#V; [Ruler of the Stars]

[admirestars]

tag drop.

[sweet-faerie]

Introducing some Sailor Moon to this blog!! My name is Fae, i am 21 This will be my Sailor Moon promo for my OC Tsuya aka Asteria! affiliated with: @chxmpionofjustice This will take things from all forums of Sailor Moon, from the anime/manga to musicals! my rules are on my pinned post and aren't changing! This is just my announcement I'll be adding this to my fandoms^^ Sailor moon tags below for those who wish to block it:

ic; 🔮 [Watcher From Afar] Princess Asteria ic; 🌙 [Protector of Fate] Sailor Asteria ic; 🔮 [Unknown Fortune] Tsuya Sezuki V; [Where Stars Remain Still] SilMil V; [Future is always unknown] Post Canon Au/V; [Fate is Awakened Early] Eternal AU- Canon timeline V; [Ruler of the Stars] Crystal Tokyo

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. ❞

KINKTOBER WEEK TWO.

⤿ pairing(s): halbrand!sauron x fem!human!reader.

⤿ word count: 4.6K.

⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), porn without plot, mild manipulation (it’s sauron), risk of getting caught, possessiveness, sex in a public location, fingering (fem!rec), heavy kissing, hair-pulling, scratching, begging, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink if you squint, sex on a table.

⤿ note: first time writing for sauron, please be gentle! mr. tolkien, so sorry for all of the despicable things I’m gonna be writing about your characters. ❤️ thank you all for reading! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

A salt-tinged breeze stirred through the forges, a welcome gust of relief amidst the heat that sought to blaze his flesh asunder.

In the silence of dusk, Halbrand found his solace with hammer and anvil, over that of indulgence of drink at some tavern.

Númenor proved to be the respite he desperately needed, running from a shadowed past. He worked tirelessly, through lengthy days and well into the night, his mind a tumultuous tempest.

The King of the Southlands — the ruler of nothing.

It was a mantle that wholly disinterested him, and despite his numerous protests to Galadriel regarding his supposed heritage, the she-elf refused to let it stay dead and buried. He was better off here, crafting works of art — blades, armor, jewelry.

There was nothing for him now, only threads of a plan that seemed to fall by the wayside. It was easy to disappear here, to fade away into the backdrop of the oceanside kingdom, allow himself to place all his efforts on smithing.

The roaring embers of the forge sizzled as he placed the partially-finished blade inside, molding metal to his skilled hand. There was no greater joy than that of creation — making something out of nothing, a tool to be used.

Halbrand’s gaze momentarily flickered toward the roll of parchment sitting along one of the many craftsmen’s tables.

You were an envoy of Númenor, the brood of a lesser House of Men, in-service to the Guild. It was you that had uncovered records of the Southlander line and brought it to Galadriel’s attention — a clever creature, you were.

In what handful of interactions he’d had with you, you were studious and well-mannered, far too intelligent for your station. You toiled in-service to lesser beings, when your potential extended far beyond their reach.

The scroll contained the very bloodline you had presumed he hailed from, as if you were dangling the proof for all to see. He cared little for it, preoccupied with the task at-hand.

If it were his choice, he preferred to stay in Númenor, learn their customs and assimilate into their culture. Galadriel’s stubbornness had the potential to win out if he weren’t careful, and Halbrand was not the subservient sort.

In the star-riddled dusk, Halbrand decided to break in his crafting, stepping toward a basin of water, letting the cool liquid wash away the perspiration dotting his brow.

It was better at twilight, offering a solace that one might not fully understand. He rarely slept, and when he did, he was often plagued by dreams of constant rage. Halbrand let the forge simmer down, opting to work on the still-hot sword.

A gentle tap of knuckles against the door did not alert him as much as you thought it would. He stood with his back to you, brows furrowed together in concentration. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He questioned.

Greeted by the stifling, ember-fueled heat of the forge, you stood in the doorway, having abandoned your Guild regalia. “Good eve,�� You mustered a smile, hands twisting together. “You are a stranger to rest, it seems.”

“As are you,” Halbrand’s steely gaze flickered from the blade to you, letting the hammer swing down upon forming steel. “Is it safe for you to be wandering about at nightfall?”

His sharp inquiry brought you pause, fingers idly toying with the fabric of your dress. Númenor was perfectly safe — safer than most kingdoms of Men. “Should it not be safe?” Countering his remark, you observed the rack of newly-crafted swords.

Halbrand did not offer an answer right away, turning the blade over, striking it again with his hammer as sparks flew. “There is no such thing as true safety, my Lady. There will always be something stirring in the shadows.”

You nearly laughed at his fearmongering — he sounded akin to an old maiden, weaving her intricate tales of fright to dissuade children from wrongdoing. “That is a rather dour sentiment. Are you often paranoid?” Your tone tapered off into one of mild amusement.

A sardonic scoff escaped him, lips quirking up only slightly, yet he did not seem offended by your retort. “Merely concerned with preservation — my own, first and foremost.” He replied.

He knew why you were here, even if it was an unspoken thing that you continued to dance around. You had come as a messenger on behalf of Galadriel, to make a valiant attempt of convincing him to return to Middle-Earth.

“The Guild is impressed by your craft,” Shifting the topic, you brushed your fingers over the horse-shaped pommel, the color of ivory. “Not that I should be divulging that information.” You mused.

Perplexed, Halbrand wordlessly observed you, cerulean hues studying the creases of your dress, a shade of mauve that only seemed to enhance your beauty. There was something forlorn simmering within him, feelings not often brought to the surface.

“Is that so? It seems that they’ve finally come to their senses,” He jested, earning a pointed look from you. “It took a beating to do so.” Halbrand placed the unfinished blade beside the dying embers of the forge.

There was still mild bruising around his nose and mouth, heated transgressions that earned him the ire of Númenor. He seemed unperturbed, seizing a rag from the edge of an anvil.

“That could’ve been avoided,” You murmured, tracing a digit around the ivory head of a horse before stepping away. “You are fortunate that they did not toss you into the seas for your rancor.”

“That would be rather unfortunate, being tossed back into the ocean when I had worked tirelessly to claw my way out of it.” He quipped, moving about the forge as he hung up his tools.

A soft sigh escaped you as you shook your head, peering outside towards the night skies. “If you wish to stay in Númenor, you must cease drawing attention to yourself.”

Halbrand chuckled, the sound devoid of any mirth. It was a steely sound, more sardonic than genuine. He wiped away at the soot and grime of the forge, leaning back against the sturdy table.

“Is this amusing to you, being tossed into a cell and brawling with the locals?” The sharp bite of your inquiry could’ve been mistaken for the edge of a knife. “You are above that.”

“And if I am not?” He was equally as sharp, that of a longsword, tarnished and worn yet still able to cut with ease. Halbrand’s countenance seemed unmistakably soured by your comment.

Taken aback, you turned to face him fully, canting your head to one side. It was not mock frustration that you found in his features — it was true. “What do you mean?”

“You continue to place me upon some pedestal,” Halbrand scoffed, peering elsewhere, gazing at the hot coals of the forge. “What if I am not what you think me to be? What if I am simply a Man with not a drop of nobility to his name?”

With a furrowed brow, you folded your hands together, studying his visage. He seemed frustrated yet forlorn, as if he were remembering something — lamenting, perhaps. “Then you are a Man.”

In the time that you had gotten to know Halbrand, standing alongside Captain Elendil on the ship back to Númenor, he was something of an enigma. Charming and charismatic with a great love of disobedience, but he possessed a veiled depth.

Galadriel seemed far more preoccupied with returning to Middle-Earth and hunting Sauron, making Halbrand a ruler over considering his feelings. If he wanted to stay in Númenor, craft a new existence — you did not blame him.

“And if I am not the man that you believe I am?” Halbrand pressed, as if seeking a certain answer from you. Some sliver of his being wanted someone to tell him that they cared little about his past, what he used to be.

“Whatever you are insinuating, I care little for it. Your past does not make you — only what you do from this moment forward,” You replied, mustering a gentle smile. “You are Halbrand — that is enough for me.”

If the She-elf had it her way, she would drag him back to Middle-Earth, writhing and screaming. In his own web of schemes, it was what was necessary — but time was infinite.

There was a peculiar gleam within your eyes, one that possessed a warmth and understanding that he was vastly unaccustomed to. “Hm,” He sighed, turning the cloth over within his hand. “Thank you.”

A brief laugh tore past your lips, one that seemed to bring the tension to a momentary heel. “What, for dissuading you against further scorn by the local populace?” You mused.

Halbrand happened to chuckle at that, a warm sound that made residence within your stomach, butterflies following suit. “For understanding, for your kindness,” He replied, his tone softening. “Not many possess your tenderness.”

Growing silent, you nodded, attempting to mask the brief glimmer of surprise that fluttered across your features. You were often regarded as level-headed and sage, yet soft when it mattered most.

“I do not wish to see you thrown in a cell again, or exiled from the Guild when you clearly possess a wealth of talent,” Your motives transcended that — part of you liked Halbrand. “I would do the same for anyone in your position.”

“Would you?” Halbrand’s inquiry, whilst outwardly inquisitive, seemed tinged with something unfamiliar — something amorous. Your nerves became set ablaze, skin uncomfortably warm.

As you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, Halbrand straightened, copper-hued locks framing his rugged face. He was handsome — statuesque, clearly carved with the frame of a warrior and a smith.

“Yes,” Hoarse and pitched with the sudden swell of nervousness, you idly toyed with the sleeves of your dress. “If you are to stay in Númenor, I would hope that you only continue to thrive with your craft.”

This craft was of little interest — Halbrand knew what he wanted, starting with you. Malleable like the finest metal, as beautiful as a glittering opal socketed into that of a signet.

“Is that what you want, for me to stay in Númenor?” Seas help you — this was madness. Halbrand’s poignant question made you wonder what exactly was about to happen, gooseflesh icing your spine, prompting you to shiver.

“What I want matters little,” There was a noticeable lack of conviction within your tone, as if you were convincing yourself of that very fact. “You are free to choose your destiny.”

You were fighting against the urge, the untoward craving that began to settle within your bones. It wasn’t proper nor appropriate of you to even consider wanting Halbrand, a man whose fate seemed far more important than your own.

To ask him to stay in Númenor, abandon the Southlands — you did not have the heart. It was born of greed and desire, wanting to keep him close to your chest.

“It matters to me,” Halbrand murmured, brows creasing together as he glowered down upon you, close enough to touch. “What do you want?” The malignant force deep within him begged to bring you into his stead.

Whatever perceived darkness hungered within you, it also screamed within him, with a shadow far more powerful than your own. Greed was unbecoming of you — you were meant to serve the people of Númenor, never yourself.

Whereas Galadriel possessed a fierce heart and unending thirst for vengeance, you longed to be free — no longer under the thumb of lesser Men, to lead and to be revered.

To be loved, to be coveted.

“Do not leave,” A plea, beseeching him to stay in Númenor, to stoke whatever flame was stirring between the both of you. The intensity of his longing stare nearly made you collapse. “Stay here, in Númenor.”

A hitch formed within your throat as his calloused fingertips graced your arm, tracing over the sea of mauve gossamer that clung to your form. Halbrand took your silence as something contemplative, afraid to make your true feelings known.

Again, he pressed closer, looming above you, caging you in against the table. You could feel his heat, smell the coal and metal, taste the fantasy that swirled within your mind’s eye.

Roughened digits caressed across your throat, over your slender neck, your collarbone. His touch was like that of a fire, a burn so wonderful that you would beg for it if you had to.

“Halbrand,” Barely above a whisper, your tone seemed strained, as if fighting against all of your baser urges. A peculiar heat raked its way across your flesh before settling within the pit of your belly. “I shouldn’t.”

“Do you think that you are the only one who possesses desire?” His wanton confession made your knees buckle, lips parting just enough for a soft gasp to escape you. “When my eyes found you upon that ship, I wanted — more than I have for some time.”

Words turned to ash upon your tongue, dying then and there within your throat. There was a fire within Halbrand’s eyes, one that sought to burn you, too. You felt the small of your back dig into the table, warmth licking across your spine.

Each breath felt labored, a dizzying sensation taking hold of you, as if this were more dream than reality. Yet, Halbrand remained close to you, chest-to-chest, digits finding the swell of your hip through the sea of violet fabric.

Instead of vocalizing your festering worry, you rocked up upon your toes, pressing your lips against his own. It was disarmingly gentle, a sheepish kiss that did not waste a second in becoming heated and charged.

He reciprocated with a blinding intensity, arm hitching around your waist, calloused palm spreading out against your back. Halbrand lifted you closer, his kiss inherently greedy and covetous, as if you belonged only to him.

His mouth swirled with wildfire, tasting of smoke and a hint of Númenorian stout, stubble scratching against your soft skin. Your hands found their purchase against his chest, able to feel the taut muscle beneath.

Hardened was a good way to describe him — rugged like the uneven ridges of tanned leather, swathed in heat. He cupped your jaw with his hand, reveling in the sensation of your flesh, akin to a plane of silk.

The state of dishevelment he was in mattered little to you — the soot upon his tanned flesh, the specks of dirt, garb somewhat tattered. You could not recall the last time you had yearned for someone so terribly that it ripped your heart into two.

Each clash of your lips evoked a pang of excitement that struck at your stomach, exhilaration pumping through your veins. Halbrand was a vigorous kisser — passionate and swift, stealing the air from your very lungs.

His palm slowly caressed from the small of your back toward your derrière, strong digits melding themselves into your clothed flesh. A hitch formed within your throat, anticipation mounting as the tension began to cloud the room.

Your digits possessed a mind of their own, climbing towards the nape of his neck, threading themselves through his bronze tresses. Halbrand kissed you again — softer this time, yet not without his domineering edge.

Lips bled into one another with an outpouring of want, a long-repressed sentiment caged within both hearts. Halbrand wanted many things — yet, what he did not expect was to crawl after you like some starving beast.

Every sensible thought seemed mulled, draped in this haze that clouded your mind. As you slowly recoiled from the kiss, you keened into the rough embrace of his palm, his digits cupping your cheek.

As much as you longed to continue, the locale seemed impractical, if not somewhat reckless. If someone were to catch you, you would never hear the end of it. Even then, you did not want to let fear drive you this way.

“Must I profess my desire once more?” Halbrand murmured, warm breath fanning across your visage, tinged with smoke. There was something tantalizing and enigmatic about him, swirling with some edge of mystique.

“I wouldn’t protest,” You whispered, which earned you the beginnings of a smile. He swept your tresses aside, bearing your neck to him as he bent in to kiss the soft flesh there. “Halbrand.” A low whine escaped you.

Stubble prickled and bit at your neck, yet you reveled in it, clutching at his shoulder as he pressed heated kisses to your throat. He was not hesitant in the slightest, letting you writhe and moan, plead for him to continue.

It was then that he began to gather your dress with one hand, firmly gripping at the mauve fabric as he inched it upward. Exhilaration struck at you again, the buzz of excitement, a thrill that you hadn’t experienced before.

There was not an inkling of hesitation from you, with little sign of stopping his advances. As he guided the gossamer along your legs, one palm snaked forth, calloused digits embracing your thigh, as smooth as silk.

He held little recollection of the last time he had touched something so delicate, as if you were some splendid jewel to be cradled, coveted. Halbrand kissed his way toward the curve of your jaw, searching your visage for a reaction.

As he parted your legs with his frame alone, your breath hitched, an audible noise that he found to be delicious. You were akin to some startled rabbit, ensnared within the jaws of a predator disguised as a friend.

Whatever smallclothes you wore beneath were of little consequence, giving way to that of his possessive embrace. Your hand flew back to grip the edge of the table, nails digging into splintered wood as he sought the heat between your legs.

Anticipation swelled within you, teetering on the edge of unraveling as you felt his digits ghost across your aching cunt. It was feather-light, intended to torment you — and torment it did.

“Halbrand,” A desperate gasp tore past your lips, needing him in a way that you hadn’t desired anyone else before. “Please, please touch me.” Your breathy pleas did not go unheard as he planted a kiss against your neck.

“Is that what you want?” A sultry purr rumbled from the depths of his chest, tone adopting a rather promiscuous resonance. He watched you nod several times over, fingers pushing past your petals as he touched your core.

A hand held onto his bicep for stability, the other haplessly fisting at the wood behind you. A moan emanated from you, desperate for anything he would give you.

Much to his delight, he found that you were shamelessly wet between your thighs, a nectar that refused to cease. “You are beautiful like this.” He murmured, fingers toying with your slit, eliciting another strangled moan from your lips.

