#Elements Of Sin single

[horrorpatch]

Female Thrashers NERVOSA Announce 2024 North American Headlining Tour!

Brazilian female thrash crew NERVOSA announced a huge 2024 North American Headlining Tour today! Support on the tour will come from Lich King and Hatriot. The tour will kick-off in Milwaukee, WI on August 29th. Keep reading for the full list of dates and more details on the other side. From The Press Release Thrash Metal Mavens NERVOSA Announce 2024 North American Headline Tour, Featuring…

[torgawl]

crack theory: what if the abyss twin isn't a descender because they're an ascender?

[mysunshine-youremoonlight]

yeah max'd chess belphie isn't going anywhere fast huh

[maysileeewrites]

GUILTY AS SIN?

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Targ!reader || 18+; MDNI!

Synopsis: Jacaerys hadn’t meant to watch you. He hadn’t meant to interfere, either. Yet here he is, on his knees in front of you, finally claiming what’s his - honor and propriety be damned. 

c.w.: smutty smut!! (fem masturbation + Jace watching reader without her knowing it at first, so some  slight dubcon elements?; piv sex, unprotected sex, implied loss of virginity, oral (f! receiving), hair-pulling, mild breeding kink, mild praise kink, soft!dom Jace) Targcest - Jace and reader are cousins (&that’s the closest degree of incest I’ll write); infidelity 

word count: 4.2k (oops??) || Jacaerys masterlist

AN: I really don’t know what came over me, this really is just filth with barely any plot, someone please get me some holy water so I can cleanse my mind from these thoughts … Also, I love Baela, but for the prospect of some forbidden love, we’re gonna have to go behind her back here. 

Jacaerys hadn’t meant to watch you. 

Truly, his only intention in coming to your chambers had been to check up on you, seeing as you’d been so unusually quiet and withdrawn during dinner. 

He wasn’t prepared for what awaited him when he cautiously opened your door after you hadn’t answered either or his tentative knocks. 

The sight before him had him frozen in shock, rooted to the spot. 

You - stretched out on your bed, wearing nothing but your thin nightdress that had already slipped away in some places, revealing your breasts as well as the soft skin of your upper thighs - and your swollen core, already leaking slick. 

Jacaerys couldn’t help himself - he stood, transfixed, watching as your back arched off the bed, your fingers desperately moving in and out of your cunt. 

He shouldn’t watch. He should go, now. 

This was wrong on so many levels, he tried to remind himself. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but watch, mesmerized, as your fingers moved in and out of your core in a desperate pace. Greedily, he took in every breathy little moan, every squelching sound your cunt made. 

This was wrong, so wrong. 

This was a private moment he’d never been meant to witness, and oh - there was also the small problem of you being his fiancee’s sister. 

He should go, now. 

Your eyes were closed, so you hadn’t seen him yet, but still, he couldn’t bring himself to move. 

It’s what he should have done, what he should still do, but he can’t bring himself to look away from you. 

Jacaerys doesn’t know how long he’s been standing here, watching in a desperate, heady fascination as you desperately try to bring yourself to satisfaction. 

He knows that it’s wrong, that he shouldn’t be watching you, should have turned around the second he saw what you were doing, but he doesn’t care. 

Honor and propriety be damned, he thinks as he runs a hand through his dark curls in distress, feeling his breeches growing tighter by the second. 

Just then, you moan, loudly and desperately. 

„Jacaerys.“ 

Jacaerys’ eyes widen in shock, and he can’t help himself, he steps even closer towards your bed. 

Again, you moan his name, your face screwing up in pleasure. 

He feels his heart beating faster, his breath becoming more and more erratic. 

Your movements have become even more desperate, you’re rocking back and forth on your bed, your fingers desperately trying to chase your high. 

The only sounds filling the room are your whiny, desperate moans and the squelching sounds your cunt makes. 

Jacaerys knows that he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be watching you, but he can’t help himself greedily drinking in every one of your breathless moans, and every single move of your fingers. 

„Oh Jacaerys, please-“

There’s his name again, this time followed by a broken moan and he bites down hard on his lips, desperately fighting the urge to move his hand down to his now impossibly tight breeches. 

„Jace, oh gods-“

Hearing you moan his name like that breaks something within him. Caution and thought are forgotten. Instead, what remains are only his yearning and desperate desire to finally claim you as his. 

He can’t contain himself no longer, can no longer ignore the sensation of his breeches feeling so impossibly tight, can no longer ignore all the desperate, lust-driven thoughts running through his head. 

„Don’t stop, Princess.“ 

You hadn’t mean for this to happen. 

You’d never intended to lose control like that, to behave so wantonly and improper. 

But after seeing them laughing together at dinner, seeing the way he’d so easily leaned into her touch, seeing that easy understanding between them, seeing the way his eyes seemingly lit up with warmth whenever your sister so much as looked at him, you hadn’t been able to stand this gnawing feeling of desperation no longer. 

Quietly, you’d excused yourself from the table, walking to your chambers. 

But neither the warm bath your maids drew you, not the book you tried to immerse yourself in could ease that itch underneath your skin. 

Baela is your sister and Jacaerys is her betrothed and you should be happy for them, happy for the fine match they make. 

But instead, the only thing you feel is jealousy and this consuming, all-encompassing desire for Jacaerys. 

Your sister’s fiancé, yes, yet the only man you’ve ever desired. 

And so, you’d found yourself tossing and turning in your bed, until you’d frustratedly thrown your sheets to the side. 

Biting down hard on your lip and drowning in guilt and shame, your hand had moved between your legs, and as you’d started to pleasure yourself, you started to imagine yourself in Baela’s stead. 

You were the one Jacaerys would marry. 

You were the one sitting next to him at dinner, laughing and talking and it was your touch he leaned into so easily. 

It was your touch he craved, and your pleasure he wanted to bring about. 

These were his hands on you, his fingers moving in and out of you, bringing you to bliss in a rough, desperate pace. 

His lips were leaving featherlight kisses all over your body - your lips, your neck, your breasts, your stomach - while he continued to pleasure you. 

And you were so caught up in chasing your fantasies and your pleasure that you didn’t hear the quiet, tentative knock on your door, neither the sound of your door opening. 

You still haven’t noticed Jacaerys, too caught up in the heat building and building and building in your stomach to notice him walking closer towards your bed, running a hand through his hair in distress. 

The sound of your moans covers his own erratic breathing, you’re too lost in the throes of pleasure to notice anything else besides the fire slowly building within you. 

Until you moan his name. 

„Jace, oh gods-“

A shuffling sound, like someone fixing their clothes, followed by a quiet sigh. Your own? 

„Don’t stop, Princess.“ 

You open your eyes in shock.  

Panting and breathless, you both stare at each other. 

„Jacaerys“, is the only thing you manage to get out, your voice breathless. 

Holding your gaze, Jacaerys starts unbuttoning his coat. 

„Don’t stop“, he repeats, and there’s a certainty and sense of authority to his voice you’ve never heard before. 

And you’re so surprised, so overwhelmed by all these different emotions coursing through you - shame and anxiety upon being discovered by him of all people, yet there’s still your undying desire for him, and heat is still pooling in your stomach, you’re so close - that you do exactly as he says. 

You pick up your pace again, burying your fingers within your cunt again, all the while looking at Jacaerys who’s biting down hard on his lips. 

You’re all too conscious of your nearly naked body and the squelching sounds your cunt makes as you continue to move your fingers in and out of yourself, but then Jacaerys groans loudly, running a hand through his hair, all while still holding your gaze, and all your self-consciousness is forgotten. 

„By the Seven, you’re incredible, Princess“, he breathes. 

His voice breaks something within you, and all you can do is give in to the mounting pleasure. 

Your eyes never leave Jacaerys’ as you continue to pleasure yourself, your fingers moving in and out of your cunt, your other hand gripping tightly onto the bedsheets. 

Jacaerys waches you, greedily taking every little movement, every single one of your broken moans in, as he continues to undress himself. 

His shirt. 

His belt. 

His boots. 

When it’s just his breeches, hanging low on his hips, remaining, he closes the last bit of distance between you, sitting down at the edge of your bed. 

For a moment, you stop in your ministrations, too distracted by him. He’s perfect, his chest toned and muscular, just like a sculpted statue. 

But then your eyes land on the visible bulge in his breeches and your breath hitches. Suddenly, your fingers aren’t enough anymore, you want, no need to see him, feel him filling you up. 

„Jace, oh gods-“

Another broken whimper leaves your mouth, and blindly, you reach out for Jacaerys with your free hand. His hand finds yours, and he interlaces your fingers together, his grip strong and sure and steadying as the heat building in your belly becomes almost too much to bear. 

„Jace, I can’t - please“ 

By this point, you’re an incoherent, whimpering mess, and besides his hand gripping yours, he hasn’t even touched you yet. Just then, he leans down, his free hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

„That’s it, Princess, come for me“, he whispers, before he lowers his lips to your neck. 

The added sensation of his lips sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck is too much, and so, you follow his command. 

Your back arches off the bed and you hold on to Jacaerys’ hand for dear life as something within you unravels and white hot pleasure washes over you. 

You’ve never felt this way before, could have never even imagined that something like this could even feel so good. 

When it’s over, you fall back onto the sheets, panting. When you open your eyes again, you immediately find Jacaerys’ gaze. The realization of what just happened washing over you. Seven hells, you just pleasured yourself with your sister’s fiancé watching you, guiding you through it. 

But then you see your own burning desire mirrored in his dark brown eyes, and any thoughts of shame, guilt and regret are forgotten, at least for the moment. 

You’ve long since passed the point of no return, and so, you don’t even hesitate before winding your arms around Jacaerys’ neck and pulling him down for a kiss. 

He makes a soft, surprised noise, but that’s as much of an upper hand he’s willing to give you, because immediately the kiss feels fiery and hungry. The way his lips move against yours is almost bruising, and when he coaxes you to open your mouth, all you can do is comply as his tongue claims you. 

One of his hands starts moving over your breasts, making you whimper when he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, and then gently rolls the stiffened bud between his fingers. His other hand starts moving lower, first over your stomach and your lower abdomen, but then his fingers move over the inner sides of your thighs and your breath hitches in anticipation. 

Jacaerys immediately notices your reaction, breaking away from the kiss for a moment to look at you. „Greedy, aren’t you?“ 

„Jacaerys, please“, you whisper, your hands moving to tangle themselves in his hair and when you tug at his dark curls, he lets out a pleased groan, and you know that he’s yearning for this to happen as much as you are. „I want you, Jacaerys. So take me, make me yours, claim me-“

The rest of your words are swallowed by another hungry kiss and a broken moan leaving your mouth when his hand cups your clit, his fingers moving over you swollen, already overstimulated bundle of nerves.

Gone is the gentle and composed Jacaerys, the regal prince that carries himself with poise, elegance and grace. Left in his place is a desperate man, slave to his most primal desires, yearning to finally make his longings come true. 

His kiss continues to leave you dizzy, and combined with the sensation of his hand drawing teasing circles over your clit, you feel the heat begin to pool in your stomach again.  

Just then, Jacaerys moves, shifting in his position, and you whimper when you can feel his erection straining against your stomach. 

Panting, you break the kiss, looking at him. „Jace-“

He smirks. „Patience, Princess. I want to taste you first.“

Your eyes widen and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks as the full meaning of his words sink in. This is beyond your wildest fantasies, even. When you’d imagined yourself with Jacaerys, he was always the one taking you, in various positions, and sometimes he even had you on your knees, pleasuring him with your mouth. 

„But - but what about you, Jace?“, you whisper, eyes searching his. 

At your words, his eyes visibly soften for a moment, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. „Don’t worry about that yet“, he says, looking at you again, before slowly moving down your body. „But do tell me if something I do is not to your liking“, he adds, the gentler, more composed side of him returning for a brief moment. 

You nod, though you can’t imagine in the slightest that that might be the case. 

When he sees you nod so urgently, Jacaerys just smirks. 

He doesn’t say anything else, instead, he lets his lips and hands speak for him.

As he starts to kiss his way down your body, leaving featherlight kisses on your neck, your sternum, your breasts - which has your breath hitching and your grip on his dark curls tightening - your stomach, your lower abdomen, your hips; his hands continue to move over your body, one hand occupied with your breasts, the other still between your legs, still drawing teasing circles over your clit. 

„Jace“, you moan, when he leaves featherlight kisses on the inner sides of your thighs, all the while continuing to tease your bundle of nerves with his fingers, but not doing anything else just yet. 

And just when you think that you can’t take any more of his teasing, he sucks your clit into his mouth, before his tongue dives between your folds. 

„Oh, oh gods-“, you moan, grip on his dark curls tightening. 

This is so much better than your own fingers could ever be. 

The arrogant, knowing smirk Jacaerys gives you as his tongue continues to move in and out of your core tells you that he knows exactly the effect he has a you, and he enjoys it. 

He’ll ruin you for any other man - in more ways than just the obvious - and he’ll ruin any other man for you, but you don’t care. 

Can’t bring yourself to care as his tongue continues to work you up to a frenzy, while he applies pressure to your bundle of his nerves with his thumb. 

The heat is building and building and building, and you can feel that it won’t take much more for the coil you snap. 

Just then, his tongue reaches a particular spot that has you seeing stars, and you moan, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. 

„Yes, right there, please, Jacaerys, please-“, you whimper incoherently, hands tugging at his hair in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. 

He continues to lap at you in earnest, reaching that spot again and again and again, you don’t think you can handle much more of this. The building pressure is too much to bear, and just then, Jacaerys’ tongue reaches that spot again, and you break. 

Dizzying waves of pleasure wash over you, threatening you to drown you, as your back arches of the bed again and something inside of you explodes. 

Jacaerys takes it all, takes everything you give him, the harsh tugs on his dark curls, your legs shaking, and your juices flooding his mouth. He takes it all, greedily drinking in every last drop. 

„Oh, seven hells“, you pant weakly, falling back into the sheets, your whole body feeling like jelly. 

Your second orgasm leaves you much more wrecked and spent than your first, and you don’t even notice Jacaerys moving up again, until you feel his fingers gently stroke over your cheek. 

„You’re amazing, Princess“, he tells you. 

You open your eyes again to see him leaning over you, his lips still covered with your juices, his nose still glistening with it as well. To you, he’s never looked more beautiful than in this moment, and so you don’t even hesitate before pulling him down for another kiss. 

It’s messy, with strings of your slick still connected to his lips, and you think that it should feel weird that you can taste yourself on his lips, but it doesn’t, it just feels utterly amazing. 

And even though just mere seconds ago, you’ve been trying to catch your breath, feeling your heartbeat accelerate, it’s you that deepens the kiss, you, who boldly moves a hand between you, cupping his clothed erection. 

Now that you’ve had a taste, you feel that you won’t be able to stop until you’ve had it all, until you’ve felt him, really felt him, move inside you, filling you up to the brink. 

Jacaerys groans when your fingers move over his clothed erection, his kiss turning even more desperate, until he breaks away, panting. 

„Are you sure?“, he asks you, leaning his forehead against yours, looking down at you with pure, unfiltered desire in his eyes. 

You nod, moving your fingers over him. 

He groans again, but when his eyes find yours again, there’s a dark edge to them. „Are you sure? Sure you can take another one?“ 

Oh gods. His words, and the dark, sinister tone in which he says them has you biting down on your bottom lip. 

You nod, again, and finally Jacaerys gives in, leaving another bruising kiss on your lips before sitting up and taking his breeches and small clothes off. 

You watch him, too afraid to even blink, and when your eyes finally land on his erection, you swallow, whimpering. He’s so big - when he finally claims you it will surely feel like being speared open. 

And yet, your desire once again wins out, as you reach out your hand once again, cupping his now bare member. 

„Fuck“, Jacaerys groans, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure. 

This only spurs your confidence, and now, feeling bold, and driven by this all-encompassing desire for Jacaerys, you begin stroking his member up and down in earnest, your thumb stroking over the tip, sticky with his pre-cum. 

Jacaerys groans, driving his hips up into your hand. His hands settle on your waist once again, and his grip turns almost painfully harsh as you continue to edge him on. 

Just then, he slaps your hand away, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. „Keep doing that and I won’t last much longer, Princess“, he says, his voice oddly strained. 

His brown eyes find yours once again, and in them, you same the same desire and longing you feel mirrored back at you. 

„But-“, you start to protest, but Jacaerys immediately silences you with a finger to your lips. 

„Some other time“, he promises you, and you seem to light up at his words. You know that this should never have happened and that there should never ever even be another time, but just the prospect of that excites you. 

