#LOVE that this is the in character response and the right move for the divine election AND sera is the only one who approves

[quimichi]

˚✦ ˑ 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐫, 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭? ִֶ 𓂃⊹ - MDNI

WARNINGS: NSFW - MDNI, Pet names, sexual behavior, name calling, some a bit rough and mean

SUMMARY: They took your virginity. Case solved.

CHARACTERS: HSR Men X F!Reader (no aged up Charas)

WORD COUNT: 13.150

Argenti

All you can do is whine as his fingers scissor and stretch you, juices dripping down. His tongue softly rubs circles around your clit like he’s painting you, a masterpiece. And you can’t help but moan out at the new pleasure. His fingers hit that spot that sends an electric jolt to your toes and back, you desperately arch with another whine. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the pleasure. It's overwhelming you, he promised to be gentle, and he is. But never once did he tell you how good this will all feel.

“S-Shit Argenti-, I can’t—I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence, your voice begins to crack, your hips bucking widly as he speeds up. And then you’re coming, babbling nonsense and his name like a prayer as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. You don’t even comprehend that you squirt all over his hand and mouth, or that he’s rutting his hips against the bed and moaning into your cunt as he tastes you. Not only is it a pleasure to please you, beautiful you. It's a pleasure to be your first. It sends a wave of possessiveness through his body.

Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, his glistening fingers running up to your waist.  “Such a dirty little rose,” he murmurs as he leans down, teeth grazing across your neck, hair tickling your skin. “Youre a sight to behold, breathless, dazed...divine.”

Aventurine

“You like that, don’t you?” He asks, grip on your throat. Its not enough to hurt you, but enough for you to know his hand is there. “You like my cock stretchin’ you out, huh?” You're unable answer him, the only thing you manage are whines and moans slipping through his fingers through your throat. He'd be mean to not let you moan out like a bitch in heat after all. Aventurine smirks knowingly, continuing his assault on your insides.

“Can't believe no one ever went inside you, youre far too good. Shit-you love it too, don't you?” You whine out, hiccuping out a moan as his other hand travels down your tummy, the soft touch sending waves to your core. His fingers eventually find your clit, rubbinh the swollen skin over and over again. Your eyes glaze over and roll back, it's too much, too much!

Your vision goes white as your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, stealing the breath from your lungs as your legs shake and back arches. “Mine, ok? Youre mine, my girl. You don't mind do you? Surely you don't...look at you, sweet girl.”

Blade

“feels s’fucking good—“ you mindlessly babbles out. His large palms are stretched out on both sides of you hips, nails digging into your skin. “Such a greedy little pussy,” he groans out with another roll of his hips. “keeps suckin’ me back in…you're a little greedy slut, hm?" he teases.

You can feel his hot breath fanning your ear while his dark hair tickles your neck. The sloppy sounds that fill the room seem to only grow louder with each thrust, as your arousal practically drips down his balls. Headboard constantly hitting the wall. You wouldn't be surprised if something would break this night, and it doesn't need to be the bed.

“if you keep moaning like a bitch in heat, i won't fucking stop,” he hissed out, as he presses down on your stomach which makes you whimper in response. "Naw, look at that," he points at the bulge in your stomach, "that's me all the way inside your greedy cunt."

Boothill

"you still good, darlin?" he asked, amused, his hands moving up to grab one of your tits, giving it a squeeze with his cold hands. He hummed at your subtle nod, his fingers pinching your nipple from below with just the right amount of pressure to bring you to the edge but not send you over. He knows he could do this for hours, his stamina is much longer than yours after all, but he doesn't want to push you just yet.

"shit.." he cursed, though not out of frustration, “your pussy is driving me crazy." he whispered against your folds, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through your entire body, it almost felt as if you were being electrocuted or something. “its so fucking pretty for no fucking reason...”

Caelus

“shiiit-just like that...” he mumbles out as he lazily guides your movements, helping you bounce yourself up and down on his cock. Hands softly gripping your hips as he guides you. He smirks when he heard your whine as a reaction to his groans, golden halflidded eyes stare up at you. He thinks you’re adorable when you’re like this, so desperate for him yet so adamant on not asking for his help. You had no idea what you were doing, well, neither does he. But you insisted on riding him.

“doing so well,” he says with a slight whine as he thrusts his hips up in time with your movements. It doesn’t take much effort for him to flip you over and have you at his mercy. Your legs are now lifted over his shoulders while his dick is fucking you even deeper, "sorry,-shit-sorry I couldn't-hold myself back much longer-!"

Dan Heng

“just as i expected, it slipped right in...” your arm immediately slung over your face to hide your embarrassment. Something about the way he talks to you has you throbbing.

“fuck, so deep inside you already.” he breathes, as he eases his way into you. He's so painfully splitting you open. You whine and whimper, it feels too good to be true. “that’s it, there’s my girl.” his raspy laugh fills the silence. “youre doing so good for me, just a bit longer, ok?”

He speeds up his thrusts, "eyes on me," he says, "you can do it, eyes on me." And when he hits just the right spot, your eyes roll back and flutter closed.

"Good girl."

Dr. Ratio

“it hurts, doesn't it?” he whispers, no mock, no tease, unusual for him. He knows it hurts, he's just deep enough inside you, balls deep.

“yes, it hurts…” you whine, eyes watering as you adjust. He’s letting you distract yourself a bit, letting you soak up the pain with pleasure. “… so bad.” you keep whining.

"I know, it will get better." he presses his hips flat against you, just to slowly drag his cock out of you again, leaving just his tip inside. “Doing good for a first timer. Don't worry, I'll teach you everything you need to know.”

You nod desperately, biting your lip between your teeth.

“I'll be slow, we got time.” he mumbles, a sick grin painting across his face. He'd be lying if he would say he doesn't enjoy the power play that's going on at the moment. "I'M gonna teach you everything you need to know."

Gallagher

Your mouth falls open when he grinds his hard cock against your ass. Youre breathing hard, chest heaving. But you can't help but lean back against his chest. He slips a hand back into your underwear, rubbing slow circles against your clit. His breath is hot against your ear as he chuckles at your reaction. His middle finger slips between your folds and gathers some of your arousal to use it at your clit again. Once he had your hips jerking and whines leaving your lips, he slips two of his thick fingers inside. He moves slowly, fingers working inside of you like a caress.

“I- ‘m gonna-” you muster, weakly clawing at his arms.

He slips his hand out of your pussy again, letting his tongue run over his fingers, lapping at your juices. He hums, as the taste hits his tounge, “Shit, girl. Got me addicted already.”

Gepard

“That’s it.. Just like that..” He takes hold of the hand, kissing your knuckles, whispering soft praises into your skin to help you work up courage to keep riding him. He knows it's embarrassing for you, he knows you doubt yourself. But he also knows that you can do it.

“Doing so good for me, ok? So good, keep going..”

It takes his everything to hold back his hips and not fuck up into you, it's all too inviting.  He holds you, wrapping both arms around your torso and pull you close to his chest. One hand slips down to your hips, guiding you on his cock. "Like that, yeah."

Hot breaths reach your ear as he hums in approvment. "Good...shit--good."

Jing Yuan

“ass up. There you go, atta girl.” and you almost shiver from his touch on you'd hips as he turns you over. Jing Yuan stares at your ass, bringing a rough palm towards your left cheek. “Mm, nice. You're doing good. Don't worry, I'll go easy on you...for now.”

As he speaks, your cheek presses further against the pillow, hiding in embarrassment. Jing Yuan watches as your ass writhes and he hums, springing out his thick cock. “I'm going in, ok? No need to be scared”

“ok...” you breathe, big talk for someone who probably has way to much experience for his own good.

"I'll go easy on you, I promised you that birdie." He whispers in your ear as he leans over, slowly pushing in.

Jiaoqiu

He dives in, his tongue delving deep into your soaked folds. He laps at you hungrily, savoring your taste as he eats you out with wild abandon. His tongue swirls around your clit before sucking it between his lips, flicking the sensitive bud rapidly. “you're so hot...,” he hums against your core, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “thank you for the meal...”

Your finger desperately looking for support and found his hair, scratching his scalp with your long nails in the process. You can't help but let one hand wander to one of his ears, tugging on it. Immediately a whine leaves his lips as he laps on you more desperately than before.

He doubles his efforts, lapping at your clit with broad strokes of his tongue before sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and suckling greedily.

"Do that again and watch me eat you up."

Luka

Luka leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he pounds into you relentlessly. His hands grip your hips hard you feel like you might see some bruises tomorrow as a souvenir.

"Damn, you take my cock better than expected, baby," he rasps against your mouth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Way to fucking well, you sure you're a virgin?" he breaks the kiss to gaze down at you. “look at me,” he commands, "that pussy is mine now. Mine."

As you meet his eyes, he reaches between your bodies to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck-didnt know you could get any tighter."

Luocha

The next thing you felt was his cock entering you all at once, barely giving you time to get used to his huge size and thickness. Hes not a mean man by any means, but he figured that maybe him going in faster with the ammount of slick you already got, might be less painful. Wronh judgment in a hazy moment. And fuck if he didn't love feeling the way your cunt stretched to accommodate him, how your walls are so tight around his length.

When he did it, it was over for you, and you thanked him with the most beautiful sounds he ever heard. You squeezed him and croed out, making a mess of yourself as you grab onto his shoulders for support. It all was too much for you, too much happening all at once. But you'd be a lair to say you didn't enjoy it.

He would slowly start to run against you, holding your hips in place as he drags his cock in and out of your hole. His slow speed was annoying, painful, but so good.

But the best feeling was yet to come.

“Just you wait once I'm done with you. We'll have plenty of time left to get to know each other much better."

Sampo

Without warning, he pulled out – only halfway – and plunged back inside you with an almighty push. It .ade your eyes roll back into your skull, your mind went blank for a second. His teasing laugh pulling you back into reality, "Oops-went to hard there~" As a apology he went softer on you, slowly dragging his cock in and out of your hole.

“Doing so well for me,” he groaned, as he lightly speed up again, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"Damn-" he groans as you grap onto his shoulders and dig your nails in. "Careful there baby, you don't wanna hurt poor Sampo, hm?" He laughs again as he kisses down your neck and leaves yet another bite behind.

"We could do this more often, I know I wouldn't mind."

Sunday

The all so collected man practically loses it when you wrap your legs around his back. You unknowingly push him against you, silently asking for more. "Needy, needy." he teases as breaths in your ear, giving it a soft kiss afterwards.

“Dont you worry, I'm not done with you yet.”

Although his words came out more scary than they should, his action of hiding into your shoulder makes it all seem more pathetic than dominant. His wings flutter as your parted lips let a whine escape.

He groans, burying his cock deep just as it starts to gush, painting your walls white. Your nails dig hard into his scalp.

“That came...rather unexpected.”

Welt

“it won’t fit!” you sob out loud. No way this all will fit inside you, you never took anything, or anything that size. He's bigger than you, this wont fit without tears. But you're determined today, telling him you wanted to fit everything in you.

He trails his fingers up and down your side before one hand snakes down to thumb at your clit while the other large hand clasps your hip. "i'll make it fit, and I'll be careful." he promises, soft as he pleasures you. You expected nothing less of him, he always treated you with more care than any others. He softly rubs your clit as he enters, a way of distracting you from the pain that you will encounter.

"there you go, told you I'd make it fit."

[shiny-jr]

from POMEFIORE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: Hoping its not too out of character.

Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore   |   Scarabia

Perfume. The carefully sealed envelope reeked of it, like the sweet smell of lavender with spice. The envelope containing the message looked like something you would find when getting an invitation to a ball or a wedding. The envelope was pristine, and the wax sealing it was done so perfectly without a single awkward edge.

It almost looked unnatural with how perfect it appeared. The thick beige parchment was cut evenly, and not a blot of ink strayed from the elegantly curved cursive words that looked like ribbons upon the page. Looks could be deceiving. It was beautiful, but as you might've already guessed, the interior didn't entirely match what was hidden beneath the surface.

To my darling player,

I am at fault and take full responsibility for my actions.

All I've ever wished for, was to admire you. You are the epitome of magnificence, divinity that I can only dream to one day achieve but knowing I will never truly reach. There's an otherworldly sort of allure to you, which drew me in far too close. Much like the man who enhanced himself with wings of wax, but flew too close to the sun so his wings melted and he met a terrible fate. You are the sun, and I was that reckless fool with fake wings.

I allowed myself to get too close, tainting your light with my imperfect presence. Your grace was the warm sunlight on my skin, when everything around me was a horrible darkness. To think, I attempted to put out that light. It was nearly diminished. For that, I should be burned. I'm sorry, so so sorry.

I've thought long and hard on what I could possibly say to you, what sort of response could be adequate enough considering what you mean to me and the delicate situation. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the answer: no response is fitting. It doesn't matter if I pen a letter long enough to rival the river of tears I shed, coat the envelope in gold and ink of silver, with a message that would have moved the seven themselves to weep. It does not change the betrayal that occurred. I betrayed the trust you gave me, and shattered it into millions of pieces. However, know that I'll be on my hands and knees piecing it back together again, even if the shards cause me to bleed, you are worth it.

The stabbing sensation on my skin would be nothing compared to the one in my heart that I feel when I consider the fact that you might despise me. There's nothing more I would want than to see your face, hold your hands and feel the warmth of your skin that's so unlike the coldness of your vessel. Requesting a meeting would be imperious, as I have no right to ask you of this. But if I could, I would love to see you and discuss what comes next, perhaps over lunch. This is just a thought, a wish of mine, but one you are not required to fulfill.

I'd love to believe that I know you and your vessel better than anyone else could even dream of understanding, but I know that is far from the truth. Even as I pampered and polished your precious doll, your secrets continue to escape me. Did you ever hear me, when I brushed and washed Yuu's hair? When I took their freezing cold hands and painted their nails? When kneeled down in front of them to polish their shoes? When I adorned the best luxuries of brand accessories on their body?

I would kneel down to no one else.

There was always this wish, a dream of mine, that one day I might perhaps one day get to pamper you. Not Yuu. But you. Is that a scandalous desire?

Your hands would be warm, and I would hold them as I file your nails. Your arm wouldn't be so rigid and mechanical, you could actually extend it as I slather a creamy scented lotion along your skin. And if you do desired, I could lift your head and apply lipstick to your lips... This is just the process I commonly used while your vessel was under my care.

Although, I would gladly take up the responsibility of nursing you back to health, or any other role you would give me. There are countless things I can accomplish for you. I commonly deal in potent poisons, but I can just as well deal in healing and comforting. I'm skilled in self-defense and various forms of magic, so I can be your companion to protect you from everything that would wish you harm. You know of my business in acting and singing, so even if you wanted nothing else I could be there to entertain or serenade you. I only wish to be with you again, even though I know I'm underserving. I'm selfish.

If you want nothing more, then I have to be satisfied knowing I was in your thoughts for a brief moment. A twisted part of me wants your mind to be plagued by thoughts of me, just as my mind and heart is full of you.

I have to remind myself, that by getting too close I risk being burnt. But, at this point, I do not care for my own safety. I only care for yours, and I do this to keep my sanity. I truly admire you so much, that I cannot adore you from afar behind a rope like sculpture in a museum. I have to stand nearby, inspect your beauty, polish you to a shine, and value you like the priceless treasure that you are. Should someone threaten to chip off even the slightest speck on you, forcing you through more suffering...

I will shatter them into a million pieces, to preserve your peace.

Yours,

Vil Schoenheit

The wonderful aromatic smell that filled your nose brought back some not so pleasant memories. The smell of the earth beneath your feet, the scent of dew collected on every still surface, but above all were fragrant tangs that immediately alerted you to any nearby presence of a student belonging to Pomefiore.

They had chased you through those deep dark woods, like a pack of rabid hounds tracking and hunting a poor wounded rabbit. Besides their shouts and footfall, their perfume gave them away. There was one in particular which you only caught a whiff of only when you had too closely encountered the dormleader. The scent of lavender and spice hit your nose, the same fragrance on the letter.

"That reeks! Burn it!" A certain feline hissed, covering his little black nose with his paws. You swore the fragrance was beginning to form a migraine at the front of your skull. If the smell was strong for you, it must've been much worse for Grim since he had a superior sense of smell.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if the smell wasn't that strong and it wasn't the particular scent. Like vanilla or freshly baked bread. If that were the case, Grim might've insisted on keeping it or even be tempted to take a bite out of the sheet.