Halbrand’s forehead brushed against yours, hawkish gaze absorbing the look of pleasure upon your face. He began to find a steady rhythm, worn digits sliding along the length of your cunt, letting you hold onto him as much as you pleased.

Any scrap of friction you received drove you mad, desperation climbing to new heights as your hips rocked forward into his hand. His stare became half-lidded, drinking you in with unabashed greed, longing to consume you.

Sighs of wanton passion drifted from you in droves, legs parted as he pressed his thumb to the pearl of your cunt. It was easy to evoke a reaction from you, the constant writhing, gasps and whines, the look of complete and utter bliss.

In sluggish circles, he caressed your clit, causing you to twitch again. “Halbrand,” A moan tore past your lips again, his name becoming a melody from your mouth, to be sung over and over again. “Do not stop, I beg you!”

“As you wish.” Halbrand’s voice raked hot embers over your body, reaching a salacious octave that turned your insides to molten liquid. He continued to touch your nethers, two digits sweeping toward your entrance.

An impenetrable heat swallowed your body whole, skin feeling damp with perspiration, somewhat in-part of the forge’s dissipating warmth. He continued to circle your clit, fingers lightly prodding at your cunt in an attempt to seek entry.

Rough lips fell to your neck again, gowns having slacked enough to give way to your shoulder and collarbone. You clawed at his bicep, rolling your hips again as you rocked yourself upon his digits, much to his delight.

With a brusque tug upon the collar of his tunic, your lips clamored for his, longing to feel his mouth. His kiss left you breathless, teeth scraping against your lower lip, bringing you to heel.

Heat pooled between your legs, coalescing upon Halbrand’s fingers as he teased your core, thumb working around the pearl of your cunt. A soft gasp tore through your throat, a moan escaping you into the passion of your kiss.

Again, your hips rolled into his hand, craving him in a way that resembled that of an animal; carnal, ravenous. A fire danced within his eyes, one that seemed to reflect the sentiments that festered within you.

“Give yourself to me.” Halbrand sighed, timbre trembling against the underside of your jaw before he looked upon you, unraveling from his touch. Need stirred within him, coupled with the swell of possessiveness.

He searched your countenance for any hint of hesitation, flicking his thumb across your clit once more. “Please.” You pleaded, waves of bliss rolling across your body, bringing with it a feverish heat that made you want him all the more.

Halbrand heeded your breathy plea, reaching for the leather ties of his trousers, wanting nothing more than you be inside of you. His cock twitched with amorous intent, muscles coiled, prepared to grab you.

His hand recoiled, leaving you with an aching emptiness that caused your cunt to clench pathetically around nothing. A hitch formed within your throat, words turning to ash as he lifted you onto the table.

Calloused, careworn palms kneaded into your haunches, grasping at your pliant flesh in fistfuls as he pressed his lips to your exposed shoulder. Rucking your gown up to your hips, Halbrand appraised you with a thinly-veiled lust.

There was no flesh as soft as yours, untouched — belonging to him. Anticipation churned within the pit of your stomach, lips agape as he unraveled the front of his breeches, freeing himself from its confines.

Flushed with a rush of ecstasy, Halbrand dragged you closer, hands traveling to cup your hips. He guided his length to your cunt, letting the tip of his cock linger there until he pushed forward.

“Halbrand!” You moaned, hand reaching to grasp at the nape of his neck, nails raking across his coppery tresses. The other seized his bicep, digging inward as he slowly rocked into you.

Nearly chest-to-chest, there was little room for discomfort, letting lust and urgency guide his hand. He huffed, steadying his ironclad hold upon your hips, fingers pressing hard enough to leave behind bruises.

His pace was agonizingly sluggish at first, drawing out each thrust in an effort to let you grow accustomed. Hot sighs of passion fluttered between the both of you, lips brushing over one another as he rolled his hips forward.

There was something exhilarating about coupling with you, the warmth of being alive, savoring the guise of mortality. Halbrand could see the attachment brewing within your stare, the glint of affection intermingled with desire.

The still-burning coals of the forge provided enough illumination for him to see you bathed in fire — and you were breathtaking.

Your heart pounded within your ribcage, so powerful that you thought it might burst through. His stubble scratched against your cheek, providing a pleasant burn that let you know that this was reality. “Move,” You moaned. “Please.”

Inclined to obey, Halbrand let his yearning for you show, as plain as a summer’s day. He began to thrust into you, hunching in and over, stabilizing himself with one palm flat atop the table.

The other squeezed incessantly at your hips, cock rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, yet the fervor was steadily increasing. Your head spun, clouded by lust as your paramour ravished you in the way that you deserved.

His countenance echoed your sentiments, shadowed with the haze of lust, a carnality that clawed at your very soul. You let your forehead press to his, brows screwed together in a state of bliss, grasping at his tresses.

Halbrand grunted, the low noise rippling through his chest as he held your thigh, digits clamping down to keep you firmly in-place. His cock throbbed with an ache of urgency, hips snapping forward as he filled you completely.

A moan erupted from your lips yet again, nails forming crimson crescents against his bicep, occasionally lurching forward to meet his thrusts halfway. His pace became somewhat erratic as he coaxed you to lay back.

Your back hit the wooden surface of the table, the uncomfortable bite of it all softened by parts of your dress. Halbrand hunched in over you like a wolf towering above prey, palm flat beside your head.

The groan of sturdy wood beneath your entangled bodies resonated throughout the forge, the heat beginning to dissipate. The warmth between breath and body kept you feeling feverish, and you hitched one leg around his hips.

It evoked another growl from his lips as the smith pounded away at you, keeping a firm and steady pace. Halbrand was rougher than some, but never enough to cause you discomfort or harm. He was invigorated, driven to madness by the sight of you.

He kissed you again, feeling your desperation through joined lips alone, your hand grasping at his toned forearm. Arousal mounted within you, as thick as honey oozing between your thighs.

Passion bled into need, the two tangling together into some fervent amalgamation. It showed in his movements, continuing to thrust into you, feeling your cunt clench around him. You were made for him, with a heart that he found as malleable as metal.

The arch of your back signaled that your release was swiftly approaching, keening into his embrace instead as you moaned. You did little to temper your volume, mouth agape, head rolled back — you were the picture of grace, now tarnished.

His name escaped your tongue like a wayward prayer, over and over again until it was the only word you knew. As his cock hit you again, sending shockwaves throughout your body, you came undone.

Your leg squeezed at his hips, feeling his own resolve crumble at the sight of you, disheveled because of his doing. Halbrand let out a sonorous groan, body nearly blanketed over yours as his cock slapped into you again.

The warmth you provided was enough to make him stay sheathed within you, spilling himself inside of you without thinking. It only served to fuel his possessiveness, as dangerous as a growing wildfire.

Rocking himself inside of you once more, you let out a strangled whine. Through labored pants, you slowly regained composure, feeling his hot breath fan out across your visage.

Halbrand pulled himself out of you, leaving behind the visceral remnants of your lewd exploits, the sheen of it coating the inside of your thighs. He noticed your sheepish expression as you corrected your garments.

“There isn’t anywhere you can go that I would not follow.” He uttered, fingertips tucking strands of hair behind your ear. As you moved from the table, the smith reached for something within the pocket of his trousers.

“Halbrand,” You began, knowing that asking him to stay in Númenor was not fair — to either of you. Perhaps you could enjoy what comfort he brought, for the time being. “I shouldn’t ask it of you.”

“No matter what destiny entails, know that you belong to me.” There was something strangely dark within his tone, disguised as affection — you were oblivious to it. He placed something into your joined hands.

Touched by such a sentimental gesture, you flourished in the aftermath of your coupling, feeling his rough lips press against the curve of your jaw. You shivered, feeling the weight of a trinket within your palm.

Your lips sought his, the kiss lingering, enough for you to feel it burn within your very soul. There was nothing that could describe whatever it was you felt for him, felt with him.

“What is it?” You inquired, warmth raking along your spine, faces brushing against one another. Halbrand lingered pensively, a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth.

“Consider it a gift.”

[theatricalmage]

The brainrot took over and so here's a vat7k hadestown au!! Don't know if I'll develop it fully but I liked designing it at least!

More info under the cut:

- Varian, the Coronan royal alchemist, tasks himself with deciphering an incantation capable of bringing the world back into tune. Times are tough, and the royal family + Quirin are doing their best to cope with the meagre crop yields and desolate weather (Corona not really being the sunshine kingdom - hasn't been for a while). He wants to help and do good and I think he'd be a good Orpheus.

- Hugo, having moved about from place to place, still has his interest in alchemy and does what he can to get by. He plans on temporarily staying in Corona before looting, but he encounters a certain like-minded scientist at the Snuggly Duckling. I think him being selfish works especially well in Eurydice's role, having a more pessimistic view of the world. It also works with how he gets drawn to Donella's offer of working for her later on, leading him to his death.

- Ulla as Persephone! I was initially stuck on whether to have Rapunzel (and either Eugene/Cass) as her (and Hades) but I was drawn to the connection that Hugo has to Donella and the Donella/Ulla relationship in vat7k just works too well. In this case, Ulla won't be Varian's mother. She's still gonna be somewhat of an inspiration to him though, being the previous Coronan royal alchemist and for her intelligence. For half the year, she'll return to Corona with food, drinks, and alchemical compounds/inventions, bringing Spring and Summer to the world, if only for a bit.

- Donella would be such an interesting Hades, losing sight of her love for Ulla, heart filled with fear and hurt, leading to bitterness and cruelty. Ingvarr being Hadestown and how by being the esteemed Ingvarrian engineer, she'd be in charge of major technological advances across the kingdoms and so would wield a significant amount of power (like how Hades is literally the ruler of the underworld). Ingvarr essentially being a near death sentence for its workers while also displaying its technological prowess, all still shrouded in mystery and corruption - a place so otherworldly compared to the rest of the kingdoms.

I didn't want to modify the outfits too much nor the personalities,, if anything I imagine the general plot beats being the same as the original musical/story but with slight differences that'd you get inherently as a result of these characters. I wouldn't want it to be the case where it's just the show but the names are changed. I'd want this to still make reasonable sense in this AU, with the actions being understandable for this particular cast of characters.

For Hermes, I ended up picking Xavier, as he's most knowledgeable of old legends and stories, which would work in reference to the Hades and Persephone myth (and so Donella and Ulla)! He'd act as a mentor figure for V, someone who can guide him in uncovering the forgotten incantation. Quirin would still be the good supportive dad he is (even if he doesn't fully understand his son's project).

Last but not least, the fates!! often lurking in the background, I'm still a bit stuck on who it could be? I'm tempted to have it be Raps, Cass, and Nuru as they've had celestial connections at some point (and ya know how stars can represent fate), but I also love the freckled siblings dynamic so much. Also Team Radical... Maybe Raps and Cass can be their normal selves but their Sundrop/Moonstone counterparts are the manifested physical forms of the fates? They wouldn't be visible to the characters though, just voices in the wind.

Anyways yeah!! Those are my thoughts. Do let me know if you've got any cool ideas or questions. I'm really combining my interests at full force and there's nothing anyone, not even myself, can do about it quite frankly. 😮‍💨

[uyuforu]

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⋆˚✿˖° Sun 3H can mean your wedding will have a lot of guests, a lot of people can be invited. Wedding can happen fast also, or it can mean it can be a fast ceremony.

⋆˚✿˖° Sun Taurus means your wedding can be quite romantic, soft, and the style of it, how it looks like, can be very minimalist. It can happen near nature.

⋆˚✿˖° Boda 4H means you'll have a private wedding, also it can be mostly family coming to your readings. Wedding can happen where you were born, or in your home country.

⋆˚✿˖° Boda conjunct Venus means you'll feel very happy of your wedding, you'll love it. Wedding will be very romantic, you may think it's one of the best day of your life.

⋆˚✿˖° Juno Libra can mean you and your FS will feel very romantic, you'll feel like flirting, feeling very much in love during your wedding. You'll be stick to one another, loving to kiss each other, being all lovey dovey.

⋆˚✿˖° Pluto 10H can mean your wedding can transform your reputation. You may be seen different after getting married.

⋆˚✿˖° 8H Ruler in 4H can mean your honeymoon can happen in your home country. Or you'll spend a lot of time inside on your honeymoon.

⋆˚✿˖° Juno 8H means your honeymoon will be very romantic, and you and your FS will absolutely love it.

⋆˚✿˖° Saturn 1H can mean you'll be very stressed out during your wedding, you'll probably be very anxious about it on the day.

⋆˚✿˖° Groom/ Briede in 2H means we know who will more spend on your wedding. If you are a woman and it's Groom in the 2H (because your interested in men), then your FS will spend a lot of money on it, or their family.

⋆˚✿˖° Mars 2H can mean you'll have a lot of fights about who spends money on your wedding, how much money will be spent, you can also argue about what you'll buy.

⋆˚✿˖° 2H Ruler in 9H or 12H can mean you'll want to save the most money for your honeymoon.

⋆˚✿˖° Mars 2H can also mean guests can offer you a trip for your honeymoon. Once again, a lot of money will be spent on the honeymoon.

⋆˚✿˖° Venus 4H can mean your parent will spend a lot of money on your wedding, they can also buy very expensive gifts. Your parents can love the wedding, they can love how it looks and find it romantic.

⋆˚✿˖° Mercury in 3H + 3H Ruler in 2H means a prenup can be signed.

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⋆˚✿˖° Mercury 3H means guests will dance a lot, talk a lot. People will just engage in a lot of conversations during your wedding.

⋆˚✿˖° Groom/ Briede 5H means we can know who will have the most fun during the wedding, perhaps the one who will dance the most.

⋆˚✿˖° 5H Ruler in 3H means there will be a lot of dancing or singing.

⋆˚✿˖° Leo 7H can mean your FS will be the star of the wedding, you'll feel like this is their day, and you'll feel like they are glowing. They can draw the attention to themselves.

⋆˚✿˖° Uranus conjunct Neptune could mean the wedding can be linked to spirituality, and it can make the people at the wedding think it's very unique or unconventional. It can also mean a lot of people think the wedding is too strange when in fact it's not, people can be judgmental of it.

⋆˚✿˖° Libra 9H can mean your In-Laws can think the wedding looks stunning, beautiful, they can think it's also very romantic.

⋆˚✿˖° Moon 9H can mean FS' family can be the one crying the most.

⋆˚✿˖° Moon conjunct Jupiter can be a sign the wedding will have a lot of happy crying, people can truly feel happy of you and your FS.

⋆˚✿˖° Jupiter 9H can mean your In-Laws can make the wedding more fun, they can also bring very good ideas to make the wedding better, giving good advices, etc.

⋆˚✿˖° Chiron 7H can mean your FS can heal some of their traumas during the wedding.

⋆˚✿˖° Vertex 7H can mean something significant may happen during the wedding and it can be linked to your FS. If it conjuncts Chiron, then your FS can feel like the wedding is a big event for them, making them heal a big trauma. They can feel like a harsh part of their life has ended.

⋆˚✿˖° 11H Ruler in 9H means a lot of guests can be foreigner, traveling to go to the wedding. But also that most of the guests are guests of your FS.

⋆˚✿˖° Pluto conjunct North Node means your wedding is a planned life event in your life, a destined one, and it will be the start of a new era for you.

⋆˚✿˖° Venus in good aspect to Neptune means your wedding looks stunning, like a dream, or if you always wanted your wedding to look a certain way, it may come true eventually. It can look like a fairytale.

⋆˚✿˖° 3H Ruler in 2H can mean guests can think the wedding looks very expensive.

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[jezebelblues]

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒 | 𝐇.𝐒 𓆩♱𓆪

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐭, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛—𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫—𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐧—𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐫.