„And you promised me another one, didn’t you?“ 

And just like that, all the gentle playfulness has vanished from his words, leaving only lust and desire in its place. 

You nod, biting down hard on your bottom lip, as Jacaerys positions himself at your entrance. 

You watch, entranced, as he guides his member into you. But then, almost immediately, you hiss in pain when he breaches your walls. It’s not much more than the tip, but still, this so different from your fingers or his tongue. 

Jacaerys stops, leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is gentle and soft, and you wind your arms around his neck again, finding both comfort and solace in it. And the longer you kiss him, the more you get used to the feeling of him inside you. 

In fact, it’s you, crossing your legs behind his back, guiding him deeper inside you. The sensation is still somewhat uncomfortable, but Jacaerys’ loud, satisfied moan and the kiss that’s already turned deeper and more passionate, distract you from the pain, and as Jacaerys continues to sink even deeper into you, pain and pleasure begin to mix and you find yourself wanting more. 

And so, when he’s finally bottomed out and looks down at you, asking „Alright, Princess?“, you just tangle your hands in his dark curls again, driving your hips up to meet his. 

„Move, please“, you beg him, and Jacaerys starts to chuckle, but when you drive your hips up into him again, he groans, the feeling of friction too delicious to ignore. 

Jacaerys begins moving in and out of you slowly, his hips driving into you in a leisurely pace - pulling all the way out of you, before slowly sinking back down again. 

It’s torture, this pace he’s setting. The heat in your lower stomach is building and building again, but with the pace Jace is setting, it seems as if you’ll never reach the boiling point. You try to meet his movements, moving your hips up and down, but Jacaerys soon catches on to what you’re doing and his hands settle at your waist with a tight grip, keeping you in place. 

„Jace, please“, you beg, tugging at his dark curls. 

He groans, losing control for a moment, and thrusting into you harshly. The new pace and intensity has you crying out in pleasure, but then it’s back to long, slow thrusts and you feel as if you could cry from frustration. 

„Jace, please, just - just fuck me, don’t hold back“, you beg him, your grip on his hair tightening. That, combined with your words finally gets his attention, and when he looks down at you again, there’s a new, dark gleam in his eyes. It’s as dangerous as it is alluring, and you feel completely caught up in his trap. 

„Oh, so it’s like that, Princess?“, he says, his hips snapping into yours, and you cry out from the intensity. „You want me to fuck you, want me to fill you up, is that it?“

He doesn’t leave you any chance to answer him, his hips now snapping into yours with abandon, his cock driving into you with an intensity and pace that has you seeing stars. One of your hands stays buried in his dark brown curls, while the other moves towards his upper back. 

For a moment, you worry about your fingernails leaving scratches on his back - but another particularly harsh thrust of his, combined with the sensation of one of his hands slowly moving towards your core quickly has you forgetting any thoughts not concerned with the current moment. 

His pace now is brutal and you hold on to him for dear life as his hips piston into you, his cock continuing to spear you open. 

„Jace, oh gods-“, you breathe out, biting down on your lower lip.

When he sees this gesture, Jacaerys just shakes his head, his free hand moving up to cup your cheek. „Don’t. Don’t hold back. Let them hear.“ 

His words alone make you moan, and then, his thumb is there on your clit, steadily applying pressure as he continues to move in and out of you at a brutal pace. 

„Jace, I can’t - oh gods-“, you groan, fingernails digging into his back. 

„That’s it, Princess“, he whispers with another intense thrust, „come for me.“

And then, something within you breaks, and you come for the third time. 

Your fingernails are digging into his back, your legs locked behind his back, and as Jacaerys continues to thrust into you, he can feel your walls clenching around him, absolutely squeezing him. 

The sound of your broken voice, crying out his name, does him in and after thrusting into you once, twice, thrice more, he comes as well, shooting his hot seed into you. 

The sensation is too much for your overstimulated core, and you whimper, your eyes screwing shut, as you hold on to Jacaerys for dear life. 

Just like before, he’s there to guide you through everything - his free hand reaching out to grab the one you quickly untangle from his dark curls. 

You hold onto each other as fire washes over you, white hot waves of pleasure threatening to drown you both. 

This time, it takes you even longer to come down from your high, and when you do, your whole body feels like jelly. 

Luckily, Jacaerys is there for you. He carefully pulls out of you, before gently scooping you up in his arms, reaching out for your bedsheets and drawing them over you both. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your shoulder, the action so gentle and innocent and so unlike anything else that just transpired between you two. He reaches out for your hand with one hand, interlacing your fingers together.

„By the seven, you’re incredible Princess“, he whispers, pressing another chaste kiss to your shoulder as his free hand slowly moves down your body again. When you can feel his hand lightly moving over your core, you can’t help but whimper. 

You’re so sore and overstimulated, you’re not quite sure how much more you can take. 

„There“, Jacaerys whispers, squeezing your hand as his fingers scoop up some of his seed that’s trickled down the insides of your thighs. 

You whimper, incoherent, broken moans leaving you when you can feel his fingers pushing into you again. 

„Sh“, he whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. „I’m just making sure that we’re not wasting a single drop, Princess.“ 

So, uh, any thoughts? 👀

[ziaxkawaii]