But it was lavender and spice. So the letter was tossed into a corner several feet away, left to an unknown fate that you would ultimately decide later. When you glanced back to Grim, you saw him holding and sniffing another letter.

For a long moment his sniffed the rolled up paper, his black nose twitching as he was likely just searching for another gift to claim as a snack. After a few seconds, he discarded it, sliding it over to you before he opted to dig through the pile like a raccoon digging into a heap of trash. "Meh, this one smells boring."

"Boring, huh?"

Boring wouldn't exactly be your choice of adjectives to describe this letter. It wasn't an envelope, it was a scroll tied by ribbon, attached to an arrow. An arrow, of all things, was likely the messenger for this message. Thankfully, this one didn't smell of anything. Even without a fragrance to match to a profile, the arrow was a dead giveaway.

Opening it up and using your hands to smooth out the curled edges, you blatantly ignored the wax seal over the ribbon. Once it was fully unsealed, a few single flower petals drifted down from the paper. Just another mess you would sweep up later and decide whether to dispose of it or not, like the first letter from the dormleader. For this one you were a pinch anxious. The sender was not like the others who came before.

Trickster,

It relieves me to see that you are finally safe.

To see you rest and heal in tranquility, nothing steadies my anxiously beating heart more than knowing you are sheltered. Well guarded by a trio of ghosts and the courageous feline Grim, I have no need to stress over your wellbeing with them acting as your valiant knights in shining armor! Although, I would also wish to join their ranks, blessed by your grace and fit to serve as your shield. However...

I am conscious enough to know that I am nowhere near fitting, no matter how much I may wish to reach out and shield you from every evil. In that most vital moment, I had failed to recognize you. I may have spared you from the sharpness of my blade, but I couldn't have guarded you from the suffering that was to come afterwards.

I'm so deeply and truly sorry. Many sleepless nights have followed, since and even before our first fateful encounter in those woods of the Pomefiore estate. Before our encounter, I was conflicted. I wanted to detest you, but I could not, I thought there must be a reason this was all occurring. I couldn't slumber peacefully, so long as I knew there was turbulence surrounding your beloved vessel. After our encounter, I couldn't get the vision of you fragile, frightened, and wounded, out of my mind. Raising a blade against you, who were a stranger shrouded in infamy, made my very heart stop.

Now I know why I was so unexplainably drawn to you. It was not due to the wild frenzy that overtook the entire campus, or a burning hatred to destroy, or even my own desire to discover answers I desperately wanted, although that last one may have played a role. The reason as to I was so enticed by you, a cunning 'imposter,' was because my heart recognized you. It must have been my very soul that pulled me towards you, and perhaps my own nature as well. My body recognized you, my heart and my soul led me to you, but I was blinded by my sorrows.

Throughout the few years I've had on this wonderful earth, I've seen countless peoples, and you are unlike any of which I've seen. In the places I've been, I have witnessed poetry be written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage, and devoted worshippers in holy places kneel in solemn prayer. Somehow you as a single being, or entity, encompass all those elements into one. My aim is to admire beauty, and I see beauty in its finest form when I look at you.

I truly understand what you mean to me, and to others.

But at the same time, you remain a mystery. And I believe I'm speaking for all those who admire you when I say this. We could only dream of truly understanding you, when we only had Yuu.

So, I try to make sense of it all in what I do understand, in the beautiful things I adore that I associate with you who I cherish. In literature, music, photography, I see you in everything all at once. When I read poetic lines, I think I could share it with you. When I hear beautiful music, I imagine you might enjoy listening to the tune too. When I discover stunning sceneries, I plan to bring you there someday to share a moment with you.

Now, I can make sense of it. I understand how the poets of old felt as they penned the love and awe they felt towards the Fairest Queen. It's a rare sentiment that cannot easily be put into words, a feeling as if it held my delicate heart and squeezed when I so much as thought of you. When a song and its composer can bring an audience to tears, I understand that now too. Hearing your voice for the first time, formed a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying much. Catching that first glimpse of you, was like gazing at a perfect painted portrait hanging in a museum.

My dearest player, I am a Hunt. I am naturally inquisitive by nature, and my fondness for you comes just as naturally. You may consider it wrong, but I will continue to offer my loyalty even if you may not accept it.

My aim is to one day unlock your secrets, solve your mysteries, and understand you fully, learn what makes you tick and what drives you forward. Perhaps when the day comes when you've forgiven me for my crimes, I can proudly stand in your presence and recite the poems I have written in your name. I could admire you everyday from then on, and remind you everyday of your worth. Then, I will protect you, from all harm, and I will not allow myself to fail you once again. This is a promise.

Should you need me, I will be there.

Yours,

Rook Hunt

There was something that felt... off. Compared to some of the previous letters, these were rather tame. Of course, there was the desperation and fascination evident in their words captured by the ink, but it was nowhere near as extreme as other cases.

Although, it was still chilling, to read the thoughts they penned.

In your hand you held the arrow the letter had been connected to, feeling its thin shape and the sharpened head at its tip that nearly pricked your finger. The vice dormleader had excellent aim, and had he not been so kind, arrows like this one in your hand could've easily been driven through your flesh and caught you against a tree where you would've been helpless in their grasps.

And yet, despite the opportunities he had, he didn't let a single weapon touch you. All it would take was one arrow, one moment and he could've ended you where you stood. But he spared you. However, there's the lingering doubt that maybe the primary reason he did it was he hoped you had answers to the malfunctioning vessel. You couldn't be sure exactly why he spared you, when everyone had wanted to torment and imprison you or worse.

Beside you, there's a large crunch and a content purr. When you look over, there's Grim, happily munching away on an apple he held with his little paws. He sank his fangs into the fruit, content that he finally found an offering that appeased him. In front of him was a small basket, filled with more juicy red apples.

"These are great! And, even though I was the one who found them, I'll let you have some!" Grim picked up another apple from the basket, sticking his claws into the red peel and offering it with his little grin. Nevermind the fact that these were probably meant as a gift for you and not for him, but you didn't mind. They would have likely ended up in the trash anyways, at least someone could enjoy them.

"You should really have one. You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry, but thanks. You can have them." Ever since everything happened, you weren't too keen on accepting gifts, especially if they were consumable. For now, the only places you'd accept food from, was the cafeteria you'd venture too at the dead of night when no one was there, or Sam's shop.

In the spot of the basket where Grim had removed the apple, there was a white layer at the bottom of the basket. Perplexed, you reached in and found an envelope hidden by the piled apples.

Unsurprisingly, the envelope smelled of sweet things, apples, cinnamon, and freshly baked pies. The envelope itself was nothing special, it had no intricate wax seal or marking. It was loosely sealed shut by a brown piece of string, and covered in some white and pink apples blossoms.

The inside was less impressive, more authentic, which was refreshing in a way. Smooth cursive flowed into slightly choppy print scrawled out in uneven lines, before eventually returning back to cursive at the end of some sentences. It appears parts were rushed judging by the blotted ink stains at multiple periods. The apples were a clue as to who the sender may be, but why would the letter be hidden in a gift?

Dear Player,

If you're reading this, that means my letter got through.

Where do I even start? It seems right that I first say sorry. I'm sorry. It sounds like a load of bull, but I am sorry. Apologizing in all these other ways, won't make this any better, so, I thought this might help. I'm gonna be completely honest with you, no lies, no tricks, just the blunt truth. I'm not going to be showing you these pretty sides I polished to impress and to mask all the ugly. I'll tell you everything that's been going on. That's something only I have the guts to do.

The reason I hid this letter was because Vil and Rook have been checking anything I want to write to you. They want to keep up this positive front, they wanna at least pretend to be perfect enough to be near you. At least, that's what I think. Although I know we won't ever come close to that.

Instead of trying to write a real and honest letter for you, it feels like I was writing some essay for Professor Trein to grade. I'd have to write and write, and even if the grammar was right, the message wasn't. They want to make you think everything's okay, when it's not. I can only imagine what elegant crap they were spewing in their own fancy letters, while we're actually all a mess. We've been like this since Yuu broke down. I try to understand them, and in a way I do, but sometimes they freak me out. Yeah, I got my own problems trying to comprehend all this chaos, but they're different.

Is everyone else in the other dorms this extreme? This miserable and on the verge of breaking? Maybe you won't believe me, or maybe you'll realize that there's some truth to what I'm saying. Here, in Pomefiore, I can only tell you what I've seen. These days, Rook's smile seems strained, like he's about to snap, his eyes are sharp and watchful. The only time his smile is normal is when he's looking at some photo, but he won't ever let me see what it is. Vil, well, the only sign he's still alive and kicking are the packages that come in for him, new makeup and all that stuff, things he's using to craft that perfect mask. I did see him one night out in the hall, I swear there was mascara down his face but I was too put off to approach when he was like that.

Don't ever tell them I told you all this. Vil would probably skin me alive and wear me as a robe, and Rook... I don't want to think about what he would do... I'm kidding by the way, but seriously, don't ever tell them. I told you I would be honest to you, so here's my reason. I thought that maybe telling you all this would score me points with you, get you to trust me again. Even if this is a rotten way to go about it, I don't care.

I am rotten, and I won't hide it like them.

If I can't even be honest with you, then do I really deserve a second chance at all?

Scratch that. I don't deserve a second chance at all after everything that happened. What I did was downright terrible, but I'm trying my damnedest to be deserving again. And I won't stop trying, even if part of me thinks it's useless. I never cared for Yuu, the only reason I acted for them was because it was you behind them. My goal is to eventually be beside you, the real you.

Although, a basket of apples is a crummy way to go about things, but think of it like a peace offering. Just cause I can't get word to you, don't mean I give up. I'm not giving up. Ever. Everyone's going about their own roundabout ways of mending things. If you want to hear more, I'll gladly tell you. I don't think anyone else would tell you the truth of what's happening, because in a sense everyone wants to appeal to you with the best image of themselves they can possible portray. Don't believe all the hogwash they send you. If whoever sends something and seems to be stable, they're not. Not completely.

I'm awfully ashamed to admit it, but I'm not okay. Not since everything started, and not since everything went to hell when shit hit the fan. I'm not okay without you, and I got myself to blame for that.

This letter is helping. The thought of communicating with you again, even if I can't see your face or hear your voice and its reduced to words on paper, it's more than I could ask for. So, if you want me to spill the beans, just ask. If not, if there's no response, well, I'll get a bit of comfort thinking you might've read this. Besides, I have hope with each attempt I'll make. I'm not just rottenly selfish, I'm stubborn to a fault. And if I have to knock down someone else's chances to get closer, then that's fine by me.

All you gotta do is talk to me.

Until then, hoping to speak to you soon,

Epel Felmier

[may-stuff]

tw: handjob, cum play (sort of), sub!franco, +18 mdni

divider by hyuneskkami on tumblr

He's been growing restless for the last couple of minutes. His attention, previously settled on the tv, has been corrupted by the feeling of you lovingly brushing his hair. Dainty hands get intertwined with his fluffy locks and Franco couldn't feel more at peace.

From his spot on your lap, a pillow between your legs and the back of his head so he can be comfortable, he observes your beautiful face. Focused on the film you're watching, your eyes shine with the emotions that are being triggered in you. Your expressions change with the story that unfolds before you, making you look incredibly adorable when a character you really like gets injured. You look gorgeous even when you're upset. Franco realizes then, that he's never cared for someone as he cares for you. 

Your hands in his hair feel divine. The way you gently brush it, massaging his scalp from time to time, makes shivers run through his spine. Closing his eyes, Franco focuses on your touch, on your soft hands, on your perfume that surrounds him and doesn't ask permission to numb all his senses, triggering the need he always has for you.

You, on the other hand, are completely oblivious to what he's feeling and thinking. Your attention is still on the TV as your hands keep brushing Franco's hair. This is something you do often, always touching him in some way, hands always itching for contact with his skin. You enjoy the way he trembles under your touch, taking deep breaths to keep the composure when, from time to time, your hand travels from his hair down his cheek and then the side of his neck, softly caressing the skin there. Before he can do or say something, you go back to his locks. 

But the ambience shifts violently when, due to a shocking scene and your reaction to it, you tug his hair. Your hand grabs a handful of it and pulls hard. You do it once, then twice, and when you pull his hair for the third time, a moan calls your attention back to him. 

Franco's eyes are wide open, as if he's been caught doing something he shouldn't be doing. Your expression is similar, but then you relax when you understand what's going on. At first, you thought he was in pain, but the look in his eyes lets you know that's actually not the case. 

He whispers your name before you pull his hair again and, this time, he moans shamelessly. In response, you mutter words that have him writhing on your lap. 

“You're so sensitive, baby.” 

Baby. He loves it when you call him that. You don't do it often, it's always love or Fran, but when you call him baby it usually means that you're about to take control of the situation, and that allows him to go into a mood where all he wants is for you to tease and pleasure him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as you make him melt in your arms. It is a rarity, this dynamic between you two, but he absolutely adores it as much as you do. 

“You like it when I pull your hair, huh?” You tease, softly caressing his locks. Franco nods and moans one more time when you tug his hair again. The sounds he makes when he's lost in pleasure are probably the best sounds you've heard in your life. 

For a few moments you keep pulling his hair, coaxing even more moans out of him, until you see his right hand moving towards the waistband of his pants.

When your eyes follow his movements, you can now see something that doesn't really surprise you: he's hard. The bulge in his pants has grown to a size that you're sure it's becoming more and more painful as the minutes pass by, and that's why he's trying to touch himself. 

“What are you doing, baby?” You ask, amused, as you keep caressing and pulling his hair.

He whimpers again before answering. 

“I'm- I'm trying to- it hurts, (y/n). It hurts so much, I'm- oh.”

His words are suddenly interrupted by your own hand moving over his bulge. Gentle fingers dance all around the hardness that is painfully pressing against the fabric of his trousers; his eyes look at you, pleading, asking in silence to please just take him out and touch him without any barrier between you both. 

But you can't give him that just yet. It can't be that easy, because if there's something you enjoy in this world, it's the sound of Franco begging to be touched. So you keep touching him like this, easing the pain in his cock but not enough to give him an orgasm.

After some torturous minutes, you almost gasp when you see that he's crying, tears coating his beautiful face.

“Baby…” you say, voice so sweet that has him moaning again. “You need to control yourself.” You move your hand away from his bulge and hear him protest.

“No, no! I- I can't!” He cries, desperate. “It's too- please, amor. Por favor.”

He sounds miserable and you kind of love it. How could you not? He looks so ethereal like this, trembling under you, eyes closed, hot tears falling down his rosy cheeks. This is probably the most beautiful thing you've ever seen and you don't want it to stop, but you also don't want to hurt him and you fear that, if you don't give him what he wants, he will actually suffer. 

When your hand goes back to his hardness, you can feel and then see that he's stained the fabric of his trousers. 

“You've done such a mess, baby.” You softly scold him, running just your index finger over the wet patch and he whimpers for the hundredth time. 

“Perdón.” He answers, voice barely above a whisper. “No puedo- I can't- please!”

Tired of making him wait, you undone his trousers in a matter of seconds and then put your right hand inside of them, looking for his cock. The sound that escapes his throat when you finally touch him is almost too much; a mix between a groan and a cry and it sounds so good that you feel you could touch yourself and ease the pain growing in your pussy. But he is what matters now, not you.

So your fingers close around his dick and you feel it insanely warm against your skin; soft and hard at the same time, thick drops of precum coming out the tip, falling down the side of it. You smear it all over his length, using it as natural lube. The sound of your hand around his dick, impossibly wet, fills the room alongside Franco's moans. 

You can feel the wetness staining your underwear but you couldn't care less. All you want right now is to give him what he wants, to make him feel good to the point of no return. But then he opens his eyes to look at you and you know he's able to see the lust in your gaze.

As you keep moving your hand around his dick, Franco sits up to take his shirt off. Now his face is in front of yours, the tip of his nose nudges yours and then he takes your mouth in his, kissing you in a way that leaves you breathless, asking for more and accelerating the pace of your hand around him. When you start massaging the tip of his dick, he breaks the kiss to moan just over your mouth. Lips still touching, mouths agape, he moans and you drink from those sounds, unable to hide your own for much longer. 

“Your dick feels so good in my hand, baby.” You moan, feeling the warmth spreading all over your chest and neck and then your face, as you hear the lust in your own voice. “So fucking big, so warm… I want to put it in my mouth and suck it until you cum down my throat.”