𝐂𝐖: smut18+ (p in v), implied consent, heavy sacrilegious elements, selling of soul, manipulation, blood, demonrry

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 11.3k

❏ i know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but i hope some of you liked this !!! <3

masterlist

IN THE BEGINNING, he was nothing. neither light nor shadow, nor the name carved upon the breath of a thousand angels. before heaven, before rebellion, before the stars spat their first flames into the void, he was silence. harry had no name then, no purpose, no shape. his existence was the marrow of chaos, the pulse of something god himself could not contain. he was desire unbound, the ache of creation, the temptation that god wove into the fabric of his design.

but god, ever proud, sought to bury him beneath the weight of divinity.

and so it was written—let there be light.

light was a shackle, a cleaving blade that divided the holy from the profane. where harry’s essence once seeped through all things, god cast him down, shoving him into the periphery of existence. the angels sang their praises, their voices golden and bright, their hands lifting the heavens into being. harry, the silent pulse of all things forbidden, was hidden beneath their hymn.

but harry did not stay silent.

when lucifer fell, harry followed. not as a soldier, not as a companion, but as something older, hungrier. when the war in heaven turned brother against brother, harry moved through the carnage like a shadow, his presence sharp and unseen. the angels wept rivers, their feathers torn from their backs like leaves in a storm. michael’s blade sang, and lucifer screamed his defiance as the heavens split open. and harry, unseen, caught the blood of the fallen in his hands, drinking it like sacrament.

he descended into hell with lucifer, but he did not bow.

asmodeus, they called him. the demon of lust, the king of desire. but harry wore the name like a mask, his true self hidden beneath the myths men would later craft to make sense of his presence. he did not revel in lust alone. no—his was the sin that bore all others, the quiet devastation of the soul, the ache that turned men’s prayers into whispers of want.

he was the serpent in eden, not in body, but in spirit. his essence seeped into the apple before it ever touched eve’s hand, a sweetness that sang of something beyond god’s dominion. the fruit’s flesh broke beneath her teeth, and in that moment, harry smiled. for the first time, the world tasted him.

harry was no prince of hell, no ruler of legions. his dominion was not forged in flames but in flesh. where lucifer sought thrones, harry sought the softest parts of god’s creation, the places where the divine cracked beneath the weight of its own hypocrisy. he was the tremor in a priest’s voice as he uttered his vows, the heat in a widow’s chest as she knelt to pray, the shadow that lingered in the hearts of the faithful.

his presence was not an explosion but a creeping rot, a sweetness that curdled into decay. he moved through the centuries unseen, his influence whispered in the psalms and carved into the margins of holy texts. the saints who fell to their knees in ecstasy, the priests who burned in the fires of their own desire—these were his victories, small and quiet, but eternal.

but in the fourteenth century, as the plague swept across europe, harry found his hunger growing. the world had grown darker, its faith frayed and trembling. death ruled the land, its shadow cast across every village, every chapel. god’s silence was deafening, and harry stepped into the void it left behind.

he had walked among men before, his form shifting and fleeting, a phantom that touched dreams and slipped through the cracks of consciousness. but this time, he longed for something deeper. the plague had starved men of their faith, but harry wanted more than despair. he wanted worship, devotion, the kind of love that burned brighter than heaven’s light. and so, he took shape, his form a blasphemous echo of the angels he had once moved among.

he descended upon the earth as a man, his beauty unnatural, almost cruel. his green eyes burned with a hunger that no mortal could comprehend, his smile a mockery of god’s grace. he moved through the world like a fever, slipping into dreams, whispering into the minds of the devout.

and when he found her—her prayers trembling on her lips, her heart untouched by sin—he knew he had found his altar.

YN knelt on the stone floor before her bed, dusted with straws of hay and dirt yet to be swept. her hands pressed together so tightly they ached. the crucifix nailed to the wall above her loomed like an executioner's blade, the savior’s face cast in shadow as the meager light of the candles flickered against the damp walls.

"holy mother, guide me," she whispered, her breath trembling. "may i serve you in purity and devotion. may i serve you..."

the words caught in her throat.

only silence answered her.

THE dreams began the night her father announced her betrothal.

it was after supper, the fire crackling low, her father’s voice heavy with the weight of finality. the man he had chosen was a merchant—twice her age, twice widowed. a practical match, her father had said. a man of standing, of faith.

YN had nodded dutifully, her hands folded in her lap, her heart trembling like the flame on the candle before her. she had whispered a prayer of thanks to god that night, her knees pressing into the cold stone of her chamber floor, her lips moving with reverence. she prayed for strength, for purity, for the will to be a dutiful wife.

that was when he first came to her.

harry.

the name would come later, slipping through her trembling lips in the dark, as though it had always been there, coiled around her tongue like a serpent in eden.

at first, it was just the sense of being watched, the prickling heat crawling over her skin as she lay beneath the coarse linen of her blankets. she told herself it was nothing—her imagination, the aftertaste of nerves. but as she drifted toward sleep, the sensation grew heavier, like a weight pressing against her chest.

in the dream, the air shimmered like heat rising from desert sand. she stood in a place that was no place—a horizonless void, dark and infinite, lit only by a soft golden glow that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

and then, he was there.

he stood at the edge of her sight, just out of focus, his form a smudge of gold and shadow. his voice was a whisper, low and smooth, threading through her mind like silk. you are beautiful, he murmured, his words curling around her like a serpent. so faithful—so untouched by the rot of the world.

she tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat, her tongue leaden with fear—or something deeper, something she could not name. he moved closer, still indistinct, his shape shifting like liquid gold in the flickering light.

do you love your god? he asked, his tone neither mocking nor kind, but something in between.

“yes.” she whispered, her voice trembling.

good. the word dripped from his lips, thick and honeyed, filling her with a sweetness that felt almost wrong. then show me.

her heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears. she sank to her knees, her hands clasped tightly together, her prayer spilling from her lips in a hurried stream.

not to him, the voice interrupted, sharp and commanding.

she froze, her words faltering. the light around him pulsed, growing brighter, harsher, until she could barely see.

kneel to me.

her eyes flew open, her breath ragged, her body damp with sweat. the dream clung to her like a shroud, the words echoing in her mind as she sat up, clutching the cross at her neck. she prayed until dawn, her voice hoarse, the weight of the dream pressing against her like sin itself.

the next night, it happened again.

this time, she saw his face.

it was the face of an angel, but not the kind she had seen painted in the pages of her father’s bible. his beauty was cruel, his features too perfect, too sharp, his green eyes burning with an intensity that made her want to look away and yet drew her closer. his smile was a blade, cutting through her defenses with a single glance.

he stood before her, his hand outstretched. “come,” he bellowed, his voice a command and a plea all at once.

she took a step toward him, her feet moving against her will. the closer she came, the more she could feel it—that heat, that ache, that hunger.

“who are you?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as if amused. “you know who i am.”

“no,” she breathed, shaking her head. “i do not.”

his smile widened, cruel and knowing. “i am the sweetness you crave but cannot name. i am the ache that fills the hollow of your prayers. i am the shadow in the garden, the voice that whispered take and eat.”

her breath hitched, her knees buckling beneath her. she fell to the ground before him, trembling, her hands clutching at the hem of her gown.

her voice broke, her face twisting in despair. “you are a lie.”.

his laughter was soft, almost tender. “and yet, here you are, kneeling before me.”

his hand brushed against her cheek, and the touch sent a jolt through her, like fire licking at her skin. she flinched, but he caught her chin, tilting her face upward to meet his gaze.

“you will deny me.” his eyebrows furrowed, voice soft but unyielding. “you will curse me. you will pray for deliverance. and yet, you will return to me.”

she woke with his laughter ringing in her ears, her body trembling, her chest tight with something that felt like both shame and longing.

the dreams continued, night after night.

she stopped praying before bed, her faith fraying like a thread pulled too tight. the cross at her neck felt heavier, colder, as if it had become a burden instead of a comfort.

by the end of the week, she was afraid to sleep. but it did not matter. whether awake or dreaming, he was there.

he lingered at the edges of her mind, his presence a constant hum beneath her thoughts. she saw him in the curve of a candle’s flame, in the flicker of sunlight through the chapel’s stained glass, the contemptible ache that burned the pit of her stomach. his voice haunted her prayers, turning her words into whispers of doubt.

and then, one night, he was no longer a dream.

he stood in the shadows of her chamber, his eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. she sat frozen in her bed, her breath caught somewhere at the top of her throat as he stepped into the moonlight, his beauty sharp and terrible, his smile a mockery of grace.

“you called for me.”

“i did not.” she whispered, clutching the blanket to her chest.

“oh, but you did.” harry drawled, dripping with feigned sincerity.

he knelt before her, his hands resting on the edge of the bed, his gaze locking her in place. "it was the fever in your chest, the tremble in your hands as you clasped them in prayer. it was the sigh that escaped your lips as you dreamed of me.”

her breath hitched, her face burning with shame as his words carved through her, exposing her, leaving her bare.

"it was the heat between your thighs grieving my absence.” he continued, his voice a velvet knife, slicing through her defenses. "the ache that settled deep in your belly, curling low and sweet like forbidden fruit. it was the way your body sang for me, even as your lips cursed my name."

she turned her face away, her cheeks wet with tears she hadn't realized were falling.

"look at me," he commanded, his tone soft but unyielding.

her eyes snapped back to his, and the weight of his presence pressed down on her like the crushing weight of sin itself.

put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry

harry laughed, deep and cruel, a sound that slithered beneath her skin and coiled around her spine. “do you think your god’s design was flawless? he made you flesh and then called you sinful for feeling it.” his lips were that of the spring berries as he smiled, the faintest stretch of rose.

the scripture would rattle louder in her mind, her lips mouthing the words in a silent, desperate prayer. harry would tilt his head, watching her with an expression that was both pitying and predatory, as though she were a lamb brought before the slaughter. “no prayer, no scripture, no god will efface the truth. you weren’t made to flee from this—you were made to burn.”

”no–“

he leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "you cannot lie to me, little one. your god may turn a blind eye to the truth of you, but i see it all."

his lips brushed against the shell of her ear, so light it felt like a specter’s touch, but it sent a jolt through her that left her trembling. "and you will call to me, YN.”

ONE day without him was a reprieve, though it did not feel like mercy.

her chest still ached with the weight of the dreams, her thoughts burdened by the lingering whisper of his voice. the sunlight felt sharper that day, the world too bright, too loud. every moment dragged her closer to evening, and she feared the coming of night as much as she longed for its veil.

but the dreams did not come.

that night, her sleep was empty, untouched by his presence. she woke feeling as hollow as the silence he had left behind, her body too cold without the phantom heat of him pressing against her. she prayed that morning, her knees bruised against the stone of her chamber floor, but her words felt hollow, like they were falling into an abyss.

god had not answered. neither had he.

by the time the sun dipped low on the horizon, YN’s mind was frayed, her soul heavy with both relief and dread. she lit a candle and made her way to the small shack her father had built behind the cottage—a sacred place, he called it.

it was little more than a wooden skeleton, the walls warped with time, the roof patched with hay. the wooden crucifix her father had carved hung above a stone altar, its edges blackened with the blood of lambs offered in sacrifice. the air was thick with the smell of wax and ash, the shadows heavy and alive in the flickering candlelight.

she knelt before the altar, the cold of the stone biting into her knees. her hands clasped tightly together, her head bowed, her lips moving in whispered prayer.

“father in heaven, hear me,” she began, her voice trembling. “i am weak. i am lost. guide me, cleanse me, protect me from the darkness that seeks to devour my soul.”

the words felt brittle, as if they might shatter under their own weight.

“deliver me from temptation,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “deliver me from—”

“—yourself?”

the voice echoed through the shack, low and mocking, sending a shiver down her spine. her breath caught, her body freezing in place.

“you ask for deliverance from the one thing you cannot escape.”

she turned her head slowly, her heart pounding as she saw him standing in the shadows. his beauty was sharper here, crueler, as if the walls of this sacred place brought out the worst in him.

“you shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“oh, but i should,” harry said, stepping closer, his movements fluid and calculated. “what better place for me to be? this is where your faith lies, after all. broken and bleeding on that stone.”

he gestured toward the altar, his smile wicked. “how many lambs have been slaughtered here, their blood spilling in vain as your father begged his god to hear him? tell me, little one, how often has he answered?”

she flinched, her hands clutching at her dress, but she couldn’t look away.

“you kneel before this altar as if it can save you,” he paused, his voice a low purr. “but your prayers are nothing more than empty words, falling on deaf ears. your god doesn’t listen, YN. he never has.”

“stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“why should i?” he asked, tilting his head, his eyes pines blanketed in fog. “why should i hold my tongue when the truth is so deliciously plain? look at this place—this shrine to a silent god. the blood stains the stone, the candles burn low, and still, you kneel.”

he stepped closer, the heat of his presence overwhelming her, suffocating.

“you pray to him, and yet your body longs for me.” his voice was a velvet knife. “your lips speak his name, but your soul cries out for mine. every breath you take in this place is a mockery of the faith you claim to hold.”

“you lie,” she spat, her voice trembling.

“do i?”

he reached out, his fingers brushing against the wooden crucifix that hung above the altar. his touch was gentle, reverent almost, but his eyes burned with something dark, something unholy.

"stop.” YN insisted, her voice rising. "you cannot defile this place."

"cannot?" he echoed, his smile widening. "little lamb, i have been defiling sacred places since the stones were first laid."

"get out," she hissed, her voice trembling.

he tilted his head, feigning confusion. "why? am i not welcome in my father's house?"

"you are no son of god.” she bit, her nails digging into her palms.

he laughed, a low, resonant sound that seemed to reverberate off the walls and whisper malevolence. “this,” he said, his voice soft but laced with venom, “is not salvation. it is a symbol of failure. your god hangs here, broken and bleeding, a man nailed to wood, unable to save himself, let alone you.”

her breath hitched, her chest tightening as his words carved through her. the candles burned lower, their flames flickering as if suffocating. the crucifix above them groaned, the carved figure of christ seeming to shift, his eyes now open, his mouth twisted in a silent scream.

“he is not here,” he continued, his tone dripping with mockery. “but i am. i have always been here, in the shadows, in the spaces where your god’s light does not reach.”

he turned to her then, his eyes locking with hers. “kneel to me, YN.” harry exhorted. “kneel to the one who hears you, who sees you, who wants you.”

her body trembled, her knees threatening to give out beneath her. she clutched the edge of the altar, her knuckles white, her breath ragged.

“i will not,” she whispered, though her voice wavered with the weight of the lie.

he smiled, a predator’s smile, and took another step closer. "blessed are the pure in heart," he recited softly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "and yet here you are, YN. your prayers stained with want, your purity burned away by the fire in your chest. tell me, little lamb—what does your god see when he looks at you now?"

DREAMS came to her again last night, wrapping around her like silk soaked in poison. she woke with the taste of copper on her tongue. the air was thick, rancid, like meat left to rot.

but it was saturday, and there was no room for weakness on the sabbath.

her father had already dressed in his fine woolen cloak, his voice sharp as he called for her to hurry. she obeyed, tying her hair beneath her veil, clasping the cross at her neck with trembling fingers.

her steps dragged as she and her father walked to the chapel, the congregation gathering like crows around carrion. the chapel’s crooked steeple cast a shadow across the field, its bell tolling low and mournful. the holy place felt like a maw, swallowing her whole.

the priest’s voice boomed as the congregation kneeled on the dirt floor, their heads bowed.

“let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the lord, that he may have compassion on him, and to our god, for he will abundantly pardon.”

the words struck YN like a lash, her heart thundering in her chest as she whispered the verse under her breath. she gripped the wooden bench in front of her, her knuckles white, trying to anchor herself.

“compassion,” the priest intoned, his hands raised high. “he calls to us, even now, though we are unworthy. he calls to the sinners, the straying sheep. come back to him, my children. return to the lord.”

a low chuckle coiled through the air, faint as the flicker of a candle but unmistakable. YN’s stomach dropped.

“do you believe that?” the voice whispered, warm and mocking, curling behind her ear. “that he’ll pardon you? that he’ll save you from me?”

she didn’t dare lift her head.

“seek your servant, for I do not forget your commandments,” the priest continued, his voice heavy with fervor.

“he’s lying,” harry purred, his voice like velvet dragged over glass.

YN’s breath caught in her throat.

“you’ve forgotten every commandment that matters,” harry continued, his tone soft, intimate. “what about the one that said, thou shalt not covet? because you do. every night, in your dreams, you covet me. and your god?” he growled, low and mocking. “he watches.”

her body trembled, her fingers digging into the rough wood as the priest’s voice rose.

“i have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek your servant, for i do not forget your commandments.”

harry’s laughter slithered through her mind, dark and sharp. “you are a lost sheep,” he said, his voice dripping with mock pity. “but he doesn’t seek you, little one. he sent me instead.”

she gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as the priest called for the hymn. the congregation rose to their feet, their voices low and discordant as they sang, the words clawing at the stale air.

“holy father, forgive us, for we have sinned. purify our hearts, that we may walk in your light��”

“his light,” he scoffed, his voice like a knife slicing through the hymn. “look around you. this chapel is a tomb. the life you sacrifice, the blood you spilled—it did nothing. and still, you sing to a god who leaves you on your knees, begging.”

