At first carefree, happy of finally getting some recognition when he's tasked with protecting the village (he found his calling and his place in this world) and becomes more cocky as he grows older (teen).

(Maybe he only truly becomes aware of the disrespect he and his mother faced when he's a bit older, and maybe this responsibility he was given so young starts weighing down on him, although he would never ever let it show. Because fighting is his calling, it's what he's good at, it's what he likes... So how could it ever become a burden?...)

He grew older, but stayed just as playful. / Goultard : Woah... Now you look like a tough one. Pff... Not that much, actually.

(... It's all just a game to him. Right? I am insane)

part 2 Part 3 Part 4

EDIT : Updated dates in this more recent post

[typosandtea]

♞ — What does your muse believe happens after death? Do they believe in an afterlife and why/why not? If they do, what do they imagine this afterlife to be?

♕ — What does leading a ‘good’ life mean to your muse? Are they satisfied with the choices they make?

♡  — How would your muse define love? Do they believe in soulmates? Do they believe this definition of love is achievable?

For Murphy and Tango ?

Thanks for the ask Bleu!!!!!!!! These are very thoughtful prompts ^_^ (sorry this has taken a while i've wanted to answer properly but haven't had the collective brain cells available rip) @romaniwasteland [PROMPTS ]

♞

What does your muse believe happens after death? Do they believe in an afterlife and why/why not? If they do, what do they imagine this afterlife to be?

Murphy:

Oh how dearly Murphy hopes that there is a heaven like they taught is sunday school when she was a little girl, she clings to the thought with all her being. A place of plenty with no suffering to be found. She has lost so so many people in her years, and doesn't want to think about them being gone forever.. she is not religious but does wonder about heaven and such. Is certain that she has encountered ghosts, and has conflicting thoughts on the afterlife, much more so after meeting much of the wasteland. What is a soul? who decides who gets one? are they necessary to live? synths are made so do they not have one? Or is one granted to them by god when they gain sentience? Is sentience a requirement for a soul? can robots gain a soul, curie and cosdworth and Ada are all sentient so? Supermutants and ferals were people once, do they still have a soul? or was it stripped from them as their humanity was? What makes a person? being human or a soul or something else? She is sure some humans she has met have lost their souls, but they are still people. Does Nick have his own soul or did he inherit Nick's soul? Would that matter? Does she still have a soul? Is it a whole or just a grotesque amalgamation as she feels she is? these are the questions that keep her up when shes trying to sleep..

Tango:

Avoids thinking about death. That's a can of worms and a half, considering they are mostly dead. Hasn't processed the death of a close friend at their hands years ago and doesn't want to think about it at all. Spent much of their life alone, so didn't have to engage with death other than for survival, also hasn't really been exposed to traditional western concepts of heaven / hell/ afterlife outside of people using them in common speech. ie 'send them back to hell' or 'must be heavenly / divine' so doesn't really get what it means. Very wasteland attitude of welp they're gone now.. guess they wont be needing this. No real rites or customs were common in their group they grew up in. Burial was optional and reserved for those close, else take the stuff and leave the body, or move it far away if its at camp. The body will feed something in the wasteland.. This was what everyone expected, looting wasn't taboo at all. They didn't even bury their own decapitated corpse, just looted themselves and left feeling very weird about that whole situation.

♕

What does leading a ‘good’ life mean to your muse? Are they satisfied with the choices they make?

Murphy:

Murphy's opinion of herself rarely aligns with reality, and this is no exception. A good life can be measured in the impact you have on those around you, but she is blind to the good shes done and focuses on the damage. thus she doesn't believe that she has lived a good life. despite this there is only a few things she would change if she got the chance. For example she thought about if she never joined the BoS, she wouldn't have had to deal with Maxon and the many hard choices they ask sole to do, but.. then she wouldn't have met Danse, Haylen and Rhys… or had access to the knowledge and resources that have been so critical to her helping others when she can. (shes a massive overthinker) she would change who was holding Shaun before they were frozen and mutated, Nathan would have done a better job than she has done she is sure of it..

Tango:

Gonna be real with you, Tango avoids introspection like the plague.. forcing them to answer this question will probably result in a vague 'be happy I guess?' and if you asked them are they happy with their life you would get the sad crying cat meme response .. as for choices they've made? By god they would change so many but not the ones you might expect. They wouldn't change the series of events that lead them to becoming tango, because they know that they've survived so much that they otherwise wouldn't have, (they have pissed off alot of powerful people over the years). The biggest thing they would change is their murder of Bones, their business partner (and friend, but good luck getting them to admit that they had friends)

♡

How would your muse define love? Do they believe in soulmates? Do they believe this definition of love is achievable?