He whimpers again, nodding his head, asking for it. 

“But not now.” 

You want him to cum like this, by only the touch of your hand. You want him to look you in the eyes while he does it. And so you keep working on his cock, soft hand firmly wrapped around it, going up and down, taking him slowly to the edge. 

His breathing becomes more erratic as his hips move slightly upwards, as if he's trying to fuck your fist. He bites his lips, closes his eyes and his moans become a little bit higher. You, observing all of this with adoring eyes, kiss his earlobe and then softly nibble on it, which makes shivers run through his spine. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” You whisper. He nods his head again. Your hand starts moving faster, pumping his throbbing dick as fast as you can. “Come on, love. Cum for me. I want you to make a mess.”

And he does. When your thumb massages the tip again, he cums hard. Deep groans leave his throat as his dick twitches in your hand once, then twice, and then long spurts of hot cum come out of it with enough force to stain not only your hand but also his lower belly, chest and his lower lip. 

Franco is still in the stupor of his own orgasm when your hand leaves his dick. Your index finger then starts following the path that his semen has painted over his body; first you touch his lower belly, then his abs and then his chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind your touch. 

Before you can touch his lower lip, he opens his eyes and looks at you. There's still so much lust in his gaze and yours as well, so it isn't surprising to any of you when he kisses you, now coating your lips and tongue with his own cum. You moan in the kiss, tasting him in your mouth. 

“Dirty baby.” You whisper against his lips once the kiss ends. He chuckles in response. 

“You love it, though.”

“Of course I do.”

Franco laughs again as he stands up from the couch. He takes his trousers off and now he's completely naked before you. His cock has gone limp but you're sure he's not done yet. 

He confirms it when his hands come to the waistband of your sleeping shorts and start pulling them down. 

“Fran, what are you doing?” You ask, amused.

He kneels in front of you before moving your underwear to the side, and as his fingers come in contact with your wetness, he mutters:

“Guess.”

a/n: definitely not my best work but I wanted to give you something 🥰 I hope you like it!

[satocidal]

.˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆DIRTY GODS, DIRTIER PRAYERS||season 1

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳* ࣭ ✤𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 - Devotion

... a God , yours, and you? a Devotee, simple as it could seem, it wasn't for all. Day in and day out you worship him, your god, your religion, your temptation and your desire - until one day, he finally decides to bless (curse) you

- word count: 9.1k

- contains: Gn! Priest! reader x God! Gojo Satoru; religious themes; non-established relationship; morally grey(?) characters; reader washes Gojo's foot; Societal hierarchy; set in sort of medieval age? but i took no attempts at using old speech because...yes

Devotion: (noun) 

great love for somebody/something

the act of giving a lot of your time, energy, etc. to somebody/something

It was winter, it was red - your eyes spilled their own blood - bells chimed in the back - you’d assumed that, that was what love ought to be..

The blood trickled slow, the snow - a painted canvas –

His footsteps lay buried, deep, dirty, horrendous - following those lay the trail you’d marked, dragged along, your innocence - a casket shrouding your love.

It was winter, white, whiter than it was supposed to be.

-

“How do you recognise me?” his voice was a low rumble, gentle - in the way that he need not show violence, it laced the essence of his very being.

You stared at him, mouth agape - what you’d assumed to be a mere animal  in the middle of night, trampling about the temple- you’d only gotten up to shoo the creature away - only to find him.

He stood there- ghostly, ethereal, inhumane.

Satoru Gojo.

Satoru Gojo, a God among men.

The world tipped at his breath, the world lay in a disarray at a flicker of his gaze - he was something divine, no he was divine.

He was a God, your God.

Day in and day out you worked, his shrine lay polished - a sheen of sweat coated you, a dismal reflection shone in the gold, yours - his temple gates were regularly thumped at by the many other devotees - you found yourself pushed to the back often, you made sure to always present the freshest fruits - a  connoisseur you’d been told that he was, a likelihood to the various kinds of fruits your country beared each season -  and offerings to his shrine when maintaining and looking after it - you almost always went to sleep the night hungry.

But your sufferings were alright - he was cared for, he was all that mattered.

He was all there was to you, he was more than you and all of you.

And in the flicker of a second, all you could wonder was - ‘how does one shoo this…? Not an animal, not just another creature - A God, My God…’

“You’re…” you paused unsure - you were assured that the other temple priests were right - your ‘devotion’ had gotten to you, you had begun hallucinating, you were going to end up as one of those stories or myths that people would pass down the years, about the priest that loved their God too much.

But it couldn’t be…right?

“You’re Satoru Gojo,” almost a rushed whisper - it felt peculiar just to pronounce his name, years spent revering him as your Lord, Your Savior - “I was born knowing you,”

Born for him - offspring of the head priest, it was all for him.

In the womb you were fed his tales, crawling beside yourself was the impending responsibility that would thrust itself upon you, your first friend was him, a dire escape for all the secrets, for every thought and likewise - you pushed yourself on him as much as he was pushed on you.

He stared back, a silent moment marked as his eyes bore into yours, cerulean eyes - sharp, they could see everything, you had nothing to hide from your grace anyways.

And then, a small smile broke loose - you continued staring, it felt surreal, it was.

Naked he stood, a glow blanketed his form, he walked - free, familiarised, he didn’t speak for the longest while, and you could only stare. You watched as he moved, a little stiff - as if not accustomed to the gangly pair of limbs this form had, his eyes made sharp turns - not resting, never once.

The dark didn’t seem to bother - almost as if he saw deeper than what lay at the surface - and yet, his gaze never once fell on you after that smile, unseen.

“You live-” he began - 

“are all-”  you did too.

Words cut off - his interrupting you, yours his - you bit the inside of your cheeks - his face only ever relaxed - “My…Lord, pardon - i…sorry, i mean -” and then a fumble of your words, in an attempt to break the silence, only making it worse.

He chuckled, “Nervous? It is alright, speak your mind, I suppose,” it did not feel calming - his assurance, not his presence - nor his words, no warmth seeped when he spoke - no brightening of the situation at his convention, it felt the usual - disappointing.

“No, my lord…i just…i wanted to ask…” his presence urged you, your face burnt and yet a little voice sounded in your head - he is Satoru Gojo, he who knows you best, secrecy was never something you passed between the two of you -  no secrecy, no shame, no boundaries - then why now?

“Are…uh…I wanted to ask if those stories…” eyes panned to his shrine - the wood carved to bear the tales, intricate carvings that you’d memorised, then the cold, hard gold, works that spoke of his presence - high and all so mighty, “are they true?” 

It felt childish to question - of course they were- a childhood spent fighting on these accords, bantering all your friends, puffed cheeks and bitten insults at each one of them as you stood your ground to prove that Satoru Gojo had performed every incident that was depicted- -his scoff paused the train of your thoughts, “Some, most, but not all - your priests lie a lot, especially the head one, eh?” 

Lies, his revealed - a world that was yours cracked.

Your hands felt clammy, you wouldn’t understand why - something inside you screeched to question him, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

Your priests - the head one, your father - called a liar all so blatant and yet, you were sure that was not the reason for your recoil. Somehow your father being a liar - the conjuror of tales was way more apt a truth to digest than the possibility of Your God’s faltering charm.

“They…aren’t?” a silent question raised - he chuckled to himself - you weren’t sure why so, “which ones?”

A beat passed - his eyes settled upon the same carvings as those you’d grown up staring, memorising, “that…” a slow swivel of your head - to the one in the far corner of the room, all so dark now, pitch black beyond the glow of the candles on his shrine - you’d be at a loss of words if you didn’t know any better.

“The one where you’re fighting the sea monster?” your voice was so low - laced with your own anxiety, anxious of what?

A single nod, “that is true - but not nearly as perplexing as your lot glorifies it to be…” a scoff next, “teaching it in your schools? Folk tales…? That is what they are called now? and whatnot…” 

You were not sure but it almost seemed like he wasn’t a fan of your kind and their affection or afflictions.

You could only nod as he pointed to one behind the shrine - The Battle - clear depiction - Satoru Gojo leading a battalion, a favourite, your heart clenched at the thought of it not being true - “That is true as well…” a sigh of relief - he passed a smirk, “but all those other ones are a nuisance, why would your supreme God care about seasonal fruits,” almost sassy, “but your lot isn’t the only one to be wrong so…”

A shrug - simple a conversation, unaware of the basket of fruits that would now rot away in your wake, or maybe, aware but uncaring.

But that was okay - right? Still the mighty God he was, regardless of what he preferred to eat, never a big deal - you were there, you’d take care of everything.

“You live here?” he asked suddenly, almost as if assessing his own shrine - almost in vain, as if disgusted -

“no, the…dorms, mine is the closest one so I…,” words trailed off, you gulped, somehow standing where you stood daily, standing in the same place you’d spent countless hours in felt foreign, like what was yours, after all, wasn’t.

“You are…?” his voice - now carefree, you gulped, “y/n,” his head finally snapped towards you again - the grin, the same as the first returned, “You’re y/n?”

A simple nod, he walked closer - at arm’s distance.

You were sure he was radiating - a hand brushed your cheek, your eyes widened, you stood limp as he pulled you closer, you weren't sure which it was - him pulling you, you moving on your own or a complicated mix - but there it was, your body in his embrace, his body felt warm, pure

 - yours?

Disgusting - to yourself, to him? Maybe.

“Servitude suits you.” he chuckled - as he let go, that embrace lay as a finality of his gratitude, perhaps never to be mentioned again - sickening.

All your life’s worth of work - absolved by one embrace, by a fleeting moment of contact - and worst of all, you craved it, your body yearned for it - you found yourself with the belief that you were meant for this.

-

One step forward - three back, you paced the outside of his prayer room.

Three days that Gojo Satoru had presented himself, three days of something one could consider their hell - you? Not so much.

Work had simply doubled, if not tripled - but you were finally seen - fully seen.

The mutters that surrounded, the looks, simply for your adherence to him - no more, people who’d questioned you, no more - for what lay of your insanity was now a sheer truth.

“Can we go in?” a flock you lay surrounded by, your eyes grazing the intricacies on the huge door in front of you - years you’d spent gazing upon it, and yet, in this moment - nothing seemed more worthwhile.

“Not yet,” your voice sounded out -  these days, the past two, it felt so foreign. 

A hefty crowd this was, angry, impatient - they wanted to see their God. 

Pity lay in the fact that Gods were that which the people made of them, and the devotees were that which their God made of them.

“You've been saying that since yesterday!” a shout came - “we want him!” came another.

“he's not yours!” came a third, and then a twitch of your eye.

A swift turn to face the crowd, loud faces - towering, intimidating - you cleared your throat.

“If you have any conflicts of interest, you may leave - My Lord does not appreciate superficial devotion or questioning, blabbering fools.” definitive words, he’d told you to be so - told you that you were above them, and thus of course, you were.

Your Lord had placed you so.

“He is resting,” a smooth lie - “I must check upon him first, check with him and let him know of your wish to meet him - thereupon…” you were met by just a murmur - now, a cheerful one, slightly quieter, some patted your back, some nimble fingers - shaky as they touched you - content in just your company,  company of their God’s care-taker.

Care-taker, that’s what your title had been reduced to - you didn’t mind, servitude did suit you.

-

“They wish to see you,” your voice was thick - eyes not meeting his, always stuck to somewhere near his feet - head bowed, you weren’t used to this. The Satoru Gojo you had first been introduced to was welcoming, he would talk - albeit you were a child, he - just an entity, but he was your pillar to fall back on.

This creature in front of you was different - not nearly as calm as he’d been described, not nearly as pensive, he seemed humane and in the worst of its possibilities.

You couldn’t care of all that yet - he was yours to serve, he must be correct after all.

“And what lie did you say today?” His voice always carried an amused undertone to it - as if you were a form of highest entertainment. 

 “you’re resting,” your reply fell short - resting, if one could call it that.

The shrine you used to mop and clean - spent hours on your knees daily to see the shine was a disarray - insatiable hunger, the God was tough to please.

He didn’t eat - beyond that, he’d mused himself to be - he lay sprawled about, naked as ever, he’d shown himself once to the crowd after his first appearance - the next morning.

Eyes had been hazy that morning, as if a new experience to see the world as so - and it must’ve been, right? His creations, in front of him, no longer the countless stack of lives he used to measure out - no.

These were breathing people, those who worshipped him, you’d trailed beside him as he’d walked - just a silk robe on - one that some rich merchant had offered to him years ago - he’d asked for that specifically, first of the many demands to come.

And then a scoff the moment people bowed to him - one speech, one mention of his love for them, one bloom of a flower - the people remained bowing as always, bowing as they loved to.

And just there, Satoru Gojo presented his first boon, the first unknowing curse.

Your surprise met his withdrawal - he didn’t shove you off, he turned, “and this is y/n,” he announced - louder than his own proclamation,  “my most devoted, most faithful - my care-taker.” 

You’d cringed at how final his words had been - not at the sudden swarm that you had to fight to keep up with him, nor at the admiration that held you steadfast since that morning.

Since then, it was simple for Satoru Gojo  -  he lay inside, often, doing nothing (as right now), and you went outside - communicating to the masses, the will of your God, the will of their God.  

“You would have to meet them soon,” you mused, inching closer - repulsed to the idea as he was, the touch of humans - he didn’t seem to mind you.

“I think I will decide what I ought to do, hm?” His words held that tone always, always teasing, always playful - and you’d assumed always that it would be sweet, when you thought of him - but now, you weren’t all so sure. 

But what did you know, right?

Another nod, often, that was all you did - nod and listen, you listened to just his silence, it was peculiar - he spoke so much and yet very little registered within you, very little made sense.

But you made sure it was heard, remembered, etched in your heart - you inched closer still, his feet beside you, your eyes mapped out the expanse, your fingers itched to touch - your mind itched to hold.

“My lord,” a hum, “what should i tell them?”

“Is it necessary we answer them?”

A hand came down, gentle, his rested on your head - you gulped, overwhelmed, surreal, surreal, surreal - nothing too much for him, another disciple - so you thought.

Satoru knew better - he would cut that hand that touched anything so low as human flesh - to be made of human flesh was humiliation, to be worshiped by humans was humiliation - to be humane was humiliating.

He wouldn’t say that near you.

Not in front of his best disciple, not to break his favourite’s,  not to break his best friend’s heart.

Calloused fingers, calloused a hand - as if every fibre of what was his human form screamed of his truth - screamed of his patronage, violence that adulterated his purity - violence that made him closer to you.

Violence that acted as the link between God and the Devotee.

Satoru Gojo touched you.

Your God did.

“Up to you discretion my lord,” a mumbled you passed, his hand stroked your hair, it felt heavy, suddenly so did your eyes.

“My discretion…” a pause, then a smile - oh how he loved that power, “I think we should…but after you have cleaned me.”

Hesitant a breath you inhaled, cleaned him.

“I do think you’re very perfect already my-”

“That, perfect, yes of course,” an eye-roll from him, you stared, “but  I want you to clean me - nothing new, right? You like it,” not a demand, just a statement, reminder of your duties as his carer.

A why twisted on your lips - you dared not ask, he cared not to explain.

“Like…?” almost a huff - “it was a duty,” you chided, he scoffed, “and it isn’t now?”

The hand stopped its stroking - “your shrine, my lord,” you weren’t sure where this courage came from - two days ago you couldn’t manage to form sentences to him  -  “it used to get dirty, dust would…sometimes your worshippers-” he made it so, he made you talk that way, he allowed it.

“But you cleaned all of that - where is that enthusiasm now?”

A clenched jaw - yours, a pushed demeanour, his.

Childlike and ignorant, one would describe him, but these words dared not seep into your head now, how could they? Not for a while.

And as it were, he wasn’t wrong after all, you did clean his shrine, madly so, even a smudge wouldn’t go unnoticed - however, the prospects of having your God, your Companion just as a thought while you look after him is somehow ever so more endearing and comforting than an actual humanoid.

“You will, won’t you?” masked plea - you were his creation, his mercy, he knew what would lure and everything that wouldn’t - and this? Lightened hues of his eye, a softer tone of his breath, the carousel of your will simply lay for him to tug and play with.

Thus, a nod was all you offered - then a deliberate exhale, Devotion was tiring.