YN’s voice faltered, the hymn dying in her throat.

“keep singing,” he whispered, his voice a noose around her throat. “pretend he can hear you. pretend this is not the cry of the forsaken.”

her breath came fast, her chest tight as she darted a glance toward the altar. the priest stood with his arms raised, his back to the congregation. behind him, barely visible in the flickering light, stood harry.

he was leaning against stone altar, eyes gleaming with amusement. his beauty was stark against the dark stone, his smile sharp and cruel. he dipped his fingers into the chalice of wine and brought them to his lips, licking the crimson liquid from his skin with deliberate ease.

“the blood of christ,” he murmured, tilting his head. “does it taste like salvation? or does it taste like rot?”

YN’s stomach twisted, her knees trembling as she clutched the back of the pew for support.

“your god demands sacrifice, little one. a lamb, a son, a savior nailed to wood. i demand nothing but you.”

the priest turned, lifting the chalice high. “this is the blood of christ, shed for us, that we may be cleansed of sin.”

harry grinned, his teeth glinting like ivory in the dim light. “if you drink it, will it stop the ache?” he asked, his voice low and taunting. “will it fill the hollow i left in you? or will it only make you hungrier?”

her legs buckled, and she sank back onto the bench, her body trembling.

“stand,” her father hissed under his breath, his grip biting into her arm.

“i can’t,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“you can,” harry said, stepping closer, his eyes locking with hers. “you will. for you know i’m watching.”

the congregation knelt again, murmuring prayers of repentance. YN bowed her head, her heart pounding as she forced the words to her lips.

“forgive me, lord, for i have sinned…”

“no,” harry growled like a prayer ripped inside out. “not him. me.”

his shadow loomed over her, heavy and oppressive, and when she dared to lift her head, he was standing directly before her. his gaze burned with something dark, something primal, and his smile was a blade pressed to her throat.

“pray to me, little lamb,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “ask me to deliver you. beg me for salvation.”

she squeezed her eyes shut, tears slipping down her cheeks as her lips moved in silent prayer.

“your god isn’t listening,” he said, his voice soft and cold. “but i am.”

when she opened her eyes, he was gone. but the air still burned, his words etched into her mind like scripture written with flames.

THE day was gray, heavy with the weight of a coming storm, but YN could not wait for the skies to break. her soul was breaking already.

the dreams were unbearable now. waking was worse. her every breath felt like a prayer unspoken, each step an act of penance for sins she could not name aloud. her father noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes, the tremor in her hands, but he only frowned and muttered about weakness.

"pray harder," he told her.

so she did.

the confessional was cold, the air thick with damp and the faint smell of rot. YN knelt on the rough wood, her skirts pooling around her as she folded her hands tightly, her knuckles white. the small window before her was shuttered, and through the slats came the low rasp of the priest's breathing.

the priest’s voice came soft through the slats. “speak, child. let your sins fall from your lips, and god will wash them away.”

she trembled, unsure if her words could even be spoken aloud. “father, i am… i am haunted.” her voice broke, shaking with shame. “in dreams. a man—no, not a man. something else. he comes to me, tempts me, mocks my prayers. i try to resist, but he—”

her voice failed.

the priest made a low noise of understanding, his tone grave. “the devil comes in many forms, child. his beauty is meant to deceive, his words to ensnare. you must resist him. confess fully, and god will grant you the strength to drive him away.”

YN’s lips parted to respond, but the air changed. the confessional grew darker, the candlelight flickering weakly. the priest’s breathing faltered, replaced by a sound she knew too well.

laughter. low, rich, and far too familiar.

“resist me?” the voice came smooth and mocking, curling through the air like incense. “you could no sooner resist the tide than resist me.”

YN’s blood turned to ice. her nails digging into her palms as she whispered, “no. not here.”

“oh, but here,” his tone was laced in wicked amusement. “this is perfect. isn’t this where you come to bare your soul? where you whisper all your secrets, hoping your silent god will hear?”

“leave,” she hissed, her voice shaking.

his laugh deepened, almost tender. “and rob myself of the pleasure of hearing what you truly want to say?”

her throat tightened as she pressed her hands together, forcing her trembling lips into a prayer.

“our father, who art in heaven—”

“—has forsaken you,” he interrupted, his voice a sharp, blasphemous mimic of reverence. “your father doesn’t want you, little lamb. he gave you to me the moment your knees hit the floor. what did you think he’d do? save you?”

she squeezed her eyes shut, her voice trembling. “hallowed be thy name.”

“yes, hallowed,” he purred. “and hallowed is the way you whisper my name in the dark. tell me, YN, when you kneel like this, do you imagine it’s for him?”

her hands flew to her ears, trying to block him out, but his voice only grew louder, more insistent.

“stop hiding,” he spit, his tone sharp now, demanding. “tell him the truth. tell him how your thighs tremble when i’m near, how your breath catches when i speak your name. tell him about the ache that wakes you in the night, the way you burn for me even when you beg for deliverance.”

her breath came in gasps, her body trembling. “you’re lying,” she choked out, her voice breaking.

“am i?” he asked, leaning closer. the confessional creaked as if straining to contain him. “then why are you here? not to confess, surely. no, you came here hoping i’d follow. hoping i’d find you, press close, whisper in your ear.”

the wood slats separating them seemed too thin, too fragile, and the air grew stifling.

“take and eat, little lamb,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “for this is my body, given for you.”

her stomach twisted, shame and something more burning hot in her veins.

“this god of yours,” harry continued, his voice a cruel mockery of the priest’s measured tone. “he asks for everything and gives you nothing. he demands blood, obedience, sacrifice. what do i ask for?”

she shook her head, trembling. “leave me alone.”

“what do i ask for?” he repeated, his voice louder, harsher now, like a crack of thunder. “your pleasure. your desire. the things you deny even to yourself.”

the priest’s voice broke through the haze, faint but steady. “child, speak. what is it you see?”

YN opened her eyes, her breath coming in shallow gasps. through the slats, the priest sat motionless, his eyes half-lidded and dull, as though he were barely there.

“he doesn’t even know i’m here,” harry laughed softly. “they never do. blind sheep, praying to an empty sky. but you see me, don’t you, YN? you feel me.”

she stumbled from the confessional, her knees weak, her chest heaving as she staggered toward the altar. the chapel spun around her, the walls closing in, but she dropped to her knees again, clutching the cold stone with desperate hands.

she looked up, her gaze drawn to the crucifix, and her breath caught in her throat.

christ's face, carved from pale wood, seemed to shift in the trembling candlelight. his eyes, once serene, now seemed to stare down upon her with sorrow—or was it accusation? the wounds on his hands and side bled afresh, crimson rivulets that ran down his body and dripped onto the altar.

she stifled a choke. “forgive me, father,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “for i have sinned.”

but the words felt hollow, her prayers cracking under the weight of his voice as it lingered in her mind.

“your god isn’t listening,” harry murmured, his tone soft but unrelenting. “but i am.”

the shadows seemed to twist around her, thick and suffocating, and for a moment, she thought she felt his hand ghost across her cheek. she cried out, pressing her forehead to the stone as the chapel grew silent once more.

but even as she prayed, she could feel him there, watching, waiting.

IT was well past midnight when YN woke with a start, the air in her chamber cold and heavy. the faint light of the moon filtered through the small window, casting pale streaks across the floor. her heart was racing, though she couldn't remember dreaming. perhaps it was the silence itself that had startled her, the kind of silence that felt alive, that pressed against her ears and made the hairs on her neck rise.

then she heard it.

a soft scrape, the barest shift of weight on old stone. her breath caught as her eyes darted toward the corner of the room. at first, there was nothing—just shadow. but the longer she stared, the more the shadows seemed to thicken, pooling together, forming a shape.

and then he stepped into the light.

he looked more human now than he ever had in her dreams, though the sheer perfection of him was anything but mortal. his green eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, sharp and predatory, their color like fresh spring leaves glistening with dew. his curls fell loose around his face, framing features so flawless they felt like an insult to the world that had made her.

he was bare from the waist up, his skin pale as marble, his chest broad and smooth. faint scars crisscrossed his arms and shoulders, not marks of war but something deeper, older, like remnants of a punishment she couldn't begin to fathom. he was beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful—gleaming, deadly, meant to draw blood.

YN's breath came fast and shallow, her body frozen in place as he moved closer. his steps were slow, deliberate, each one making the air between them heavier.

"you didn't dream of me tonight," he said softly, his voice low, almost conversational.

her breath caught as she clutched her blanket tightly.

"did you miss me?"

"no," she whispered, though her voice trembled.

his smile widened, wicked and knowing. "liar."

he stepped closer, and the shadows seemed to follow him, pooling at his feet like they belonged to him.

"why are you here?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

he tilted his head, his green eyes gleaming as he looked at her. "why do you think?"

"leave me be," she whispered, her hands gripping the cross around her neck.

his gaze dropped to it, his smile softening into something crueler. "that again," he muttered, moving closer. "you think it'll save you?"

he reached out, his hand brushing lightly over the cross. it burned hot against her skin, the chain snapping and falling into his palm. the cross itself turned black beneath his touch, the wood cracking, the air around it heavy with the smell of smoke.

YN gasped, her hand flying to her throat as he let the ruined cross clatter to the floor. "you clutch at your symbols like they mean something," he grumbled, his voice rich with disdain. "your god's little trinkets. do you think they'll stop me?"

her breath came fast, her body trembling as he knelt before her, his face level with hers.

"don't," she managed, her voice breaking. but it held no real conviction.

his lips twitched, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest as he leaned closer, the heat of him suffocating. "don't what? don't touch your meek toys? or don't touch you?"

his hand lifted, slow and calculating, until his fingertips brushed the edge of the blanket covering her legs.

"i see the way you tremble," he murmured, his voice like silk pulled taut. "not with fear. no, this is something else."

“stop.”

"why?" he asked, his tone soft, almost gentle. "why should i stop, when your body begs me to keep going? when your cunt weeps my name, even as your lips say no?"

her face burned, shame twisting in her chest as she shook her head violently. "no. you're lying."

it felt even more shameful that she was the one who lied.

his smile widened, sharp and predatory. "am i?"

his hand dragged up her leg, slowly, the blanket slipping as his fingers grazed her bare skin. her body jolted at the touch, a heat blooming deep in her belly that she tried desperately to ignore.

"there it is," he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. "that flame. you try so hard to smother it, to pretend it's not there. but it is, YN. it always has been."

"you're wrong," she said, though her voice faltered.

his hand paused, resting just above her knee, his thumb brushing in slow circles against her skin. "am i?" he asked, his tone low, teasing. "then why are you shaking? why does your breath hitch when i'm near?"

she clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as tears pricked her eyes. her desires were red hot, searing and damning—it could blind her.

"there's no shame in it, little lamb." he murmured, his voice soft and coaxing. "desire is the most human thing about you. even the saints, even the martyrs—they all burned with it. they lied to themselves, called it devotion, but you..." his hand slid higher, his touch light but deliberate. "...you feel it for what it is. don't you?"

her body shuddered, heat and shame twisting together in her chest. "no," she whispered, her voice breaking.

his laughter was soft, warm, like a lover's. "you keep saying that, but your body tells me otherwise. it sings for me, YN. every breath, every tremble, every beat of your heart—it's all for me."

his hand left her leg suddenly, the loss of his touch almost startling. it felt wrong to miss it. but she shifted in her bed, tucking her legs beneath her.

he rose to his feet, towering over her, his presence heavy and oppressive. "look at you," he pouted, his voice low and mocking. "kneeling there like a lamb before the slaughter. tell me, YN—when you kneel to your god, does it feel like this?"

her head snapped up, her breath coming in ragged gasps as tears streaked her cheeks. "you're vile," she spat, her voice trembling.

his smile didn’t waver, “and yet you crave me.”

her lips parted to deny him again, but no words came.

"pray to him," he said suddenly, his tone sharp. "pray to your silent god. beg him to take me away. go on."

her hands shook as she clasped them together, her lips moving in a hurried, whispered prayer.

"louder," he demanded, his voice a growl.

she choked on the words, her voice faltering.

"he doesn't hear you," harry breathed, leaning down, his eyes burning. "but i do. i hear every word, every plea, every desperate little gasp."

his hand brushed against her cheek, light as a whisper, and her body flinched at the heat of his touch. "and i'll return to you.”

then he was gone, leaving her alone in the stifling darkness.

YN collapsed onto the floor, clutching the blackened cross in her trembling hands. her prayers spilled from her lips in frantic, broken whispers, but her chest ached with the weight of him, her shame twisting into something darker.

your body tells me otherwise.

the words echoed in her mind, and no matter how hard she prayed, she couldn't silence them.

and part of her didn’t want them to be silenced.

THE festival was a rare indulgence, but one that brought the village together in a brief, fragile joy. the green had been cleared of mud and manure, and stalls were hastily built from rough-hewn wood to hold baked breads, sugared apples, salted fish, and honeyed wine. ribbons of faded red and gold hung between posts, fluttering weakly in the breeze, a half-hearted attempt at gaiety. the villagers gathered in their sunday best—threadbare cloaks and patched tunics, the smell of sweat and smoke clinging to the air.

YN moved stiffly beside her father, her eyes fixed on the ground as he gripped her arm with a hand calloused from years of tilling the fields. his voice, rough and impatient, barked orders as they wove through the crowd. “stand straight. do not fidget. the merchant will see you soon.” he snapped, his words a command, not comfort.

her stomach churned at the thought. she had heard of the man—léonard. old, jowled, his hands thick with grease and his temper legendary. his two previous wives had died, and the rumors whispered that it was grief that drove him to cruelty. others muttered darker things.

“a match is a blessing,” her father had said weeks before, his face dark as a storm. “you will not shame this family with resistance. god’s will is clear—obedience to your husband, salvation through servitude. you will thank him for this.”

YN bit the inside of her cheek, her throat tight as her father led her through the crowd. laughter and shouting mingled with the braying of goats and the clatter of wagon wheels, but it all felt far away, a blur against the rising dread in her chest.

and then she saw him.

harry.

he was standing near one of the stalls, his green eyes fixed on her, gleaming like firelight through emerald glass. he leaned casually against a post, shirtless, his pale skin a stark contrast to the coarse linens and wool around him.

no one else seemed to notice him.

her breath hitched as he began to move, threading through the crowd with a predator’s ease. his presence was heavy, suffocating, even as he stayed just far enough away to keep her guessing.

her father stopped abruptly, and she nearly stumbled into him.

“he’s here.” her father muttered, his voice heavy with satisfaction.

her gaze snapped forward, and there he was—léonard.

his cloak was fine but stained, the dark fabric stretched tight over his rounded belly. his face was ruddy, his jowls trembling as he spoke, his voice low and wet, like the squelch of mud beneath boots.

“so this is the girl,” léonard paused, his beady eyes scanning her from head to toe. “she’ll bear fine sons, i’m sure.”

YN’s cheeks burned as her father grunted his agreement.

“come closer, girl,” he barked, motioning her forward.

she stepped forward reluctantly, her body tense, her hands clasped tightly together.

and then she felt it.

a touch, light as silk, sliding along the small of her back. her breath caught as harry’s voice curled through her mind.

“look at him,” he purred, his tone rich with disdain. “smells like pig’s blood and sour ale. this is the man your father chose for you? a shepherd fattened for slaughter?”

her knees weakened as his hand slid lower, his touch teasing but firm.

“stop,” she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling.

léonard raised a brow. “speak up, girl.”

harry chuckled darkly, his breath warm against her ear. “sheep don’t speak,” he said, his tone a mockery of scripture. “they follow.”

her body stiffened as his hand crept to her hip, his fingers pressing lightly, just enough to make her shiver.

“obedience,” he murmured, his lips brushing the curve of her ear. “isn’t that what they want from you? isn’t that what your god demands? kneel, obey, bleed. it’s a wonder they don’t ask you to thank them for it.”

léonard was still speaking, his voice droning on about dowries and blessings, but it was muffled now, like the buzz of flies over something rotting.

“look at him,” he whispered. “look at the way his lips move, spilling lies and demands. do you smell it, little one? the decay beneath gold? this is what they call god’s will.”

her breath hitched as harry’s hand moved to her thigh, his fingers dragging upward slowly, teasingly.

“you could scream right now,” his voice was low and taunting. “and no one would care. they’d blame you for it. your father would say it’s your fault. your god would call it a test. but me? i’d enjoy it.”

