#Voided Dreams {Veil}

[speaker-of-the-void-cats]

Forsaken Lightfall

Dread not naught. Be brave.

Look around the sky.

Behold the great | divide, the battle | lines of the cosmic war.

Fikrul is a Fanatic.

Scorned and abandoned.

"This is as far as you go."

"Please. For you, I go… instead. All know… darkness lives here. Death. You are not of Ether. Can't bring… you back."

"All the same."

"Yes, Father. We ever serve and await return."

Fikrul is all who strive to regain strength of self and purpose. He is a survivor. He is the outcast priest of the broken plains, and his sermon is death and all the glory that follows.

"Go. Inspire. And avenge your murdered friends."

The why of what we're doing is as important as the what.

To that end, the Shadow of Earth extended a hand, and into it flew the Shadow's companion-soul, who had spoken not a word for many ages.

The Shadow bade the companion-soul to speak, and the companion-soul obliged:

I looked at the Gardener.

I looked at my hands.

"I love you"

With that, the Shadow's fist closed, and the companion-soul was no more.

I discovered the first knife.

And then there were two.

You've no idea how fortunate you are to be my chosen. You hold the flesh of a god in your hands. You are mere steps away from our salvation. Only Light|Dark, to|get|her, can unlock my way back into your world.

That's it, keep going. FREE ME.

Please, brother. Will you walk through hell for me, one last time?

"Yes."

Good. Then let us finish this.

"Everything I did, I did for her."

You brave,

devoted,

pathetic

fool.

Thank you.

Even paradise is a prison....

when you can't leave.

"The line between Light | Dark is so very thin.

Do you know which side you're on?"

RECORD 0-CHASM-31

Rajesh. When he reached a displacement of eight he told us he was dead. I believed him. He was dead. He spoke to us. It was true. Whatever he saw, it was his own future.

He’s fine, afterwards. When I look into his eyes I wonder what came back wearing his skin. But that thought is unscientific.

We speak of nothing but the device. We talk about it like a demigod. When I get out of here I know the whole world will look like a fraying veil.

I think it’s clear that part of the problem is substrate. We need more than flesh and drug to survive this.

This one's for the minds behind the Deep Stone Crypt. You think just because you made me you can unmake me? Hey, I understand. I were you I wouldn't want people knowing what I did either. Guess you better hope I didn't tell anyone about the crypt. Or about the, uh, what was it? Oh yeah...

Long

Slow

Whisper

Cause if I did, that would be real bad for you, huh?

I may be dead, but I guarantee you ain't heard the last of me.

[theanoninyourinbox]

FINALLY FINISHED H I M

I know that's ominous but I've been trying to draw this one dude from a dream I had since 2021!!!! And he's not perfect but HE LOOKS CLOSER THAN BEFORE!! Absolutely influenced by watching Persona playthroughs and listening to someone explain Cenobites

Guy below the cut because Blood and uuuhhhh Body Horror I guess?

Behold Justice! The balance between Worldly Needs (the gold) and Spiritual Needs (the heart). His skin in the dream was like pearl and abalone, all nacre and shining colors...which did not translate here but OH WELL THE REST IS PERFECT! Yes he IS impaled, there were many more swords in the dream but they looked TOO Busy...anyway enjoy this Dream Man

[eyes-from-the-void]

The antique couch was so old, the original furniture makers had mixed the sawdust and stuffing with mummy dust.

The couch passed hands so many times, grave robbers knew it had significance but slowly, over time, forgot why.

Sometimes to smuggle artifacts they hid them in the couch cushions, or even within the wooden frame itself.

Now, you lie on it, sure you see figures out of the corner of your eye. You wonder how a thing that is supposedly so old can be so well preserved. Still, you know most of the museum staff refuse to deal with the couch.

A chill runs down your spine, but you shake it off. Must be a draft, right? Don’t want to get caught lying on one of the artifacts.