-

“y/n,” a drawl - you didn’t bother whipping your head to see who it’d be - another one of your friends, it didn’t matter, not when you were caring for him - “what,” just as bored a drawl, yours.

“When will you leave that wretched shrine - it’s done, it is clean, come now, we have other duties -”

Shut it.

Jaw clenched, you stared into the gold that molded Your God’s essence.

They just never understood any of it.

Never.

“You go ahead, I’ll join in when i’m done here,” just short of a snap - your voice lay taut, hand working furiously - sometimes you wondered if this really was excessive - no.

However could it be excessive when they had touched him- the common folks, with their half-assed devotion and hasty prayers, grubby fingers pressing on his shrine, like these silly attempts would get anywhere as close as you were to Him.

Like these desperate moments of their selfishness, those cries would have him listen to them as he did you.

Like he’d become theirs as you’d had him - like they’d ever have the right over him as you did - like they’d ever come anything close to having the right you had over him since birth.

Of course, excessive it wasn’t - instead the bare minimum of a need for you to clean his shrine, to keep it as divine as it was meant to be - even if it devoured moments of your life, because that - seconds chipped from your life -  were of negligible importance.

Not when it comes to your God.

-

The Gold at the bottom seemed to reach out, you bothered not to stare too deep, Gojo’s presence just seemed familiar, home-like. 

“The water is ready,” you called, back turned to him, the farthest corner of the room you sat in, the entire hour spent in preparing the ‘wash’, a thorough negotiation and here you were, with just his foot to cleanse.

It didn’t make sense now, why did you fight hard to not touch him? Those you denied entry to his shrine would kill for this, you would kill for this.

It’d dirty him - he didn’t think so - he pretends - he has nothing to hide.

The entire hour spent with the same back and forth, settling down on deeming it a lapse of judgement, you shrunk in your seat.

All this while, he sat beside his own shrine, talking, mumbling, exaggerated sounds - laughing to himself, it wasn’t the first time he did it either. The first night itself, he’d begun his ministrations - you didn’t question him, you had no right to.

But your face did hold a fond smile with  every word he uttered, sometimes laughing while reminiscing his own stories that his eyes caught in the carvings across the walls - often muttering about how small the room was (which could only accommodate 200 or so people) - or if nothing else seemed worthwhile, he’d start telling you the stories, the same ones you’d read and learnt and adored.

“Should I bring it over?” you continued and then shut your eyes in absolute shame, of course, you would take it over, whyever would he be the one to - 

- “It must be heavy,” he called back, a small sigh heard as he lifted his form, marching over to you.

Your form moved quick, a sudden shake of your head, lips pressed between your teeth - this felt wrong, him wanting to help seemed wrong, not presenting to him your psyche, essence and the entirety of your devotion felt wrong.

“No my lord, you should sit - you should rest, I'll bring it, I deal with it all the time,” a glimmer still, Satoru Gojo noted - beseeching his validation, an undertone of pride, a point to prove.

“Deal with large gold vessels which are filled with water?” an impish grin - but he settled back regardless, amused, all the time.

“Go on then,” he chuckled, your eyes met his - cloudy they’d seemed the first night- it had rained that night too, today was bright - and his eyes, “don’t need your God’s help, do you?”

A game, this was a game - you were a game.

Regardless, it felt nice to be just that to him, anything was fine.

A slow exhale, fingers grasped onto the vessel, nothing new, maybe heavier but nothing unique- except, it was.

Not a budge, the vessel remained just as that, gold and glittery and stationary - neither a speck of dust grovelled under the force you pulled with, nor the water created a single wave.

A huff, and then plenty more - yours, a smile and then a full grin - his.

“You’re taking too long,” even in his ‘rebuke’, a hint of mischief played, as if he had something to do with your failure - “I’m afraid this isn’t how you please a God,”

A lick of your lips, a stranded sigh - “It is fine I can…” 

Words cut off quick, he moved fast, swift - and in no time, beside you he stood, “see? That is the issue with you little humans, using your little human head,” a scoff, a softness perked at his lips - “so proud of being the smart species?” proud of his own creation, “but you just never know, do you?” 

What took the entirety of your breath to not even cause a dent in was lifted so simply, so easily, as if it weighed nothing - “never understand when to give in, never know how to accept my help,” you walked beside him - it felt overwhelming, his presence, his stride, his movement.

You couldn’t see it but the eye roll was all too evident in his tone, the disdain, the disappointment.

His left hand carried the vessel - the right slowly moved to rest at the small of your back.

Eyes wide, a sharp inhale and an instant shoot of panic in your chest - nothing went unnoticed by him, a snicker he passed, “If you keep acting this way, your kins will assume i’ve taken you as a concubine and not my carer,” 

And now the ears felt hot, too hot, face felt warm - and a desire for the earth to swallow you paced your head.

Fortunate for you though, the front of the hall had been reached, and so had his demeanour.

“However you must know dear,” the vessel placed carefully, two steps below where he would sit - where your place was, “that you hold a special place, you’re better,” same words, same tone as the day before and the night, “you’re special to me, you’re my special one, my favourite thing.”

Favourite thing.

Favourite.

Slow, he sat down - eyes beckoning you to follow the same, he smiled, “How’d you prefer - a cloth or…?” but even before you could answer, his feet were already placed in the water - eyes closed with an almost calm, blissed expression, you felt your own nerves calm down.

Maybe for he was at ease - maybe for he was at ease because of something you’d done, something you’d prepared for him.

After that, you didn’t bother speaking - neither did he, the ordeal was as it had to be, your fingers dipped into the water, tentative was your hold,  a hesitant rub across his feet - the first time you touched him, his hand came down again - to rest on your head as always, as if just a muscle memory for him.

No. 

Neither was that body accustomed to him - nor his touch to humans - this was deliberate.

You swallowed thickly, your own eyes closing momentarily - nothing seemed to make sense, the air felt heavy, the marble felt comforting, inviting, not the blistering hot as the usual afternoon sun turned it into - stillness blanketed you, a celestial anticipation wavered - and your mind, clogged.

You were acutely aware of Gojo’s gaze on you, waiting, patient - and now, you fully encapsulated him.

Without all the distance that separated you, without the infinity that seemed to separate you and your God, no - now, you were closer, you were with him he was within you.

His face seemed to shine, the soft golden light  befalling his form gracefully, as if blessed just as you were to touch him - envious, you’d feel later, drinking into the thought of how easy it was for the Sun, the air, the nature to touch him.

“Come now,” a rich voice, teasing, almost a purr, “Don’t keep me waiting - you’ve come such a long way, haven’t you?” His eyes remained half lidded, an expression that lay both indulgent and amused, playful a gaze and a knowing smile - all too aware of your nervousness - basking in it, reveling in it.

His presence itself was suffocating, magnificent - your devotion? Just the very same.

Frozen you sat beside his feet, beside the vessel;  the water inside - liquid light, if such a thing did exist - swayed slow, hypnotic, alarming. 

A moment you’d dreamt of was here - hours spent scrubbing thinking of this - hours spent cursing those around you for not believing this could be true - only for you to choke on your own blood and spit in attempts to hold contact with your God.

A flinch was all your body could offer - a sudden dare next, to stare into his eyes, mischief met you and then, gruesome comfort - “Do you not want the honour of touching me?” an undertone his words held, something you didn’t quite catch, “your lot typically yearns for this… don’t you?” almost quizzical, still soft, edged but soft - “something worries you?” 

Honest questions - you see Satoru Gojo understood many things, after all, he was the creator - the preserver - the destroyer, but these little human sentiments? The ones that wove themselves messy? The ones that managed to tangle in their own webs of certain lies and partial truths? See, that, Satoru Gojo couldn’t grasp.

Not the humaneness of it.

“I…of course, my- my lord, but…” a lick of your lips - an inhale, his - impatience was not a virtue?

“I fear i would...i- i would offend you,” barely a whisper, almost ashamed to admit - even more so when a booming laughter responded to you. And in your moment of meeting the mortifying reality - it simply didn’t feel fair that his laugh, your perpetrator’s laugh was melodic, simply put.

“Offend me?” a raised brow, hair flitting out of his gaze - pushed back so swiftly with his fingers, amusement dancing across his features - ethereal, he looked, sounded - was, ethereal.

“You can never offend me, little one - it is you who shall be blessed by my touch, you who shall relive this memory, I merely befall you a merciful boon.”

A lick of your lips - a hard attempt to not seem flustered, he wasn’t wrong, however could he ever be wrong? 

But the words were sharp, reminding that you were, at your best, two steps below him, washing his feet. 

Shaky hands thus continued the detour - dipped into the gold vessel, into the water - “My lord, if I may?” a small voice, he didn’t counter - simply outstretched his foot right into your hand, his skin cold. Unreal it was - a quickened pulse as you felt the foot, the skin, the hair, the muscles, so fleshed out - 

“well?” his teasing voice brought you back.

“I do deserve your love right y/n? A little more…how would one put it…care?” no longer carrying the weight - no longer dangerous, back to his playful words - it only played your mind harder.

“Pardon my lord,” you said thickly, a slow flush on your skin, “it is new for me - too much, you are…so perfect, i keep fearing…”

A smirk was all he offered then at your words, so self-assured, “take your time little one, we have all the time in the world,”somehow his words seemed literal - he did have all the time in the world - his feet stretched lazily in your hands.

Still trembling, your hands moved over his feet finally - a little voice in your head that  urged you, his own, the same one you used to imagine as a child, the same one you heard when things felt too much - gently washing away the invisible dust of a thousand worlds, the water glowing brighter as it touched the God’s skin. 

There was a subtle warmth that spread through them with every stroke—a warmth that felt like sunlight, like a fire that burned but would never hurt. And still, the god watched, their gaze softening with something akin to indulgence. It was as though they were watching a pet, a favorite toy, being offered exactly what it had begged for—nothing more, nothing less.

It took a while before either of you spoke again, your hand rubbed his foot ever so slightly, so careful - as if one wrong touch would hurt him, “You always do good at these jobs, hm?” The entire while he stroked your head, long fingers - lithe, experienced - toyed with the strands of your hair, an unwavering teasing smile adorned his lips, something affectionate lay in his form too, something that made your heart leap.

“You never used to be so shy around me, little one, always talking, always telling me something…” Gojo’s voice dropped lower, more intimate, a fondness on his face. “Shy to touch me? Or is it something else?”

A hitched breath, every time he referred to your usual demeanour, you only felt regret - you couldn’t truly grasp it yourself as to why you weren’t pouncing on him, hugging him and speaking to him the way you longed too - he was your friend right? So you announced to everyone back in the day, he was your best friend.

But even in the thousand possibilities you’d built around his existence, you had never imagined this moment would be such—gentle yet charged, tender yet full of a teasing power. 

“I’m not... shy,” you whispered, though your hands did betray you - trembling as they continued washing.

The God's smile grew, satisfied. “Good. You should be bold with me. You were meant to be that, I could let you keep worshipping from afar. I could make you wait for eternity to touch me.” He chuckled softly, “But I chose you. I wanted you close.”

-

Moses had parted the Red Sea, to help, to save.

When Gojo Satoru moved, the sea of people that surrounded you, crushed you, parted too - to help you, to save you.

Still early, too early - the Sun’s first few rays greeted him gently, dripping off his form, illuminating all that lay in his shadow. A sapphire cloak clung to him, offering from your Father - the man stood beside you now, pride on his face, as if it were him who The God wanted to see, as if it were him who the public wanted.

A veil of iridescent fragrance swirled round him - a mixture, so carefully crafted by The King himself, rare petals and incense, pure, too pure - it made your mind hazy, it would any mortal. 

And in this light, the first time his beauty made your eyes feel entirely blessed too - a silvery radiance, not a speck of time that marred his skin and yet the elegance bespoke of his wisdom, of his stature - his eyes, you were sure you couldn’t get enough of those. The ones which at the moment surveyed his mass, the ones that passed you mischievous glances all morning while you walked with him, the ones that held pure disdain with every swipe across the clearing.

No artist, no artisan could ever bring justice to them - eyes that were windows to the infinite, swirling with the power of boundless stars and celestial clarity. A pale blue gleam that held the serenity of an angel's gaze, yet the same ones which held the quiet storm of a force untouchable by mortal hands. A blessing and a curse itself, untouched by earthly limits, gazing through time and space - and despite everything, fatigued.

He held a smile, perfect, unnatural, “They are taking too long,” a mutter, somehow he’d allowed himself to be talked into carrying ‘human decency’ by you - when in public - almost foolish a grin that he’d held, eyes boring into you while you’d frantically muttered every social cue you could manage.

“Almost done,” you muttered back, “they will ask you to say a few words,” 

“I don’t wish to talk to them,” a shrug he passed, casual, comfortable - your panic was sizing up once again, “they are your people my lord, they would expect just a few words, at least,”

And if you hadn’t spent all those hours in his presence you would’ve missed the ancient profanities he dropped by casually - still smiling as he looked at your father, who was busy speaking of his God’s enigmatic presence.

“We just had to visit my shrines, why is your father making such a huge deal of this?” annoyance in his voice was all too evident - you could only roll your eyes, your own annoyance winning over.

At your father, such pretence he held - his first words to the public itself had been that he, the head priest was the one Satoru Gojo had graced first - not a mention of your name, not a mention of your panic, of your hard work - nothing.

At your companion now, who wouldn’t stop referring to his own priest as your father ever since the moment it fell into his human conscience that you were related - but you were sure the latter was more so intimate than the anger you felt towards your father and his actions.

Nothing new, nothing out of ordinary, our father was used to this, you were used to this.

“My lord, somehow it isn’t daily that you grace us with your presence, there was bound to be some celebration.”

"Some" barely began to capture it—the town, the province, every house, every road, and every creature seemed to be waking up, as if taking a deep, refreshing breath all at once. 

Fathers and uncles spoke of days long past, voices thick with nostalgia, as though they were recounting the golden age of a forgotten world. 

Meanwhile, mothers and aunties gathered in quiet harmony, preparing feasts not just of food, but of memories, as if a son had finally returned from a war that had never truly ended - Children danced like fireflies in the warm embrace of the evening, their laughter ringing out - not a chase for anything, just a need to be.

Each of their eyes wide and unburdened, now - sought but a single glance, for in that fleeting moment, the soul spoke without words, and that one gaze would be immortalized, a treasure passed down through time, woven into the very fabric of their lineage.

Eyes were the windows to the heart, and in that singular glance, they would find their eternity.

And that was where your pity lay - mustered up all of your breath you had too, to bury it - some part of you yearned to say that they deserved it - deserved your God’s depravity, deserved his ignorance - but you knew better didn’t you?

You too had yearned, and in that experience you couldn’t see eye to eye with Gojo’s demand of privacy - with his adamant hold against humans - they were his and he was theirs.  

After all, what privacy? He was their God, their thoughts were his and his action was theirs.

Before a retort Satoru could offer a cleared throat from the King - a beckoning, ironic - what was a King to The God? What difference was he and the rest? None.

Now these things, the humans rarely caught.

The air rippled with an almost tangible excitement as the people gathered - closer as Satoru began speaking - beneath the towering spires of the grand temple. 

The streets, draped in banners of gold and crimson, seemed to pulse with the energy of anticipation. His eyes, sharp and knowing, continued his expedition - as if begging to find something worthwhile - scanned the sea of adoring faces below, a glimmer of amusement barely concealed behind the mask of divine grace.

"Ah, how delightful," he began, his voice a smooth, melodic cadence, "to see you all gathered in such numbers. The dedication, the endless adoration—it never ceases to amuse me. How fortunate you all are to bask in the light of one such as myself." His voice lilted just a bit, as if the very thought of his magnificence was almost too much to bear. 

He paused, letting the words settle, the crowd hanging on every breath. You could see it well, why his presence was worshipped the way it was - for when he spoke, people didn’t listen, they couldn’t. Such was his grace, excellence - it commanded attention, what lay off his words hardly mattered beyond that.

"But," he continued, a slight smile touching his lips, "of course, you know this. How could you not? Your lives, your very existence, are woven into the very fabric of my grace. You thrive because I allow it." His gaze swept over them, languid and slow, as if savoring the devotion in the air. "Still, I suppose it's sweet, in its own way, to see you so eager to please me."

A gulp was all you could manage, eyes widening, at his words - widening further at the realisation that people craved that too, his insolence. And in this moment a realisation - these people, for such reasons  would never grasp him, never grasp who he was.