The Creator needs help

I claim to know s*it about canon genshin impact Teyvat lore or how things work in it. I just wrote something that was on my mind at 2 AM.

~~~~

Teyvat was crying...

No, it wasn't any ordinary rainy day no.

Not only was water falling down from the skies above in the form of tears, hail and snow also came down along with powerful winds in places that rouse concern in humanity and other forms of life alike. 

Thin layers of snow covered parts of the smeltering deserts of sumeru, rain poured down in forever freezing shnesnaya, pillars of ice formed in the waterfalls of watatsumi island in inazuma and such other incidents wreaked havoc all around the land of Teyvat. 

These disasters drove away almost all creatures of nature into hiding and cursed all yields to be near nonexistent due to the extreme conditions, leading to a landwide food shortage and miserable people. Even vision holders report feeling less elemental energy from their visions than before.

Mr. Zhongli, or formerly known as Morax or Rex Lapis, sat at Third-Round Knockout on a rare good day drinking tea as he  watched the dark clouds over the sea creep closer to Liyue Harbor. He sighs, as he already figures that the weather would one again cut his visit short.

Just as he brought this tea cup to his lips to take another sip, his surroundings changed. He was no longer drinking tea he was standing inside a domain of sorts. Where ever he looked, he couldn't see an end to the limitless space.

He wasn't alone though, six others, who he realized were the other archons and people of the highest authority of each nation, were here as well. And from the looks of things, they were just as perplexed as he was.

Since all of them were brought here, it could only mean, a being higher than them have summoned them for a purpose.

"Be not afraid."

A voice spoke, which drew everyone's attention to them.

A figure floated by their lonesome in place with a calm and understanding expression as they gestured at the seven of them. The figure was like a glowing humanoid lamp, glowing brightly with no distinguishable features whatsoever, except a horizontal golden line at their throat that seemed to extend all the way around their neck.

As if their head had been cleanly sliced off...

Wait... He recognized such featured being described somewhere. An ancient parchment that spoke of a deity that was the purest and highest being in all of Teyvat. A being whose purity was reflected on how others would perceive them, for they lost their real body and a line as tough drawn with gold wrapping around their neck symbolizing their sacrifice to the life on Teyvat.

That being being the Creator...

The moment Zhongli realized who was talking to them, he sank down on one knee. Others following suit as they too realized the same thing as he did.

"Be not afraid... I am not here to neither cast judgement nor punishment." Their voice spoke, as though it was coming from everywhere at one. From behind the seven, from above, from inside their craniums. It would of felt almost overwhelming, had they been afraid, but none were.

"Your excellency... why have you summoned us to appear in your presence, if not for a punishment?" Zhongli hears one of the seven ask, as the same question runs in his head.

That was an excellent question. Though many of the Archons have done everything in their power to fulfill their duties as assigned, their disastrous and war filled past and even current lives, leave no room to doubt they too were not above desire.

The same desire that plaques Teyvat and every other being on it. Driving them to satisfy their own desires

to survive

to live

to build

to control

to destroy...

The Archons carry their sins for they are forbidden to forget them, it would be shameful to do so.

What reason are they here?

"My children... heed my words, for I am afraid time is running out." The creator spoke, their hands gently clenched in front of them, without a single waver in their tone as they continued.

"I was afraid that the day when the balance of Teyvat would be disrupted would come, but the severity of this disruption is far too severe. I can no longer watch as the creations I gifted life needlessly suffer." They floated closer to the kneeling seven as they pleaded.

"I beg of you my children, help end this misery that plaques Teyvat."

The Creators plead rang in their ears as giant bells as they looked up at their Creator, heads full of questions.

The Creator requests their assistance?

"Your grace, we do not know the causes of the anomalies on Teyvat, therefore we are powerless to help even our own nations. What can we possibly do to help?" Another Archons spoke.

"To understand our current obstacle, you must understand how Teyvat came to be." They spoke as, with a flick of their wrist, a mist like substance filled the surrounding space. Creating images aiding the Creators storytelling.

"As you are already aware, I, the Creator, was born of and egg and used the shell of said egg to create Teyvat, but that is not all." The Archons watched intently as images formed before their eyes one after another, telling a history never told before.

"After I was born, I wandered among the stars, awaiting for a purpose for my own creation. As time passed, a sudden desire willed me to use my given power for something, so I returned to my first ever home and used it's eggshell to house a new world in another galaxy.

I shed tears to form the seas, I took pieces of my body to create land, I blew air to form the atmosphere... I lent the sun and the moon to occupy the new lands lonely existence...

however... I wasn't satisfied...

what use does a world offer if no one is there to appreciate its beauty?"

The loyal Archons remained on their knees, listening to the tale of creation and birth of the land they call home. Seems as though even the most purest of beings in Teyvat cannot escape the curse of desire.

"So with the last of my strength, I gave up one of my hearts and divided it to millions and millions of pieces and scattered them all around the land and sea to form life. Life capable of growth, capable of feeling emotions and capable of death on the world I call Teyvat.

As a final gift, I gave up a fraction of my power and formed the seven elements. To make sure these gifts are not used wrongfully, I also created Celestia to act as guardians of Teyvat, the elemental energy and its happenings."

Zhongli stood silent in fascination of the history told. Their Creator really was just as benevolent as described in the ancient parchment he read oh so long ago. Even if their intention for Celestia was different from how things currently stand, they were thinking about their creations' well being. How could he disrespect his own creator so severely as to forget them? How could he?

"However...." The Creator continued.

"Just as I basked in relief and excitement of having created something that would have a life of its own... it caught the eye of another deity."

"They were envious of one of their own giving their body and attention to another, and so, they were going to curse the newborn world, which I could not let happen. I sliced off my own head as a distraction but the spell ended up landing on and affecting my own soulless mind and body, leading me to temporarily forget myself and my creation.

After the battle, my body and severed head fell into Teyvat, leaving behind the deity to grieve for hurting a fellow god.

My body collided with the earth while my head went missing, both staying unmoving, for I had no way to control them nor any memory to guide me on what to do. I felt as eons of life cycles passed before me, ground slowly swallowing my body and breaking it down, making me one with my creation." 

The sudden realization hit Zhongli harder than any of his meteorites. All along, the Creator has been among them. They were no spectator above Teyvat or a god who had abandoned them after their duty had concluded, no. They were there... they are...

"Yes, my children... I am Teyvat, and Teyvat is me."

Zhongli was taken aback as their Creator had read through his entire inner battle inside his mind. Now that he was aware of Teyvat's major historical event, he can finally start to string pieces together and think why Teyvat now experiences such instability. 

"Your eminence, since your body is apart of Teyvat itself, does the weather, soil and even elemental energy have anything to do with your physical well being?" Another Archon spoke and all tuned in to hear the Creator.

"I certainly does... Even if my body is no longer, most concentrated amounts of my being and the energy inside still lie beneath the ground, instinctively healing Teyvat and the ley lines from major damage, effectively enabling Teyvat and the elemental energy to remain balanced and flourish. 

However, lately the level of corruption in the ley lines and the amount of abnormal elemental energy surges have risen greatly, leading my "body" to panic and repel the added strain, therefore leading Teyvat becoming unstable." The creator hugged themselves as they explained and all of us understood the current issue and the gravity of it.

The creators physical body is what had been keeping Teyvat and its energy in line even when the Archons, gods and Celestia had abused it, but know that the last nail has been hammered, the creators body is no longer instinctually healing it and the Celestia is not stepping up to the task that was theirs to begin with.

"Your grace, just say the word and we are at your disposal. What can we do to help?" Zhongli himself spoke, voice even and calm for he had his full faith in his creator.

"You need to find my long lost head and bring it over to my bodys remains. Only then, can I reawaken and consciously put a stop to all of this, for in my current state I am a mere piece of your imagination laced with a voice." The creator explained, as though to prove their point, Their voice now sounded from inside their head as they floated higher and addressed the seven once more with a formal order and open arms.

"Please, find my body and bring my head over to it so I can awaken and help put a stop to this disaster! Let my mind be once again one with my body so balance may be restored, and the curse be lifted!"

Zhongli blinked and everything was just as it was before getting pulled into the domain to meet the creator. The tea he was going to savour previously, was still in his hand, steaming, as though no time had gone by at all. He however knew what had transpired mere second ago, was no daydream or a hallucination, his creator had really summoned him and requested his assistance.

With no more interest in the tea, Zhongli set the unfinished cup down while rising from his seat and began making his way out of Liyue harbor, with a newly acquired goal occupying his mind and shoulders.

[vagabond-umlaut]

affaire de cœur

Plucking one's heart from their chest and devouring it is all 'affairs of the heart' meant to the King of Curses— until his Queen walked onto the stage of his life, that is.

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; comprises of elements inspired by the tale of 'hades and persephone'; gallons of domestic fluff between sukuna and reader; hints of spicy times; no warnings except sukuna is very much sukuna here but you too are there, so he's sort of a better sukuna... [not loads better, though]

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"Repeat those words after me, my lord."

"No."

The pouty face you vault his way from the other end of the bathhouse makes Sukuna huff an annoyed sigh. Few monsoons back, you would never even see him in the eye, gaze trained on his feet – until he lifted your chin up; even then you would shyly avert your gaze — yet, now?

Now, you show the boldness to wear such a pathetic expression while making such an imbecilic request– nay, demand of him– locking your gaze with his the entirety of the time, no less.

Another sigh finds its route past his lips. Watching the way those sin-filled lips of yours twitch in a tiny smile before dipping into a pout, he groans.

"Alright. Fine," Sukuna grumbles, resting his two arms on the edge of the tub while the other two move to card through his damp hair, "Will you ever leave me for another, woman?"

Your eyebrows rise for a beat, the second the question you chomped his ears off earlier for, leaves his mouth. Your lover rolls his eyes, loud scoffs erupting from him at the utter inanity of the whole situation at hand — you, not beside by him, but beside those damned towels and bath soaps; him, not soaking in the warmth of your flesh but of these bath waters; the humid bathhouse not resonating with the sounds of your whines but with the remnants of a query, whose answer he does not care the least for, for no matter what you say or do, he will not—

"Yes, I will."

Your clear voice scatters his thoughts away, akin a strong wind and a handful of chaff. Sukuna freezes, every crimson eye of his fixed upon your approaching figure– your soft footfalls, your yellow yukata, your simple hairdo, your angelic smile...

Your husband takes a while too long before discovering his lost voice, eyes narrowed, throat tight and chest heavy as he asks you, "You will leave me, pet?"

"Uh-huh, I sure will," you hum in response, sitting on the stool next to the tub and moistening a towel. Sukuna moves to grasp your wrist in his palm but pauses when he catches you switch your attention from the towel to him, a terrifying emotion brimming in your tender gaze.

You draw in a tiny breath before speaking, voice now a mere whisper.

"Show me someone who is the most feared creature to ever exist, yet is a sulking mess if he isn't being cuddled in bed till noon every single day; someone who detests humans like I detest carrots, yet visits the monthly market in secret, to get gifts for his close one; someone who everyone's told me is the worst, yet goes on to prove, again and again and again, how he's the absolute best in this world—"

You stop suddenly.

Chest growing heavy from an entirely different reason now, your lover drinks in the manner your smile widens, your fragile fingers letting go of the cloth to trace those markings on his skin instead – you resume.

"Show me someone whose embraces feel the safest place in all the three realms, and I swear, my king, I'll leave you and run to his arms without thinking twice."

For the first time in his millennium of existence, the two-faced curse feels the same distress of being paralysed, as his mere mien induces in the muscles of his miserable victims— except, it isn't the fear of an end to his life which is causing this abhorrent weakness to him unlike those worthless mortals— no.

It is the fear of the unknown, of the uncharted, which is rendering his powerful self so, so powerless before your blinding brilliance. Sukuna thinks death might be an easier journey to undertake than these odd realisations your voice and touch elicit in him always.

These days, more so.

This moment, very much so.

The addicting timbre of your voice rouses him from his musings, the second time that night.

"Is every–"

"Is that supposed to be a love confession?" Your husband cuts you off before you can finish your question. You slowly blink at him once then twice, before leaning backwards and picking up the forgotten cloth, a visibly coy giggle bubbling out you as you return to washing his skin.

"Yes," you agree after a beat, gaze darting to his face before skittering away again, "That is supposed to be a love confession for my beloved king; though I wonder what my lord thinks of it. Was it heart-touching as I intended to make it? Or did it sound too tedious to him?"

The addressed being deliberately makes a big show of rolling each of his four eyes at your query. "Neither," he says, curling his lip in a show of vexation before they lift a little at the lower lip you jut out, "And you should count yourself to be lucky that you're my wife, not a worthless mortal, pet. For if you were not my wife–"

"– you would've sliced me into halves without a moment's hesitation," you finish the rest of the sentences for him with a fond shake of your head. "Trust me, my king, I know you. I do, I rea– Sukuna!!!"

The startled shriek of his name— not my lord or my king but Sukuna —parts the curse's lips in a smirk, which widens on noticing the warm water slowly seeping into your clothes, making them translucent; and you staring up at him with a disbelieving look etched onto your pretty face.

Sukuna allows his smirk to melt away into a genuine smile, for once.

Nestling your drenched form closer to himself, he closes his eyes to rest his forehead on your shoulder, palms holding you as if you were not a member of the race he lives for the sake of tormenting, but an invaluable blessing, beings he has never believed in, sent earthward for his damned self.

Which is true, the curse reckons. You indeed are a blessing he knows he doesn't deserve – yet will keep for and with himself for an eternity and some more.

Pressing you closer to himself, your husband lifts his head to plant a kiss to your forehead, followed by your warm cheeks — hoping you'll understand the meaning behind every reverent contact he's marking your form with now.

After all, you know him really well, don't you?

[You do— which is only why you reciprocate every brush of his sharp canine over your skin, with a brush of your soft palm over the wicked, handsome, wickedly handsome visage of the love of your life.]

▸ masterlist

[shima-draws]

IT'S NAHU TIME 🎉

More info on him below <3

Name: Nahu

Age: 24

Hair color: Orangish-pink

Eye color: Dark teal

Element: Darkness/Dragon

Nahu is THE boy of all time. He's lovable. He's STOOPID. He's absurdly powerful. He's really chill unless you mess with his friends, then he goes apeshit. He's got a boyish charm that every single member of his group is attracted to. He's the official leader of the group and they would do ANTYHING for him 🥺 He's got the sort of qualities that just naturally draw people in and make him someone worth following. He's got that sort of selfish selfless aspect that makes it so he does what he wants (a very "marches to the beat of his own drum" personality) but it always ends up benefiting other people somehow. He doesn't see the world in black and white; if someone is in trouble he'll do anything to help them even if they end up becoming his enemy down the line--that's just the kind of guy he is :"D He's not the type of person to hesitate, and this usually ends up getting him in trouble as he tends to dive into things headfirst without stopping to think, AKA he has no impulse control whatsoever so he's a walking danger magnet. He'll do things his own way and his friends have learned that there's no point in arguing against his decisions bc he'll turn around and do it anyway! They've gotten used to it at this point but sometimes they still question the way his mind works lmao

Despite the fact that he's kind of dense, he's shockingly perceptive when it counts, able to cut through right to the heart of things. Being a dragon elemental probably helps with that since it heightens his senses and makes him hyper aware of others and their true feelings. In the case of Ione this proves especially helpful since Nahu really doesn't have the attention span to properly learn sign language but he generally gets the gist of what Ione is trying to say even if he doesn't understand her entirely. This leads to interesting situations where Ione will say something and mean something completely different, and only Nahu can pick up on that due to being able to read her emotions better ;)

Again he's fiercely loyal, especially to his friends--he views any sort of betrayal on their behalf the ultimate sin, and will fight with his life to protect them. He's got an unwavering belief in all of them, even if the situation seems dire or if they lie to him for his own safety. He loves them like his family and will sacrifice anything for their happiness 😭 This leads to him being very stubborn in some cases.

Nahu has zero knowledge of what personal space is so he’s up in his squad’s business ALL the time. Which they get used to pretty quickly, since he’s so physically affectionate. His favorite thing to do is press his forehead against whoever he happens to be clinging to at the time. Whenever a new member joins and they happen to see Nahu doing the forehead touch they’re like oh hello what?? 😳 Nahu does this most often with Ezio bc Ezio was the first one to join up with him and is the most familiar with his affection. (Also it’s really fucking funny to just imagine Ezio, who is SO stoic and straight faced all the time, casually leaning into Nahu’s touch and knocking their foreheads together. They make me ill) Eventually it becomes a comfort thing for all of them. Since Nahu’s their leader whenever they’re unsure he’ll just look at them and KNOW and come over and lean his forehead against theirs and it’s so soft...

He loves exploring, viewing visiting any sort of new place and just traveling in general as a grand adventure. This leads him to dragging along other members of his group with him even if they protest :"D But it usually leads to something fun happening anyway!

When he was a child, Nahu was very close with another girl his age. They made many plans together, including growing up and going out on adventures, but unfortunately the girl had a terminal illness and passed away (in his arms, no less). This, in turn, triggered Nahu's magic to go out of control, causing the black "stains" on his arms that are basically an irreversible manifestation of his darkness magic. He was a bit self conscious of the way his arms looked at first but now he’s totally chill with it (and. When he uses his powers dragons scales sprout on his arms and glow and it’s sick as hell.)

Due to the trauma of his friend's death, whenever someone in his friend group gets sick, Nahu freaks out and mother hens to the extreme. Generally he's a very carefree person so it's always very jarring for them to see him so worried (since he's always got the utmost confidence in them too). He's just not the worrying type! They end up having to take care of him more than the other way around. It's very sweet (but also sad considering the reason behind it).