“enough,” she hissed under her breath, her voice trembling.

léonard frowned. “what did you say?”

he laughed, his eyes gleaming. “tell him, little lamb. tell him what you really want to say.”

YN’s heart raced as harry stepped around her, moving behind léonard.

“this is what you’ll wake up to every morning,” he taunted, gesturing to the man’s bulk, his jowls, the faint stink of sweat and blood. “this is your future. do you see it?”

he tilted his head, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

“let me show you.”

before she could respond, harry reached out, and suddenly léonard’s throat was slit, a jagged, gaping wound spilling blood in thick rivulets. his mouth moved silently, his eyes wide with shock as he stumbled back, gurgling, before collapsing to the ground.

her breath caught in her throat, her body frozen in horror.

harry knelt beside the body, his fingers dipping into the blood and lifting it to his lips. “the blood of the lamb,” he said, his tone rich with mockery. “shed for you. do you feel saved yet?”

her knees buckled, and she grabbed at her skirts, trembling.

“YN!” her father barked, his voice sharp.

she blinked, and léonard was standing again, unharmed, his voice droning on as if nothing had happened.

harry stood beside him, his eyes locked on hers, his smile wicked. “just a taste,” he mumbled. “but you see it now, don’t you? the rot. the lie. tell me you want more.”

her chest heaved, her breath shallow as she tore her gaze away, trembling. “i… i need a moment.” she stammered, fleeing before her father could object.

YN's feet moved without thought, her breath shallow and uneven as she fled toward the trees at the edge of the green. the sounds of the festival faded behind her—laughter, clinking mugs, the low hum of a hymn sung off-key. she stumbled into the shadows, her back pressing against the rough bark of a tree as her hands trembled against her skirts.

her heart pounded as she clenched her eyes shut, willing the sickening image of léonard's torn throat to leave her mind. the blood. the gurgling.

the way harry had knelt so casually beside the body, his fingers trailing through the crimson spill like it was honey.

"it wasn't real," she whispered, her voice shaking. "it wasn't real."

"oh, but it could be."

her eyes snapped open, and there he was.

he stood a few paces away, leaning casually against another tree, his eyes bright even in the dim light. he looked impossibly at ease, his shirtless torso pale and gleaming, the scars that marked his flesh carved from a divine hand.

her chest heaved as she pressed herself tighter against the tree, her knees trembling. "you’re vile," she spat, though the words came out weak, a desperate attempt to regain control.

harry’s smile widened, wicked and knowing. "yet here you are," he said softly, stepping closer. "running from him. running to me."

she pressed her back harder against the tree, the bark scraping through the thin fabric of her dress.

"leave me," she whispered, her voice trembling.

harry tilted his head, his curls catching the faint light, making him look more angel than demon. but his smile gave him away, all sharp edges and mockery. "leave you?" he repeated, taking a slow step closer. "but you're the one who called me here. the moment you fled, the moment you thought of me instead of your god."

"i didn't," she said quickly, her voice breaking, though she couldn't meet his eyes.

"liar." he murmured, closing the distance between them in a single stride.

the heat of him was overwhelming, pressing against her like a heavy shroud. his fingers reached for her, trailing along her jawline, his touch featherlight but impossible to ignore.

"do you know what you've done, little lamb?" he asked softly, his tone almost gentle. "you've brought me here. to this holy forest, where the air smells of prayer and sacrifice. do you think your god is watching now?"

she flinched, her lips trembling as she looked down. "he watches everything."

harry laughed, low and dark, turpentine—wearing her thin . "oh, YN. he does not watch you, if he was, would he have let me come so close?"

his fingers slipped beneath her chin, lifting her face until their eyes met. "would he have let you feel this?"

her breath hitched as his other hand trailed down, brushing over her waist, bunching the fabric of her dress in his fist. the coarse wool scraped against her skin as he gathered it higher, his green eyes never leaving hers.

"stop," she whispered, her voice trembling.

his smile widened, cruel and indulgent. "but you don't want me to stop," he said softly, his tone a mockery of tenderness. "you want me to keep going, to do what your god will not."

there was a moment of silence, eyes boring into one another as the trees shook in the breeze of whispers. “banish me.” he prodded, his eyebrows furrowed. “tell me to go and i will leave you.”

her chest heaved as she struggled to find her voice, to deny him, but the words tangled in her throat.

the faint glimmer of her damning shining through her cracked resolve.

"look at you," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "trembling like a virgin sacrifice before the altar. but that's what you want, isn't it? to be taken. to feel something other than this cold, empty devotion."

"no," she choked out, though her body betrayed her, her legs weakening as he stepped closer, his body crowding hers against the tree.

"no?" he repeated, his voice a low growl. "then why aren't you pushing me away? why does your breath quicken when i touch you? why does your cunt sing for me, even now?"

his hand slipped lower, finding her thigh beneath her skirts. his touch was firm but slow, deliberate, as he dragged his fingers upward, his gaze locked on hers.

"your god asks for obedience," he uttered, his voice sharp and mocking. "he demands sacrifice. but i ask for nothing but this."

her knees buckled slightly as his fingers brushed the edge of her undergarments, the heat pooling low in her belly making her head spin.

"don't." she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.

harry's free hand moved to her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "don't lie to me, little lamb. i can taste the truth on your lips."

he leaned closer, his breath warm against her mouth. "say it," he urged, his voice low and commanding. "say you want me."

her breath came fast and shallow, her heart pounding as shame and desire tangled in her chest.

"say it.”

her resolve crumbled. "i-i want you," she choked out, her voice breaking.

she gasped, her hands clutching his arms while her face burned—shame and something darker twisting inside her as his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric, finding her folds.

"there," he murmured, his tone soft and taunting. "that's the truth of you, YN. not the prayers, not the fasting, not the faith. this. this heat, this need, this sin. it's mine."

her nails bit into his skin, taut and firm underneath while his digits slid through her arousal, deliberate and unhurried.

"you'll deny it, of course," he hummed, eyes burning as he watched her. "you'll call it blasphemy, call it wrong. but it's not wrong, is it? it feels too good to be wrong."

she bit her lip, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her body trembling as he circled her clit with maddening precision.

when he withdrew his hand, her body lurched at the loss, her breath catching in her throat. harry's fingers glistened in the faint light, slick with her arousal, a damning testament to her betrayal.

"look at this," he breathed, holding his hand before her face. his eyes burned with triumph, his lips curling into a smile. "the fruit of your desire. forbidden, but oh, so sweet."

YN's lips trembled, her cheeks wet with tears as she tried to look away.

"no," he said sharply, his tone slicing through the air like a blade. "you don't get to turn away from this. from me. taste it, little lamb. taste what you've given me."

her stomach twisted as he pressed his fingers to her lips, the heat of his touch scorching her skin.

"open," he commanded, his voice low and unyielding.

she hesitated, her chest heaving with shame and fear.

"open," he said again, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. "you've come this far. don't turn back now."

her lips parted, a trembling act of surrender, and he slipped his fingers into her mouth. the taste was overwhelming—salt and heat and something darker, something that made her stomach clench and her body burn with ashamed desire.

"good girl.” he breathed, his tone a velvet caress. his eyes stayed locked on hers, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed her face.

when he pulled his fingers away, he let them trail down her chin, leaving a faint sheen behind.

"do you see it now?" he asked softly, his hand moving to cup her face. "do you see what you are?"

she shook her head, not trusting her voice.

his smile deepened, his thumb brushing over her trembling lips. “you do not see, hm?” he cooed, “you are mine by design, as eve was made for adam, as fire is made to burn."

she slid down the tree, her back scraping against the bark as she crumpled to the ground, her head in her hands.

harry crouched before her, his smile softening into something almost tender. "pray if you like," he murmured. "but it won't change the truth."

he stood then, his green eyes gleaming as he disappeared into the shadows, leaving her trembling and broken beneath the gnarled branches of the forest.

THE days following her surrender blurred together, each one heavier than the last. YN no longer prayed—not because she didn't want to, but because the words felt meaningless. they sat heavy on her tongue, unmoving, like stones lodged in her throat. every attempt at confession ended in silence, the weight of her sin pressing her knees deeper into the cold stone of the chapel floor.

and yet, it wasn't guilt that made her tremble in the quiet moments. it wasn't shame that kept her awake at night, her hands fisting her sheets as she tried to ignore the heat pooling low in her belly. it was him. the memory of his touch, his voice, his green eyes burning into hers as though they could see every thought she tried to hide.

she waited for him. every day, every night. and when he didn't come, it felt like torment.

it was near midnight when she woke to the smell of smoke.

at first, she thought the cottage was burning, but when she sat up, the air was still. no flames licked at the thatched roof, no shouts from her father broke the night. the smell was faint, clinging to her skin like an afterthought, mingling with the faint taste of ash on her tongue.

the shack was colder than she remembered.

YN stepped inside, her breath catching as the warped wooden door groaned shut behind her. the faint smell of damp wood and old blood clung to the air, a reminder of the offerings her father had made here long ago. candles sat in the corners of the room, their flames low and flickering, casting shadows that stretched like grasping hands across the walls.

and at the center of it all stood the altar.

its surface was dark with stains that time could not scrub away. her father's hands had held lambs there, muttering prayers as their blood spilled onto the stone. the altar had been a place of sacrifice, of devotion, of faith.

now, it was hers.

harry stood beside it, waiting. his bare chest gleamed in the candlelight, the scars that crossed his pale skin stark and unyielding. his eyes burned as they met hers, the corners of his mouth curling into a slow, knowing smile.

"you came," he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent.

her body trembled as she stepped closer, the worn planks beneath her feet creaking with every step. "you called for me.” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"are you afraid?" he asked, his voice a low hymn, the kind that made sinners weep.

YN's knees shook. her faith had been a crutch her entire life, a shield against the dark, but now that shield was splintered, discarded at her feet. she didn't want god anymore.

she wanted him.

"no," she lied, though her heart was a caged bird, its wings beating frantically against her ribs.

harry smiled. it was not a kind smile. it was the smile of a wolf, sharp and full of promise. he beckoned her closer with the wave of his hand, her steps light until she stood before him at the altar.

his hand reached for her, pale fingers curling around her throat. his grip was light, reverent, as though she were something holy, something to be cherished.

his mouth found hers, claiming her with a kiss that was both savage and tender, his lips devouring hers with a hunger that felt endless. her body melted against him, her resistance crumbling with every stroke of his tongue, every graze of his teeth.

his hands roamed her body, pulling at the coarse fabric of her dress, lifting it away from her skin with a reverence that felt almost mocking. when the cold air hit her bare flesh, she shivered, but his warmth was there, surrounding her, consuming her.

he looked at her like she was something sacred, a relic carved by divine hands. his eyes trailed over her shoulders, her breasts, her hips, lingering on the hollow of her throat where her pulse fluttered like a trapped moth.

"do you know,” his voice soft as a lover's whisper, "that heaven and hell both weep at the sight of you?"

her breath hitched, her cheeks burning as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to shield herself from his gaze.

"don't," he said softly, his tone sharp but not unkind.

his hands reached for hers, pulling her arms away from her body. "don't hide from me, YN. not here. not now."

his hands moved over her then, slow and purposeful, tracing every curve, every line, as though committing her to memory.

"you're perfect," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "the most beautiful lie heaven has ever told."

her chest heaved as his hands slid to her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto the cold stone of the altar. the chill bit into her skin, sharp and unyielding, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his body as he stepped between her legs.

"do you feel it, little lamb?" harry murmured, his voice dark and smooth, the words curling into her ear like smoke. "the way your body aches for something more? the way your soul trembles at the edge of the void?"

YN gasped, her body trembling beneath him, every nerve alight with a sensation she couldn't name. she tried to speak, to protest, but when his fingers gripped her hips and dragged her closer, the words dissolved on her tongue.

"i'll make you feel heaven," he sighed against her lips, his voice a promise and a threat.

her mind swirled with panic and want, her hands pressing weakly against his chest. "this is... wrong," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"wrong?" harry repeated, a laugh slipping from his lips, low and mocking. "do you think the lamb is asked if it consents to the knife? do you think your god cares for your innocence, your purity? no, YN. you were born for this. to be taken. to be ruined."

before she could respond, he kissed her, and it wasn't the soft, tender act she had imagined in her prayers. his lips claimed hers with bruising intensity, his tongue forcing its way past her defenses, devouring her protests until there was nothing left but submission.

her hands, once pushing against him, now clutched at his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor her as the world seemed to shift beneath her.

his lips descended to her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he kissed the tender flesh just below her ear. she shuddered, her fingers tightening against into him as his teeth grazed her, a soft scrape that sent heat coursing through her veins.

her head fell back, a soft moan escaping her lips, and she hated herself for it. hated the way her body betrayed her, the way it arched toward him, desperate for his touch.

his body was a weapon forged of bone and muscle. he was naked, his skin a canvas of scars and shadows, his beauty as blasphemous as it was perfect.

"do you remember your scripture, YN?" he asked, his lips brushing her ear. "your body is a temple, isn't it?"

her breath came in short, desperate gasps. "yes.”.

"then let me worship."

the stone of the altar was cold against her back, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body. he moved with purpose, his hands firm on her thighs as he spread her open, exposing her in a way that made her breath hitch.

he shifted, pressing his hips against hers, and the hardness of his cock sent a shudder through her body. she gasped, her nails digging into his sides as he positioned himself between her thighs, his movements deliberate, torturous.

YN cried out, her back arching against the altar, her hands clutching at him as her body stretched to accommodate him. he fucked into her, the sensation overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure so intense it felt like her very soul was unraveling.

"that's it," he grunted, his voice thick with pleasure. "take me, little lamb.”

his hips moved, his thrusts deep and unforgiving, each one dragging a sound from her lips that she couldn't control. the rhythm of him was maddening, each movement sending a wave of heat crashing through her, building and building until she thought she might break.

"do you feel it?" he asked, his hand gripping her thigh, his fingers digging into her flesh. "do you feel heaven inside you? because it is not god who gives it to you. it is me."

YN's head fell back, her eyes squeezed shut as her body betrayed her, her hips rising to meet his with every thrust. she hated herself for the way her breath hitched, for the way her moans spilled from her lips like confessions.

"say it," he commanded, his voice low and rough, his hips driving into her with brutal precision. "say you find salvation in me."

her eyes flew open, meeting his gaze, and she saw it then—the green fire that burned in his eyes, the darkness that curled at the edges of his smile.

"say it," he demanded again, his pace quickening, his body relentless—a sacred place ricocheting with moans and wet slaps of skin against skin.

"i–" she gasped, her hands clawing at his back, her breath coming in ragged sobs.

"say it," he growled, his hand tangling in her hair, pulling her head back so that she had no choice but to look at him.

"i find salvation in you!" she cried, the words ripping from her throat like a scream.

his smile was triumphant, his lips descending to her throat, his teeth scraping against her skin as he drove into her harder, faster, each thrust filling her with a pleasure so sharp it bordered on agony.

her body tensed, her breath catching as the pleasure crested, shattering over her like a wave. she cried out, her voice echoing through the chapel, a sound of both ecstasy and despair.

as she fell apart beneath him, she felt the final pieces of her faith crumble, her soul slipping from her grasp and into his hands.

harry stilled above her, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "you were always meant for this. for me."

the shack went still. the candles burned low, their wax pooling onto the cracked wooden floor, the flames flickering weakly as if ashamed of what they had witnessed. the air was heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and smoke and something darker. the altar was cold beneath YN’s bare back, but she no longer felt it.

the space seemed different now. even as moonlight spilled through cracks in the wood, painting the ruins in pale silver, there was no pretense of holiness. the crucifix above her hung crooked, the wooden christ staring down with lifeless eyes, mouth agape not in sacrifice but in mockery. if god was watching, he did nothing. no lightning struck. no thunder rolled.

she thought, for the first time, that perhaps he was never there at all.

what had she done?

the answer burned its way into her mind, not with guilt, but with a clarity so sharp it was almost cruel. she had abandoned heaven for him. traded salvation for damnation.

the weight of harry’s body pressed into her, his chest rising and falling against hers in a rhythm that was almost human. almost. her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, her breath shallow, her hands limp at her sides.

this was what she had feared, wasn’t it? the moment she’d run from, prayed against, begged god to prevent. and yet here she was, laid bare on the very altar her father had once sanctified with lamb’s blood. the same altar where prayers for forgiveness had echoed into the rafters, unanswered.

she could feel harry still on her, even as he moved away, the imprint of his body an ache that had lodged itself deep in her marrow.

the stone beneath her was unforgiving, just like the faith she had clung to for so long. faith that had demanded her knees break on cold chapel floors, her hands bleed as she tilled the earth in her father’s shadow, her heart ache as she bent to the will of a god who had never once spoken her name.

now, that faith lay in ruins.

she pushed herself up slowly, her limbs weak, her thighs slick with what they had done. the air bit at her skin, but she did not cover herself. there was no point. there was no shame left to cloak herself in.

harry stood near the altar, watching her. his naked body was a study in contrasts—smooth and unyielding, as though carved from alabaster, but alive with a heat that seemed to radiate from his very core. his beauty was inhuman, the kind that drew worship but offered no mercy in return.

his gaze on her was heavy, not with judgment but with possession. he had taken her, yes, but it wasn't force. it was inevitability. a dance they were always meant to perform.