And for these reasons you were to him who you were.

The people’s adoration only grew, and they cheered, their praises ringing out, louder and louder, as if to drown out any hint of his subtle disdain. He let it wash over him, and though the subtle flicker of disdain was buried beneath his calm demeanor, he allowed them their moment.

"And now," he said, raising a hand to silence them, "I know you have been preparing. Ah, yes, the grand festival. How you’ve worked so tirelessly to honor me. It's... charming, truly." His voice softened, just enough to seem almost indulgent. "I will visit the shrines you’ve so lovingly maintained in my name, see the delicate carvings, the gilded statues—how very... quaint. I’m sure they shine like the very heavens themselves."

Superficial - such that he couldn’t help his own scoff as he spoke - under the radar for the rest, even your father, or the King - none of them caught the undertones, they didn’t care enough.

His gaze turned briefly inward, his tone shifting ever so slightly, just a touch more patronizing. "I do so enjoy visiting my shrines. The incense, the offerings, the music—it’s all so perfectly... expected. But of course, it's not for me. No, no. You do it because you need to. And I, being the benevolent god that I am, allow it." He took a moment, as if lost in the thought, before returning his attention to the throngs below. "I will take my time this year, to walk the streets, see all the preparations... watch you all as you dress in your finest, your faces alight with the belief that somehow, this festival is for you."

He paused, allowing his gaze to drift lazily over the crowd, "After all, I, of course, am the very reason you have a purpose at all."

Another cheer rose up from the crowd, and he smiled, a touch of irony in his expression, though it was well-hidden behind his calm mask. "And yes," he said, his voice now thick with a mocking sweetness, "I will attend the festival. I will smile, perhaps even dance a little. After all, you have earned it, haven’t you? Such dedication. Such reverence. It truly warms my heart."

Your finger twitched, a little jab your own heart felt as he spoke - you were none but a part of them too - part of the lowly - part of the people that were too caught up in their worship to notice the subtle edge in his words. 

Had you once been the same? Has your own reverence caused him to laugh, if ever?

"Enjoy the preparations, my dear subjects," he said, his voice deepening with a final, deliberate pulse, "Cherish this festival, it is my light that guides you. It is my will that shapes this world. Without me, you would have nothing to celebrate at all."

The crowd erupted in thunderous applause, their voices like a tidal wave crashing against the shore, and and you could see his posture charge, the power surge.

"Go, then," he said, turning to leave, "make merry, as you always do when I am near. I will enjoy it. And I will return, as I always do. For it is I who make this world beautiful—and you, dear mortals, have the privilege of basking in it."

A shy lick of your lips, you stared as your father thanked him, as did the King - you stared as they thanked you for taking the divine duty of caring for him, you stared as Satoru held your hand lead you away - you stared and stared till every scene was a blur except Satoru Gojo himself.

-

“How many shrines do we have planned, little one?” a question he finally managed out - walking aimlessly with your hand in his - your mind just as fuzzy from the contact - “four, my lord,” you mumbled shyly - the voices outside drowned by your thoughts.

“The ancient ones, the ones built aeons ago in your name,”

A groan - “all four?”

You only passed half a smile - which he was impassively glad for - and an eye roll.

“Your speech would have one thinking that you’d love seeing your own shrines, My lord,” and in response you earned a hearty laugh, his hand slipped from yours, working on peeling the banana someone, an older woman offered to him, one that he accepted with a kiss to her hand.

You could only wonder when you’d receive a similar proposition, but a thought not dwelled on for long - you were on edge always that he could hear thoughts.

“Well, yes,” he grinned, biting into the fruit, “but the craftsmanship is important y/n,” he spoke as a matter-of-fact, no longer did his tone carry notes of his disdain - this was free.

“Even you would get bored looking at those old statues, all stone - isn’t it?” he laughed further at your expression, an open mouth as you took in his words.

Stones - some of those statues were pure gold.

“I doubt i’d get bored of your shrines,” meek, and yet bold - you only distanced your pacing from slightly - an attempt at hiding the peeking smile as you spoke - but whatever remained hidden from him?

“Oh?” he simply called out - hand reaching out to pull you close, fingers interlocking yours once again - “and yesterday, you were too afraid to wash my feet.”

You cringed at his words - a laugh escaped you still, somehow this felt humane, real. 

You stepped into the bustling market square of the common palace, - the first shrine was in the heart of the town itself - it didn’t take much for the reactions to take place, sudden gasps and whispers, as if besetting your path - widened eyes and charged environment.

You were glad it wasn’t as bad as the first day - women had their baskets dropped, men fell to their knees altogether - all to achieve a bored yawn from their God.

As you continued your walk, interruptions were bound to stricken - a route only 15 minutes long easily took you an hour.

“Oh, great one,” one merchant stammered, barely daring to look up. “You grace us with your presence!”

The god's smile tightened, a predatory gleam flickering in his eyes - not a single care.

 He turned to face you, voice pitched low with an exaggerated sigh. “Can you feel the reverence, my sweet? See how they worship me, as they should.” 

A rich melody dripped from his voice - and besides that, mockery, your heart clenched. 

“They are so simple, aren’t they? So... eager to throw themselves at my feet, like beggars for a scrap of bread.”

The devotee’s eyes lowered, their heart sinking as the god’s words echoed in their mind.

‘Cruel’ - the word surrounded your head, your thoughts - too cruel.

For those who had waited all their lives and for those who had not - Satoru Gojo stood indifferent, maybe it was that their heads didn’t grasp his balance - maybe it was that they were drowning in awe and admiration that his spite went unnoticed - but your heart knew.

It knew they deserved better.

And the same heart shouted that Your God wouldn’t be barbaric - your mind reminded you that you knew nothing. 

However, were they truly so eager? So desperate that this sting didn't matter? Would you be the same? Were you already? Were you the worst, which was what amused him best?

No, you  served him out of love, not desperation.

-

In the heart of the bustling town, nestled between sleek shops and markets, stood an imposing shrine crafted from radiant bronze. Walls that shimmered with a polished sheen, catching the sun’s light and reflecting it in dazzling waves. The entrance featured massive bronze doors - adorned with intricate carvings of the infinite, swirling energy, and Gojo’s figure—effortlessly powerful.

Inside, the cavernous space was cool and humbling. A towering statue of Gojo stood at its center, his form captured mid-motion, poised with unyielding strength. The bronze seemed to vibrate with energy, the swirling carvings on the walls shifting subtly as if alive. Around the base of the statue, small offerings—tokens of devotion—glowed faintly, vanishing into the ether as if absorbed by Gojo’s infinite domain.

And to all that, Satoru had passed a whistle - strolling about aimlessly while you struggled to talk to the priests, unduly requests the made - partial answers you offered, a mess - all would be simple if Satoru did what he ought to do.

Be Kinder to his people.

Your eye twitched as you watched him practically inhale another banana - “for someone who wouldn’t eat a single dish I presented you, you seem quite starved now,”

Nothing, silence on his end - you swallowed.

“If my food didn’t appeal to you-” thick your voice lay, ashamed perhaps to not have been enough - “sometimes you talk like the rest of them, it gets annoying.”

Your face burned - a forest fire barely tamed.

Oh.

“Nothing is wrong with you - I simply wish for something else.”

Oh.

You stood in silence thereafter, watching as people approached - you held a breath, wondering if every interaction would be the same - pitiable.

Satoru Gojo was complex, if put simply - kind to children, smiles and miracles, and chivalrous to the older generations, as if truly a son - but to everything that lay in between, insects and humans, birds and animals - all alike.

And some moments you’d swear - with the conviction in his eyes, he preferred grovelling worms to your kind.

“You wonder why I act this way? Why so…biased?” 

And moments like this then reminded you that holding fast you tongue wasn’t enough - your mind had to be reeled too.

A nod you passed and an inhale, he patted the seat beside him - you knew you cue, seated still, two steps below as you were supposed to.

“I suppose they are quite the sight,” you murmured, with an attempt to steady your breathing, to find the confidence he demanded. “But they… they only wish to please you.”

 A tear - between your devotion and heart.

The god’s laughter rang out, soft - full of malice, like wind brushing against a blade. “Ah, and therein lies their mistake,” he teased. “They seek to please a creature far beyond their understanding. A creature that finds them… tiresome, insignificant. How the mindless flock to me, how they crawl and beg for a taste of my greatness. They are nothing but ants.”

You couldn’t offer words beyond that, nothing to say, nothing to think.

A rueful smile he did finally - as you walked down the flight of stairs, his fingers curled around an old man’s wrist, helping him down alongside the two of you - “someday, perhaps, I will tell you the real stories. Maybe then we will have something beyond this devotion, when I speak of the devastation.”

-

You jogged back to him - an amused smile adoring your face, the sight of Satoru keeping up his faces with your Father, with the King - they didn’t see it, didn’t notice his glares and bored responses.

You were content - it made you special, as you were meant to be.

“My Lord,” a bow presented to your God - “My Grace,” to the King, “Father,” your own mischievous smile now - aimed at your father - you were aware he wouldn’t call you out for not calling him the head priest here and now.

“The future head,” the King acknowledged, a slight ruffle - they were close, your father and the emperor - finally Satoru beamed, maybe an assumption still.

“When will the ceremonies for this one begin?” He spoke quiet here, a reference to you taking the responsibilities of the head priest after your father - none of his usual, no smiles or groans - A God.

Unsolicited silence did fall - tension.

Satoru was aware - he just preferred his own comfort over others.

“It is in the works,” your father muttered, your jaw clenched.

You should have been it already - should be respected as he was - should be where he was.

Cowards, however, turn every stone - even against their kin - to hold close what they considered power.

You watched your father’s weight shift towards the King.

“It has been there long enough,” you muttered back - subconscious a move - you shifted your weight towards Satoru Gojo, all there had to be said was through.

-

“You seemed giddy when you were approaching us - what happened,” The God mused, his hands held behind his back, his form looming beside yours - a sigh you passed.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder sounded.

“You, better than everyone else do understand the why and the what,” forlorn a stature you carried now, his gaze was stuck on you - human emotions that he couldn’t register as yet, not properly.

“So you do remember we are friends?” playful - you scoffed, “i was afraid you wouldn’t remember that I was your best one,”

This time, his scoff - “Wouldn’t remember you? Some tragedies are difficult to forget - you befall that category,”

He laughed and you did too.

Normal - this seemed normal, finally.

A blink of your eye - lightning struck again.

“Father thinks I’d sway easy - thinks I’m not…conniving enough,” bitter you sounded, bitter you were - when hundreds questioned your Devotion, mocked you for it - your father was the first in line.

“And what part of that would he be wrong at?” you could hear the smile in his words - a gasp slipped far too easy, “I would not.”

“You would.”

“Would not.”

“Would too - must i remind you every time you’ve come crying to me when those around you troubled you? Or when you begged me to absolutely obliterate those children because they mocked you,” a snicker he passed, “you’re no better than me - just as maligned as I am.”

Ironic.

No better than him - A God so humane he blurred devotion and desolation - A Human so angelic they blurred Horizons of Earth and Heaven.

Another laughed passed, another beat fell.

The clouds sounded now - your head snapped to the sound - it would rain, a storm mayhaps.

“Where to now, My Lady?” this time his hand rose and fell again - round your shoulder - friends, something closer - pulling you towards him.

“Ah well, that was the news, of the four shrines we had to see, the routes to two are in no condition to accommodate your travel - we mustn't see those,” he shook his head - “I didn’t understand the point anyways, a whole God in flesh and you wanted to see inanimate stones.”

A roll of your eyes - head slowly coming to rest on his shoulder - “it was for you - to show you but regardless,” you held up a hand to pause him before he spoke again - he obeyed all too easy - “we might see the third one tomorrow.”

A loud sigh he passed - “and where to at the moment?”

“You must head to your Hall, I must head to my dorm too - it seems it will rain tonight.”

A pause - he held your gaze - close, too close - you felt the first drop of the rain - “leave your God alone? How woeful,” he spoke soft, “take me with you - to your dorm.”

A lick of your lips - shy - your hands felt clammy, unsure of the placement all together - “it’s- it’s small, you wouldn’t…may not prefer it,”

“Dare you assume I wouldn't like something that is yours? That is Y/n’s?” no humour - no mischief - his voice was deliberate, his hands held you perfectly, almost cradled you.

Drops continued to fall - who were you to deny him?

“Apologies my lord, I…of course, this way.”

Your dorm - his favourite shrine. 

And as you lead him, the lightning struck one last time - a deep rumble felt, not by you - not by him, but by the rest of the town.

Devastation had ensued.

That night, you lay unaware of what the world would resolve into - that night you slept in the arms of your God, that night the God slept in the arms of his Devotee.

a/n: first, thank you to the one person who requested this months ago💀because i'd been having this idea soo long, second, gojo might seem a bit? different? but it made sense to me so <3 third, slight refernces to Bible and greek as well as indian mythology are everywhere  because essentially these are the only ones I'm accustomed to so yes and finally major thank you and kisses to @stxrysnow @sukunim and @elysian-chaos for beta reading this🎀

tags: @starmaiya11 @devastyle

All of this work is original and entirely my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[solrabi]

I loved what you did with Kento seeing y/n in a backless dress.🌷😭🩷 Could you possibly do something similar with Gyomei from demon slayer if you write for that fandom? He’s blind so he won’t be able to see the dress but I was thinking when he embraces y/n in a hug he could tell how the dress hugs all her curves and maybe he gets a little turned on? 🫣🤭🥹🌷

Thank you so much 🫶 I haven’t watched a lot of demon slayer but I’m definitely open to writing new characters. I hope I got his personality down correctly.

Notes: Modern!AU, fem!reader AFAB, Gyomei has a cane to assist him. Lightly (like feather) hinted at not being with a woman before you. Not proofread yet, sorry :( ,suggestive

Date nights were your favorite because it was one of the many times you had your busy boyfriend all to yourself. For once, the two of you were going out after weeks of not having enough free time together. Which is funny because the relationship hasn’t even gotten into the ‘using the bathroom while my partner showers’ territory yet.

Either way, you were in complete bliss as you spritzed your perfume. A finishing touch to your look for tonight that concluded of a lovely full sleeved backless dress with heels of the matching color. Simple yet sensual.

You heard your apartment lock beep and a shuffling of foot steps along with the slight rattles of metal. Gyomei was here. Since it had been a while since you had last seen him, you decided to cheekily surprise him with a back hug sneak attack.

You removed your heels and tiptoed out of your room to see him before he could let you know that he had arrived. However, you stood still for a few seconds, taking in how handsome he looked.

Sure, you found him attractive no matter what but he looked especially delicious today with his hair styled and his outfit fitting him in all the right places.

You crossed your hands and silently thanked your lucky stars for sending him your way before approaching him.

He turned towards the sound of your feet shuffling and had a blinding smile on his face as a response.

You sulked at the fact that he had noticed you before you could hug him. “Ugh, I wanted to catch you off guard for once.”

“I think you’re forgetting that my other senses are heightened since I’m blind.” He cheekily replied. Having a good sense of navigation around your apartment, he leaned himself against your kitchen counter, retracting his mobility cane in the process.

“Do you want anything to eat before we leave? I can pack some crackers for our drive to the restaurant since it’s kinda far.” You said as you began to look through your snack cabinet for some more light snacks.

“I’m alright. However, I would like a glass of water before we head out.”

“You got it.” You filled up his designated mug that said ‘hottest DILF on earth’ in braille on it. A small gag gift that you gave him on his birthday. You couldn’t stop laughing at his reaction when you told him about the meaning of DILF.

You hand him the mug and ignore the butterflies in your stomach when his large hands purposely engulf yours when grabbing the cup.

“Okay, all I need are my shoes and then we’ll be off.” But before you can leave, your boyfriend is quick to grab your arm and put his mug down on the counter.

He pulled you into his hold, hands resting dangerously low on your waist but not high enough to be on your back.

“Before you leave, I’d like to tell you that you smell divine.” He shyly says as he leans his forehead against yours.

Your face burned as you placed your hands on his firm biceps and rubbed them up and down. “You say that for every perfume I wear.”

“Yeah, but this one’s my favorite favorite.” You giggled at your boyfriend before lightly smacking his chest. You missed so much during your time apart from him and you were going to take complete advantage of him now that you were together.

You slowly moved your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, then neck, and finally his face to make him lean further to you. Signaling that you wanted to kiss him.