Nahu hasn't cried once since before his childhood friend died, and honestly he really hasn't taken the time to come to terms with her death, instead choosing to ignore any mention of it entirely. It's just trauma he's never recovered from, and he stubbornly refuses any attempt in bringing it up, even to his squad. This has definitely caused some tension between him and the girl's father, who just wants Nahu to accept her death so he can move on :"( Nahu just doesn't want to accept it. Despite him being very open with his emotions this is the one case where he keeps a very tight lid on them. When he cries for the first time in front of his friends they flip their SHIT because they've never seen him cry before.

I haven't hashed out too much of his own personal goals yet; I can say tho that he's searching for his mother who disappeared when he was still a baby. His father is a famous adventurer who kinda took off on him as well so he grew up under the care of several others. Nahu's never held this against his father; he's not really the type to care much about that. Instead he finds his father's dream-chasing adventures to be quite inspiring, which eventually leads to him making the decision to leave on his own and find his mom.

Anyway I love him he is THE baby boy ever send tweet

[robin-evry]

Yuu as quetzalcoatl plssss

Sure, I've been wanting to do a Quetzalcoatl Yuu for so long but I've forgotten about it due to doing yōkai!yuu, anyway ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐙𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐋 🐲🍃

Quetzalcoatl (/ˌkɛtsəlkoʊˈætəl ) (Nahuatl: "Feathered Serpent") is a deity in Aztec culture and literature. Among the Aztecs, he was related to wind, Venus, Sun, merchants, arts, crafts, knowledge, and learning. He was also the patron god of the Aztec priesthood.[5] He was one of several important gods in the Aztec pantheon, along with the gods Tlaloc, Tezcatlipoca and Huitzilopochtli. The two other gods represented by the planet Venus are Tlaloc (ally and the god of rain) and Xolotl (psychopomp and its twin).

Quetzalcoatl!yuu is the reincarnation of the now dead Aztec and Mayan creator god Quetzalcoatl. After they committed a sin, they were punished by having their title of god stripped from them and rebirth into a dragon.

Quetzalcoatl!Yuu often find solace in being outdoors, especially in open spaces where the wind can freely blow. They love high places, like cliffs or tall towers, where they can feel close to the sky. Sometimes, they take Grim with them, using their wind magic to let him "fly" safely alongside them, which Grim secretly enjoys despite pretending to be unamused.

Much like Quetzalcoatl’s association with nature, animals, especially birds, seem naturally drawn to Quetzalcoatl!yuu It’s not unusual for them to be surrounded by birds when outside, much to Grim’s annoyance as he feels like he’s being ignored. They, however, loves the company of animals and often feeds them small snacks during breaks.

Originally students believed they were a beast man of bird descendants due to them showing their wings of. And was shocked that the fact they are a dragon.

Pretty free spirited, and carefree, you can find them on a branch of a tree enjoying the sunlight.

Quetzalcoatl!Yuu has a habit of performing small rituals or prayers to honor the elements they’re connected to, particularly the sun and rain. On sunny days, they’ll raise their hands to the sky, thanking the sun for its warmth. On rainy days, they’ll quietly hum a song of gratitude for the water that nourishes the earth. Some students think these habits are a bit strange, but those close to Quetzalcoatl!Yuu find it peaceful and respectful.

Lilia has heard about their legend during the time of his youth, during their first upon meeting he introduced himself as well calling them by their old title during their time as a god before their exile to live amongst humans.

A thousand years ago the god Quetzalcoatl commited a sin and their title of god was taken away from them, as their punishment is to be reborn and memory of their divinity to be erased, and is to be reborn to live amongst in the human realm without recalling their former life. Quetzalcoatl was their old name before exile and after their rebirth to be a dragon they were given a new name the one they used today. They were reborn with a new name without a single memory of their former incarnation. But their former ability and specks of the divinity are still inside. Their former self is gone

A natural magic user, but their affinity is usually wind magic, Quetzalcoatl!Yuu can levitate and glide through the air effortlessly. They sometimes use this ability to sneak into hard-to-reach places, or to get a bird’s-eye view of events around the campus. They use ancient wind magic which is more powerful than modern magic it's capable of making tornados, weather,etc.

During moments of danger, especially in fights or magical conflicts, Quetzalcoatl!Yuu instinctively summons powerful winds to shield their friends. This defensive ability has saved Grim and others on several occasions. The wind itself seems to respond to their emotions, swirling more violently when they’re upset or determined to protect someone.

Quetzalcoatl Yuu might be skilled in healing magic, capable of soothing injuries and illnesses, bringing balance and renewal to those around them.

Their uniforms have some feathers elements to reflect on their ability to fly as well their ability of the wind. As well a connection towards their dragon form.

Adopted multiple pets during the course of their lifetime. Their current familiar is a serpent-like familiar, symbolizing their connection to their dragon form as well as their previous life, which assists them in both combat and everyday tasks, often offering advice or helping with spells.

Quetzalcoatl!Yuu and Riddle’s relationship is one of mutual respect, but it can be tense at times. While Riddle appreciates their wisdom, he sometimes struggles with their laid-back approach to discipline, on the other hand,they understands Riddle’s need for order but tries to show him the importance of flexibility and kindness.

They are fascinated by wind chimes and often keeps several handmade ones around their dorm room. These chimes are decorated with vibrant feathers that represent their connection to their divinity. The gentle sound of the wind blowing through the chimes is incredibly calming, and many of the other students come to their room to relax when they’re feeling stressed.

Their dragon form would likely be massive, stretching around 50-60 feet ( 50-100 meters) in length, with a wingspan of about 70-80 feet (21-24 meters). This would make them one of the larger and more imposing beings in Twisted Wonderland, though their graceful, feathered appearance softens some of the intimidation. Their size reflects their ancient, powerful nature while still allowing them to move with elegance. ( By far Quetzalcoatl!yuu dragon form is much more massive than the other dragons in twst as well other dragon!yuu )

Instead of traditional scales, their body would be covered in vibrant, colorful feathers, especially around the neck, tail, and wings. These feathers would shimmer in hues of green, gold, turquoise, and red, mimicking the colors often associated with Quetzalcoatl in mythology.

Quetzalcoatl!Yuu’s dragon form would have a long, serpentine body, making them appear more fluid and flexible in the air. Their movements would be smooth and graceful, often gliding through the sky as if swimming through water, reflecting their deep connection to the wind.

Their large, feathered wings would be majestic and powerful, capable of summoning strong gusts of wind. These wings would allow them to travel quickly across the skies, with feathers that rustle gently even when they’re stationary, as though always in tune with the wind.

Despite their massive size, Quetzalcoatl!Yuu is incredibly graceful in dragon form, often flying above Night Raven College at night, watching over the students. They use their wind magic to remain silent, so only those who are extremely perceptive, like Lilia or Leona, may notice the gentle breeze signaling their protective presence in the sky.

And this is how malleus managed to find out about another dragon in NRC, he was walking around at night and filling a gust of wind. He looked up and saw Quetzalcoatl!yuu dragon form floating in the sky and the moon shines to reveal their body is filled with beautiful feathers, this leaves him awestruck.

It’s said that if someone is ever gifted one of Quetzalcoatl's!Yuu feathers from their dragon form, it brings luck and protection. These feathers, which fall naturally from their wings during flight, are often picked up by students who believe in the legend. However, Quetzalcoatl's! Yuu only intentionally gifts feathers to those they feel deserve a special blessing, making it a rare and meaningful gesture.

Quetzalcoatl!Yuu avoids using their full strength unless absolutely necessary. Though they are capable of summoning massive storms or devastating winds, they believe in resolving conflicts peacefully. Their dragon form is rarely used for combat, but when they do fight, their power is awe-inspiring, capable of knocking back even the strongest opponents with a single flap of their wings.

When Yuu transforms, all manner of birds and animals are drawn to their dragon form. Birds will often circle them, and even creatures on the ground feel a sense of calm in their presence. It’s as if nature itself recognizes the majesty of their former divinity within them and shows respect by gathering around them in harmony.

[slyakoch13]

tw: gore???

just made a new ferryman oc! (working on it)

The Ferryman. Code name "Ares"

She was sent to the level of Anger for her sin. Anger was the death of everyone there. For her, it's her way of surviving. Only her anger helped her make her way through the boiling storm and the current of eternally fighting sinners into the Styx. She believes that she is worthy of redemption and her anger is not a sin, but her main strength.

In appearance, she is rather a Stray that has not completely stripped off her flesh, with iron elements nailed tightly in her flesh - like handcuffs and a hoop, which in her case are hollowed crosses.

Having learned that being a ferryman is not just a job - it's a fight for her place, for survival, she will not miss a single chance for her redemption and is ready to fight everyone who gets in her way.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 28 - Uniform

Brother Imperator x Reader

Copia got his promotion to head of the clergy, and with it a new uniform. And you couldn’t keep your hands off him.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 5.1k.

Reading Time: 21 min.

Warnings: creampie, PIV sex, public sex, thigh riding, vaginal sex, uniform kink, unprotected sex

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The moment your eyes met his, you knew you were in trouble. For the first time in ages, he’d stripped back the elaborate paints, leaving only the faintest hint of kohl around his eyes, allowing every distinguished line and angle of his face to shine through. His new look was a vision—his smart uniform a departure from the traditional Papal robes, but no less commanding. The suit was a sleek, modern twist on his usual regalia: rich black fabric that hugged his form perfectly, every seam tailored to emphasize his broad shoulders and lean frame. A single, dark blazer sat unbuttoned and fell neatly at the waist, held together by two ruby pins that caught the light like blood-red flames. From them both, a diamond-studded grucifix dangled just over his upper abdomen, the glittering charm drawing your gaze with a dangerous allure. His look was seductive yet regal, an intimidating blend of elegance and dark charm. You could hardly breathe as he approached, each step deliberate, with a knowing glint in his eye that told you he was fully aware of the effect he had on you.

He stepped forward, arms slowly outstretched, his hands still gloved in that familiar, supple leather. The movement itself was an invitation—a silent command to take him in, to fully appreciate the figure standing before you. He said nothing, but the slight tilt of his head and a quiet, almost shy hum conveyed, “This is the new me.” And the transformation was powerful. Gone was the ornate guise of Papa; here stood Frater Copia Imperator, every inch of him exuding authority and confidence, as if the Ministry itself had reshaped to match his presence. The old robes had held him back, binding him to tradition, but this—this new look—carried the weight of true dominion. His domain, his rules, and he seemed to bask in it, his gaze dark and intent, as though savoring the scope of his control.

This wasn’t just Copia; it was Copia unleashed, finally embracing his true place. Like Lucifer reigning over Hell, he was perfectly in his element, ready to rule with an intensity that sent a thrill through your core.

You, however, were too thrilled about his new uniform to even consider the consequences of this promotion. You just wanted that chain dangling in your face as he -

“I don’t know who the new Papa is yet,” Copia told you, pulling you out of your horny musings. “Apparently he will be arriving soon, but I don’t know.”

Copia’s words pulled you out of your daze, but only for a moment. That glint in his eye, the way his fingers traced the edge of the ruby pin on his blazer—it stirred something deeper. You tried to refocus, to keep your thoughts on his words instead of the sinful path your mind had wandered down. But when he shifted, the delicate grucifix on its diamond-studded chain swayed, catching the light and drawing your gaze right back to it, and him.

“Hmm,” he murmured, watching you closely, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. “Seems like I’ve already lost you.” He stepped in closer, his gloved hand reaching out to cup your chin, bringing your gaze up to meet his. His thumb traced a slow circle along your jaw, the leather sending a shiver through you. “Were you even listening to me, tesoro?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words tangled as he leaned in, the chain now dangling just above your lips. He lowered himself even closer, enough that his breath warmed your skin. “Distracted, hm?” he whispered, voice as smooth and dark as velvet. “Or is it something else you’re interested in?”

With an amused tilt of his head, he straightened just slightly, but his grip on your chin remained firm. The chain hovered enticingly between you both, and the glint of the rubies seemed to cast a soft, scarlet hue over his eyes. “What were you thinking about just now?” he teased, his voice low, drawing out the words with a lazy, knowing tone.

Your heart raced as you felt yourself flush under his gaze. He let his gloved thumb slip down, tracing your lower lip, his smile deepening as you trembled under his touch.

The restraint you’d been trying so hard to keep shattered in an instant. Words wouldn’t cut it now; only action would. Before he could utter another teasing word, you launched yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his blazer as you pressed your body flush against his. He barely had time to gasp, his eyes widening before they darkened with a raw hunger of his own.

The chain swung between you, grazing against your chest as you pressed him against the wall, your lips crashing into his with all the ferocity of pent-up desire. He gave a low, muffled moan, hands moving to grip your waist, steadying himself as you pinned him there. You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your gaze fierce and unwavering.

“Oh,” he breathed, voice rough and laced with amusement. “Not even going to tell me what you want first? Just taking it, eh?” His smirk was devilish, eyes hooded as he leaned forward, lips brushing your jawline. “As bold as ever, tesoro.”

Your fingers slid down, finding the clasp of his belt, your intentions laid bare in the determined way you worked it open. He sucked in a sharp breath, his gloved hands sliding up your sides, encouraging you, grounding himself in the pressure of your touch.

“Here?” he murmured, glancing around the empty corridor but not looking the least bit reluctant. “Right here in the open, where anyone could see?” His voice dripped with exhilaration at the idea. The thrill in his eyes was unmistakable as he tugged you even closer, his hands roving possessively over your body.

“Oh, let them,” you whispered, pressing a fierce kiss to his throat as his head fell back. “I refuse to wait any longer.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest at your words, and any remaining control he had snapped. With a rough pull, he reversed your positions, pinning you back against the wall, his body pressed firmly against yours. His gaze bore into you, pupils blown wide with desire, the gleam of his chain catching the dim light as it swung between you both. He brought a gloved hand up, tracing it down the side of your face, down your throat, finally stopping to rest on your collarbone, his fingers curling just enough to feel your pulse racing under his touch.

“You have no idea what you’ve started,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. The heat of him, the scent of his cologne mixing with the faint leather from his gloves, was intoxicating, overwhelming your senses as he kissed his way down your neck, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver.

With one swift movement, he slipped a leg between yours, pressing his thigh against you as his hands found your waist, holding you firmly against him. The friction, even through your clothing, was electric, sending shockwaves through you. He smirked against your neck, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Look at you,” he whispered, his tone darkly amused as he ground his thigh ever so slightly, “already unraveling for me, and I’ve barely even started.”

You tightened your grip on his blazer, feeling your resolve slipping away completely. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered, daring him, your voice rough with need.

He chuckled, his lips curving against your skin. “Oh, I won’t.” His voice dropped lower, every word a promise. “But I’m going to take my time with you, right here. Let every inch of this place echo with the sounds of us.” His fingers found the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath to brush against your bare skin, igniting every nerve with his touch.

As his mouth claimed yours once more, his kiss was slower, more intense, his movements deliberate as if he wanted to make you feel every second of it. His gloved hand moved to your chest, thumb brushing over your skin, drawing a gasp from your lips that he swallowed eagerly. The thrill of the forbidden, the possibility of being caught, only seemed to drive him further, his kiss growing deeper, more insistent, as his hands roamed possessively over you, leaving no inch of you untouched.

And as he pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you, a wicked gleam in his gaze, he leaned in close and whispered, “By the time I’m done, tesoro, everyone here will know exactly who you belong to.”

Your movements grew more desperate, grinding against his thigh as his hands roamed your body, each touch and squeeze lighting you up in ways you hadn’t felt in so long. He held you firmly, almost possessively, his fingers digging into your hips to guide your movements, pressing you harder against him with each roll of your body. His breathing grew heavier, his lips never far from your skin, leaving trails of hot, lingering kisses down your neck.

His gloved hand slid lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your clothes, his fingers brushing over your skin with a tantalizing slowness that made you shudder. He paused there, his mouth close to your ear as he murmured, “Look at you, so eager for me.” His voice was low, laced with a dark amusement that sent a thrill through you, making you push against him harder, needing the friction, needing him.

Copia chuckled, dark and deep, his thigh pressing up with just the right pressure, making you gasp. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” His hand traced back up, gliding over your chest, fingers grazing the sensitive spots he knew so well, making your head spin. “You want more?” he asked, though he already knew the answer, his eyes gleaming with a devilish satisfaction as he watched your reaction.

“Please…” you breathed, barely able to form words under his touch.

He smirked, his thumb brushing across your cheek in a mockingly tender gesture. “That’s it,” he purred. “I want to hear you beg for it, right here. Let everyone know what you need from me.”

The sheer thrill of his demand had you trembling against him, and as his thigh pressed harder, his fingers digging into your skin, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You moaned softly, moving against him with wild abandon, feeling him take in every sound, every shiver as his mouth claimed yours again, consuming you in a searing, possessive kiss that left you aching for more.

The pressure built until it was overwhelming, each roll of your hips pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His thigh pressed firmly against you, his hand gripping your waist with just enough force to ground you yet keep you spiraling. His mouth was at your neck, lips moving hot and slow, and you felt yourself unraveling, unable to hold back any longer.

And then it happened—a rush of pleasure crashing over you, your body trembling as you came right there, held in place by his hands and the unrelenting press of his thigh. The intensity left you breathless, your fingers clutching his blazer, as though clinging to him was the only thing keeping you steady.

He groaned softly as he felt you shudder against him, his gaze darkening with satisfaction. “There we go,” he murmured, his tone rich with pride and something even deeper, a possessive glint in his eye. “Just like that, tesoro.”

His hand stroked your back in lazy, soothing circles as you caught your breath, barely able to comprehend what you’d just done, right there in the middle of the corridor. But he didn’t look the least bit surprised—in fact, he seemed thrilled, his gaze roving over you with a smug sense of accomplishment.

Before you could say a word, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Now, shall we continue somewhere more… private? I’m far from finished with you.”

“I refuse to wait any longer,” you panted. “Please just fuck me, Copia.”

A flash of something dark and eager crossed his face, and before you could even draw another breath, he spun you around, pressing your back against the wall with a controlled urgency that made your pulse quicken. His fingers hooked into the gusset of your panties, pulling them aside with a rough, unhesitating motion, his other hand already freeing himself from his trousers.