YN swung her legs over the edge, her bare feet touching the cold stone floor. she thought of the animals her father had slaughtered here, the way their blood had run in thin rivulets down the grooves of the altar.

how fitting that she had bled here, too.

harry spoke no parting words, offered no promises. he didn't need to. what had happened was already written into her skin, her bones. it wasn't just her body he had claimed. it was her soul, and now it was marked, an unholy sigil that no prayer could erase.

when she stepped out into the night, the air was sharp and cold, the stars above indifferent and unmoving. but YN did not shiver. she felt warm, burning with a fire that no heaven or hell could extinguish.

there were no more prayers left on her lips. no scripture to guide her. there was only him, harry, and the path he had carved into her.

and as they disappeared into the forest's dark embrace, the shack and its altar remained behind, empty and silent, its walls whispering of a god who had abandoned it long ago.

[thatdeadaquarius]

Hello there, friend I'm here for fluff

OK, this has been on my mind for a while

But like

The reader is just becoming the biggest parent to the Benny's adventure team kids

And the wolfs

We are like a parent of like 27

Knitting and making food brushing razors hair(let's be for real, you would hear a crunch when you brush it)

I'm not gonna lie

Do these kids know what spices are?

Cuz when I think about it

Razor hasn't had shit so he's has the least tolerance for spice

He would probably cry if you feed him a pepper

Bennett has tried spicy food but does go well with it

And not completely sure if fischl has had a spicy food before

But what flavor does mondstadt add to their food??

These kids need the damn flavors

AHDHAKALL FERAL ANIMAL AQUARIUS- ANOTHER PLATONIC ASK AAHHHHGGGGDJJSFHSAK!!!!!

AND ITS YOU!! ITS- ITS- ONE OF THE WRITING RULERS OF SAGAU (FOR ME AT LEAST) <3 !!!!!!!!

You cooking in genshin all anime studio ghibli style looking like food from god (literally): ⬆️

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: Benny’s Adventure Team! (Bennett, Fischl, Razor), Diluc, mentions of other Mond characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

^^ The posts being referenced in ask, (OG Razor ask) (Benny + Razor) and a more direct sequel, a part 2? a part 4 atp?? of this post (Imposter/Not Dark AU + Razor + Diluc) ^^

OMFG

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP BITCHES

SINCE UR IN TEYVAT

YOU GONNA COOK LIKE TEYVAT

AS IN-

SHIT BE SUPER EASY TO COOK, AND MASS MAKE DEPENDING ON COMPLEXITY OF DISH

(So, like Zhongli's special Bamboo Shoot Soup is like getting made... once a year if you read the little desc. for that dish 💀)

AND THEYRE ALL LIKE-

ANIME GORGEOUS FOODS ✨️❤️‍🔥

OKAY SO

PROMO TIME-

U GUYS HAVE TO WATCH THE ANIME "CAMPFIRE COOKING IN ANOTHER WORLD"

Bc that's mostly where this inspo gonna come from to both be realistic cooking + best parts of video game cooking

A guy gets isekai’d and instead of hero powers he just gets the skill of "online grocery shopping" LMAO

and ofc he gets insta gifted whatever he orders and starts making dishes and adding spices and regular stuff you know. like soy sauce.

but the best part is the food in that world is like British medieval soup shit

like barely salted, no spices definitely, no sauces, its barren

so he ends up attracting all kinds of interest that want to eat his cooking ofc

And it gives buffs too!

dw i didnt spoil anything u don't learn in the first episode, but that's just to say that's exactly whats happening here

u DO have to manually collect more ingredients but its so worth it, also u can just buy in bulk or put a commission thru the adventurer guild

tbhhh now that i say that, that could be how u end up drawing in Benny’s Adventure Team even more, bc they just take all ur quests for collecting ingredients around Mond!!

(u have to actively sneak behind their back and whisper to Katheryne that you want to put in other food quests in other guilds tho, silly kids will absolutely go running around Liyue and crazy shit just to have an adventure and do smth for you + eat ur banger food lol)

omfg the first time u barbecue smth???

the wolves, Razor, and Andrius??? Go feral.

Fischl and Benny who were already on their way to u guys to hang out again start booking it thru the woods, dodging hilichurl camps (thatve since settled down and been v peaceful to the wolves + anyone in the woods of Wolvendom after u started living there)

they knowww ur cookin smth fucking amazing

(and u even have some hilichurls and mitachurl that wander close to Andrius’ edge of the woods to shyly beg for scraps,, u give them a portion)

Razor was actually lookin at u like u hung the stars just for him when u gave him a homemade barbecue sauce to put on his food

(u acc may have done that to Teyvatians according to Andrius + the stories u overheard from Springvale…)

ok but the amount of begging u get for desserts like-

No, Razor u cannot have chocolate cake/cupcakes after every meal, u need to take care of ur teeth

(u use ur collection of mora-monster-donations for comms for more ingredients and living supplies like fabric + furniture, u cant afford dental on top of that for ur boy)

Fischl dutifully declares you the “best chef in the kingdom” and writes down all ur recipes (u have them auto-stored in ur settings obv but it cant hurt to have a physical copy, and they look so happy doing it, u don't have the heart to tell them its not necessary-)

Benny insists on both giving u extra ingredients when he takes ur commissions, and giving u handmade trinkets or weapons for the meals!!

No!! He will not take “im good” for an answer!! ur sharing ur home-cave with him, taking care of his best friend Razor, and now feeding him food better than Liuli Pavilion!!! There’s no way he can just take all that and give nothing back!!!!

and theyre not the only ones getting some food tbh

when the knights begin patroling near Wolvendom and slowly all of Mondstadt to search for their “All God”, u break up the beginnings of a fight between 2 confused knights and the now peaceful hilichurl camp at the edge of Wolvendom

U offer some snacks u were going to give Benny’s Adventure Team when they got back (u made little triangle sandwiches, rice balls, etc. finger foods, and u made plenty extra bc u kno their teenage appetites lol)

the knights and hilichurls nearly cried with appreciation, which made for a hilarious sight when the teens actually showed up lmao

ur wearing ur cloak, bc u dont wanna take on that whole “creator of worlds” title just yet, and the kids helped verify u werent anyone suspicious (Benny + Fischl keep ur godly secret, theyre the best like that 🥰)

the knights just swing by for snacks occasionally (they also either pay u in trade or with mora, theyre not bullies)

another person who gets flavored food privileges is the lazy librarian witch herself

u also sometimes pick Razor up from Lisa’s tutoring and bring “the best tea and tea snacks in the world” along with to share with Lisa and him

(she is also fully aware after awhile of meeting u of what u are, and fully believes this is why the food must be enchanted to be so good, but u dont want to be treated super reverently she can tell, so she keeps ur secret too and is just extra flirty when u come by lol)

(Razor refuses to let his pare- Lupical move out of ur cozy cave to the library, so he sometimes hauls u away when Lisa flirts too much LMAO)

…and the moment you've been waiting for.

Yes, Diluc got to try ur food that night he was searching Wolvendom for signs of the god of Teyvat

tbh Diluc was half-convinced that shit was a fever dream.

a bunch of sleepy wolves, a coffee table in the stone colosseum, a giant spirit wolf licking a big plate clean, the wolf-kid glaring at him, and you.

you with gold eyes, staring right thru his soul, like you already know everything there is to know about him, (like the way Kaeya looked at him that night),

like he doesnt even have to introduce himself

and he doesnt, u just lightly smack Razor’s hands until he gets rid of his claymore w/a pout, since Diluc had long since dropped his,

and grab a plate, piling on what leftovers u could, and turn back around from the coffee table to smile at him, patting the cushion-seat beside u for him to join

The giant glowing wolf licks his lips and watches him, the wolf-kid’s creepily watches him, and you, with eyes gold in teh light of a simmering bonfire just past the table, watch him

he just sits down and begins to eat.

its the best food he’s ever had, its his dad’s favorite dish, but not realistically, but the way memory embellishes a dish so much it can never be tasted again, except its right here. in front of him. u pour some wolfhook juice for him, and offer him a napkin to wipe his mouth and eyes

Diluc visits often after that, obviously.

u give him snacks too, and when he lets the staff try some, Adeline will not stop harassing him abt gettin ur recipes/ingredeints so u get him to pay Fischl to get a copy of their recipe book :)

including blank pages for future entries, and Fischl is literally glowing with happiness, would not stop monologuing abt ur food for weeks (send help Oz wants some peace and quiet sometimes)

Oh Diluc absolutely told the Favonius knights he found you. But he’s not saying where LMAO

Jean is actually begging him, Diluc ik u hate the knights but this is an international investigation-

this is the closest Diluc has ever gotten to getting under Venti’s skin.

when he told him this at Angel’s while bartending, he just casually ofc said this, just his smug little smirk, and the anemo god cracked a glass and everything- esp when he said he tried ur cooking??

he's gotta start looking over his shoulder in the city bc not only is Venti stalking him, the entirety of Mondstadt’s citizens are glaring at him in envy everywhere he goes LMAOO

(Venti now has a bar glass or too on his tab to pay off as well)

mans is literally paying u in weapon/artifact materials/mora to make him lunch one day and Venti nearly lunges over the counter

(Diluc purposefully ate it in front of him 💀)

ur food is the ultimate, “u could make a religion out of this!” /ref

like Diluc fully gives u offerings of ingredients he can pay for shipping from other countries + along with regular materials after grinding in domains

does the rest of Mondstadt + the world find out where u are?

only if Diluc lets them tbh. LMFAO

☆

bk trashfire my beloved <3 love ur ideas and stuff, goes without even saying im so sorry i took actually forever to respond :’(

hope u have a great weekend and i did this little side story justice for you

Safe Travels BK Trashfire,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡my beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit / @chinuneko / @silvers-tongue

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[osleeplessflowero]

Oneshot Masterpost

A collection of my oneshots! Series gradually being updated. These links are specific to Tumblr, BUT I have also posted quite a few of these on my Ao3! I also have fics on there, which I will also be making a masterpost for + uploading the chapters to tumblr.

🏡Neighborhood Series🏡

A series of randomized oneshots that take place in the same universe, a timeline where the skeleton duos all live in their own houses in a singular neighborhood.

In order(with links attached):

{Lore Related v}

🌠Stargazing (Classic Sans! First oneshot I wrote.)🔭

✨Back To You (Also Classic Sans, takes place a little bit after the former.)💤

🎸Concert Night (Fell!Sans)🎵

🌨️Sans and Red have a talk.❄️

{Out Of Order/Bonus Content v}

🏍Stress Relief (Fell/Red! I need to write him again..)💢

📻Close (Blue/Reader) [I don't really like this one that much anymore but I'll keep it up for any that do]🎵

🏖Beach Day (Swap Bros!)🌊

☕️Relax. (Fell Papyrus/Edge!)❄️

🌃Late Night Walk (Rus/Reader)🛹

🪓Scare Actor!Horror🎃

A series mainly themed for Halloween where Reader has a chance encounter with Horror while going to a Haunted House with their partner. Takes place in a Post-Pacifist Horrortale timeline, so Horror goes by Sans.

Part 1: Scares and a Sudden Friendship🎃🪓

Part 2: Coffee Hangout☕

Part 3: New Experiences // Meeting Papyrus!🥄

📖Fairytale Series🪄

A series of miscellaneous fairytale-based scenarios featuring your favorite skeletons. Some may have connections to others!

🗡️Assassin!Red/Mage!Reader🪄

⚔️Knight!Blue/Reader🎶

👑King!Nightmare/Ruler!Reader(Start of a Bad Sanses series)💢

🌹King!Dream/Ruler!Reader (An alternate timeline to the former concept)🪄

🤠Cowboy!Stretch🐎

An AU where Stretch and Blue live on a ranch and work as cowboys. The other skeletons ARE present in other areas, but this mainly just focuses on Stretch and his growing relationship with Reader. Could be considered Farmtale inspired.

🥃Part 1: howdy.🍯

🐴Part 2: Going for a ride🏇

💚Nightmare/Multiverse Traveler!Reader✨

An endless(?) game of Cat and Mouse, where Nightmare chases Reader across the Multiverse in order to finally be with them. Mutual pining, we love to see it!!

🎭Part 1: Chasing🌌

🌺Part 2: Blooms. (Angst)🥀

🖤Bad Sanses Shenanigans🔪

A collection of scenarios with everybody's favorite villains.

🎃Pumpkin Carving! (was originally a part of a now cancelled Halloween writing challenge series.)🔪

☃️Snow Day! (Christmas Special)🌨

🛌Sleepover!💕

🛝i'm here. (Dust Comfort)💜

🔪"Knife" To Meet'cha (Killer/Reader #1)🍻

🌹Falling For Ya (Killer/Reader #2(?) ) 🌃

🔒Cornered (Dust/Reader) (Kinda steamy)💜

🌌Alone With You (Dust/Reader)💕

AmalgaMATE

A scenario where Reader is an amalgamate of several different Reader souls, and is hopelessly in love with Science/Classic? Sans.

🧪Part 1: me and the amalgamate i pulled by being a punny guy 🔒

🤍Part 2: Soulmates?!🤍

Standalone Oneshots

Oneshots that haven't been made into series yet/are intended to be by themselves.

☔️Chance Encounter (Dream/Reader)🚍

🎶Dream/Fem Reader (Requested)🌳

💌Messages + Confessions (Error/Reader)📄

🛍First Meeting (Fell Papyrus/Edge!/Fem Reader)🐾 (Requested)

🫧Into The Sea (Merman!Blue/Reader)🌊

☕Home (Cross/Reader)🏠 (Requested)

Star Sanses HQ Shenanigans(Star Sanses & Reader [Platonic]) (Requested)

Flirting With Death (Reaper/Immune!Reader) (Requested)

🎡Carnival Date (Classic!Papyrus/Reader) (Requested)🧣

😱Frightening New Friend (Horror!Papyrus & Reader)🎃 [Halloween Special]

🌊A Light In The Depths (Mer!Nightmare/Reader)🤿

😳Crushing (Cross x Swap Universe!Reader) (Requested)💜

🛞Immune (Siren!Nightmare/Reader)⛵

🩹(Platonic)Fell Sans & Reader Hurt/Comfort (Requested)❤️‍🩹

🌑Bittersweet (Flirty Vampire!Nightmare x Vampire Hunter!Reader)🗡️

My oneshot requests ARE OPEN if you would like to submit one, you can check out my rules post here! (You can send requests via Ask(Preferred) or here in the comments if you'd like.) Happy reading!

[blueteller]

....pls, youre the only one i can rely on, was there a clear progressive difference for Alberu Crossman's characterization between earlier chapter and after the war with white star? thank u;v;

Hm, good question! Alberu's characterization is tricky, because it's very subtle. I consider it a steady slope, with several "critical" moments worth noticing.

The moment when Cale gave him Dragon's dead mana was obviously one of those points. Others could be the time Alberu personally fought the White Star, or that time he used Taerang to create light with the Sun God's power. Out of them all, the most important moment would obviously be the time he took Cale underneath the royal library to show him the rock with the "curse of the Crossman Family".

Why do I think it;s the most important, aside from being a major plot-relevant reveal? (Also the importance of the development for Cale and Alberu's friendship, but that's a whole other topic so I won't dive into that too much.) Well, it shows that throughout the whole series, despite the show of confidence he was putting, Albreru was filled with doubt. I'm not 100% sure he knew about the "curse" since the start of the novel (I'm using quotation marks because I don't believe it was a real thing, or not in the sense the Crossman family believed it; I think the Angelina was simply keeping an eye on them and wrote that thing to scare them off from being bad kings, when the rock was really just a "package" with a secret weapon inside). Alberu could have been told about it sometime in the middle of the story, after he cemented his position a the heir. But that's beside the point; Alberu had this whole act where he acted like he was totally confident he would and should become the ruler. But that was all a front.