[olexiss-s]

What’s interesting about Solas’s portrayal in DA4 is that we see him mostly from Rook’s perspective. Rook only knows what Varric has told them and what they observe through encounters with a cunning and distant Fen’Harel in their dreams—dreams controlled by him through blood magic, as we later discover. The Veilguard unveils his deepest regrets and judges him at his worst. Solas doesn’t try to change Rook’s mind about why the Veil must fall, he doesn’t bother painting himself as the ‘good guy’ or explaining his motivations. He repeatedly dismisses them with, ‘it’s beyond your comprehension’ and ‘you can’t understand what was lost.’ He dismisses Rook as a God would.

Though he grows to respect Rook, it changes nothing, by this point, he’s at his absolute worst. He embodies Pride to a fault. The gentle, wise, and truly idealistic aspects of his character we saw in Inquisition have been lost to what he believes he must become to achieve his goal. The Veilguard focuses on the Mythal-shaped void in his past. It might seem as though his loyalty to her was the only thing driving him, because ultimately, her releasing him from this duty stayed his hand.

To understand Solas, we have to know that he was Wisdom spirit first. He gained a physical form, and Mythal turned him into a weapon for a war he never believed in, a trauma that still reverberates through everything he does. Her final admission, that she was wrong and she's freeing him from this burden was just the breaking point of an already weakened resolve, that had one final push in the 3rd act. This vulnerability allowed for an opening for the grief he’d kept locked away unresolved, grief for her, for his lost spirit self, for his people, the Elvhen, for the magic he separated from the world, for his rebellion, for Felaasan, and for all those he betrayed and hurt in his quest to set things right. This powerful moment stripped him of his pride.

Then he sees Lavellan, kneeling before him, just as he had done for her in Trespasser. In that moment, she's a glimmer of hope, there's a sudden realization that, though this grief will be the hardest thing to bear, she’s proof that this world went on. Its people have kept fighting, and there is still beauty and goodness worth saving. And with that, there's the possibility of redemption, not giving up but letting go and facing the world and himself. A new purpose arises, and now, he won’t be blinded by solitude that tainted his heart for so long.

[lee-hakhyun]

⸢This story is for just that one reader.⸥

in the hospital room, kim dokja wakes up.

his memory comes back little by little, from the 1st scenario to becoming the oldest dream and being scattered across the universe.

han sooyoung succeeded in bringing him back.

from outside the door, he could hear familiar voices. he wanted to meet them immediately, to hug them and tell them they missed him, but.

a system message lay in front of him. [your existence recovery rate is currently 41%.] why wasn't he whole? from what he saw, all of him should have come back. hearing the sounds of kimcom approaching, he starts to feel afraid.

is he what the party wants? does he really have all his memories of them?

his fear spurs him on. he couldn't use his full power, but he was the 'oldest dream'. he decides to get the rest of his memory back. it would only take a minute.

using his powers to scour the worldlines, he's easily able to trace the fragments containing his memories and sees them gravitating toward a certain worldline. he follows them through space, and when he sees what exactly what worldline his heart starts to race.

the forgotten 41st turn. a turn that even the 'oldest dream' did not know of, and therefore shouldn't exist. and yet it existed here. and he felt intense hostility from that turn.

brightly shining stars stood in his path. seeing the large amount of stars blocking his way, he identifies the leaders of the group. odin, zeus, poseidon, mithra... the heads of the most famous nebulas in the star stream.

he warns them to get out of his way. his true voice shakes the constellations, yet they don't move. with a conviction so strong that they wouldn't move even if they had to sacrifice all their stories for it. kim dokja raised his hand to clear away the stars, but as he does there's a spark at his fingertips. probability.

probability was the will of the stars, and it was limiting his actions. kim dokja's eyes glittered with interest. and he takes out unbroken faith.

kimcom had revived kim dokja. so he had an obligation to become complete and return to them. if it was for them, kim dokja could do anything.

and yet the stars fought back with everything they had. the forces of the strongest nebulae worked together against a single enemy, and the force of their fight was so cataclysmic it shook the whole universe. the probability of the star stream continued to move. no matter how strong the oldest dream is, its power wasn't all there. if he continued on like this, the probability aftermath could vaporize the nearby worldline. kim dokja makes up his mind and activates [way of the wind] to move straight through them.

the constellations scramble to stop him, but even as he bleeds he continues forward. a story he doesn't know is in front of him, just a little farther away. as he reaches the void veil, the border between him and the scenario area—

[that's enough.]

someone grabs his wrist. he could tell, this was the person who had caused the stars to move. a being who could dare to touch him and still be safe. there was only one such person.

the other self he had left in this world.