The moment was electric, charged with a tension that had been building too long. He didn’t waste another second, aligning himself and pressing into you in one smooth, deep thrust that stole the breath from your lungs. The sensation was overwhelming, his heat and weight pressing you firmly into the wall, grounding you while simultaneously making you feel as if you might float away. His grip on your hips was strong, possessive, his fingers digging in just enough to leave you tingling.

He held himself there for a heartbeat, his forehead pressing to your shoulder, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he felt you wrapped around him. Then, his grip tightened, and he began to move, his thrusts slow at first, deliberate, each one sinking in deeply, pulling another soft, breathy moan from you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, words punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts. “So needy, couldn’t wait another second… I love it when you’re this desperate for me.”

His pace quickened, his hands sliding up your waist, holding you in place as he took what you’d so eagerly asked for, his hips snapping forward with a building intensity. Each thrust seemed to drive him deeper, his control slipping as he gave in to the pleasure, his breaths ragged in your ear as he pushed you toward that blissful edge once more.

His movements became more urgent, each thrust driving you harder against the wall, the sound of your bodies meeting echoing through the corridor. You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching and filling you, and it only heightened your desire, pushing you closer to the brink without letting you fall over.

“Copia…” you gasped, the sound of his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You were lost in a haze of sensation, your body responding eagerly to every thrust, every shudder that ran through you as he rocked into you. He felt impossibly good, and the way he held you—his grip possessive yet tender—made you ache for more.

His lips found their way to your neck, hot against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that ignited every nerve ending. “That’s right, tesoro,” he murmured, his breath warm against you, sending shivers down your spine. “Let me hear you. Let me know how much you want this.”

You moaned softly, pushing back against him instinctively, seeking more friction, more of that delicious pressure building within you. He chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your eagerness, and he quickened his pace just slightly, teasing you with the promise of more without granting you release.

“You want it harder?” he taunted, his voice low and dripping with lust. “You’ll have to earn it. Show me how badly you need it.”

With that, he changed his angle, hitting that sweet spot inside you that made your head spin. The sensation was electric, and you gasped, feeling the heat pool low in your belly, but he was relentless, holding you right there on the precipice, teasing you with his control. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, building tension but denying you the sweet release you craved.

“Sathanas, you’re beautiful like this,” he breathed, his eyes dark with desire, locking onto yours as he continued to push you further into bliss. “So responsive… so fucking perfect.”

You writhed against him, desperate and aching, needing more, but he held you firmly in place, a wicked grin on his lips as he relished in your frustration, taking his time to savour every moment.

With a swift, commanding motion, he pulled out, leaving you breathless and wanting. The abruptness of it sent a shiver through you, a mix of anticipation and urgency swelling in your chest. “Get down,” he ordered, his voice low and firm, eyes darkened with desire.

You didn’t hesitate, the need to obey overriding any hesitation. You sank down onto the cool corridor floor, the surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body. As you lay back, your heart raced, both from the thrill of his command and the way his gaze devoured you, hungry and insatiable.

Copia moved over you, his body looming above like a dark, predatory silhouette. He positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread you open for him, the intensity of his stare sending jolts of excitement through you. “I want to see you,” he growled, his voice dripping with lust as he lined himself up once more.

With a sharp thrust, he entered you again, deeper this time, and you gasped as he filled you completely. The weight of him pressed you into the floor, his hips snapping forward with a force that made the chain hanging from his neck swing and sway tantalizingly in front of your face, glimmering in the dim light.

“Look at me,” he commanded, and you did, locking eyes with him as he drove into you, his expression a mix of pleasure and authority. The force of his movements sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, his body perfectly in sync with yours, creating a heady rhythm that left you gasping and wanting more.

“You’re mine,” he said, punctuating each word with a thrust, the intensity in his voice matched only by the way he filled you. The chain danced tantalizingly close, swaying with every forceful movement, a physical manifestation of his power and control. You could hardly think, lost in the delicious friction and the way he possessed you, your body responding to every demanding push, every glorious pull.

Each powerful thrust brought the chain closer, its cool metal brushing against your cheek and lips, a reminder of the power he wielded over you. The sensation was maddening, and you could hardly focus on anything else—the rhythm of his hips, the way he moved inside you, the intoxicating sight of him looming over you, chain swinging with every thrust, an emblem of his dominance.

As he continued to thrust into you, the chain swinging tantalizingly closer, you felt an overwhelming urge to taste him, to take in every part of him that you could. Your gaze fixed on the diamond grucifix dangling from his neck, the cool metal glimmering in the low light, and a wicked idea sparked in your mind.

With a quick movement, you reached up, grabbing the chain and pulling it closer to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the grucifix, sucking on it as if it were his cock, the sharp, metallic taste mingling with the heat radiating off your body. It felt deliciously forbidden, a bold display of your need for him, and you could see the surprise flicker in his eyes, quickly replaced by something darker—hunger.

Copia’s thrusts stuttered for a moment, the sight of you eagerly sucking on the chain driving him wild. “Is that what you want, tesoro?” he growled, his voice low and gravelly, as he regained his rhythm. “You want to worship me like this?”

You nodded, still sucking on the grucifix, letting your tongue glide over the smooth surface, teasing it as you would with his cock. The action sent a thrill through him, and he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing more forceful, each movement pushing the grucifix deeper into your mouth, forcing you to take in more of the chain, feeling it cold against your lips.

The sensation was intoxicating, and the combination of his deep thrusts and the way you worshipped the grucifix left you breathless. You could feel the tension coiling within you, the line between pleasure and desperation blurring as you surrendered completely to the moment.

Copia’s breath grew ragged, each thrust driving him closer to his own climax. “That’s it, just like that,” he urged, his voice a mix of praise and urgency, each word sending heat coursing through you. “You’re perfect for this—such a good little pet.”

As he thrust deeper, you felt an insatiable urge rising within you, an overwhelming desire to amplify the pleasure coursing through your body. With your lips still wrapped around the grucifix, you let out a low, muffled moan that reverberated against the cool metal. The sound sent shivers of pleasure racing through you, echoing in the dimly lit corridor, as you began to touch yourself.

Your fingers moved eagerly between your legs, seeking out that sweet spot that had been yearning for attention. The sensation of your own fingers dancing over your sensitive skin, combined with the rhythmic pounding of his hips, sent shockwaves of ecstasy through you. You could feel every pulse of his thrusts inside you, each one making your fingers tingle with excitement as you rubbed your clit with a fervor that matched the intensity of the moment.

Copia’s gaze was fixated on you, his dark eyes blazing with hunger as he watched you pleasure yourself while he drove into you. “Look at you,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “So fucking desperate for it. Don’t stop, tesoro. Let me hear you.”

You obeyed, your moans spilling out around the grucifix as you continued to suck on it, the metal a reminder of his dominance. Each thrust met your fingers moving with urgency, and you could feel the pressure building, both inside and outside, intertwining in a way that threatened to consume you whole.

“Good girl,” he praised, his pace becoming even more erratic, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the corridor. “You’re going to make me lose control, you know that? I want you to come for me while I’m buried deep inside you.”

The heat pooling low in your belly swelled, and you felt your body responding to his words, an electric thrill coursing through your veins. You moaned louder around the grucifix, the combination of your own touch, his powerful thrusts, and the deliciously forbidden act of sucking on the chain pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

With every movement, you lost yourself further in the blissful haze of pleasure, the world narrowing down to just the two of you—his thrusts, your moans, the grucifix swinging gently in the air, and the desperate need to feel him fill you completely as you chased that sweet release.

The pressure inside you reached a crescendo, building to an almost unbearable peak as you continued to work your fingers frantically, the urgency of your movements intensifying. You could feel every thrust from Copia, each one driving you closer to that edge, and the sweet sound of your moans around the grucifix only heightened your need.

Then, as if a dam had broken, the pleasure erupted within you like a tidal wave. The orgasm washed over you, more powerful than anything you had ever experienced before, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed. Your body trembled as the waves of ecstasy surged through you, making your toes curl and your back arch off the floor. You cried out around the grucifix, the sound mingling with the raw desire in the air, echoing through the corridor as you surrendered completely to the bliss.

Copia’s grip tightened on your thighs, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he felt your body clench around him, your orgasm pulling him closer to the edge. The sensation of you coming around him was overwhelming, and he couldn’t help but thrust deeper, seeking his own release even as he reveled in the way your body reacted to him.

“Fuck, yes!” he gasped, his voice a mix of awe and lust, completely enthralled by the sight of you lost in pleasure beneath him. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

As you rode the waves of your orgasm, you could feel your body pulsing around him, milking him with each spasm. The sensation heightened your pleasure even further, and the heat radiating from him added to the intoxicating mix. You let out one final, guttural moan, the sound echoing off the walls, as your body trembled in the aftermath of your release.

With each thrust, Copia felt the tension coiling tightly within him, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he watched you ride the waves of your orgasm, completely lost in ecstasy. The sight of you—your body trembling beneath him, fingers still working furiously at your clit—drove him wild, urging him closer to his own release. He could feel the tightness of your walls clenching around him, coaxing him into that sweet abyss, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through his entire body.

“Sathanas,” he groaned, his voice thick with need, the intensity of the moment washing over him. “I can’t hold on any longer.” He thrust harder, the urgency in his movements increasing, desperation fueling his every action. Each powerful push drove him deeper, bringing him closer to the edge, and he couldn’t help but lose himself in the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

As the world around him faded away, all he could focus on was you—your beauty, your moans, the way your body responded to him. “I’m coming,” he breathed, just before his release crashed over him like a tidal wave.

With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, the heat of his body merging with yours as he let go completely. He came hard, filling you with a warmth that spread through your core, the sensation of him spilling inside you pushing you back toward the edge once more. You gasped in shock and delight at the feeling, a mixture of his release and your own, amplifying the bliss that coursed through you both.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he breathed, his voice thick with satisfaction, as he rode out the waves of his climax, his body trembling as he remained anchored deep within you. The weight of him pressing down, combined with the warmth of his release, wrapped around you like a cocoon, leaving you both breathless and euphoric.

For a moment, time stood still as you lay there together, lost in the aftermath of your pleasure, the connection between you both tangible and electric. The corridor felt like your own private sanctuary, filled with the remnants of your shared ecstasy, and as you looked up into his dark, smoldering eyes, you knew this was just the beginning of what he could give you.

As Copia pulled out of you, the warmth of his body lingered in the cool corridor, leaving you both breathless and delightfully spent. He turned to lay beside you, a satisfied grin plastered across his face, the glow of post-coital bliss still evident in his eyes. The corridor felt like a world of its own, the thrill of what had just happened hanging in the air like a sultry fog.

Just as he was about to tuck himself away, a Brother of Sin strolled by, nonchalantly whistling a tune under his breath. You both froze, eyes wide, as he paused, glancing down at Copia. With an exaggerated eyebrow raise, he took in the scene before him: the disheveled state of both of you, the lingering signs of passion, and, of course, Copia’s still-exposed cock, glistening slightly in the dim light.

“Frater… Sorella,” the Brother acknowledged with a casual nod of his head, a smirk creeping across his lips. His eyes danced with amusement as he continued, “Looks like you’ve had a productive meeting, eh?”

Copia, ever the dramatic one, flushed a deep crimson, sputtering for words as he scrambled to cover himself. “I—I was just—uh, discussing… duties! Yes, very important duties!” he stammered, trying to regain some semblance of dignity.

The Brother chuckled, shaking his head as he continued walking, “Don’t let me interrupt your… practical training. Just remember, we have a reputation to uphold!” His voice trailed off, the mischievous tone lingering in the air.

Copia groaned, throwing a hand over his eyes in embarrassment, while you burst into laughter, unable to contain the joy of the moment. “Oh, this is just perfect!” you said, still giggling at the absurdity of it all. “Only us, right?”

Copia rolled onto his side, still flustered but unable to hide his own laughter. “At least I know my meetings are memorable,” he replied, a grin creeping back onto his face. “Next time, I’ll try to keep my—” he gestured vaguely at himself, “—professionalism intact.”

“Or maybe just find a more private location?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

He chuckled, the embarrassment fading as the moment turned into yet another inside joke between you, the warmth of shared pleasure and laughter mingling together in the most delightful way.

Copia raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, is that so?” he replied, leaning on one elbow to look at you, his expression a mix of feigned outrage and amusement. “I would like to remind you that this location was your idea!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a bright sound that echoed off the corridor walls. “Well, I didn’t think we’d have an audience today!” you shot back, unable to suppress the grin on your face. “It’s not my fault that you have a penchant for the dramatic, Frater.”

“Dramatic?” he feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. “I prefer to call it enthusiastic! Just look at how well it turned out!” He gestured around the corridor, as if the very walls would applaud his romantic choices.

With a dramatic flourish, he added, “It’s not every day you get to mix duty with a little… extracurricular activity.” He winked, his confidence returning, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics.

“Extracurricular, huh? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” you quipped, nudging him playfully.

“Absolutely!” he replied, puffing out his chest in mock seriousness. “And let it be known: I am fully committed to the role of dedicated educator in our… field studies.”

“Right. I’m sure the Ministry will be thrilled to hear about your ‘educational’ methods,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Just try to keep it down next time, or we might end up with more than just curious Brothers wandering by.”

“Deal! But no promises if the curriculum gets a little… intense,” he winked, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, and you both burst into laughter once again.

Prev./Next

[jessamine-rose]

⋆˚♱ଘ Phantom Pain ଓ♱˚⋆

When I wrote the first fic of my Yandere Church AU, I never expected it to expand into a whole series. Now it’s time for Cartaphilus! Dainsleif x Yandere! Demon! Reader………and yes, Dain is the darling in this fic ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀ˋ

I hope y’all enjoy their twisted story and the cameos to my previous fics!! Special thanks to my beta-reader @diodellet, @brynn-lear who helped me with Dain’s characterization, and all of my mutuals who listened to my brainrot~

Tw:: YANDERE, psychological trauma, blood, graphic violence, death, stalking, dubcon, noncon, mention of nsfw, MDNI, please take note of all of these warnings

Notes:: Female reader, FICTIONAL depictions of religion, inspired by Cartaphilus from The Ancient Magus’ Bride, I’m sorry Dain (*´꒳`*)

♡ 7.3k words under the cut ♡

♡ Among God’s creations, His favorite is granted a special fate. Though all lives end in death, only humanity is blessed with salvation and afterlife. Those who live righteously may thus ascend to Heaven, whereas sinners are condemned to eternal suffering in Hell. There is, however, one exception—a fragment of humanity whose sins may never be forgiven.

♡ Legends speak of Khaenri’ah, the nation of sinners. Once the pride of humankind, its citizens challenged God through their creations in alchemy and technology—and the entire nation was subsequently destroyed in a sea of flames. In the wake of the Cataclysm, pollen from the Tree of Life rained down upon the survivors, afflicting them with their final punishment, immortality.

♡ Since then, Khaenri’ahns have roamed the mortal plane in a perpetual state of living. Denied a place in Heaven and Hell, they are cursed to live forever no matter what harm befalls their body and psyche. Due to their wicked reputation, they must also live in fear of their once-fellow humans, lest they face persecution. For this reason, eternity differs among Khaenri’ahns.

♡ After the Cataclysm, the survivors scattered across Teyvat. Many established secret communities to preserve their culture and find solace in companionship. Others settled in foreign nations, periodically assuming new identities to evade suspicion. And a few became travelers, moving from place to place with no home to call their own.

♡ One such traveler is Dainsleif. After failing to prevent the destruction of his nation, he began an endless journey around Teyvat. His initial goal was to protect his fellow survivors and seek a cure for their curse. But as Khaenri’ah faded from memory, so did its people. Many succumbed to pain, madness, violence—and despite his best efforts, Dainsleif was unable to save any of them. In the perpetual meantime of a cruel eternity, all he could do was travel onwards, clinging to a thread of hope.

♡ That all changes when he wanders into the ruins of an ancient temple, 300 years after the Cataclysm. Had he known it was a place of worship, Dainsleif would have camped outside. But the structure is abandoned, inconspicuous, a perfect shelter against the ongoing storm. So he goes inside, lighting the way with his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. And only when he meets you does he realize he’d set foot in unholy ground.

♡ A pattern glows on the floor—a summoning circle he’d unknowingly stepped into, concealed with splatters of dried blood. From it, a winged figure emerges in a burst of light and slams him against the cracked tiles. Dizzily, he registers a strong hand pressing down on his neck, an aura of overwhelming divinity, a brilliant glare that strikes fear into his very soul.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“Ah, let’s see. Just when I thought this place had succumbed to the elements, who has the insolence to summon me?”

In your divine presence, Dainsleif can only look up and take in your inhuman features. Sharp talons. Four wings with silvery black-and-gray feathers, resembling an eagle’s plumage. A single horn jutting from the left side of your head. Eyes as bright as miniature suns.

A demon. How in the world did he summon a demon?

He glances at the sigil etched on the floor. From what he knows of these rituals, they are only successful if specific instructions are followed and the demon’s true name is uttered. Was it because he used Khaenri’ahn sorcery within the summoning circle?

He meets your gaze. “I never intended—”

Your eyes widen. “Oh?”

Still gripping his neck, you lift him up and brush the loose strands of hair away from his face. The action uncovers his eyes, bright blue with pupils shaped like four-pointed stars.

“A Khaenri’ahn?”

At this point, Dainsleif doesn’t know what to do. He struggles in your grasp, only to stop when your talons dig into his skin. Your gaze remains locked onto his.