He wished to become the king because he wanted to help people; the Dark Elves most of all. Did he believe himself worthy of it? Maybe a bit, he does have a bit of an ego haha. ...But definitely not completely. His insecurities become clear once we take a closer look.

He did not have flattering thoughts about his own race – he knew his people were considered "dirty" in the eyes of others. He was worried he wouldn't be able to have relationships because of his secrets (remember how he kept Choi Han at arm's length in the "Birth of a Hero" the whole time). Most of all, he was scared that he was not actually worthy of the throne. The moment he showed that vulnerability to Cale shows his growth the most, because I'm convinced that the Crown Prince at the beginning would NEVER have done that. And once Cale validates him and tells him upfront that he should be the king, Alberu sheds that doubt and allows himself to "step in".

Notice how most of the moments where Alberu personally takes action happened after that point. The fight with the White Star, the Earth 2 arc when Alberu was in charge of the army in Cale's absence, the Puzzle City battle. While not completely free just yet – I don't believe that will happen until his identity as a quarter Dark Elf gets revealed and the whole nation accepts him as their ruler despite his status – I had the feeling that Alberu "broke the final chains" that were holding him back mentally. He finally felt like he could take action and "become one of the main characters", you know?

Now, after all that, back to your original question. "Was there a clear progressive difference for Alberu Crossman's characterization between earlier chapters and after the war with the White Star?" I think the main thing is the confidence. Second would be how much support Alberu got, but I don't think that really counts as "characterization" and more of a "situation".

As for his "relationships with other characters"; we see that Alberu befriended more than just Cale. After Cale fainted in the Empire when the White Star showed up for the first time, we see that Alberu took care of things while he was unconscious. He was casually hanging out in Cale's room (Adin's room but whatever lol) in his true form where Cale's allies could walk in at any time. Which shows how much he trusted them; either not to do so or that it would not matter if they did. (Of course Raon and Eruhaben don't really count because they're Dragons and I'm sure Alberu knew he could not hide his identity from them, but the point still stands.) Alberu begun trusting Cale's people after trusting Cale himself, and that allowed him to make real friends outside his previously tight circle of family members from his mother's side. After that scene, Alberu really starts having a lot more fun scenes with other characters, such as giving cookies to the kids or hanging out with Choi Han. Remember that one time he jokingly asked him if "he would like to die with him"? There was definitely a big difference in how much he opened up.

So sum it all up: the confidence, the trust, and the degree Alberu was taking charge and his experience as a leader, all those things steadily grew throughout the series. There were other things of course, like Alberu personally growing stronger, or him getting more casual and snarky with Cale, but most of that happened pretty early on. ...Oh and the frequency of headaches and stress levels because of Cale's shenanigans, we can't forget those 😂. And in Part 2 (no major spoilers don't worry) Alberu continues his growth in a slow but steady pace, the degree of his involvement increasing in later arcs. ...As well as his personal hobbies lol. It IS subtle, but the character development is definitely there.

...I'm not sure if that answered your question to your satisfaction, but I hope it helps! 💖

[philomenaeden]

(Random) Personal groupings of 22 major arcana tarot cards with the destiny of matrix chart 🪅✨🪅✨🪅✨

Side note:

- A literal noob in reading tarot cards and destiny of matrix chart so this is essentially how my 🧠 process the connection between them two hence making it easier for me to grasp the archetypal energies derived from each tarot arcana in a nutshell :)

- the destiny of matrix chart is based on the Marseilles Tarot instead of the better known Rider- Waite tarot which explains the switch between 8th and 11th tarot cards (in Marseille, 8th is justice and 11th is strength)

- finally, apologies firsthand for the kindergarten(y) description of each group. I’m still trying to think of a more eloquent namings but in the meantime, here ya goo 🤸🏻🤸🏻🤸🏻

1 (The Magician)

2 (The High Priestess)

3 (The Empress)

4 (The Emperor)

5 (The Hierophant)

6 (The Lover)

7 (The Chariot)

8 (The Justice)

9 (The Hermit)

10 (Wheel of Fortune)

11 (Strength)

12 (The Hanged Man)

13 (Death)

14 (The Temperance)

15 (The Devil)

16 (The Tower)

17 (The Star)

18 (The Moon)

19 (The Sun)

20 (Judgement)

21 (The World)

22 (The Fool)

The admirers and connoisseurs of arts and beauty: 🪞

3 - 6 - 14 - 18

The introspective and compassionate beings: 🕯️

2 - 9 - 12 - 18

The Go-getter and boss ladies/gents of the earth (v in touch with their masculine energy): 🔥

3 - 4 - 7 - 11

Life of the party and children of the sun: 🌞

6 - 17 - 19 - 22

Analytical and upheld family traditions and values (King/ruler energy right here): 👑

5 - 8 - 16 - 20

Seeker of knowledge and new experiences: 🪅

1 - 2 - 5 - 21

Charismatic and magnetic people (karma is on their side): 🖤

8 - 10 - 13 - 15

[yuseirra]

Hikaai fans, I recommend you this song:

"Ruler Of My Heart" a crazy blond w golden hair obsessed with someone, calling them their star and their savior sings this song 'v')/ IT'S ACTUALLY SO FITTING. I just screamed internally... I even went as far as translating the lyrics for this one although there are already good ones out there

"Make me your god, I can give you everything!"<THIS THOUGH. THAT GOES HARD. The song itself is nice to listen to too.

[Verse 1] 빛을 등져도 돼 넌 빛나는 You can turn your back on the light 태양도 잠식시켜 My star For you'd dominate even the shining sun, my star 슬픈 눈빛 속에 세상을 다 가진 완벽한 피사체 You're the perfect subject that holds the entire world within your sad gaze My savior, 가련한 영혼이여 My savior, a pitiable soul I don't believe, you are a liar 나의 어둠과 너의 어둠이 겹쳐질때 When my, and your darkness overlap 그대로 내게 맡겨 Leave everything to me, in the now

[Chorus] Ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart 영원히 아름다워 You remain forever beautiful Ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart

[Verse 2] 끝이 없는 the wall The endless walls 낮이 없는 추락 A fall with no limit 한순간에 (무너트릴) (Breaking down)in an instant 눈이 멀어지고 들리지가 않아 My eyes go blind and I grow deaf 부서진 my world My world has collapsed My savior, 가련한 여인이여 My savior, pitiful lady Make me your god, I can give you everything 나의 어둠과 너의 어둠이 겹쳐질때 When my, and your darkness overlap 그대로 내게 맡겨 Let me take care of everything and take you away

[Chorus] Ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart 영원히 아름다워 You're forever beautiful Ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart

[Outro] Ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart Ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart

[warrenwrites]

Birds of a Feather

Birds of a Feather Dream x Platonic!Reader

Summary: You decided that Lord Morpheus’ throne was the perfect place to rest and read.

A/N: I had Diaval from Maleficent in mind when making this character. The reader has a human form but was born as a Raven of the Dreaming and can swap between forms at will.

Word Count: 800

It had been a quiet day, Dream hadn’t called for you and you felt no spikes of energy in the Waking World; so, with no work to do, you took the opportunity to read and take a moment to relax. You decided to lounge yourself in human form across Dream’s throne. ‘The History of the Dreaming V.213′ resting across your lap, it’s great size taking up the majority of space. After some time, you became extremely comfortable and leaned to the side, hoisting your legs over his arm rest, practically nesting in the comfort of the seat.

You stayed there reading for over an hour before you heard a voice in your ear. Had it not been so familiar and cosmically soothing, you might have flinched. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

Tilting your head slightly backwards, you met the eyes of Morpheus; Lord of Dreams as he stood, towering above you. With little emotion in your voice you answered, “You’re being overthrown.” It was then a smirk broke onto your face. “I’m starting a mutiny; how does it feel?”

He mirrored your smirk, staring deep into your soul and answered, ”underwhelming.”

A dramatic gasp left your lips and your face contorted into what, for a moment, looked like genuine offence. You quickly turned your attention back towards your book and nestled further into your seat, burying your face into the pages of the book as you began your silent treatment.

He crouched down to be at eyeline, should you turn to face him, and rested his hand on the arm rest next to your shoulder. “My Raven?”

You gave no response and instead maintained your pout. If anything, you brought the book closer to your face.

He stood circled the back of the throne slowly before crouching in front of the throne, closer to your legs but now directly facing you. Reaching a hand up, he used two fingers to tilt the book down and see your scowling, comedically scrunched face. “What are you reading?” He asked, voice kind, soft and laced with genuine interest.

This time you answered as monotonously as you could, “How to Dethrone a King: A Raven’s Guide.”

He let out a laugh through his nose and you almost smiled, finding great victory every time you made the dark King smile. He moved to a kneel on one knee and spoke, “now what kind of Ruler would I be if I allowed such treason?” He questioned and moved his hands to either side of your waist before digging his hands softly into your waist and sides.

“Hey-HEY! Dreheheheheheam!” Giggles immediately flooded out of your mouth as you brought your knees and elbows in to protect yourself. Your movement only caused you to sink further into the seat, getting yourself stuck with no way to block your sides. “PLEHEHEHEASE! OKAY OKAHAHAY!”

Dream only smiled as you squirmed and he watched as you slammed the book shut and pretended to beat him with it as a defensive deterrent. He didn’t even flinch, instead he chose to continue scribbling his fingers into your sides. The sensation left behind a sparky, tingle on top of its tickle, likely due to him being made of magic, sand and stars.

“DREHEHEHEHEAHAHAHAM!” You kicked your legs in desperation and dropped the book with all your movement,

Ceasing his torment, Dream caught the book with two hands before it hit the ground.

You took the opportunity to turn into your raven form and make your nimble escape. Dream stood, watching as you caw'd and glided through around his throne in an upward spiral before landing softly on his shoulder.

He smirked at you and you stomped your foot 'hard' on his shoulder. "My apologies," he nodded, still smiling at you.

You let out a soft caw in response, pointing your head up in pride.

"We are needed in the Waking World," he explained and you jumped with excitement, shrugging your wings in a non-verbal response. "But first we must return your book to the tyranny section, yes?"

You caw'd again and since you couldn't stick out your tongue you fluffed it feathers and brushed up against his jaw and ears. He flinched slightly and fought back a smile, knowing you'd likely be doing this for the rest of the trip.

He turned to you slightly and smiled. "Mind yourself," he warned.

[aircommndr]

honor-cxde:

Generally speaking, Dreadwing and most Starscreams tend to ... not get along. The former will try to avoid them, if he can, but it seems that the multiverse has an interesting sense of humor when it comes to him and the Air Commander. At the moment, there are at least two of them that he is talking with -- the Emperor of Vos on the Cybertron that Dreadwing is staying on, and this one.

There’s nothing much to see. The lighting in the Sky Claw II’s cargo bay is dim, and it seems as though Starscream is the only one there. It’s not empty, by any means -- there are stacks of crates, all meticulously labeled and tied down with cargo netting to keep them stable when the ship is flying in atmosphere. Supplies, no doubt, for whoever lives here.

The vessel’s AI doesn’t make itself known, but it does alert Dreadwing that his guest appears to be awake.

The walk from the main living area back down to the hold is a short one, and after a moment, the blue Seeker heads down the steps.

“Well, well,” he starts, cube of energon in hand. “Look who lives. Welcome back, Air Commander.”

He attempted to get up, but unfortunately he still felt a bit too unsteady for that. His legs wouldnt keep him up. Well, slag. The seeker tries not to panic as he racks his brain to try and remember what had happened prior to him waking up...

The conversation... the mech he was speaking to.. Dreadwing...

As if on cue, the other seeker enters his field of vision. "What...-" He mutters in confusion before frowning. "Of course I live. Cant get rid of me that easily." Though this time around he had simply passed out and not actually died, which Starscream was thankful for. He may not stay dead, but dying was still a terrible experience. He could still feel it. It just wouldn't last, and he would revive.

Starscream tilts his helm to the side now, thinking a moment. "But why am I here—? Are you kidnapping me??" That last statement is yelled in a tone mixed of panic and disgust.

continued from x. | @honor-cxde

The previous conversation is immediately forgotten as Dreadwing finds himself with a sudden problem: Starscream faints.

Just. Deadass passes out.

The blue Seeker lurches forward as the other jet crumples, automatically snatching him up under both of his arms. "Starscream?"

A gentle shake. Nothing.

Shit. What happens if he's caught with some other Cybertron's leading Starscream and the asshole is DEAD? Jail. Jail for a thousand lifetimes.

Holding him up with one arm, Dreadwing checks his vitals, which are, thankfully, still strong. Of course. He rolls his optics expressively, having half a mind to leave the dipshit on the ground in the middle of the ship yard, but... that would be rude. And he would not want to be treated that way.

Heaving a harsh sigh, Dreadwing scoops his free arm behind Starscream's knees and picks him up easily, trudging up the ramp into his ship to deposit the Air Commander in a nest of blankets and pillows in the cargo hold. At least there it's safe and contained.

It was his own doing, truly. Sometimes, being immortal made him think he was above the usual self care that any mech would require. But just because he couldn't die (or rather, could die but wouldn't stay dead) didn't mean he didn't need to properly recharge and refuel.

In this instance, he was energon deprived, and it didn't take long for his frame to simply give out on him. Midway through their conversation, Starscream passes out, world going black.

When he comes to, he's somewhere different... Slowly, he heaves himself into a sitting position, groaning all the while. Ruby optics gives a scan of his surroundings. Blankets and pillows galore.. But where was he?

"Wh-....hngh.." Another groan "Where...?" That's all he manages to spit out.

[floppyponysart]

Mane 6 redesigns - mlpfim fanart

I made these a good while ago and thought hard about them but no-one cared at the time coz it wasn't a trend but now it is for some reason so I guess I'm gonna try reposting lol -v-'

get ready coz there is a long description of my inspirations and more details about these redesigns coming below. get ready for crazy amount of text

Twilight

This is basically my concept for "what if twilight was like an actual nerd?".

i gave her freckles/acne and glasses coz they are typical nerdy things. i think they look super cute on her tho ^w^. i got rid of her highlights in her hair coz (even tho it is probably meant to be natural in the show) nerds dont have time for adding highlights to their hair. her hair is also shorter to make it look more like the kind of practical hair cut girl nerds often have. she is wearing her comfy clothes coz she wants to be cozy when studying and doesnt care how she looks. she is wearing her favourite nerdy fluffy socks with her fav star constellations on them (i only know the big dipper lol -v-'). she is also wearing her comfy grey plain hoodie. for some reason every nerd seems to have a plain grey hoodie. it has spare pens in the pockets to.

she has a different cutiemark here which is basically my concept for what her cutiemark might have been if she wasn't the fated leader of the elements of harmony. it represents her studious personality and her love of stars. I also gave her a big backpack stuffed full of supplies. i can attest to the fact that studious students never have enough equipment and our bags look like this XD. it is an old but sturdy bag which has even been patched up but still going. there is a pink ruler sticking out coz everyone seemed to have those pink rulers when i was at school lol.

Every badge on this bag actually is meant to have a specific subject although its hard to see so small. now i will go through each one. Top left green one with dark blue what looks like an animal is a picture of an Ursa Minor. Brown one top right is a man holding a bow ancient etching on a cave wall picture. Big blue one is obviously more star constellations. Bottom right is a fire so hot the flame is blue. Right middle one is a skull. Middle brown and green one is an abandoned church structure. Bottom middle blue one is the Milky Way. Bottom left is a nerdy funny quote. Middle green one I actually don’t remember what it was meant to be anymore. I’m gonna day it is a rare plant tho coz that makes sense I think it was something like that. It might have also been an old weapon artefact as I remember that being one of my ideas at the time. Brown middle left was a catapult shooting a melon.

Applejack

This one is simpler than the last one. I already really like applejacks design and I had less ideas but I still like this. First things first, I think it would be more fitting if Applejack was a different species of pony. Here I have her as more of a wild pony which is hairier. I have her hair as rougher and shorter coz a farmer realistically would definitely not have long hair as it would get in the way of work. That has always been something that annoys me. Her hair in the show does look very nice but it just makes no sense. I didn’t change her cutiemark much coz her cutiemark from Pony Life is almost perfect. I just changed the shape of the leaf a little bit. I did add a speckled spot on her thigh around it tho. This is reminiscent of another species of horse and I think it adds a little more detail to make her look nice. It also matches her freckles on her face.