Gyomei let out a small hum of approval before pressing his lips to yours. It felt like kissing him for the first time again. Like when you both first reciprocated your feelings to each other.

Lips tantalizingly pulling against one another. Molding and melding to relay just how much love the two of you had for each other. His hands slowly trailed up your back, finally reaching the exposed skin just a few inches above the small of your back. He turned you around so your back could rest on the counter instead of his and he pressed his body completely against yours.

“It’s a good thing your dress is unzipped.” Gyomei chuckled between kisses.

“It’s not. It’s backless.”

He stops kissing you. Instead, his hands roam around the expanse of your back. “This is the first I’ve heard of something like this.”

You let out a small smile, letting him quench his thirst of curiosity. “Yes, a lot of people wear these kind of clothes for special occasions.”

It touched his heart to hear you say that. It made him feel a little insecure that he couldn’t compliment you on the effort you made to look good for him but it helped knowing that you never stopped doing it.

He was glad that his presence made you want to dress up and feel pretty.

He leaned in to kiss you again, but this time with his fingers trailing down your spine, enjoying the familiar feeling of your skin. “I love the way your skin feels.”

The fingers from his right hand then began to dance around your zipper while his left hand continued to stroke your spine.

“Honey, if you keep this up we’ll never make it to the restaurant.” You mumbled as his mouth trailed moist kisses down your neck. He deeply inhaled when he reached the base of your throat, relishing the scent of the perfume.

“I’m going to be honest with you, the reservation is the last thing on my mind right now.” He mumbled while moving his left hand to hold you right beneath your right breast. You gasped as his grip gradually tightened with every kiss he left around your décolletage.

“I say we order in and do something I’ve been waiting to do all these weeks.” He continued as his hips began to grind to yours.

-

Dry spell so bad I had to watch kissing scenes to get inspo.

[shorthaltsjester]

sorry it so truly laughable to me to look at campaign 3 and determine the success of the stories therein based on screentime like. disregarding the fact that i personally take c3 to be the least valuable in terms of stories told, particularly ones about romantic love, for the moment: on principle it’s goofy as hell to think that a large amount of hours = a story that has something to say let alone something meaningful to say. like, yasha and beau, for example, have a fairly small amount of hours due to the fact that a) ashley missed half the campaign b) they were also generally slowburn, and while that influences the depth of certain aspects of the story, the time spent with yasha and beau has little to do with how meaningful their story is. it wouldn’t matter if they had 10 hours of screen time or 100 if what is in question is the story told; yasha’s story as someone chained by grief choosing to move on & beau’s story as someone angry after a life of being treated like shit finally getting justice for the wrongs done to her which both conclude in their campaign’s finales aren’t successful because I can launch some meaningless number of how many hours it took them to take build those stories together into the ether and say “they did this for women’s rights” just because two women existed beside one another. both yasha and beau resonate as stories that have a significant feminist read because they both deal with fantasy versions of things extremely relevant to women in a way that maintains their agency without shirking their responsibility, and they are particularly strong stories about queerness not simply because they’re two women who fuck but because they deal with emotional themes relevant to queer experiences — anger and grief — and how, while the reasons for those emotions are grounded ones, they both choose to grow beyond the boundaries they allowed those emotions to enforce in their lives.

further, the notion of screentime for a show that takes care to show all of the players on screen at a time in a medium where the player/character distinction isn’t always clear is such a subjective calculation and on top of being a stupid justification for ‘success’ or ‘value’ of a story, is also easy to manipulate to your favour.

it’s just, the screentime for im*dna’s relevance and success doesn’t ring true to me just because it’s a bad reason. but further it just isn’t persuasive. i don’t care if i see someone for 1000 hours or 1, if a story resonates it will do so with any amount of time. whatever amount of screentime they’re calculated to have does nothing to repair or hide the fact that their story as a couple says very little of value in the text, without whatever fanfic extrapolation has taken place (and to be clear, this isn’t to say fanfic can’t be valuable, it’s to say that the character explorations you do in fic or in meta for that matter doesn’t mean that analysis or elaboration is canon). like. halfway through the campaign, before they got together, imogen told laudna “our weirdness is what makes us right” and laudna agreed verbally but now 1 billion hours of screentime later or whatever, laudna has still failed to integrate that belief into her, which is made obvious in a scene after the divine intervention that ties laudna’s life to imogen’s when imogen tells laudna she’s grateful she got to hear the music of laudna’s thoughts, and laudna’s response is “it was probably a bit of the insanity, honestly”, something which on paper might read like a joke but in the moment is played like a (maintained from hours upon hours previous) dismissal of what imogen is saying she values about laudna, evident in the way laura/imogen deflates when she says “well, it was pretty…”. and simply because it’s been a trillion hours of screentime that’s supposed to be representative of a relationship in which the characters help each other to grow.

(addendum to say that stories that are about stagnancy can be just as valuable as stories about growth, but textually and by the sections of fandom im critiquing here, imogen and Especially laudna are treated as a relationship that grows)

truly, if anything, counting up as many hours as possible to dictate the success of imogen and laudna’s story actually ends up working against the story. because i’d probably be more forgiving of the stagnancy if it was a shorter story, but knowing that they had so many hours and still failed to deliver a story with actions and behaviour that matched the claims the characters would make and the tropes/themes that would get applied to them, that makes it worse.

[soo-won]

Chapter 267 ramble

I said this about Suwon last time but I think we should all read akayona with more emotions sometimes maybe. like, in general. for everyone. I don't want Yona to be Suwon and to only think of the greater good. I want Suwon and Yona to coexist, like they've been working on for a while now. I don't like the theory that Suwon will die to save Hak and/or Yona, I don't think it's good and I don't think it makes sense with what the story has been exploring and conveying so far, and I would feel the same if it was Yona or anyone instead of Suwon. Anyone sacrificing themselves to appease/please the gods would be the lamest conclusion ever. The story hasn't been subtle about challenging the notions that sacrifices, punishments and now contracts are necessary. Like,, no they're not. They need everyone here.

I was more sceptical when Yona didn't hesitate at all in chapter 257, but here I don't think it's an issue. Like first, we see her be affected and waver when the gods use the dragons' limbs against her. She recovers her composure because dragons are here and tell her to not worry about this. But more importantly, Yona has known hell, and it's there that she met people reaching out their hands to others in need again and again, and this is what inspired her to fight and bring help to those in need back. It's in hell she met her friends, her family and was moved by people's kindness again and again. She has no reason to be scared of what the gods are warning her about, she has known wars, she has known disasters. She will just stand against everything the future throw at her like she said in ch257. She loves the mess that is Kouka Kingdom and its people. I don't think there was anything better she could have done in her situation. She doesn't have the means and power to do anything but either submit to the gods or escape, she needs outside help. Yona is not responsible for the dragons losing their limbs, nor for Kouka's current state. The gods are the only ones being unreasonable and irrational here, you just can't win against something irrational like that, she can only leave.

Moreover, I don't want Yona to decide the terms of Kouka's future for everyone like a god, and the best way to do that is again to leave, not make any deal with the gods, and face everything on Earth as a human like she always did, which she's exactly what she's trying to do in ch267. Yona already said she's resolved to find ways to bring an end to wars, we've seen her participate to help out tribes and countries and people again and again. That's what she does. Relying on a contract with the gods (even though we have seen how damaging and harmful it is on the long run! again and again! and they're not reliable! Don't we all want the gods to just stop with their vows and contracts and prophecy and rules already?) is the easy, coward way out. Humans don't need the powers of the gods. They don't need divine protection. They have accomplished everything by fighting as they are. Yona was helped by the gods' powers sure, but her development is about being strong enough to not depend on her friends' powers, and it's most of all the characters trying to help out others that truly accomplish things. The people on Earth are all working hard to help each other out and deal with each problem together, even now. They will manage, they will be fine. Let's believe in the power of people. All they need is the human Yona too, and the humans four dragons, and the humans Suwon and Hak. All of Kouka need to be freed from the gods' supervision.

Literally no one right now is asking for anything the gods have ever been doing, they only ever did this for themselves. The gods are fear mongering right now, and I don't think it's worth falling into the trap of believing all life is doomed without their protection like they want us to. I don't think they're objective. They always considered humans were stupid detestable creatures that are destined to destroy themselves without their intervention. I don't think they realize how resilient people on Earth are. (Lili alone would gag them!) Natural disasters are one thing, but how do they know wars will be break out? Wars are started and enacted by people, and are stopped by people as well. We have seen characters facing sort of natural disasters (even if it wasn't natural back then) by working out together during the flooding of Kin Province for example, or when Kuuto was burned down. People have infinite ressources when they work together. Suwon is resolved to find a way to bring back the sky knowing he can't influence the Gods too. It's their business. It's their country. Yona belongs to Earth and people in Kouka want her back because she is waited for, loved, and needed as the human Yona there. Like it is the case for every other character.

I think the theory of Suwon dying and sacrificing himself has no solid basis either. Like, I don't know, he might consider it, but I just don't think it will happen and if it goes there, it will be prevented. I may be naive, but to me the story is conveying that it's not something wishable? Suwon doesn't need to die and wait for punishment (or """redemption""" like I've seen some call it) to be "even". Suwon can live, and find the best path where no one has to be sacrified and punished, himself included. Isn't it what chapter 262 ends on? It's not about equivalent exchange and balance, it's about love and hope for the future. Characters in akatsuki no yona have been giving without expecting anything in return again and again, even if they were hurt before, this is the crux of it to me. This is the nature of Hiryuu's actions in the past too. So no ending can be satisfying if the Gods don't do the same. (Or else just vanish forever.) Without mentioning that it has been established Suwon wants to live. Like, even with what looks like passive suicidal ideation, Suwon wants to live. He can't help being curious about what will happen next. He simply needs help to believe a better future for him is possible too.

And this help can still come. The story isn't over yet. Zeno is still immortal, the dragons have lost their limbs, are not even truly back to normal and are stuck in the chalice, Yona is stuck too, the crimson illness is still a thing etc.. Let's not rush things, and let's look at the bigger picture and find a better solution than just sending anyone that pleases the gods to heavens so they're happy and give everything else ppl want in exchange.

[affirmationcosmos]

What New Paradigm Are You In?!?!✨✨✨

1

2

3

Hi Pile 1✨: The new Paradigm you are in is one of Harmony 🎶. Just like how your favorite songs sound so lovely to you, your new Paradigm also feels like harmony to you. You are in a vibe of complete trust in the Divine Source energy and you are emotionally moving forward and flowing down stream. Continue to practice stillness and meditation as you flow through your new Paradigm 💞.

Hi Pile 2🎊: The new Paradigm you are in is of acceptance. You are accepting responsibility of being the main character in your life. Your choosing people, places, and things that fit this new concept of who you are. You are allowing yourself to feel your emotions and to allow yourself to become a channel for these emotions to pass through versus acting out on them. You've accepted your responsibility for your life and your choosing to live it YOUR WAY❤️‍🔥.

Hi Pile 3🤗: The new Paradigm you are stepping in is one of miraculous happenings. With your unique flare and love of life, you're now in a Paradigm where your energy and the environment you are in will be a match. Some of you are currently moving to that new environment now and will experience so much freedom. If little fears pop up, just remind yourself that you are on the right path and that everything is always working out for you. Remember to listen to yourself and to trust your gut because things in your life are moving in a divine way💖.

Thanks for reading!!

[shinesurge]

Yes hello I don't have any theorycrafting about your lore because honestly I'm just excited to see where you go with it

BUT IT JUST WANTED TO SAY

In the same way that Agatha getting to hold on to her anger, it makes me absolutely FERAL that Phin has to say it - say outloud, choking on her own blood, that she wants to live. Despite miserable awful circumstances in a place she hates to be, Yes She Still Wants To Live!!!

Not to get too real about it, but it echos how I feel when I hear people talking about how awful living in the US is and they're just gonna move somewhere else. Don't you want to live?? , don't you want to FIGHT?? Despite miserable awful circumstances, it'll hurt and you'll be forever changed after BUT DON'T YOU WANT TO L I V E ??

oh man thanks for this actually, i ruminated a LONG time over what i wanted to do with that panel. the violence in that whole sequence is a lot more intense (imo) than anything else we've seen so far, so i was already kind of concerned it would be Too Much to have gideon drag a response out of her sliced up throat on top of it. then putting it in any kind of speech bubble was Too Clean, and by then i figured we'd already gone this far and lukewarm is never the right answer, so i leaned into what i really wanted to say for basically the reasons you mentioned hehe

i'm generally bored with violence and gore as shock, but i DO love it as like. divine or primal currency? i think it is cool to earn things by being willing to bleed for them and do it on your own terms when you can, which is also kind of a fundamental thesis for kidd commander, so i tried not to squirm away from the uncomfortable stuff in this chapter literally setting up our protagonist to do those things. I'm so happy to hear it landed for you!!

this was a very cool thing to share, thank you for taking the time to send it <3 i know my writing isn't for everyone but it's really reassuring that people out there are getting something out of my angry bloody characters

[linkemon]

Love language headcanons

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

Consider supporting me on Ko-fi.

Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

Rook Hunt • Words

• If there is anyone at Night Raven College who has mastered the art of speech, it is definitely Rook. The boy has been using flowery phrases since you first met. It has become so much a part of him that you can't imagine him speaking in normal words.

• His love language is words, so he naturally gave nicknames to the people around him during the time he spent with them. However, you are unique and that comes with certain privileges. You have already been called the Crown jewel of his heart, An angel with a divine face, and The most beautiful person the world has ever seen. Interestingly, if anyone else had said it, you would have thought of it as empty platitudes but not with Rook. You know he sincerely believes everything he says.

• First graders literally can't listen to the boy for long periods of time. His words are so sweet that it makes them all sick, as Ace put it...

• Hunt likes to give you poems in which he praises various aspects of your character. Of course, the concept of beauty must always come up but he wants you to remember that beauty is not just about appearance.

• Rook uses foreign-sounding words very often. At first you looked up what they meant. Now you simply ask him to translate what he is saying but sometimes you will be refused. Some things are more interesting being a mystery...

Jack Howl • Acts of service

• Something broke? Need help you with your bag? Renovation at Ramshackle? This man is definitely the answer to all your problems. At times you feel that perhaps his distant connection to dogs due to being a beast with wolf-like characteristics is responsible for his textbook loyalty. Once you have won him over, he will always be there, willing to help.

• His love language seems to be usually favors. He'll find or take care of Grim when you're having a bad day. He will help fill the hole when your dormitory roof is leaking. He will lend you his jacket when you are cold.

• You sometimes let him do things that you could do yourself. All this just to see his satisfied face and his tail moving left and right when you thank him.

• You're not as fit as he is. If you go for a morning training session in the forest on the school grounds and fall down along the way, you can be sure that he will take you ona piggyback ride. He doesn't take you in his arms because he's a little embarrassed that you'll see him blush. But you know what's going on in his head because his ears give him away.

• You especially like it when Jack's favors include manual labor. You then have the opportunity to take a closer look at his muscles. And there are many of them...

Floyd Leech • Physical touch

• Floyd is a walking fan of touch. In various forms. Mostly squeezing, which most Night Raven College students don't like. Fortunately, he doesn't threaten you with anything terrible in this matter.

• It started with Floyd simply throwing his arm around your shoulders. He would always tell you that he was extremely bored as he led you to Mostro Lounge. It wasn't long before he started literally hanging on to you if you weren't paying attention to him.

• Nowadays, a boy loves to give you surprise hugs. Sometimes you have to remind him that he has a lot more strength than the average person and that you need a little more air in your lungs.

• He likes to grab your hand unexpectedly when you're passing the school corridors. One time it got to the point that he didn't want to let you go and went with you to Professor Trein's class. You felt a lot of shame then, especially when he told the teacher that he couldn't be separated from his shrimpy. Only when Jade came to talk his brother out of the idea of starting an argument with Trein, he announced that it was over for the day because he was tired of sitting in the stuffy atmosphere. He then got a week's punishment.

• You once bought him a tiny rubber ball so he could squeeze it when you weren't around. He liked it so much that now he won't part with it. You can meet many dissatisfied people on campus who were hit in the head with such a ball.

[scribiel]

The Sound of Love

Jujutsu Kaisen! Satoru Gojo x fem! reader tags: Satoru Gojo x fem! reader, angst, major character death, grief, a bit suggestive

Few months ago my friend asked me, “What do you think love sounds like?”. So I shook my head and replied, “Like love songs?” 