Slowly, your lips curve into a fanged smile.

“And such a pretty one at that.”

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ Somehow, Dainsleif’s curse has saved him from your wrath. Still, he remains vigilant as you put him down and demand to hear his life story—why, when you have already glimpsed his soul? Reluctantly, he tells you everything from his previous life to the circumstances that brought him to your temple. Once he is finished, you allow him to stay in your temple until the storm ends.

♡ As you move, he notices a trio of jagged scars on your body—one on each shoulder, another one between your first pair of wings. He makes no mention of it, however, and instead asks for your identity. In response to that, you give him an enigmatic smile, whisper your true name, and promptly disappear. The only proof of your encounter is the dark bruise around Dainsleif’s neck.

♡ He doesn’t sleep well. At the crack of dawn, he gets up and does a quick exploration of the temple ruins. From the looks of it, it could be thousands of years old. There are sculpted images of suns, beasts, and paradises. The bloodstained floor implies a violent end for the previous intruders—or was it from your official summoning rituals? At any rate, one thing is clear: You are a powerful demon, one who was previously worshiped as a false god.

♡ He leaves after sunrise, relieved to have survived the ordeal…only for your paths to cross a few days later. And the week after that. Again and again. Most of the time, you appear out of nowhere, invisible to everyone except for Dainsleif. Other times, your presence manifests in a stray feather, inhuman shadows, the persistent feeling that he is being watched.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“Oh, hello, Dain. Did you enjoy your drink?”

“...What have you done?”

In the dark alley, your bloody visage is a terrifying sight. A human is passed out at your feet, their arm covered in deep scratches and blackened veins.

Dainsleif takes a step back. That person…isn’t that the drunkard who tried to start a fight with him at the tavern?

A sinister smile appears on your face. “Don’t worry, I just cast a little curse on them.”

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ He doesn’t know what to make of his situation. In Khaenri’ah, demons were perceived as wicked creatures that lead humanity down the path of sin. You have yet to harm him, unless your plan is to lull him into a false sense of security first. It would certainly explain your frequent visits, your honeyed words, your cheerful demeanor around him.

♡ During your encounters, he asks you questions. As it turns out, it is difficult to find information on you. Humans usually refer to a specific demon by their title, so your true name is only useful when he is addressing you. You don’t reveal much about yourself, apart from the fact that your current role in Hell is torturing the souls of deceased sinners.

♡ The answer is found in the Sumeru Akademiya. The House of Daena has a forbidden archive that includes grimoires, research on spiritual beings, as well as related literature. It doesn’t take long for him to find the hidden room. As he examines the bookshelves, he notices a few written records of Khaenri’ah, all of which depict his people in a negative light.

♡ He begins with a book about the celestial hierarchy. According to the writer, there are nine ranks of angels and only the Second Order, the Cherubim, have two pairs of eagle wings. They also have four heads—human, lion, ox, eagle…and in the accompanying illustration, the animal heads are located in the exact same place as your scars.

♡ Next is the grimoire of Il Dottore. He flips through the section dedicated to demons, skimming the notes and sigils. There is the Puppeteer, the Fair Lady, the Seeker of Forbidden Knowledge whom Dottore formed a pact with, and so on. Finally, he comes across a familiar sigil.

The Beheaded Cherub

-True name: ______

-Created in the ███ Era, fell from grace in the ██████ Era

-Basic status: 1 head (human), 1 set of fangs (lion), 1 horn (ox), 2 pairs of wings and 10 talons (harpy eagle)

-One of the most powerful demons in Hell by virtue of her previous rank and her prominence in human cognizance. She was once venerated as a false god by the Temple of Light.

-Prior to her descent, she was called “the Beast of Beatitude.” █████ says her divine punishment was the loss of her animal heads and the development of her beastly traits.

-A unique specimen. It is a pity that I could not obtain a sample of her. If we meet again, more insight can be gained into the mental faculties of a fallen Cherub.

♡ The next page has an illustration drawn from memory. It’s you. An ornate choker protects your neck, and your expression is one of wrath. There is also a report of Dottore’s encounter with you: He’d trapped the Puppeteer via exorcism and obtained one of his wings. Before he could do worse, you suddenly appeared and rescued Scaramouche. Dottore theorized that you left without attacking him because you saw the Cherub’s skeleton in his laboratory.

♡ That book leads Dainsleif down a rabbit hole of texts. Historical records of the Temple of Light. Literary depictions of “the Beheaded Cherub.” The sketchbook of an artist whose muses were demons. Reports of mysterious curses that manifested in pain and disfigurement. All of those sources point to you.

♡ Well, one thing is clear: He is doomed. It’s bad enough that he is dealing with a spiritual being, what more a powerful one. It is at this moment that he senses your presence behind him.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“Hello, Dain. I see you’ve figured out who I am.”

This time, he doesn’t look at you. “You never told me of your appetite for humans. Just how many were sacrificed for the Temple of Light’s offerings?”

Silence. Dainsleif continues to face the desk, closing the book in his hands.

Finally, you answer him. “That was not my command. The Temple of Light was founded by one of my earliest humans. Most of their beliefs and rituals were his own ideas, believe it or not.”

“And where is he now? Is he one of those sinners that you are so fond of torturing?”

He can imagine the sight behind him: You, in all of your demonic glory, casting large shadows against the walls. It is easy to reconcile your image with your sinister depictions.

“No,” you reply. “Once a human dies, all of their pacts are broken. As such, I have no reason to maintain ties with my former humans, especially the one who gave me such a wretched title. I let my coworkers handle their punishments.”

“And do you intend to make a deal with me as well?”

It is the only rational explanation he can think of.

“Wrong again. As a matter of fact, demons cannot form pacts with Khaenri’ahns, hence our indifference to your kind. What use is there for a soul that will never enter Hell?”

Dainsleif glances at the Lesser Key of Deshret. According to that source, most humans sought you out for the purpose of cursing their enemies.

He turns around. “Let me ask you this. Why are you following me?”

In the candlelight, your gaze has never looked more intense. “Is it not enough to say that I am mesmerized by you?”

The look he gives you is one of pure doubt.

You stand in front of him, touching his half-mask.

“I saw it all, Dainsleif,” you tell him, “when I looked into your soul. Your righteousness as the Twilight Sword, your perseverance after the Cataclysm, the hope you’ve clung to for all these centuries…I find it all so fascinating.”

He pulls away, glaring. “Is that all? A mere sense of curiosity?”

You smile at him. “Well, there is also your beauty. When I look at you, I can almost understand why humanity is the only creation which God deemed perfect.”

“Your flattery is as banal as it is unwarranted,” he scoffs. Stepping aside, he tidies up the desk and returns the books to their shelves. “I have never received the favor of God in the past. I don't see any reason I would need yours now or in the future, either.”

That is when you burst into laughter.

“Are you sure about that? Believe me, Dain, I have a lot to offer.”

As you push him against the wall, your expression becomes deathly serious.

“Two centuries ago,” you whisper, “a Khaenri’ahn was burned at the stake in Fontaine. She survived, of course, but was left with scars that will never heal. Another one encountered the wrong group of heretics and, to this day, his body is being used for their rituals.”

“I…” Dread pools up in his stomach. Does he know those individuals?

“And just last year, I heard the Church of Snezhnaya discovered a community of Khaenri’ahns and buried everyone alive. They’re all trapped underground, barely conscious. But even if they are freed, I doubt their bodies could still function after being deprived of nutrients for so long.”

Snezhnaya…are you talking about the one led by Pierro?

“Oh, and how could I forget?” You lean closer, your eyes reflecting Dainsleif’s agonized face. “Long before the Cataclysm, the Tree of Life disappeared from the human realm. Nobody, not even the angels, knows if it still exists. What more for the Khaenri’ahns who dedicated their eternity to searching for it?”

No.

If the Tree of Life is gone…

Does that mean there is truly no way to break the curse?

At this point, Dainsleif is trembling. “______, please tell me you are—mph!”

There is nothing gentle about your kiss. The back of his head hits the wall, and his mask falls to the floor. When he tries to resist, you capture his wrists in an iron grip.

It’s too much. Panicking, he resorts to his Khaenri’ahn sorcery but the galaxy-like aura is easily extinguished by your radiant light. You spread your wings, caging him in silvery feathers. Sharp fangs graze his bottom lip. He can’t do anything. He has to call for help—

Footsteps echo outside the room.

Just as quickly as the idea comes to mind, Dainsleif falls silent. What is he thinking? What if the scholar sees his cursed marks and realizes he is a Khaenri’ahn?

He stays still, praying the door remains locked. When the footsteps recede, he slumps against the wall.

His relief isn’t lost on you. Pulling away, you trace the blue veins and black marks on his face. A sinful smile plays on your lips.

“Do you understand, darling? No one, not even God, will save you.”

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ After that revelation, Dainsleif continues to wander Teyvat. But he does so aimlessly, in your company. There are attempts to ward you off—religious objects, carefully-worded negotiations, a few hours spent inside a church—but all end in your amused reactions. It becomes routine for you to meet him every few days, providing Mora for his expenses and information on the places he visits.

♡ Your threats are no laughing matter. Thankfully, your violence never exceeds the severity of your first meeting. A strong grip on his hand. Talons playfully tracing his cursed marks. There is that time you swooped in, picked him up, and threatened to drop him off a cliff for trying to hide from you…then you later brushed it off as an empty threat.

♡ You’re also very affectionate, if such a word can be used to describe a demon. At one point, you begin leaving gifts for him—a new cloak, bejeweled hairpins, gems in the same shade of blue as his eyes. He tries to decline your gifts on the basis of practicality but you’re difficult to persuade. Moreover, he keeps finding your stray feathers on his clothes.

♡ Then there is the matter of your physical intimacy. By now, Dainsleif is used to your kisses and cuddles. The worst part is when your hands wander, when you defile his body after sundown, when his resistance crumbles into moans and tears. Those nights always end in his skin tainted with love bites, teeth marks, light scratches. Thankfully, you are unable to brand him with your sigil though that doesn’t stop you from longingly biting the back of his neck.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“______, that’s enough.”

“Hmm?” You press another kiss to his shoulder. “What did you say?”

He gives you a tired look. “I need to sleep.”

Just how unending is a demon’s stamina? It’s past midnight, and he doubts he will be able to leave the bed later. Perhaps he can ask the innkeeper for an extension.

“All right.” You pull the blankets over the two of you. Then you wrap your arms around him, keeping him close. “I’ll give you enough Mora for a week’s stay.”

He lies on his side, staring at the wall. “You don’t have to.”

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep. In a few minutes, your grip loosens and all Dainsleif can hear is his own breathing. Carefully, he turns over to face you.

…He never knows how to deal with you after your depravity has been exhausted. You’re always gentle as you clean him up and cuddle him in bed. When you sleep, you are no different from a corpse. No sounds, no movements, a neutral expression on your face.

Sighing, he shifts to a more comfortable position and closes his eyes.

When he wakes up, you are gone. Your side of the bed is still warm.

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ A few years later, you decide to accompany Dainsleif in a different form. It all starts when he meets a fellow traveler in Mondstadt. They’d camped in the same forest and it was hard to ignore them, especially when they asked for his help. In the end, Dainsleif relented and they explored the forest together. He thought it would be safe since you never visit him on Sundays.

♡ He leaves the forest the next morning, after agreeing to lunch at a nearby tavern. But when he arrives, he finds his acquaintance being restrained and dragged into a medical vehicle. They are absolutely feral, but most alarming are the wounds on their face. Before they pass out, Dainsleif makes eye contact with them and notices an indigo glint in their eyes.

♡ A waiter fills him in on what happened: His acquaintance suddenly went mad, made a mess in the tavern, and ran straight into a mirror. When Dainsleif visits them at the clinic, they are visibly disoriented, claiming they didn’t know what came over them. They are escorted home a few days later, their face covered in scars, and Dainsleif never sees them again.

♡ The next day, he is strolling around Mondstadt City when a familiar pair of arms wraps around him. He muffles a gasp and turns around to give you a subtle glare—have you forgotten that he is in public?—only to stop when he sees you. Your demonic features are gone, and you are wearing traveler’s attire. Moreover, the surrounding humans can also see you.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“So, darling, do you like my human guise?”

The smile hasn’t left your face. It’s natural, considering the fact that Dainsleif is the one holding your hand and leading you to a secluded spot.

He lets go of you. “What are you planning now?”

You frown, placing the same hand over your chest. “I just wanted to spend more time with you. It’s no fun when you ignore me in the presence of humans.”

“______.” Your name leaves his lips in an exasperated voice. “How can I be sure that you won’t draw more attention to me?”

“Hey, have more faith in me,” you pout. In this form, you look significantly less imposing. “I’ve used this guise many times in the past. And isn’t it easier for you to interact with me this way, rather than pretend I’m not right in front of you?”

It’s not like any amount of persuasion would work on you.

He sighs. “Well, that’s as good a reason as any. Follow me, then.”

With that, the two of you return to the Market District. Dainsleif orders two chicken-mushroom skewers, not missing the way your eyes sparkle when he asks you if you want anything else.

A few feet away, a Mondstadter casts a flirtatious glance at him. But before they can approach him, you wrap your arm around his waist and scare them off with a fervent glare.

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ Your human guise brings about more changes in Dainsleif’s journey, from couple promos to less strangers bothering him. At times, you break away from him to pet wild animals or purchase items for yourself. In those moments, he can’t help but watch you from a distance. Your face is capable of many expressions, he observes, some of which are actually quite nice to look at.

♡ You also continue to share valuable information with him. Once, Dainsleif picks up a book entitled Molten Moment. In the foreword, the author claimed that it was based on the life of a demon they’d formed a pact with. Not only did you confirm the truth to their story, you also stop at a certain chapter. In it, the protagonist spoke to a Power whose true name was of Khaenri’ahn origin.

♡ That is how Dainsleif learns there are angels who look like Khaenri’ahns. They have the same starry eyes and facial features as his people, though God stopped creating them a long time ago. Many of them became demons for opposing the Cataclysm out of personal attachment to Khaenri’ah. And those who remained as angels rarely use their human guise in the present.

♡ And when Dainsleif asks about the Power featured in the book, you give him a sad smile. Then you say something about a fight you lost, sparring sessions, and regular conversations. In the present, however, your encounters with Il Capitano are only a painful reminder that you are “no longer at full strength.”

♡ You also explain that unlike angels, demons typically aren’t close with one another. Though you do mention a pair of younger demons that you took in after their descent. There is a soft look in your eyes every time you talk about Scaramouche and Pantalone, and you like to buy souvenirs for them. In times like this, Dainsleif is reminded of the family he lost, the home he can never return to.

˖⋆‧˚✦

Bright. It’s too bright.

Dainsleif looks up. The sky is crimson, reflecting the sea of flames consuming his homeland.

Beneath him, the ground shatters into fragments. Screams of terror echo in the distance. All around him, he is greeted with chaos and destruction.

Where is Halfdan? What happened to the Royal Guards? How many more people are going to meet their end?

Suddenly, a ray of light shines upon his nation, so bright that it hurts his eyes. What are those particles raining down from the sky?

It burns.

He falls to his knees, coughing. Something is wrong. His body…he raises his right hand and watches in horror as the skin becomes corrupted.

Amidst his pain, all he can think of are the people he failed to protect.

-

“Dain? Dain, wake up!”

The holy light disappears.

Blearily, Dainsleif opens his eyes to darkness. A hand is on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

“What…?”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Your face comes into view. Gently, you pull him into a sitting position and rub soothing circles on his back. “It was just a dream.”

Another nightmare.

He glances at the window. The night sky is cloudy.

“Take deep breaths,” you continue. Your eyes, shining with a soft radiance, are the only source of light in the room. The tip of your wing brushes against his cheek—was he crying in his sleep?

For once, Dainsleif doesn’t back away from your touch. He leans against you, trying to steady himself, his gaze still fixed on the starless sky.

Hesitantly, you ask, “It was about the Cataclysm, wasn’t it? Do you want to talk about it?”

“...There is no need,” he mumbles. “My dreams are a rarity. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

He draws back, taking note of your worried expression. “Did I startle you?”

“Ah, not really,” you reply. Strands of hair are tangled around your horn, and you comb them out with your fingers. “....Though if I’m going to be honest, a part of me was curious.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Your wings twitch. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just…I’ve always wondered what a nightmare feels like, since I am incapable of dreaming.”

“I see…is that a common trait amongst demons?”

You shake your head. “No. In fact, it’s one of the first abilities a demon gains after their descent. But in the millennia since I’ve been cast out of Heaven, I haven’t had a single dream.”

His gaze drifts to your scars. “Does it have something to do with your divine punishment?”

As soon as you look away, he realizes it was a correct guess.

“Say, darling,” you mutter. “Can you stand the sight of your cursed marks?”

He looks at his right hand. “At one point, I stopped dwelling on it.”

“Well, at least those marks are easy to cover up.”

This time, Dainsleif is the one staring at you.

This isn’t his first time seeing cracks in your demeanor. He has noticed many over the years, from the occasional headache to your wistful gaze directed at eagles flying overhead. Once, you suddenly flinched and touched one of your scars, only to brush it off when he asked about it.

Even if you take pride in your demonic visage, it doesn’t erase the scars of your past.

“Do you believe your god to have punished you fairly?”

You meet his gaze, frowning. “What did you say?”

“Forgive me for being direct,” he tells you. “You do not pry into my secrets, so I never pried into yours…but if you would like to tell me, I will listen.”

For a few seconds, you just stare back at him. Are you glimpsing his soul again? From his end, all he can see is your gaze turning dim.

“My answer is no.”

Your expression turns bitter. Dainsleif lets you elaborate.

“When I was an angel,” you whisper, “I used all four of my heads. Seeing the world from every angle, speaking in different sounds, expressing multiple emotions at once…those abilities are what set the Cherubim apart from the rest of God’s creations.”

Your jewelry glitters on the nightstand. Earlier today, you’d worn an esclavage necklace with three cameo pendants. Each pendant bears the image of an animal—a lion, an ox, an eagle.

“So you can imagine how difficult it was to lose them,” you continue. You grip your upper arms, talons digging into your skin. “My beastly heads, all reduced to dust before my remaining eyes. And even then, our creator did not spare what was left of my body.”

A mirror hangs on the wall. It perfectly reflects Dainsleif’s cursed marks and your sorrowful countenance.

“This face was perfectly human until I grew fangs. My talons will always be in my line of sight. And don’t even get me started on the differences between halos and horns. It’s not…!”

Your voice cracks. At the same time, Dainsleif scoots closer to you.

In the dark, your expression looks tired. Resigned.