49% kim dokja.

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part eight

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Eight - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 2k

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up, the first thing I notice is the warmth of a bed beneath me, soft and comforting. It takes a moment for the fog in my mind to clear, but then I feel it—a heavy limb draped across my back, pinning me down. My heart skips a beat, panic rising before I realize who it is. I shuffle slightly, turning my head just enough to see Wade sprawled out beside me, his leg thrown over the middle of my back like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His torso is nearly falling off the edge of the bed, his mask slightly askew, revealing a rare moment of peace on his scarred face.

I grumble, annoyed but not entirely surprised, and carefully shimmy out from under him. He doesn’t stir, still lost in whatever dream world he’s managed to escape to. I glance around, taking in the environment, and relief floods through me. It’s familiar, comforting. I breathe a sigh of relief. They found us.

I sit up properly, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. My muscles protest, sore from whatever happened before I blacked out. As I survey the room, I catch sight of Logan standing in the corner, a glass in hand, drinking from what I immediately recognize as Remy’s liquor collection. I shake my head slightly. Remy’s not going to be happy about that.

Logan turns to me, his eyes locking with mine. We don’t say anything for what feels like an eternity, just staring at each other, unspoken words hanging in the air. There’s a tension between us, a thousand things we should probably talk about but never will.

The silence is abruptly shattered when Wade shoots up, nearly falling off the bed in the process. He looks around, his usual manic energy snapping back into place.

“Where are we?” he asks, his voice groggy but laced with that familiar sarcasm.

I gesture to him and then to the room around us. “We’re in my bed. And this is the Borderlands.”

Just as the words leave my mouth, I hear footsteps approaching. My senses go on high alert, and I instinctively tense, but it’s just Elektra. She steps into view, her eyes sweeping the room, assessing the situation. I give her a small wave, and she responds with a short nod, her gaze lingering on Wade and Logan with clear suspicion. Then Eric walks in, followed by Remy and Johnny. The sight of them makes my heart swell with relief, and I quickly cross the room to hug Johnny. His arms wrap around me, and I can feel the tension in his muscles start to ease.

“I don’t know how the fuck you did that, but you saved my life,” Johnny mumbles into my hair. His voice is soft, almost vulnerable, and I can’t help but smile.

Wade immediately jumps in. “Okay, look at you all. You must be the others. Terrific. So just to refresh, you are Wonder...”

“Elektra,” she corrects him, her voice sharp and clipped.

“Elektra, yes. Who could forget?” Wade continues, undeterred. He shifts his attention to Eric, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And you, I was not expecting to see you here, but you were, you know, retired.”

“Retarded?” Eric responds dryly.

“Retired. I’m already in The Void. I’m not trying to get canceled again.”

“I don’t like you,” Eric says bluntly.

“You never did.” Wade shrugs, then turns his attention to Remy. “And who’s this succulent reminder of my own inadequacies? Look at you. You look like the superhero version of Hawkeye.”

Remy smirks, his Cajun accent thick as he introduces himself. “The name’s Remy LeBeau. De Diable Blanc. But you can call me The Gambit.”

Wade, ever the smartass, retorts, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Sling Blade, hit me again.”

“They call me The Gambit,” Remy repeats, his tone laced with a challenge.

“Do they? Are you sure you didn’t just really, really want them to, but it never quite worked out?”

“You know, we never had a Wolverine up in here. But I can tell you now, it’s just a common courtesy to ask before you drink up all of my liquor.” Remy says to Logan who gruffly responds, “It's a good thing I don’t give a fuck.” Remy’s eyes flash purple as he whispers something under his breath. With a flick of his wrist, a playing card flies across the room, charged with kinetic energy. It shatters the glass in Logan’s hand, sending shards flying.

Logan glares at Remy, then his eyes flicker to Johnny, “How the fuck are you here?” he asks.

“Ask Y/n, she did it,” Johnny replies, glancing at me with a hint of pride.