Speaking of her freckles, I added more all over her face and ears coz anyone with freckles will know it doesn’t usually stay in one pretty place on the cheeks. I think she looks cuter this way to be honest. She has cheeks which are a little chubby which makes her look younger than she actually is. Some people have a baby face for a longer time than most and idk but I felt this fit. She looks super cute and I love it. She has a hole in one ear which makes her look a little more imperfect and it shows her tough side. It’s a scar left from her tough working days in the past. Finally, I changed her hat. Yes I know. Probably people are going to hate me for this and I do like the hat but I always felt it was a little too stereotypical. So I gave her another hat which is often used in farming; a sunhat. I think this looks nice on her as well.

Fluttershy

Yes I made a lot of changes here. I started off just wanting to draw her with braids and flowers and longer legs like her childhood self but then I thought she looked more like a deer. Tbh I prefer her as a deer coz it makes more sense. Deers are very skittish and timid so it makes perfect sense for Fluttershy. I like the little tail puff to coz it’s just so cute. Several people have drawn Fluttershy with flowers in her hair and she has even done it in the show. It makes perfect sense to me for her to have lovely flowers, seeds, twigs and saplings in her hair all the time if she is in nature all the time.

Braids make more sense to me for Fluttershy coz long hair not tied up is going to get in the way and braids take a long time but is relaxing to do. I can imagine Fluttershy just slowly and calmly enjoying making her braids in the morning. I also changed her cutiemark to an animal paw. I have always thought this would make more sense for her cutiemark although I do like the butterflies to don’t get me wrong. I have tried 2 different sets of colours here but really I had many different ideas for different combinations of these colours. What colours would you use? Which of these do you prefer? Let me know Btw she does have wings still but it’s hard to see them behind the braids.

Pinkie

It’s alpaca Pinkie! yeah I just thought it would be more fitting for her to be another animal considering I already did it for Fluttershy. Pinkie is the weird one so it makes sense if she is also a completely different species and not a very common one. Plus alpacas are friendly, like to bounce and fluffy so it’s perfect in my eyes.

She has a buck tooth coz that makes her seem more cute and imperfect which fits her personality. She has very puffy hair coz I kinda hate how Pinkie has those nonsensical curls at the ends when her hair is supposed to be super curly and puffy. Curly puffy hair just doesn’t work that way.

She has confetti stuck in her hair coz I mean puffy hair is hard to clean and she has parties all the time so it makes sense. she also has colourful spots which match the colours of the balloons in her cutiemark. A spotty colourful pattern just makes sense for bubbly party Pinkie.

I actually decided to make her a unicorn to but you can’t see her horn coz she is so fluffy. I mean she is constantly doing weird and magical things so why isn’t she a unicorn?! It also makes sense people would think she is strange coz they can’t see her horn.

Last but not least, I like her cutiemark in the show but why does it have to be 3 separate balloons when balloons are often together anyway? So I grouped them together to make one big cutiemark instead and I think it looks better. What do you think?

Rainbow

I couldn’t do much with this one coz rainbow dash is already perfect. I tried some ideas here tho and I still like the results. It’s good in its own way.

I basically focused on the sporty side of rainbow dash here as you can probably tell. I made her thicker with strong cheek bones like an actual sporty person. I also gave her sweatbands coz of course she should be wearing those if she is doing sports all the time.

I gave her shorter hair coz they get in the way when doing sports and gave her the hair she has in pony life coz it just looks better sorry not sorry.

Anyone else always bothered by the fact her hair has half of it one o half of the colours and the other half the other half of the colours? Originally her hair had red, orange and yellow on top of her head and green, blue and purple on the hair on the back of her head. I just always felt that was weird so I made her tail and head have all the colours instead.

I also thought it was always a missed opportunity with the wings to not have them rainbow feathers like this. I mean why not?! It’s perfect!

I am really happy with her new cutiemark. I kept the rainbow and lightning bolt but made it have a football in instead. She’s into football in equestrian girls so this made sense to me and I love how the design came out. What do you think?

Last but not least I even designed an accessory for her. Of course it’s not fashionable or anything. It’s just a water bottle she carries around with her to make sure she stays hydrated when exercising. Hydration is important!

Rarity

At first I had no idea how to redesign rarity coz she is already pretty dang perfectly designed for her personality. But then I had the idea of making her older and more experienced with life kinda like a fashionista which has had kids or a cougar.

So here she is. She is no longer a unicorn but an earth pony instead. I never thought she needed magic tbh. She still wants to look pretty but her fashion sense is not great and she instead is just wearing bits and bobs of things she likes which don’t go together.

Her hair is shorter as she has less time to clean and maintain it and she wants to show off her accessories more anyway. She had a handbag which is a mixture between nice looking and big so it’s practical to use.

She has purple lipstick (just in case you can’t tell coz it is kinda hard to see). I also tried giving her a different eye colour which I think still looks nice on her and is more fitting of this version of her design.

I also gave her a different cutiemark. I do like her cutiemark but it doesn’t really relate to her love of fashion much and didn’t seem fitting to my design so I made this one for her. It’s a heart which represents her generosity and it wears a hat and and an earring which represents her love of fashion. What do you think? I love this cutiemark design personally.

The accessories are pretty self explanatory but just in case (coz I’m bad at drawing objects -v-') I’m gonna explain some of them. There is a pearl necklace with a nice big green gem. There is a gold bracelet with small red gems in it.

She is wearing earrings which are supposed to be green and blue opals. It was hard to get them to look like opals do with different colours merged together but I think I ended up with a pretty good result. It’s more green and murky than I intended tho. It also was difficult coz of how small it is. Any tips for how to make something look like that?

[adm-starblitzsteel-4305]

To be honest...

Ma. Celestina (OC) as Sailor Godzilla and Sailor Mothra

😳😉

Full description is here because I am tired of typing sheeesh.

There's a new ability I introduced for all of you guys:

"Titan Up! (insert Kaiju transformation)"

It is a mixed of Godzilla and Sailor Moon style I created. So how does it acquired with such magic?

I started the small concept about a small fusion: supposedly there was a girl who likewise have a powers like Godzilla and her transformation into a Godzilla themed style plus sailor fuku, but then I thought about this small concept will be the main course.

If you remember my human OC and main protagonist of POTM - Ma. Celestina (Celestia is her alias): yes, SHE is the ONE who will acquire the power of her Titan parents (Godzilla and Mothra) and with the Cosmic Brooch's superstitious magic. She can allow herself to transform into a magical superheroine girl.

BACKSTORY BEFORE MONSTERVERSE:

On the prelude of Sailor V, Ma. Celestina meets Minako Aino alongside Artemis who likewise senses her powers the same as Minako (who is the superheroine beauty called Sailor V), she allows herself to become a superheroine beauty like Sailor V, under the name as Sailor C. The two worked together to vanquished supernatural evils who steals energies of humans before Artemis reveals that they will have to find the other Sailor Guardians like themselves because he explains that Minako is the long lost Moon Princess of the Silver Millenium and that she wields the mystical Silver Crystal, which is the main reason why the Dark Kingdom was after for it. Minako posed herself as a student on Juuban High School (Usagi's school) while Ma. Celestina continues to search the Silver Crystal while gathering information about the Dark Kingdom's leader.

The two eventually met the other Sailor Guardians: Sailors Moon, Mercury, Mars, and Jupiter, alongside a black cat named Luna, before they joined into many adventures and battles they encountered (I used the Sailor Moon Crystal Seasons 1 to 3).

After the battle with Pharaoh 90, Ma. Celestina coincides about staying with the Sailor Guardians, but her quest was not complete yet. She asked Sailors Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto to watch over Hotaru Tomoe (known as Sailor Saturn) while she is away, giving baby Hotaru a necklace emblazed a topaz star pendant, promising to return back from her adventures as they depart.

Ma. Celestina is currently absent on the events of Sailor Moon Eternal and Sailor Moon Cosmos.

IN MONSTERVERSE:

Short prequel from after the events of POTM, the now 18 years old Ma. Celestina - who is given a name Astra II after her Titan incarnated past - adjusts her life as a Princess and normal life with Godzilla and Mothra, her newly adoptive family alongside Mothra Leo and the reformed Titan-turned-human Battra. What's more even interesting is that her Cosmic Brooch allows its user to fused a being that is incredibly powerful. Astra II spliced Godzilla's radioactive heat ray and Mothra's cyan bioluminiscent dusts from her mystic celestial magic, allowing it to combined the power as one because she is a part human and part Titan.

As Sailor Godzilla, she wields a Radioactive Titan Staff which produces an immense amount of heat ray and conjuring a powerful god-like aspects (think about Sailor Saturn's Death Reborn Revolution, but much more powerful). It is also noted that whenever she feels angry, there's a certain transformation about becoming a Godzilla genes due to heredity that is not awakened in time. This is her yell:

"TITAN UP! GODZILLA!"

"I bring balance and justice to those who opposed the Earth! Sailor Godzilla! Here to fight, and bow before your Ruler!"

As Sailor Mothra, she wields a double-bladed katana engraved with gems and a symbol of Mothra (like Mothra's limbs). She can also created a similar god rays like Mothra to erased the storms, and a magical song to target the enemies' old pasts about their loved ones in order to surrender, or to fight. She is capable of using silk attack to struck opponents. Note that her moth wings has Mothra's patterns, but much likely resembles Ma. Celestina's moth wings. Her majestic form is alluring to humans and Titans. Plus, Mothra's ancient song can be played by two of Ma. Celestina's new Twin Priestesses, but added a bit magical to express the devotion of the Stars. Her yell:

"TITAN UP! MOTHRA"

"I am the Goddess of Peace, Giver of Life, and Protector of the Earth. A King needs his Queen. I, Sailor Mothra, shall cast forth upon your evil deed! Bow before your Ruler!"

So, what do you think of my OC's transformation?

And that's it. I hope you like my fusion as both Sailor Moon style and Godzilla style.

If I ever fused Rodan and Ghidorah, then that's my promise.

I don't own any Godzilla and Sailor Moon Characters. They all belong to their respective owners and rights.

I only own my OCs.

Game:

Sailor Moon Dress Up on Dolldivine.

[agentrouka-blog]

The rulers of Tarth are called "the Evenstar" and "Evenstar" is the famous nickname of Arwen in LOTR. Does this mean that Martin is pointing out Brienne and Jaime as the Arwen and Aragorn of ASOIAF ? Since Brienne will eventually become lady of Tarth after the death of her father Selwyn. But Brienne is also a blonde warrior lady like Eowyn. Should either parallel be seen as meaningful ?

Hi there!

I am not a LOTR expert by any stretch of the imagination, so I wouldn't be able to give you a credible answer on the finer details of that nickname within those books.

(I do, however, doubt that it's meant to imply a parallel between this couple and Jaime and Brienne, mainly because they don't share literally any other parallels with these characters either jointly or separately, that I can think of. Eowyn comes closer, but that doesn't make Jaime any kind of Aragorn.)

An interesting I thing I found after a cursory search is that Arwen got this nickname in reference to the world as they knew it nearing its end. If that's true, then that's rather melancholy, but it would fit with the general theme in ASOIAF of upheaval, endings and renewal, best summed up by Leaf, one of the children of the forest:

The gods gave us long lives but not great numbers, lest we overrun the world as deer will overrun a wood where there are no wolves to hunt them. That was in the dawn of days, when our sun was rising. Now it sinks, and this is our long dwindling. The giants are almost gone as well, they who were our bane and our brothers. The great lions of the western hills have been slain, the unicorns are all but gone, the mammoths down to a few hundred. The direwolves will outlast us all, but their time will come as well. In the world that men have made, there is no room for them, or us." (ADWD, Bran III)

This imagery of the setting sun is matched by the concept of the Evenstar and both of these indicate endings.

Something often overlooked is that Cersei shares this imagery, too.

All hail his lady mother, Cersei of House Lannister, Queen Regent, Light of the West, and Protector of the Realm." (AGOT, Sansa V)

Also in reference to Tywin, her father:

By the time they left Maegor's Holdfast, the sky had turned a deep cobalt blue, though the stars still shone. All but one, Cersei thought. The bright star of the west has fallen, and the nights will be darker now.  (AFFC, Cersei I)

Warden of the West, in the westerlands, the Lannisters in all the glittering golden light are still associated with the finality of the sunset and evening.

The evenstar and the morning star both actually refer to the same thing, though: the planet venus, all depending on its visibility in the night sky. It was also historically referred to as "lucifer", which can be translated as "lightbringer", the name of the sword forged by Azor Ahai, which is a hugely ambivalent tale in the books and resonates with both Dany's dragons and several special swords named in the series. The powerful weapon as a mark of a hero or a knight is a central theme in the series, and GRRM is begging us to look closer at what is truly heroic and what is merely a show of power or conceit.

An interesting twist here is that Brienne's House and island of Tarth is equally ambivalent. Their arms are sun and moon both. And their seat has an interesting predecessor associated with a significant knight.

 The Sapphire Isle, as some call it, is ruled by House Tarth of Evenfall Hall—an old family of Andal descent that boasts of ties to the Durrandons, the Baratheons, and more recently to House Targaryen. Once kings in their own right, the Lords of Tarth still style themselves "the Evenstar," a title that they claim goes back unto the dawn of days. Many of the folk of Tarth, highborn and low alike, claim descent from a legendary hero, Ser Galladon of Morne, who was said to wield a sword called the Just Maid given to him by the Seven themselves. Given the role that the Just Maid plays in Ser Galladon's tale, Maester Hubert, in his Kin of the Stag, has suggested that Galladon of Morne was no rude warrior of the Age of Heroes turned into a knight by singers a thousand years later, but an actual historic figure of more recent times. Hubert also notes that Morne was a royal seat of petty kings on the eastern coast of Tarth until the Storm Kings made them submit, but that its ruins indicate that the site was made by Andals, not First Men. (The World of Ice and Fire - The Stormlands: The Men of the Stormlands)

Evenstar and Evenfall vs. the Morning. Obviously, there's a hidden history there that may be as interesting as the more recent connection of House Tarth to Duncan the Tall, another noted knight. But clearly, we are seeing a tension here between evening and morning. Brienne is the daughter of the Evenstar, but must she be an evenstar herself?

Given Brienne's connections to knighthood, to Galladon whose story she tells in AFFC, it may well be that she herself represents that renewal, a shift from evening to morning. Where the story of Duncan is one of disintegrating ideals, Brienne represents the choice to uphold them. She chooses to take up Duncan's abandoned arms, commissioning to have them painted on her shield:

It was more a picture than a proper coat of arms, and the sight of it took her back through the long years, to the cool dark of her father's armory. She remembered how she'd run her fingertips across the cracked and fading paint, over the green leaves of the tree, and along the path of the falling star. (AFFC, Brienne II)

Which GRRM goes out of his way to associated with finality and endings:

She had made a better job of it than he could ever have hoped for. Even by lantern light, the sunset colors were rich and bright, the tree tall and strong and noble. The falling star was a bright slash of paint across the oaken sky. Yet now that Dunk held it in his hands, it seemed all wrong. The star was falling, what sort of sigil was that? Would he fall just as fast? And sunset heralds night. "I should have stayed with the chalice," he said miserably. "It had wings, at least, to fly away, and Ser Arlan said the cup was full of faith and fellowship and good things to drink. This shield is all painted up like death." "The elm's alive," Pate pointed out. "See how green the leaves are? Summer leaves, for certain.  (The Hedge Knight)

The falling shooting being likened to death is another interesting nod to the comet that lights the sky through much of ACOK. The one that heralded the birth of the dragons. Death.

It is the tree that represents life here. Given this context, Duncan's arms may not be her final arms.

A parallel in terms of imagery, knighthood and even history, may be House Dayne. Much like House Dayne (of Starfall) has an ancient origin and a fancy special sword named Dawn, you could argue that it has fallen from grace, the last "Sword of the Morning" (named so for the star constellation only visible before dawn) having been killed after guarding an imprisoned teenaged girl dying from childbirth. That's not knightly honor. Gerold Dayne is called "Darkstar" and describes himself as "of the night". He does not carry Dawn. Ham-fisted metaphors, no?

This is all my convoluted way of saying that no, I don't think this nickname is meant to tie Brienne and Jaime to Aragorn and Arwen, but rather part of a broader metaphor for disintegration and renewal, especially in association with knighthood, all expressed through Brienne herself.

Brienne, caught between Duncan (evening) and Galladon (morning), represents renewal, life, the way forward.

Jaime lacks this imagery entirely. He's no Aragorn. He's walking into the sunset with the Light of the West.