Murphy:

Love.. she was in love once. What else could she have been to have some fond memories of distant battlefields and long suffering injuries? How dearly she misses Nathan, not that wretched thing that he was mutated into. People and all forms of relationships are so important to her, but she doesn't believe in soulmates. Shes seen people once so sweetly in love grow apart, or be torn apart.. what cruel force of fate could entwine destinies just to shatter them into a thousand razor sharp shards of grief? No, she'd rather believe that nobody is cursed with loss, and that she might one day be brave enough to love around the shards. (what she doesn't realize though is that grief can dull over time, perhaps even shift into those precious memories that she holds dear)

Tango:

They are aro/ace and very distrusting and EXTREMELY cynical. Absolutely thinks soulmates a scam of some sort. Deffiently in the love=lust boat, because obviously nobody actually cares about anyone else (← WRONG, like I cannot emphasize how wrong they are!, also is rather self centered and struggles to see things from others perspectives). Does Not Get what people are on about with love and why it makes people do stupid shit, and doesn't believe they will ever achieve that, not that they want to with their understanding of it.

[illarian-rambling]

I'm super interested in this short story you're teasing! is there anything else you can talk about with it?

also if you have a tag list, could i be added to it, please?

Absolutely to both! You've just hit my infodump button, so buckle up >:)

Basically, the premise goes back to a bit of Illarian god lore that I hint to in MG1 and HO3, but don't really expand upon much, despite it being literally one of the first things I cooked up when worldbuilding. During the War of Conquest, when the new human Republic was sweeping across the continent of Iarl, the elven nation of Skysheer originally intended to fight back. The Republic's demands were simple: convert to Illarianism or get conquered. Skysheer didn't want to do either of these things, and their gods, the Aderenon, supported their worshippers in this. As gods of luck and fate, they gave blessings to their followers, causing their weapons to strike true and their enemy's armor to fail.

This was an understandable reaction, but also very, very illegal when it came to gods interfering with mortals. The gods of Illaros hold an uneasy pact to never interfere with people who haven't reached out and never pass the point of violating natural law. The Aderenon were doing both. It was as if they'd broken an agreement of mutual destruction. Knowing that if they did nothing, such actions would become the norm, the Illarian (human) gods made a grim decision. They came to the home of the Aderenon as a battle between humans and elves raged below and began to slaughter the elven gods. With End being an ever-present threat all divine hands were needed to fight, this was not a choice made lightly. But if a precedent was set for gods giving any mortal their blessing, the Illarian knew the world they protected might just tear itself apart with no need for the starry demon's interference.

So with allllll of that context, we're gonna focus in on a little corner of this massacre. The Illarian took the divine essence of any Aderenon they killed, adding that power to their own, but one god wanted more. Predictably, this was Timaz, the god of greed and storms. Timaz had a bone to pick with his younger cousin, the god of wonder and sunshowers. The god of wonder, largely worshipped by mages and scholars, wasn't the most powerful god, but he was a conniving one. He thwarted Timaz's political maneuvers within the pantheon at every turn, mocked him incessantly, and was pulling away a fair amount of sailor worshippers from Timaz as ships became better and storms didn't mean certain death. Here, on this chaotic battlefield, Timaz saw a chance to get rid of his little cousin for good.

Timaz killed him easily. The god of wonder was not a fighter. All he managed to do was to create an angel (Illarian angels are more like tools than anything else) to protect him, but Timaz quickly cast the poor creature aside and killed the god who had created it. He positioned the body to make it look like one of the Aderenon had killed him and when the dust settled, he had the god of wonder's name stripped from reality as a 'gesture of respect.' Overnight, any worship for the god of wonder ceased because of this.

Except, the god of wonder wasn't exactly dead. A tiny sliver of his power had survived - the angel. That sliver of power was currently laying facefirst on a mountainside with its wings torn off and all of its bones broken, but hey, it's better than nothing.

The short story is narrated by the god of wonder and follows him watching the angel learning to navigate the world after a well-meaning elven woman picks them up and nurses them back to health. The angel, who names themself Rel eventually, has been alive for less time than your average ant, so they certainly have some struggles. They were made by the god of wonder, so they're very curious about how everything works. While clever, their sheer lack of lived experience means they can be very naïve at times, and often make poor choices because they lack the context for literally anything. The god of wonder watches them do all of this, trying to navigate his complete lack of power while wincing every time his last lifeline and precious creation wants to touch the pretty orange glow on the stove.

The other central character is Esie. She's the one who saved Rel and let's them stay in her apartment. The big sister vibes are enormous, and even though she has no idea what Rel actually is, she tries to help them find their footing as best she can. She's sort of working on the assumption that Rel is some alchemically created human supersoldier who sustained very heavy brain damage because of whatever happened to them to burn them so badly and break so many of their bones. She's a cany woman, though, and might realize the truth is far stranger as Rel opens up more.

Also, there's the matter of Illarian missionaries beginning to move into the elven city as a treaty is signed. Missionaries that include priests of Timaz who might just be able to recognize the stumps of the five wings Timaz tore away, marking Rel as an angel of the god of wonder.

So yeah! I'm really stoked writing this - Rel is just a really fun character and the god of wonder's narration is a snarky compliment to their childlike innocence. It's honestly pretty slice-of-lifey at the moment - just Rel figuring out how to navigate a market or sweep a floor - but I'm gonna include at least one exciting scene at the end. I'll be sure to tag you when I post the finished product!

And thanks for the ask <3