“So who cares if I looked down on humanity?” you mumble. “Why couldn’t I be forgiven? By now, I’ve lived over half of my life as a demon and yet…it still hurts.”

That ends your confession. You stare at your lap, wings lowered.

What is he supposed to say in this scenario?

From the beginning, Dainsleif knew it would be meaningless to believe in baseless depictions of demons. Still, it’s perplexing to see this side of you, to feel sympathy for the present source of his vexation and anxiety.

Yet in this moment, he finds himself reaching out to you. He copies your soothing gesture from earlier, placing his hand on the area between your wings.

You allow it, resting your head on his shoulder. After a few minutes, you break the silence.

“You know, darling, I’ve always wondered…why do you remain unchanged? Why do you still choose to live righteously when you will never be rewarded with a place in Heaven?”

He looks you in the eye. “That was never my goal. All I’ve ever dreamed of was peace. So even if there is no more hope for me…there must be for my fellow humans.”

At that, you hold his cursed hand and give him a pitying look.

“But darling…at this point, can you even call yourself human?”

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ Decades pass. Dainsleif continues to wander Teyvat, with you as his sole companion. By now, he has long grown tolerant of your presence…and he has even begun to crave it on the days when you are busy in Hell. But he keeps it a secret, along with the sparks of attraction that he is beginning to feel towards you. Instead, he chalks it up to loneliness. That must be it.

♡ Despite that, his affection reveals itself in subtle gestures. Mint brew for your headaches. Practical gifts such as gloves and weapons. Once, the two of you were exploring Dragonspine when he noticed that your scarf had loosened. He adjusted it for you, careful not to touch your scars; and after your initial shock, you stared ahead and quietly thanked him.

♡ These days, he can’t find any Khaenri’ahns apart from a few descendants. In those cases, he has a short conversation with them then leaves without divulging their ancestry. It’s enough to know that those individuals are spared from the curse and able to live ordinary lives, though he wonders if their ancestors are doing well. He can’t make any new friends, either, due to your possessive nature though he does get acquainted with your “family.”

♡ One day, he wanders Liyue on his own and encounters a bespectacled local. He introduces himself as Pantalone and commissions Dainsleif to collect Noctilucous Jade for him. With nothing else to do, Dainsleif accepts the job but is later paid a much higher price than the 500 Mora he’d charged. But when he objects, Pantalone gives him a saccharine smile and tells him that he is “merely showing generosity towards his Jiejie’s pet.” Then he disappears.

♡ A year after that encounter, you attend the concert of a Snezhnayan singer. The Balladeer has an emotional voice, but Dainsleif is distracted by a familiar glint in their eyes. After the performance, you bring him to the dressing room. The Balladeer is slumped over a chair, their eyes branded with a sigil, and an indigo-eyed demon looms over them. As you congratulate Scaramouche on “another excellent possession,” Dainsleif dreadfully recalls the traveler he met in Mondstadt.

♡ He confronts you about it in your hotel room. A part of him did suspect your involvement in his acquaintance’s disfigurement, but it’s different when you are guiltlessly confirming it. After a fiery argument, Dainsleif goes to sleep and coldly ignores you for the remainder of his stay in Snezhnaya. It was foolish of him to forget about your sinister nature.

♡ Not long after, he realizes that he hasn’t seen you in days. That is odd—usually, you inform him in advance if you have to stay in Hell for an extended period. Or did his outrage finally have its desired effect on you? He continues his journey, nonetheless, but it feels…different. Since meeting you, he had the assurance that his solitariness is only short-lived, that you’d always come back to bother him. But now? He isn’t so sure.

♡ He stops finding molted feathers on his clothes. When he looks in the mirror, he notices that your love bites have all but faded completely from his body. At the sight of his cursed marks, he recalls the nights you’d spend lovingly tracing the corrupted skin. You once told him that the luminous veins compliment his blue eyes, and his response had been a withering look.

♡ He goes to Sumeru. The House of Daena has undergone multiple renovations, and the secret archive has been moved to a new room. He rereads the texts about you and Khaenri’ah, taking note of each inaccuracy. How many years ago was his last visit? Has it really been 200 years since the day he crossed paths with you? So much has changed since then.

♡ Afterwards, Dainsleif finds himself wandering the area near Khaenri’ah. He hasn’t set foot in his homeland ever since the Cataclysm, but memory is a dangerous temptation. Just as he is about to walk away, he hears a loud sob and runs into the ruins.

♡  He finds a young person kneeling in a patch of Inteyvat flowers, hands clasped in prayer. When he calls out to them, they lift their head to reveal tears and star-shaped pupils in their eyes. Their face, however, is pristine. Are their cursed marks concealed with makeup? Or are they just a descendant of Khaenri’ah? Dainsleif crouches in front of them, offering his help…and that is when the person’s destitute expression twists into an eerie grin.

♡ Suddenly, the Inteyvat wrap around his limbs, restraining him. A heavy weight strikes the back of his head—the blunt side of a sword? Through his blurry vision, he watches as a celestial halo and a pair of glittery wings emerge from the body of the “Khaenri’ahn.” Two similar silhouettes appear near them, one in bronze armor and the other adorned with flowers. Everything goes dark.

♡ When he wakes up, he is in what seems to be a church. His body is chained to the altar and he feels dizzy, fading in and out of consciousness. From the looks of the stained-glass windows, it is already night. Beside him is a wounded figure, also restrained, more skeleton than flesh. They blankly stare ahead, unresponsive to his questions, and…is that Halfdan?

♡ The horrifying revelation is worsened by the presence of his attackers. From what Dainsleif can recall of the books he’d read, they are angels from the Second Sphere. The Dominion’s starry gaze is full of hatred as they narrate his comrade’s life after the Cataclysm. Halfdan had stayed behind to search for survivors, up until the angels took over their home. And in the decades since, he had been starved, tortured, kept alive only by the curse.

♡ By the end of their speech, all hope has left Dainsleif. Already, he is on the brink of passing out again and the chains have neutralized his Khaen’riahn sorcery. How can fate be so cruel to him? As the Dominion flies over to him, their multiple eyes blazing with cruelty, he whispers an apology to Halfdan and braces himself for a new world of suffering.

♡ Except they never lay a hand on him. In a burst of light, a taloned hand grabs the Dominion by the halo and slams them against the marble tiles. The other angels scream and cower in fear, a familiar name leaving their lips. Halfdan remains catatonic. As for Dainsleif, all he feels is pure relief at the sight of his savior.

♡ At this moment, you have never looked scarier. Your face is twisted in an expression of animalistic rage, and your glare could outshine the sun. You curse the Dominion this time, followed by the Virtue and the Power, before flying over to Dainsleif and breaking his chains. Before he faints again, he manages to point at Halfdan and beg you to help him as well.

♡ How long was he asleep? When he wakes up, the stained-glass windows are all shattered to reveal a sky the color of twilight. He and Halfdan have been moved to a corner of the church, kept warm by a blanket. And when he looks around the holy sanctuary, all he can see is carnage.

♡ Pieces of armor and flesh are scattered across the floor—the Power, brutally dismembered. Slumped against the double doors is the body of the Virtue, flowers and wings ripped off their cursed body. A rhythmic pattern of thuds directs his attention to the altar, where you are torturing the Dominion.

♡ They’re still alive, but barely. The eyes on their wings have been gouged out, and their halo has been reduced to fragments. You are bashing their face against the altar repeatedly—for how long? They have been disfigured beyond recognition. You ignore their desperate cries for forgiveness, only stopping when Dainsleif calls out to you.

♡ And just like that, your demeanor shifts from ferocity to concern. A loud crack echoes in the church as you finish off the Dominion and leave their corpse on the altar. Then you go over to Dainsleif, reassuring him that he is safe. But in the warmth of your embrace, he can only look at Halfdan.

♡ It’s too late for him. Irreparable damage has already been done to his body, what more for his psyche. Still, Dainsleif finds himself speaking to Halfdan, staring into his blank eyes, asking you if anything can be done to alleviate his pain. And when you ask him how badly he wants to put his comrade out of his misery…he understands the implication. And he tells you to do it.

♡ He doesn’t know if Halfdan can hear him. Nonetheless, Dainsleif forces a smile on his face, thanks him for faithfully doing his duty, and lies about the fate of Khaenri’ah. Then he moves aside, allowing him to crouch in front of Halfdan. Gently, you touch his face and whisper something to him. Then you spread your wings, blocking Dainsleif’s view.

♡ There is another crack. When you fold your wings, Halfdan’s head has been crushed and you are staring into his blank eyes. Glimpsing his soul, you confirm his comatose state and comfort Dainsleif. The rest of the day is spent preparing a makeshift grave and burying Halfdan in it. When you finally leave Khaenri’ah, Dainsleif turns back to face the ruins of his homeland. He hopes that his comrade is having a nice dream.

 ˖⋆‧˚✦

“I can do this by myself, you know.”

“I know. Now stay still, won’t you?”

“Right now, your health is more important.”

“And who are you to decide that?”

“______.” He gives you an exasperated look in the mirror and takes the comb out of your hands. “I am perfectly capable of brushing my own hair.”

The mirror reflects your stubborn expression. “But Dain—”

“I insist.” His gaze drifts to your bandaged shoulder, followed by the bruises near your neck. “Get some rest.”

“Oh, fine.” Shaking your head, you walk away from the vanity table.

Dainsleif faces his reflection. Aside from a bruise on the back of his head, his body is unharmed by the angel attack. To think it has only been a few hours since he left Khaenri’ah and returned to Shapur Hotel with you. He doesn’t know how he managed to get through dinner in his grief-stricken state.

At least his physical pain has subsided. And he feels better after taking a bath, though you were insistent on joining him. You wouldn’t even let him hold the hairdryer.

“Where on earth are my feathers?”

The facade of normalcy is broken by your sudden outburst. When Dainsleif turns to you, he sees you sifting through the clothes he’d just worn.

You give him an indignant look. “No wonder those angels didn’t know—What were you even doing in Khaenri’ah? Couldn’t you have at least waited for me to accompany you?!”

“...I kept them in my bag,” he answers. He walks over to the desk, where he’d placed his mask and the satchel you’d gifted him ten years ago. “I never knew there was a rational purpose to your feathers. I thought it was merely a sign of ownership.”

“Huh? Were you blind to the feathers on my brothers’ clothes?”

“That, I believed to be your equivalent of a family symbol.”

“In the past two centuries, did you even think of asking me about it?!”

He did try, at the start of your companionship, and you only said that he’d regret wasting your feathers. But Dainsleif knows better than to say that right now.

So instead, he yields to your embrace. This close, he can feel your body shaking.

“Do you know how frightened I was when I realized what happened to you?” you whisper.

“Now I do,” he mumbles. He hugs you back, positioning his hands below your lower wings. “Thank you for saving me.”

After a few minutes, he is the one to break the silence.

“Where were you these past weeks? I wondered if we’d ever meet again.”

“Oh, that? I just had a lot on my plate. Another headache, a new batch of sinners…and I figured you’d want some time to yourself. Ah, and I almost forgot!”

This time, you pick up your bloodstained clothes and take something out of your pocket.

“Here.” Facing him, you open the velvet box in your hands.

His eyes widen. “Oh, that’s…”

A ring. This isn’t the first one he has received from you, but it looks special. The gold band is engraved with intricate stars. The stone in the center is smooth, lustrous, with a radiant glow.

“What mineral is this?” he asks.

You tilt your head, and that is when he notices your horn. It looks normal at first glance, but it is shorter by a single inch.

“I commissioned one of the best craftsmen in Hell,” you explain. “How’s this? It should be easier to wear than my feathers, don’t you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” he admits, but his gaze hasn’t left your horn. “Was it—”

“It’s fine.” It sounds like the reassurance isn’t only for him. But he can tell that your smile is genuine. “It’ll grow back.”

“All right, then.” He allows you to lift his cursed hand and slip the ring onto his finger. “…Thank you for the gift.”

“Now, why don’t we get some sleep? It’s been a long day.”

With that, Dainsleif follows you to the bed. As always, you wrap your arms around him, pressing your torso against his back. Your wings also hug him, caging him in silvery feathers.

You press a kiss to his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

He stares ahead. “If you insist.”

The window showcases the second twilight of the day. You continue speaking.

“Tomorrow, do you want to have dinner at Lambad’s Tavern? It’s been a while since we enjoyed a drink together.”

“Sure,” he says. Already, he can feel the temptation of sleep. “And afterwards?”

A taloned fingertip traces the blue veins on his palm. “We can go wherever you want. There are a lot of new places to visit in Sumeru. I’ve heard of a new resort that opened in Inazuma. Oh, and if we leave for Liyue next week, we can get there in time for the Lantern Rite Festival.”

He intertwines your fingers. “I see. That sounds nice.”

He turns his head, facing you. Your eyes are bright, reflecting the stars in his own gaze.

“We can make our decision tomorrow.” With that, you give him a soft smile and close your eyes. “Sweet dreams, Dain.”

“Good night.”

He remains awake, however, long after the sky has turned dark. His hand is still in yours, his new ring glowing brighter than his cursed marks.

…He doesn’t know what to do, honestly. In two days, he has experienced so much, felt so many emotions, and he has yet to process it all. And there is still the winding road of eternity ahead of him, a future that promises anything but salvation. But tonight…

Tonight, he shall close his eyes and accept his fate.

Perhaps he will even dream of you.

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving characters or dynamics not included in my masterlist.

At long last…..Dain’s fic has been written. This has been in my drafts since April, and I’m really happy with how it turned out!! Also, if the first few bullet points look very familiar, that’s because Pierro’s fic also begins with my worldbuilding for Church AU! Khaenri’ah~

Aahhh I had a lot of fun with Darling! Dainsleif and his demon wife. I rlly enjoyed writing their dynamic, so this definitely isn’t the last time I write for them. Who knows?? Maybe I’ll spare Dain and give him less suffering (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Tag a Dainsleif enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @naraven @pranabefall @navxry @teabutmakeitazure @mochinon-yah @harmonysanreads @stickyspeckledlight

[repulsive-manwhore]

THE 10 BEST VIOLENT JAMES DEEN PORN SCENES (in my opinion)

when it comes to male porn actors, there's none i look up to or attempt to mimic more in the bedroom than James Deen. he is simply porn's "golden boy." the way he talks, acts, carries himself, and (of course) fucks in every rough scene he stars in is what i aspire to be. picking only 10 of his craziest documented sexual endeavors was difficult, but i think i've got a good list here. so without further ado, here it is, the 10 best JD scenes, in my humble opinion. go on, google is free, have some fun while you read. ❤️

Whore Wife (Cherry Torn, Kink™) - classic gangbang scene which is conveniently also where my header image is from.

Extreme Anal Queen (Adriana Chechik, ANALIZED.COM™) - rough bathroom anal scene. doggy over the sink is my favorite part. there's also a toilet involved. nasty stuff.

Pornoromance (Lia Lor, James Deen Productions™) - this scene has it all. any scene fully produced/released by the man himself is a good choice, this one is a cut above though.

Pornstar Punishment (Ashli Orion, Brazzers™) - schoolgirl scene. you'll notice there's a "fuckpig" element in most or all of these but this one especially, so much at times that some versions cut out some of the facial play/humiliation. i guess Brazzers wasn't rocking with it lol. if you can find one with the full footage, save that shit for real, cuz i ain't giving you it lmao.

Ravished By The Wrong Man (Lia Lor, Kink™) - second entry in this list with Lia Lor, this time with bondage. if that's your thing, then just like the last one, this too has it all. ropes, ball gags, i think a taser gets pulled out at some point? yeah.

BANG! Casting (Yhivi, BANG!™) - god, where do i even begin? the best chemistry on this list. Yhivi is absolutely adorable and she's having the time of her life in this scene getting used like a ragdoll. just violence, a couch and smiles. my personal fav.

Casey Calvert: Show Me Rough (ANALIZED.COM) - shifting over to the reality aspect now, from staged scenes and radical angles to camcorder vlogs and single recording positions. still hot as fuck. starts out with a great convo, then goes 0 to 100 seemingly almost out of nowhere.

James Deen's 7 Sins: WRATH (Carmen Caliente, Carmen Callaway, Dani Daniels, Delilah Davis, Janice Griffith, Jessica Ryan, Sadie Santana, Shay Ryan, Trinity St. Clair, Vyxen Steel) - i mean, i think the title and the cast list explains enough.

The Slutmother (Kelly Divine, Brazzers™) - another classic scene from the days of old. Deen really laid the hammer down with the face slapping in this one, which is funny bc it's a Godfather parody. don't know why he went so hard for something so comedic, but i love it.

BANG! Casting (Abella Danger, BANG!™) - struggled with this last slot but had to throw in another casting couch banger. this one is a doozy. i like the Yhivi one more because she's much more submissive/less aggressive than Abella is here but i mean jesus, this bitch gets trashed and thrashed in this one. there's a part where he chucks her into the wall and i laughed the first time i watched it. nasty, just nasty.

HOPE Y'ALL GET A KICK OUT OF THIS ONE YOU SICK FUCKS. ENJOY.

[kangen-wanshi]

General ft. Jing Yuan

As one of the Seven Arbiter Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance, Jing Yuan and many others have never doubted his title as a General of the Cloud Knight. Although, when you've got your hand on a different General from a video game, it seems like he have his own opinion on them..

Tags: sfw with slightly suggestive ending

[ "Your sins weigh upon your soul!" ]

— Were the first line of words that the Cloud Knight General heard when he stepped into your shared home. He only blinked quietly. Fortunately, he's smart enough to recognize that the voice is played from a device's speaker - and well, it doesn't sound like a dialogue that you'd have if you were in a conversation with someone.. Perhaps you're watching a show?

His guess was proven to be somewhat correct when he watch you laying on the bed with your phone up in the air, seemingly engrossed with whatever is playing on the screen, as you barely acknowledge him coming home.

It was not until he took all of his gear off and plop himself next to you and pulled you to his chest that you finally realized that he's home.

"Jing Yuan!" You exclaimed with a smile and a kiss to his cheek as you further snuggled to his side, "I didn't know you're going home early."

"Well I've been home since yesterday," he captured your lips in a soft kiss before pulling away as his hand found its digits through your hair, "But you seem occupied."

"Oh, sorry about that," you grin bashfully, turning your attention back to your phone - specifically, to the game that are playing on it, bringing the screen to the General's attention, "The Trailblazers helped me connect to a game from a different world entirely and I've been hooked for days now! It's really cool, look —"

["In some legends, thunderbolts are a form of judgment from the gods above."]

That voice again. Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow as he squinted, and noticed the dark skinned character standing in the middle of the screen.

"And that is?"

"This is Cyno! He's quite a popular character recently, and he just got a rerun so I just had to get him!" Jing Yuan only hummed in acknowledgment - not understanding a single word you uttered, but he smiled and nodded nonetheless at your adorableness.

"He's also my new husband."

"What?"

His confusion and wide eyes earned you a giggle as you looked up to him, his calm doozy face now contorted with an offended and confused frown.

"Now now, let's not get hasty." He tried to pry your phone off of your hand, but you dodged, pulling it away from his reach, "You have me, don't you? Surely you won't favor a pixelated character over your beloved husband?"

"I don't know Jing Yuan, I might," you giggled further, pulling you gaze away from him back to Cyno on the screen, "Cyno is also a General you know - He's a General Mahamatra of the Akademiya and he swore to keep peace by delivering justice as he sees fit!"

"Right. But that General's strength is clearly no match to mine."

"If you're talking about your Lightning-Wielding Thunder-Clapping Spirit-Squashing Lord —" you gave a dramatic pause, "Then he also has that, too. Several, in fact! Probably. He's also aligned with the thunder element!"