But to think about it, Satoru, I think love sounds like: 

First, it sounds like someone’s opening a melon soda can in the middle of movie night. Where I can hear you walking and opening the fridge; the clink sound from the can; and how satisfied you sound from the carbonated drink. It’s quite weird, for it’s late at night yet your eyes shine so bright; so little of light, yet so bright. That I think the stars would be jealous because I get so lost and captivated in your eyes more than I do in those stars.

Second, it sounds like the splattered water you always make whenever we are in the bathtub together. Your giggles and mine clash one another along with the water, making it sounds like a very childish activity. But whatever it is, it makes me at ease. A friend; a child; two grown adults who share responsibilities; whatever we are or we are like, as long as I am with you, I enjoy it most.

Third, it sounds like your whines. Your morning whines to be precise. You always protest that I got up a bit too early. You always say you don’t mind about the breakfast that’ll come a little too late. Yet not long after you —from behind— put your arms around me and rest your chin upon my shoulder, your stomach makes a sound. 

Fourth, sometimes, it sounds like your snore, which you usually don’t snore, but whenever the day is too much for you; you do. Sometimes it wakes me up in the middle of the night. It’s not like I mind about it, because I can stare at the face that God took time in the making. Every curve is so divine. 

Fifth, and most importantly, it sounds like a rhythm. Every now and then, we love doing it, like right now: I put my head upon your left chest, allowing me to feel the warmth from your body. I can hear the beeping sound from the air conditioner remote; you are lowering the room temperature. 

“Do you really have to?”

You reply, “Yes. Because”—there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes— “with the low room temperature, we can cuddle without feeling hot way too early, that’ll lead into a short time of hugging each other. And I hate it.”

I can see the silver band around your ring finger, which brings a smile across my face and an ease of feelings all over my senses. So, I put my arm around your body. I can feel your arms around mine, pulling me closer. 

As I melt into your embrace, I ask you, “Do you wanna know what the sound of love sounds like?” 

Carelessly, you answer, “Like whenever we make love and our moanings are combined together?”

I laugh. “No,” —I put my palm on your chest, next to your beating heart— “it sounds like your heartbeat.”

Then the silence fills the room. You don’t give an immediate response. It must’ve been quite shocking for you to process. I think you are lost in your emotion, or my words have just given you an ick. But then you say, “Oh … Oh my God.” 

I can feel your hold getting tighter as you say, “I don’t know what to say, but thank you.”

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you,” you repeat that. “I love you.”

But then I open my eyes. I feel the blanket wrapping around my body; pillows that I staked with each other  earlier so I can sleep better; and I feel no heartbeat to hear, no arms to hold, and one beating heart but it’s blue and broken. I grab your ring—that now I put on as a pendant on my necklace— and put it in between my lips. The cold sensation helps me to grasp every memory, that I hope I won't forget, of you. 

I remember we talked about a situation, more like my nightmare. We talked about what would happen if one of us died first. But I didn't know how the talk became revolving around you, your passing. 

I insisted while standing, “I’ll follow you to the afterlife.”

You shook your head. “Don’t you dare. Move on. Live your life.”

I crossed my arms and said, “Even if that happened. I don’t think I would ever love someone else anymore.”

You, sitting on the sofa, pulled me by my waist closer. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

I wasn’t brave enough to look into your eyes. “Yes…?”

You put your arms around my waist  then hugged me. I could feel the sadness from how firm you were holding me. "I … don't say that you’d never move on ... I understand that you will still love me, long after my passing. But that also means you'll miss the chances to find people who can love you just as much as I love you, people who will make you happy in ways I'm not sure I was able to make you happy too.”

Right now, I am ashamed of myself, because I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t allow myself to move on. Please forgive me, Satoru. I think I can continue my life, fill it with activities to kill some time until I see you again, but I don’t think I can love again. Because even if I do that, I’ll only lie to myself and put myself in misery, and second best is all I will ever know for the rest of my life. What If I kiss others, but my lips can only taste and remember the taste of your lips. What if he pulls me in, but I curse myself because it’s not your embrace that I’ll be in. What if it’s not you? How selfish of me, but I want you and only you, because it’s you, whom my heart calls for every night. 

Satoru, sleep has become my favorite activity these past few weeks, because I can meet you in my dream. So come and visit me often, for I’ll be waiting. 

I wish I could drift to dream and be with you again for a moment, but the sun has risen and my alarm will ring in a few minutes. Don’t worry, your ring will always be hanging from the chain around my neck. Don’t worry, I am doing fine, or that’s what I think. 

But please, seriously, don’t worry. I may not be able to hear the sound of love any time soon, but I hope I can remember it for the rest of my time walking on earth.

[athenasdragon]

Typed out a long response to @blasphemyenjoyer's question and I also want it on my blog, this being my diary of my dragon age obsession I guess.

Largely positive about writing choices below the cut with some critical elements, largely about how the realities of the game production necessitate a lack of flow between games.

[As always, sorry for putting a somewhat critical post in main tags, I try to make sure my followers can filter stuff accurately.]

So here's the thing: a lot of the replayability enjoyment of these games [blogger's note: DA series and RPGs more widely] for me comes from crafting different story decisions to roleplay different characters. The first time playing inquisition, not knowing how the choices I was making would play out, was exciting and crazy and scary! And then the second time, I felt like the urgency was gone and I could actually explore every corner of the world, and that was kinda more fun. Going in with a character made to target a specific romance or have a backstory connection to certain elements of the game or whatever is super fun for me.

Knowing that Rook is always going to get the rug pulled out from under them by Solas and have to face the grief of Varric being dead all a long is a fun thing to play with when making different characters. And a lot of the origins specifically have different ideas about death: my warden Rook is going to have a different relationship to Varric sacrificing himself for the sake of the mission than, say, a mourn watch Rook will have with the idea of seeing and interacting with the spirit of a departed friend.

Given that they made the choice to sacrifice Varric in this game, I'm not super mad at how they did it. I enjoyed the twists and turns, the reveal even though I figured out it was coming, and the replayability of it for at least the second time is crazy. For example,

"Hey, let's not get stuck in our regrets, all right?" -sock puppet of a guy who is about to trap you in a literal prison made of regret voice

I don't necessarily think it's bad for the series as a whole to shift towards a more streamlined set of choices so they can focus on big beats and character moments like this. They've known since the development of DA2 that it's incredibly hard for them to cash in on the results of the world-altering choices you make in past games. Don't have one character be dead in 25% of saves and alive in 75% of saves, let them have their moment.

UNFORTUNATELY having bg3 come out a year before this game really kneecapped my enjoyment of it. Because that was such a good example of loving detail breathing life into every square foot in a game world, and your choices coming back to matter in a concrete way BEFORE THE END OF THE GAME

also if they wanted to kill Varric off they should have done it in DA2 or Inquisition. Sorry. Have Cassandra actually kill him during the interrogation to find Hawke and we the player not find out until we're already the figurehead of the organization in the next game. Have him sacrifice himself if Hawke gets left in the fade in Inquisition. Hell, make the inquisitor the protagonist of this game so he's sacrificing himself in front of his friend of 10 years and not his employee of 6 months. like, I think there were better ways to do this, but it's beginning to be clear that they're only ever thinking one release ahead with a huge turnover of writers in between projects.

So maybe when they wrote Inquisition they did have good ideas to follow up on who becomes divine, who rules Orlais, how they track down solas, whatever, because those were the things they were focusing on. But then 10 years go by and the writing staff largely turns over and they're focused on writing another AAA fantasy rpg that can stand alone, and trying to bow to the whims of the market in terms of what's popular (oh maybe they want online multiplayer and a move away from the hugely d&d inspired mechanics--AH FUCK OOPS THE GOTY IS WHAT) so then you lose any sense of broader arc or intention over the series as a whole.

So there I guess that's my thoughts

[awkward-anxiety]

Hey there! My name’s Teddy! I'm 23 and looking for a long-term, detailed roleplay partner who loves angst, slow-burn romance, and deep character development. If you're all about in-depth storytelling, emotional intensity, and exploring characters in unique ways, we’ll get along GREAT!

✨ A Little About Me:

Been RPing since I was 17, starting on Amino and later Discord. Took a small break last year, but I’m back and ready to create epic stories!

I value quality over quantity- I don’t need 1,000-word responses, but I love exploring characters and their development.

I’m all about found family dynamics, emotional arcs, and intense, plot-driven stories. If that sounds like your vibe, we’ll mesh well!

Pronouns? I’m a multi-pronoun mystery, He/They/She/It/We, whatever feels right. 🌈💫 I’m also genderqueer and genderfluid, just in case you need to know for character interactions.

I’m a proud film graduate and a digital artist. so, brace yourselves for some wild visuals! 🎨✨

🎭 EPIC: The Musical RP 🎭 We’re diving into the world of EPIC: The Musical, a roleplay universe where gods, heroes, and mortals alike belt out powerful songs, filled with emotional highs and lows. Whether it’s battling divine forces, navigating slow-burn romances, or dealing with the angst of tragic pasts, this musical setting takes us through a whirlwind of drama, raw emotions, and heart-stopping tunes.

💖 Looking for Characters & Ships: I’m obsessed with the following ships and dynamics from mythology, especially with those emotionally charged arcs. Feel free to hit me up if any of these spark your interest!

Odysseus x Polites

Odysseus x Penelope x Polites

Odysseus x Hermes

Odysseus x Eurylochus x Polites

Hermesias

Telemachus & Odysseus (PLATONIC Father and Son roleplay)

(OdyPen is my OTP for this Fandom but I very much prefer MxM dynamics.)

These characters are so much more than just heroes or gods—they’ve got deep emotions and complicated relationships that will make the musical moments even more powerful. From high notes of triumph to heartbreaking ballads, the dynamic range is endless!

🎭 I’m Happy to Main:

Apollo

Hermes

Odysseus

Polites

Telemachus

If you’re interested in any of these characters, I’d be more than happy to take them on for the roleplay! I’ve got a ton of headcanons and ideas to explore with each of them, and I’m really looking forward to diving deep into their emotional arcs in this musical world.

🎭 Plot Ideas I’m Into: I love character-driven plots, so I’m down for brainstorming something epic and emotionally intense. Here are a few ideas:

Post-Storyline AUs – Continuing after a major event or years later. The songs reflect the journeys they’ve endured.

One Stayed, One Left – One character moved away, and they reconnect years later, with new musical numbers that reveal their emotional growth.

Foster Care AU – One character, jaded and angry, opens up with the help of the other, with vulnerable songs of heartache and healing.

Summer Camp Counselors – Unexpected connections at a summer camp, leading to feel-good numbers with some dramatic moments!

Artist x Theater Kid – Opposites attract in an artsy, chaotic way with a musical theater twist.

College AU – New beginnings, friendships, and navigating life with a coming-of-age soundtrack.

Group Therapy AU – Characters meet while working through personal struggles, with emotional, gut-wrenching solos and duets.

Modern AU- Pretty Self Explainatory

🔄 Open to New Ideas! I am VERY open to new ideas and storylines from a roleplay partner! If you’ve got a plot or character dynamic in mind that isn’t listed here, let’s talk! I’m all about brainstorming and bringing new, creative elements into our stories. Let’s make something unique together that we both enjoy!

⚠️ Boundaries & Triggers: I love writing angst, but there are a few things I’m not comfortable with:

No excessive gore/violence or gun-related topics—I’m uncomfortable with these.

No car crashes or hospital settings—it’s a personal trigger.

I prefer realistic character development for darker themes (e.g., depression, suicidal ideation).

18+ RP and Adult Content:

I prefer roleplay partners to be 18+

I’m open to more adult content in the roleplay, but it must be discussed first. Consent and communication are key for me, and I want to make sure we’re both comfortable with the direction we go in.

📌 RP Preferences:

Canon characters only – I love using established characters (side OCs can be discussed).

Third-person only – Let’s keep it professional and immersive!

No script-style RP – I prefer full sentences, no asterisks or “hfjskdj” in dialogue.

For romance, characters should be 17+, and 18+ for NSFW content.

I match responses but prefer semi-lit to literate replies.

📩 Interested? Let’s Chat! 📩 If you’re vibing with this EPIC: The Musical universe, where gods, heroes, and mortals sing their hearts out while battling emotions, feel free to DM me on Discord (@awkward_anxiety)! I love brainstorming and chatting OOC, so don’t hesitate to reach out. Let’s make some musical magic together! 🎶✨

[ramayantika]

Tere Rang

“It’s going to be a Krishna song for the dance competition once again, right?” said, Ananya, inserting the last juda pin in her friend, Vilasini’s hair.

Vilasini, a seventeen-year-old science student in class eleven was all set for the senior’s inter-school dance fest that was to be held at her school. She wore a dark blue lehenga with gold embroidery that shimmered under the lights. Her best friend, Ananya, had taken the responsibility of getting Vilasini ready for the competition because, she was good at stage makeup and hairstyling, a skill, Vilasini was yet to acquire perfectly.

“You know me well, Ananya,” said, Vilasini, her face donning a faint shade of the setting sun.

Ananya looked at her friend’s bashful face, whose eyes had immediately moved down to the floor at the mention of Krishna, the god, the charmer of hearts from a bygone era. As she braids flowers into Vilasini’s hair, she wonders how did a girl from today’s time fall in love with a God when people barely utter a prayer under their breaths.

Krishna… the name itself was beautiful. Though Ananya was not that much of a believer in gods and goddesses, she happily supported her friend in her beliefs. For Ananya, Krishna was not a God, but a great historical character, an important figure to learn from especially in today’s time. Sometimes she offered flowers to the Krishna murti at her house after a lot of pestering from her mother, but she would spend a lot of time reading stories and articles about him.

Vilasini, on the other hand appeared to be a modern generation saint. She spoke softly and so slowly in a gentle voice that made everyone feel as if a divine aura surrounded them. For Vilasini, Krishna was her life force, her breath, and her purpose for living. She woke up with Krishna’s name on her lips and welcomed sleep with only Krishna’s name on her lips.

“You remind me of the saint poet, Meera, do you know?” Ananya said, after finishing her work on Vilasini’s hair left beautifully open with a half bun pinned with jasmine and rose flowers.

Vilasini turned her head from her reflection towards her friend. “No one can be Meerabai in this generation. Not even me, even if I try to.”

Ananya smiled and shook her head. Checking the last details of Vilasini’s makeup and hair, she said, “Fine, but I am damn sure, you will look the prettiest contestant there.”

Smiling, Vilasini replied, patting the creases on her skirt, “All thanks to my talented sakhi here.”

“I like the way the word sakhi sounds. So gentle and beautiful.”

***

Vilasini’s performance was the last one in the list. Ananya had decided to stay with her friend instead of joining the audience just for the sole reason of helping her friend for any last-minute mishaps and to maintain her friend’s confidence.

Tapping her feet, Vilasini asked, “Will I be able to perform well? There have been so many good performances before me. Also, I have a very simple song. Will anyone be interested in watching mine anymore after all the splendid presentations?”

Ananya looked at the boy dancing on the stage on Hai Rama in a bolly-hiphop fusion style. Turning her gaze towards her friend, she said, “Sometimes, the most simple things are the most thoughtful ones. Have faith in your practice and Krishna. And just like you always do, dance for your Krishna, for him alone.”

A minute later, the boy was done with his performance, and the audience erupted in cheers and applause. The host, one of Vilasini’s classmates, then announced her arrival on stage and signalled at the small back room upstairs to start playing Vilasini’s music.

“All the best, Vilasini. Go win the stage and your dear Kanha’s heart,” wished Ananya.

Vilasini nodded at her friend and muttered Krishna’s name under her breath as she took a twirl to enter the stage on the beats of the sitar.

Alai payuthey kanna en manam miga alai payuthe…

Vilasini’s fingers show the movement of waves as the song goes on to depict how her mind flows like waves when she hears Krishna’s melodious flute. The golden embroidery on her lehenga glitters under the yellow stage lights on the ceiling. If her voice alone was enough to bring tranquil in her listener’s hearts, her dance was captivating to catch everyone’s attention. No matter what they were doing earlier, all their eyes and other senses stand still on seeing her move on stage like a swan.