At this point he just stares at you. Eyes narrowed, his lips turned into an obvious pout, as he waited for you to take back everything you said.

Unfortunately, in the end, you couldn't even hold yourself against the adorable look that the General only shows to you. Choosing to give up on your teasing, as you finally leaned back up to him to kiss his cheek.

"Sorry," you giggled, "Don't worry. You're the only General I'll ever be in love with."

Jing Yuan doesn't take this confession lightly. Before you can pull away from him, he picks up your phone and puts it away somewhere on the bedside, grabbing your empty hand within his own before pushing you back down onto the bed with him now looming above you.

"You know, perhaps I should remind you about that fact." He chuckled, pushing himself towards you, burying his face to the crook of your neck as he heaved a warm breath just behind your ear, "Just to make sure I'm the only General you'll ever think of."

Let's just say your game were left opened the entire night by accident.

[greenthena]

Why we won't have an Apology Dance in S3--or, why I'm choosing to start WW3

Much as I love the Apology Dance, I have a hunch that neither Crowley nor Aziraphale will perform it in S3. It's such a weird (affectionate) little mating ritual, and I cannot see it without thinking of David Attenborough's "Birds of Paradise" clip from Our Planet. (The little fuckers really get going around the 2:30 mark, if you're interested.)

S2 demonstrates so many of these bizarre little mating rituals. Specifically, I'm thinking about the "Don't hesitate to ask me if you have any questions" moment...

...I mean, Goddamn. Someone damn it. Aziraphale is about to climb that demon like a tree.

And the exchange about borrowing the Bentley...

...which is a battle lost before it's even begun because Aziraphale flashes those pretty eyes and Crowley's too smitten to really put up a fight.

Mah point is (dolphins). My point is that every aspect of their interaction, particularly in S2, is a dance, a courting practice, a mating ritual to which only these two weird (affectionate) little birds know the steps.

And the Apology Dance is one of the key steps in this ritual. We know how important it is because Aziraphale has memorized each year when he performed it for Crowley. 1650, 1793, 1941... And Crowley has now reciprocated. But for all the importance of the Apology Dance, we never hear an actual apology. The words, "I'm sorry" are never exchanged between the Ineffables.

Of course, Aziraphale has forgiven Crowley on multiple occasions (have a tissue), but the absolution is never in response to an apology.

Why does this matter, you ask? Because Crowley has never asked to be forgiven. It's one of his self-identifying traits.

And every time Aziraphale offers him forgiveness, it calls into question Crowley's whole identity. I think this is why Crowley initially refuses to do the dance. He doesn't "do the dance," because he doesn't apologize. Because what's the point? If you believe yourself to be beyond forgiveness, why even bother with an apology.

But that's not what's most interesting to me. See, outside of mending his relationship with Aziraphale, I don't think the demon could give a single fuck about forgiveness. On the cosmic level, it's just another carrot dangled by Heaven. The whole concept of forgiveness of sins demonstrates a pretty fucked up power differential. I mean, who gets to decide whether God has forgiven you when She's not even talking?

I think it's fascinating that despite their squabble, Crowley removes his glasses the moment he steps back into the bookshop, performing the Apology Dance in his "naked" face. It suggests that he knows before he even starts that everything is going to be okay. He can approach the situation in a state of vulnerability because he deeply trusts his angel. But the dance, the mating ritual, still has to be completed. It's similar to how Aziraphale knew Crowley would let him drive the Bentley, but they still had to negotiate their way through the motions.

We've called it the Apology Dance, despite the fact that no apology is offered and no forgiveness given. Remember, Aziraphale's response to Crowley's successful completion of the ritual is, "Very nice."

So here's the crux. All these rituals that they perform, the Ineffable dances, if you will, rely on one crucial element. The result of the ritual has to be established before the ritual has begun. They each have to enter the ritual in a state of vulnerability, knowing the outcome will be safe and satisfying. And I think that's why Aziraphale doesn't say, "I forgive you" after Crowley's elegant spin and bow.

Because forgiveness is something Aziraphale only offers the demon when he feels cornered, frightened and unsafe. Think about the two times he's said it. In both cases, the forgiveness was weaponized.

(Apology Dance incoming for this next gif.)

In a very real way, when Aziraphale forgives Crowley, he invalidates his best friend's lived experience. Crowley doesn't want to be forgiven. He wants to be accepted. Loved. Seen.

So as much fun as it is to speculate about who might dance for whom in S3, I truly hope neither angel nor demon apologize to the other. For me, the most meaningful conclusion would be for them to complete their mating ritual not with some dogmatic, pedantic, fucked up power differential where one forgives the other for perceived iniquities. Nah. Fuck that. I want them to accept and love and deeply see one another and fully embrace whatever that means.

Here. Have some tissues.

[inkdemonapologist]

My BatDR Take That Used To Be Hot But I Left It Out On The Windowsill To Cool So You Should Be Able to Eat It Now Without Burning Your Tongue

its not actually that hot, is what im saying

Anyway my BatDR hot take is that BatDR's story is not fundamentally worse than BatIM with one exception; an exception that, for BatIM, covers a multitude of sins:

BatIM has a theme.

I can't presume the intentions of the creators, but if I had to write an essay on the themes in BatIM, it wouldn't be hard to pick one out: the cost of obsession, or even just, the ruin Joey brought on the studio. In the very first chapter, Henry asks "Joey, what were you doing?" and every single thing in the rest of the game revolves around that central question: what WAS Joey doing? Each audiolog is a snippet of the studio's path to this messed up state; each character you meet is someone ruined by Joey. The major antagonists echo Joey's flaws -- obsession with Bendy as more than a cartoon, obsession with perfection, obsession with fame and greatness and legacy -- but even without that, they're also each a picture of how the lives of people caught in the path of Joey's dream were ruined by it. Bertrum, for example, doesn't match the concept of rubberhose cartoons, but as yet another person screwed over by Joey, he fits the central question of the story, so he feels like he belongs here. Ultimately, in a narrative sense, the Ink Demon isn't the story's monster -- Joey is; the Ink Demon is just the consequence of his reckless ambition.

But what's the theme or central question of BatDR?

You can... try to pick out a theme. There's some promising options, because it feels like the story WANTED a theme, stating its emotional intentions more overtly -- "there's always a choice" to leave the darkness and chose hope; family and the struggle of living in a heavy legacy's shadow; or even just good old mewtwo-brand The Circumstance's Of One's Birth Are Irrelevant, It Is What You Do With The Gift Of Life That Determines Who You Are.

I think, even WITH the clumsy execution of Joey's "arc" and Audrey's lack of real choices, any of those could work about as well as BatIM. But unlike BatIM, the majority of the game doesn't tie in. Joey's tour can be considered relevant -- a picture of the family legacy and the "darkness" that Audrey doesn't yet know she's inheriting -- but like, the audiologs and hints and environment of BatDR are mostly teasing the question of What Is Gent Up To, and the takeover of Gent is detached from Audrey's choices, her family, her legacy, and Gent never really becomes a relevant threat to those things in this game. The Cult of Amok and the Ghost Train have nothing to do with any of these ideas. It might've been neat if Audrey had ever considered, "Did my father really drive all these people insane?", a hint of actually having to wonder about the darkness in her past. Even Wilson only barely brushes against these concepts; he doesn't like Joey and he also is trying to escape his family's heavy legacy, but it doesn't really reflect on his actions and we don't find that last part out until he's about to be dead.

There's also the question Wilson poses of "real" people versus ink creations, and what counts as valid "life." It would be an interesting theme with a lot to build off of in this setting, it ties into Wilson more as Wilson seems to represent the opinion that Inky Things Aren't Really Alive, which could've tied to Audrey (as an ink-person who has yet to accept that part of herself) and maybe given Wilson a reason to think it's fine to sacrifice her, it could've even tied to Gent (who don't even seem to value human life) -- but after Wilson asks the question, it doesn't tie into the direction things go. He smooshes a little Bendy, we see hints of his disregard for Betty, and then everyone continues with their plan to destroy the Ink Demon without any further moral quandaries about inky life.

The thing is, when you compare an element like, say, audiologs, there's a lot of differences you can point to -- but I don't actually think Lacie Benton's audiolog is notably better, taken on its own, than Grace Conway's or Kitty Thompson's, and yet tons of people were intrigued enough to flesh out Lacie. None of them are big plot points or compelling characters on their own; Lacie and Grace both give us a little note on what it's like working in the Studio, and Kitty shares a little bit on how Gent's expansion is affecting people. But when Lacie talks about Bertrum trying to make a creepy animatronic, that ties back into Joey's ill-fated schemes that are the point of the whole story. The question we're asking through the whole game is "what happened here?" so the fandom is interested in who Lacie is and what her life was like and extrapolates a whole person out of a couple sentences. But that's not the question in BatDR -- what has Wilson done to the Cycle and the Demon? Why? Who is Audrey really, and why is she here? Telling us new things about the Studio's fate seems strangely irrelevant to those questions, just an attempt to create a Mystery To Speculate On like the previous game did... but what question you're asking and how it fits into your story's main theme, like, matters. I absolutely believe that one clock animator guy would've been in EVERYONE'S crew if he'd been introduced in BatIM, but the context makes a difference; fleshing him out feels less relevant here.

The explanations of how and why Wilson did everything he did are baffling and handwavey, but in and of itself that's not a worse problem than anything else in the franchise -- I STILL don't understand why the Ink Machine needs pipes in the walls or even how it works, there's no good reason for Sammy to believe the Ink Demon will "set him free," most of Alice's motives don't make sense, etc etc etc. But the thing is that in BatDR, the wibbly bit is the closest thing to a central question we have! Wilson, what were you doing? The theme doesn't really explore or connect to that question, so the explanations that are finally tossed our way feel lacking in a way that BatIM's handwaved elements don't. There's a lot about Joey's motivation in BatIM that we can't know, but the heart of it resonates -- Joey wanted something, he was willing to exploit people to get it, and he became obsessed and prioritised that dream at any cost. We'll weather a thousand logistical inconsistencies if it's got heart.

But all of that said.... to be honest, I don't think Lacie overtly fits that theme anyway. Even, like, Sammy is iffy -- we don't really know what happened to him, only that he didn't used to be made of ink and worship Bendy, and now he does. We assume Joey's nonsense had something to do with what happened to him (though the books later assert his influence was indirect at best), because when there's a pattern, we can fill in the blank. So many fan creators found a place for Lacie, Grant, and Shawn in the cycle as butcher clones or lost ones, so many people imagined that Wally must be the Boris we meet, because that would've fit the pattern, the idea that the point of what we're seeing is the downfall of the studio. It's not actually that BatIM did a great job tying everything together -- it's that BatIM gave us a compelling idea and that was all it took to make everything else SEEM like it could find a place to fit. This is what I mean when I say BatIM's theme covers a multitude of sins. There's a LOT of characters in BatIM that don't make sense. There's a lot of inconsistencies and things that just sort of happen without any real reason. Characters don't really have "arcs" so much as different states they happen to be in at different times. But because there's a central question and the story doesn't wander away from it, our pattern-loving human brains will slot in all the pieces and do all the work to make the story feel at least somewhat coherent.

The things that happened in BatDR aren't a whole lot less coherent than BatIM imo, they just don't tie into a bigger theme or any of the questions the story's asking, making "how do they fit into all this" feel irrelevant, making it easier to forget entire sections and harder to get invested in audiolog characters. I think a lot of the other criticisms people have for BatDR's story are very valid, but I also suspect that if BatDR had a more successful theme/central question, then a lot of its flaws would be easier to overlook -- just like BatIM.

[punkpandapatrixk]

🧜🏻‍♀️Vain Sass ☆ Timeless Tarot Guidance

Elements/Signs in this reading are calibrated to all aenergetic placements. Feel free to read as many Elements/Signs as you feel called to at this point in your spiritual evolution♡

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

‘It is really a hard life. Men will not be nice to you if you are not good-looking, and women will not be nice to you if you are.’ – Agatha Christie

Well, what are you gonna do about it? Life is hard when you’re a girl; might as well do whatever you like. And if somebody doesn’t like you for your style, oh, who cares? Stop trying to be liked by everybody! You, don’t even like everybody. Live and let live. The most important thing is that you’re having fun on your own terms~

‘Eat whatever you want, and if anyone tries to lecture you about your weight, eat them too!’ – Vlada Roslyakova

pov: you're in an edit (recommend to listen alone)

☆♪°・. aenergetic companion PAC ☆♪°・.

[PAG Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Vain Sass for 🐞Fire Signs – Gold Astronomer (John Dee)

8 of Cups Rx, 10 of Pentacles, 5 of Cups

The power of Fire Signs is that you don’t easily lose yourself in the midst of a battle of wits. If you’re reading this and feel like this doesn’t describe you, it’s only because you haven’t fully tapped into your Fire Sass, trust me. You’re literally a dragon that possesses a breath of fire that can annihilate all of the naysayers in your Life. Sure, you wanna be wise when using it and not lose your temper to a point of detriment, and you surely don’t wanna burn those who actually care for you.

But when it comes to a struggle of wit and identity, you should stand your ground for that is the only way you will ever feel content as a Fire dominant person. Your dignity lies in your ability to maintain ground and create your empire of authenticity with your own hands, supported by your confidence in your ability to manifest every single thing you have ever wanted for yourself. As long as you stay loyal to yourself, you’re destined for great material happiness in this lifetime.

Outgrowing your bullshit is one thing, but changing yourself to fit some norms or expectations is never a good fit for you. Not for anybody, I guess. Learn from your mistakes, be even better, be stronger in your conviction, and continue to return to yourself as you grow up. Growing older is easy but growing up is not. It is easier to gain years than to gain wisdom. You don’t wanna be foolishly stubborn; you gotta grow up and wise up, and the older you get and clearer about yourself, the sassier I’m sure you get.

All Fire Signs are sassy and honestly quite vain. Is that a sin? Nah, hardly <3

Oracle Guidance for Fire Signs🔻❤️

🐏Aries – Priestess of Integrity

🦁Leo – Priestess of Luxury

🎠Sagittarius – Priestess of Happiness

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Vain Sass for 🐍Earth Signs – Silver Astrologer (John Dee)

10 of Wands Rx, 8 of Wands, XVI The Tower

You’re cute, you know that, don’t you? If you want, you could turn simps into SLAVES; so when you’re in a pinch, you should not hesitate to use that sensual Earthy power of seduction to get what you want XD I’m hearing, you’re a juicy bitch (however that resonates LMAO) and you should never live a difficult Life! I mean, Earth aenergy is kinda twisted in that you’re defo the type that shouldn’t work so hard—because all the manifestation power of the Earth belongs to you. And yet, here you are struggling to make ends meet~ tsk tsk…

Communicate your needs seductively, attract the right people, the genuinely helpful ones, and thank them for all that they’re willing to sacrifice for you. I’m not teaching/endorsing you to be a selfish mean bitch who uses people like they’re walking ATMs hahaha So in essence, I’m getting that learning to be vulnerable in your communication can really help you with attracting an easier Life…more easily. As an Earth dominant person, you really deserve to live an easier Life.

If you’re motivated to work extra hard on something at all, make sure it’s something that matters to you on a Soul level. And most of all, don’t work so hard sacrificing yourself for things/corporations/goals and endeavours that are only there to make you look good in society. All of the passionate hard work you’re personally interested in, whatever it may be, it’d suit you best if your goals and endeavours can enrich the lives of those in your community. Earth aenergy, after being nourished yourself, literally lives for the enrichment of other people’s foundations/soils as well <3

Make it easy for others the way your simps are making it easy for you LMAO

Oracle Guidance for Earth Signs🔻💚

🐂Taurus – Priestess of Fertility

🧘🏻‍♀️Virgo – Priestess of Purity

🐐Capricorn – Priestess of Magick

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Vain Sass for ⛲Air Signs – Red Geographer (Marco Polo)

Page of Wands Rx, King of Wands Rx, 7 of Pentacles Rx

Y’know, Air Signs are defo usually known for intellect and grace, but what some people forget to remember is that underdeveloped Air Signs are some of the world’s worst cowards. Listen, this is tough love, baby. If your Air aenergy makes you weak, meek, scared and anxious, you gotta tune into other elements in your natal chart that could help you gain confidence, first and foremost, until you know how to develop your Air quality alright.

You’re intelligent, and so that makes you aware of the possibilities of how other people react/respond to what you say or how you behave. And since you value being on good terms with people, you could be juggling WAY too many thoughts and calculations on how well or badly people could receive you. That’s bullshit, OK? You’re expending way too much aenergy on things that aren’t even real—they don’t even matter in the grand scheme of things. The most important thing is that you’re loyal to yourself.

If you’re with someone or a group of friends who don’t value you for your originality and individuality, they’re not your people. You have to have the courage to let such connections dissolve from your Reality. Air or no Air, all people deserve to be seen and acknowledged for their individual divine identity in Human form. Being charming in social situations is one thing but never be a people pleaser. Nobody has ever genuinely liked a people pleaser in the history of people pleasing each other XXD

Having an identity does NOT equate being a mean bully. Know the difference! <3

Oracle Guidance for Air Signs🔻💙

👯Gemini – Priestess of Opulence

⚖️Libra – Priestess of Shine

🏺Aquarius – Priestess of Patience

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Vain Sass for 🐝Water Signs – Green Astrologer (Robert Fludd)

Queen of Cups, 3 of Wands, IV The Emperor

You, hold so many secrets in your heart that you keep from spilling over so as not to drown other people with your emotions. In that sense, you really strive to be a decent and responsible person. I think that’s healthy and admirable. But I hope you also find a way to express your emotions in other ways when the need arises. That much emotion not going anywhere could rot your spirit and make you bitter. Don’t do that to yourself, OK? As much as you care for other people’s feelings and ‘comfort’, you also need to think of your sense of sanity. If anything, that should be priority.

So speak your mind when you need to. If you find yourself failing at your first attempt or if you find you aren’t clear enough the first time, you can try again. It’s perfectly OK to be awkward in social situations tho XD Many people are awkward as fuck! Ultimately, it is vulnerability and honestly that will save your sanity. People who are able to speak vulnerably and transparently are the strongest people, you know that? That’s literally the realest confidence ever.

The way I see it, it’s people whose speech is impassioned with emotions and yet imbued with logic and rationale who make the most amazing public speakers. There is reason and sensibility, and yet, there is empathy. People who speak/communicate like this are the most loved and respected people in the public arenas. With the Emperor card here, I just know it that you can develop yourself to become a very engaging conversationalist!

So, before emotions bubble up to the surface hot and nasty, it’s better to speak what’s on your mind at the time it matters~ <3

Oracle Guidance for Water Signs🔻💛

🦀Cancer – Priestess of Rebirth

🦂Scorpio – Priestess of Intellect

🎏Pisces – Priestess of Clarity

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