Nilai peyandru Kanna , shilai polave nindra,

Neram avathu ariyamale miga

Vinodhamana Murali Dhara , en manam…

The blue dupatta twirls around her and covers her face for a second before moving away like a sea wave gently going back from the shore. As the blue veils falls off from her face, Vilasini sees a boy seated in the corner of the audience, looking the most striking and attractive amongst all. Her breath stands still as she portrays a woman standing like a statue after being lost in the lovely cowherd’s music.

Her ghungroos produce an enchanting sound in sync with the beats of the song. Her body sways to the music as light as the branches of the kadamba tree. It appeared as if Vilasini’s soul danced on stage and not only just her body. Ananya smiles at her friend’s performance when a flash of gold passes her eye on the opposite side of the stage. Blinking her eyes once again, she lets out a gasp when she sees a long peacock feather on the ground.

There is no one on the opposite side of the stage except the host who is on her phone.

Telinda nilvu patta pagal pol eriyuthe , un dikkai nokki yen iru puruvam neriyuthe…

Kanintha un venu ganam kattil varugudhe , kangal sorugi oru vidhamay varugudhe…

Vilasini’s heart races as a strange yet divine awareness fills her being. Her beloved is right here. She can’t see him, but feel his presence. As she mouths the lyrics while performing, a small lock of hair escapes the clutch of the clips pinned to her hair and lightly tickle her left cheek.

A soft whisper teases her ear, “Why search for me elsewhere, when I exist right in front of you priye?”

Ananya notices her friend’s mouth open slightly, as if she heard something else other than the song. The moment lasts for only a mere second and Vilasini is back to her performance. Her expressions change from being a shy bashful girl talking to Krishna to being a passionate heroine desperate to see her lover. Vilasini’s large doe-like eyes turn watery and they move around like a deer in search of Krishna. Ananya observes the vulnerability in her stance. Her friend was far beyond the music. She was in a mystical realm of divine love and longing.

Kathitha pathathil oruthi manathai

Enakku alitthu mahizhtthavaa…

As Vilasini points to her lovely alta-dyed feet, her eyes spot another dark foot adorned with a gold anklet just beside her. Before she could stare at the foot that had fallen in step with her, she feels someone hold her arm and turn her around. The touch, light as a feather, and warm as a lover’s.

Her body bends gracefully to the side, her fingers laced together and arms raised up, with the neck slightly bent downwards. When her eyes travel up, she sees the one, whom she had been desperately dreaming about since childhood, her one true love.

“Prananatha?” She murmurs.

“The one and only,” says, the dark beloved lord of her heart. Pretty feet around, which lie two beautiful gold anklets. A golden yellow dhoti and a royal blue uttariya over his shoulders, broad arms laden with golden arm bands and the signature peacock feather on his crown, the darling heart thief of Vrindavana bows at her.

No long does Vilasini care about the audience. It’s a wonder if she even cares about herself anymore. Her limbs move on their own accord, or perhaps on Krishna’s accord. Ananya senses something strange near her friend, and even near herself.

The energy in the auditorium has changed. Teachers and students sit still with their senses lost, eyes all dazed and drowsy as if witnessing something hypnotic in front of them. The judges don’t write the scores, their pens now resting on the table. Ananya wonders if someone is actually even breathing or not.

Oru thanitha vanatthil anaitthu enakku

Unarcchi koduthu Mughizhtthavaa…

“Man, is she really hugging someone on stage?” mutters, Ananya, her eyes wide in surprise and confusion laced in her features.

Vilasini’s slender arms curl around her beloved lord’s neck, as she takes a round about the stage. Her feet daintily move around, their pace slow as if time itself had slowed down to let Vilasini absorb the moment. “I have waited for this moment all my life, Krishna.”

Her song album doesn’t have a flute tune, but what limits does Krishna have? He plays a sweet mellifluous tune from his flute that has enchanted the world since the third cycle of time. Vilasini’s nimble fingers caress Krishna’s curls as he dances near her, his smile enchanting and disarming like a sharp arrow aimed straight towards her heart.

“I have had too many women falling over me, but I wouldn’t like you to fall down for me physically here on stage. We have a performance to show.”

“The world does not matter to me anymore. Only you do,” says, Vilasini, her voice, only a mere whisper.

KaNai kadal alaiyinil

Kadhiravan oliyinil

Inai iru kazhalena kazhikkavaa?…

“The ever-flowing waves keep meeting the shore, and the sun sheds its light to the whole of mankind. How long would it be until my friend finally starts to acknowledge my presence?” Ananya hears a manly playful voice near her ears, causing her to jump a little in fright.

To Vilasini, if the lord of the Universe appeared in the form of a young charming boy with a lovely peacock feather and a gracious smile, then to Ananya, he appeared in the form of a glorious king decked in silks and jewels, befitting his royal lineage and handsome charm.

“The fuck?”

“I thought you would have realized me by now, but i realized that you actually did not. Here I am to finally show myself to my sakhi.”

“When did I become your sakhi?”

Rolling his beautiful dark eyes, he sighs, and says, “Years ago, when you were merely a six-year-old and your colony children did not include you in their games, you came to me and asked me to be your friend.” He pouts, and gives her a mock glare, “Batao meri mitrata ke yahi din aagaye…?”

Ananya blinks her eyes rapidly. “This is a literal prank now. Tell me who are you?”

Placing his hands over his hips, the lord of Dwaraka says, “The world’s famous and naughtiest prankster.”

“And you are also there with her…?” Ananya pointed towards her friend.

“Ask me where am I not?”

The stage lights change from yellow to bluish-green, making the darling of Vrindavana look even more ethereal. His eyes gleam like a diamond’s lustrous glow and Vilasini’s eyes go lost in his tender gaze. He raises his arm, and Vilasini lifts her fingers to graze his wrist when he gently holds her hand and makes her sway around him.

Kadhari manam uruhi naan azhaikkavo?

Fresh tears drip down her eyes as she takes in the beauty of her beloved. She could dance for him to his tunes forever and ever until one day her breath flies away and she merges into her love, her God. Krishna’s eyes gleam on catching sight of his devotee’s love-filled eyes, and Vilasini’s eyes gleam with happy tears on finally finding her God, her life.

A dazzling scene unfolds in front of Ananya’s eyes. Krishna yellow robes and Vilasini’s blue lehenga sparkle like a scene from a fantasy movie. When their hands meet, a red aura forms around them, and when their feet brush against one other, a soft white halo forms around them. She doesn’t let her eyelids fall for even a second as realization dawns on her about the concept of Jivatmaa and Parmatmaa.

“Now do you see?” Dwarkadheesh asks.

Ananya hesitantly lets out a breath, afraid that even a slightest of movement would disrupt the enchanting vision in front of her. “Yes, everything.”

Is it some illusion or is it the naked truth? How does one even breathe or move when the lord of the senses, the mastermind behind all, comes in front of you and smiles like a dear old friend from the past? What is God? Is he a friend or a teacher? Is he a child or a lover? Did the poets from the bygone era write such colourful poetry of lovelorn nayikas, searching for their dear Kanhaiya after experiencing the same emotions like the two girls facing now? I do not know about the others, but Krishna is like water. Just like water takes the shape of the container it is housed in, so does our Kanhaiya gladly conform to the shades of various characters we see him as.

One is an observer, marvelled at the glorious sight. How can she go back to the world now?

One is a participant of the colourful play, a mystical performance of the universe, a dance that can never completely be given justice in description. It can only be seen through the eyes and felt by the heart. It cannot be danced by the body. Only the soul dances. She never belonged to the world.

“Priye do you see now?”

And the dancer blushes like a bride, her voice breathy and low, “I now see it all, Prananatha.”

************* **************** ************* ************** *********

This was requested by @purplelandsworld

I deviated slightly from the request because a crazy krishna dream struck and i began listeniing to tere rang and Alai payuthey so i really really reaaly hope you like this one. This one is a little different from what i usually write byt anyway i hope you find it nice

Also you all i had been waiting to get this written down from a long time but kanhaiya here made me busy with college work. Now he finally gave me my college so here's a little token for him from my side

And before some of you come up to me saying haww this is indecent and krishna isn't a netflix look if it were indecent krishna would never let me write it. Besides all of it have also been my own scenarios to keep me happy with krishna so kindly do not interfere. And this fic was inspired from a really pretty dream i saw and god krishna took my heart away even in the dream then so i added some of those parts in this one too.

tagging: @shut-up-rabert @ketchup-jar-ka @krishna-sahacharini

@krishna-priyatama @jessbeinme15 @arachneofthoughts @kaal-naagin @reallythoughtfulwizard @thegleamingmoon @ma-douce-souffrance

[blueflower-sprite]

If Monster High was doing Romeo and Juliet...

There would be like, Drama in the drama. Like, seriously, have you ever seen an episode of Monster High where all is just peaceful or in harmony with the hallway ? Is Shakespeare a dignified tea party also ? What can POSSIBLY GO WRONG with Monster High and Shakespeare blended together ? Poor Mr. Where, he's like, the only responsible adult in this whole mess, and not for too long....

MAIN ROLES

Juliet Capulet - Draculaura. She was the first to apply for the project, so Mr. Where give her the role of Juliet ! She ALREADY played Juliet, of course, but she promised to Clawd that she will be the one to schedule they're next romantic date.... And you ask, ''but, he know right ?''.... ha ha.... No.

Romeo Montague - Clawd Wolf. You know, there is some darkest hours in you're relationship's status, a time when you need to partake into the strange fantaisies of you're loved one. Clawd love Draculaura, but he know that he is going to die very soon, truly a true Romeo move.

Juliet Capulet (Second Part) - Kieran Valentine. This was part of his therapy, okay ?

Romeo Montague (Second Part) - Spelldon Cauldronello. Mother Circe recently taught him Divination. And he know there will be, like, real Drama. He's here for that... And for Kieran Valentine's booty.

ROLES OF CHAOTIC ALIGNEMENT

Rosaline - Abbey Bominable. Mr. Where say that she will not speak, and she don't want to waste oxygen on such silly things or being the romantic playground of a ''Shakespeare'' somebody... Rosaline is her spirit animal.

The Nurse - Clawdeen Wolf. It's possible that she want some claws on the matter with Draculaura and her brother. It"s seems to be closely related to some weird family-teenage matters, or just a upcoming prediction of Clawd's difficult encounter with theater...

Capulet (Patriarch) - Bram Devein. A weird Belfry Prep thing about being the masters of something.... But there is a problem, he didn't read the end of the play.

Montague (Patriarch) - Romulus. A weird Crescent Moon High's habit about having a eye on Belfry Prep.... But there is a problem, he didn't read the end of the play.

Prince(ss) Escalus - Amanita Nightshade wanted the best role, because Amanita can't end or be loved by only one, she is too bootiful for that ! So she wanted to be THE PRINCESS. And she was merciful, she only changed the gender, not the name ! Now, Mr. Where is praying that she don't want anything MORE.

Count Paris - Catrine DeMew. She wanted to explore some ''orientation theories'' by playing a potential suitor and viewing the effect between ''role and gender''. Mr. Where didn't ask anything about this.

Mercutio - Purrsephone. Apparently there is some minor conflicts between her and her twin, so she is her for the catharsis.

Tybalt - Meowlody. Apparently there is some minor conflicts between her and her twin, so she is her for the catharsis.

Lady Capulet - Heaths Burns.... This was that or detention and a word for the parent. He choose the first because he didn't want to lose his new Gamegore yet. But Mr. Where is seriously asking himself if this is a good idea....

Lady Montague - Gigi Grant. She just want to experience Theater, so a little role is best. Hope she will have a first good impression...

Benvolio - Toralei Stripes. This time, no mischief.... She just want to see the dynamics between the twins.

Balthasar - Ghoulia Yelps. She want to experience a new hypothetical mechanic for zombie's language on stage ! Mr. Where didn't have his word about that, because Mr. Rotter is the one whose class is concerned about the project.

Peter - Manny Taur didn't read anything about Romeo and Juliet, but this is his last chance to prove to Iris that he is a sentimental Monster.... He just hope is character is one of those who die.

Friar Laurence - Jackson Jeckyll. Well... This everyone's hope at least.

Abram and Friar John - Quill Tarantyno. Because hey, Backgrounders need love, too !

Gregory and Sampson - Astranova and Djinni Whisp Grant. Astranova is there for the experience, Djinni is just there because she know there will be some deep gay vibes between Spelldon and Kieran, and she don't want to lose or miss is bet with Casta.

Other Roles - You know, these benevolent souls are actually part of the few one who actually care about Shakespeare. But, Alas, with all the chaos that will probably occur very soon, I doubt that they will be recognized for such passion and bravery.... And there is no enough budget for backgrounders.

OTHERS

Technician and special effects - Invisi Billy, who is probably the secret nephew or blood-relative of the teacher at this point.

Prompter (aka. the litteral ghoul that save you're ass when you don't know you're text) - Scarah Screams. She will be so valuable for all that is going to happens.... Or maybe Invisi Billy will be too much of a distraction.

Well.... This is all for me. Goodnight. I didn't put all the cast, sorry. If you have some ideas, you can propose you're own version of this mess. I'm going to sleep, personally.

To be or not be, here's the question that nobody ask to a skull to begin with.

[dyrwoods]

i finally finished dos2.... thoughts ft. drawings + choice playthrough phone notes (spoilers obv)

my godwoken was an elf witch named allegory. he ended up as a necromancer/hydrosophist combo. blood damage + healing was a fun mix! odd contrasts <3

his backstory, 2 me, is that he was lost in a marshland as a little kid, and tir-cendelius saw the chance to keep him isolated (seeing off any potential rescuers, magically expanding the marshes every time he tried to trek out and leading him in circles) + raise the perfect tiny loyal godwoken for when The Time was Right. he let him out when he was an elf teen. t-c should have kept him longer because if anything it just made him weirder when he got reintegrated into society a couple decades later. F

what if your god grew you in a petri dish to [major game spoilers, redacted]. but you were a capricious little know it all with a jester's soul. what then

gorry took sebille, fane and ifan with him because i thought he would assemble a team of hot emos if given chance. this paid off + i love them all dearly

i wasn't expecting the origin characters i didn't take with me after act 1 to UP AND DIE. but it actually added a really good set of stakes. responsibility for ur actions. lohse yelled at me for leaving her to her fate and i felt SO bad. sorry miss thing

LOVED the worldbuilding....i was super familiar with 5e before i played bg3 so i sort of knew what was coming most of the time but for divinity i had to LEARN. super fun. 100% recommend

also i thought bg3 went in on the body horror but divinity was Something Else.

^ and then larian said okay that was fun what if we do it again. and made bg3. anyway

i was hideously bad at combat for ages until i listened to all the people on reddit chanting 'put points in warfare' and then it was much much much more doable lol

ngl i actually very much prefer dos2 to bg3. i loved loved loved bg3 but after like 4 playthroughs during various patch stages it was such a relief to play a game that's actually completed and won't eat my laptop for breakfast!!! first two bg3 files i had i couldn't make it to the lower city because the optimization on mac was so diabolical that it wouldn't actually play until after patch 5. dos2 lets me also have photoshop on my computer. and files that aren't bg related. miraculous

but even ignoring technical issues: from a story and world standpoint dos2 felt way more expansive and inventive. campy but also harrowing in a way that bg3 just didn't hit for me. i also genuinely enjoy being given a zillion pieces of almost overwhelming info and then sorting it out so i am biased. may expand on this at a later point and not under a mile long read more. moving on

romanced fane bc i loved his voice acting and i thought the culturally cannibalistic elf/the one guy with no flesh to eat bit was funny. jokes on me i fell in DEEP. u canonically have disappointing sex because hes simply made of bones without nerves and afterwards he takes notes. he calls u dear heart offhandedly in act 1 like it's nothing then goes right back to being aloof. how many more times does he have to tell you? he has business in the blackpits. he spends the whole game having an increasingly worse time. he's a loser. it's all his fault. he got me. he got me good. god damn

my game glitched (?) and even tho he rejected sebille (sorry baby) her and allegory still made out right before the big final choice. no option not to. then he had the expected epilogue with fane. poly ending canon enough for me!

also the music was bonkers good and the audio direction in that one battle in the final act? mwah. and dallis' va knocked it out of the entire park.

last thing here's a gorry i drew when i was still back in act 1. 180 hours ago. titled on my phone as 'praying at every altar so i always come out on top'

anyway if u made it this far: thank u. go get divinity: original sin 2 when it's next on sale. wise wise wise choice of £6.99 <3