Logan’s expression shifts, a flicker of something almost like hurt crossing his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. Wade claps his hands together, drawing everyone’s attention back to him.

“Well, now that’s settled, look, we came a long way to find you four,” Wade says, his tone suddenly serious.

“There’s five of us,” Elektra corrects him again, her patience clearly wearing thin.

“There’s five? Wait, is it Magneto? Dear sweet God in heaven, let it be Magneto...”

“Dead,” Johnny interrupts, his voice flat.

“Fuck! Now the author gets lazy? It’s like Pinocchio jammed his face in my ass and started lying like crazy.”

Remy mutters something in French, and I try my best to understand, catching a bit about Wade being a nasty devil. Wade just grins, clearly enjoying the chaos he’s stirring up.

“Not a single word,” Wade quips, “What do you do exactly?”

“I charge the playing cards. Make them go boom,” Remy replies coolly.

“Your powers are close to magic. That’s good. We’re not totally fucked at all. So who brought us here?”

As if on cue, Laura walks in, her expression as fierce as ever. “That would be me. Don’t make me regret it,” she says, her voice icy.

Wade’s eyes widen in recognition. “Holy shit, Logan, that’s her, that’s X-23. She’s the one I told you about.” He says to Logan who looks at Laura, then looks away. “How did you all get stuck in The Void?”

“There was a knock at the door. TVA sent me here,” Eric replies, his voice grim.

“Me too,” Elektra adds.

Remy shrugs. “Maybe I was born here, so it’s hard to know for sure.”

“The TVA decided our universe was dying, and I never even got a chance to fight for it,” Eric says, bitterness seeping into his words.

“People like us don’t go quietly. TVA knows that, so they took us out,” Elektra adds, her tone fierce.

“The answer is yes, I’m in,” Wade declares, his voice filled with determination.

“In what?” Eric asks, confused.

“A team. Me, you, you and me, all of us together. Let’s get the fuck out of this place.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar,” Logan snaps, his voice filled with anger.

“It was an educated wish! Look, we’ve been inside Cassandra’s lair. The only way out of The Void is through her. She can get us home. She told us. Look, there’s strength in numbers, all right? Us, plus you guys, we can put Cassandra over our knee and force her to let us out of The Void. I know what it means to feel self-doubt.”

“I don’t feel that at all,” Elektra retorts.

“I’m good,” Eric agrees.

“Gnawing at your gut like a coke duct tape worm.”

“It’s like you’re in the middle of my soul,” Wade says, his voice almost reverent.

I look at him, confused as to how these two seem to be matching each other’s energy so to speak. 

“You guys may not have been able to save your universes, but you can avenge them. Maybe you couldn’t save your worlds, but Jesus Christ, you could save mine.”

“I don’t give a shit about your world, but if these four made it out alive, maybe together, we could get back in and take her down,” Elektra says, her voice laced with resolve.

“Where I come from, we call that suicide, cher,” Remy mutters, his voice somber.

“If we can block her psychic powers, we can get a leg up. I know it. Now, I know Magneto’s dead, but I venture to guess that his helmet is lying around here somewhere.”

“Cassandra melted the helmet,” Eric says, his voice devoid of emotion.

“Fuck!” Wade curses, his frustration palpable.

“Then she killed him,” Eric adds.

“She don’t play,” Elektra says, her voice cold.

“She knows that helmet was the only way to protect anyone from her powers. The only other helmet that strong is Juggernaut’s, but he works for Cassandra.”

“Juggernaut’s helmet, that’s it,” Wade says, his voice filled with hope.

“And we don’t be knowing that it ain’t coming out his head,” Remy warns, his tone cautious.

The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the weight of decisions that could change everything. 

Wade, pacing back and forth with his usual frenetic energy, stops and looks at Remy, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m so sorry, beautiful, how could this be gentle?” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Who is your dialect coach? The minions? I feel like we’re missing critical exposition here.”

Elektra, her patience wearing thin, snaps, “I’m sick of this shit. I’m sick of hiding. Let’s face it, our world’s forgot about us.”

“Or never learned about us,” Remy adds, his voice tinged with bitterness.

“The heroes we were,” Elektra continues, her tone growing more impassioned.

“The lives we saved,” Blade chimes in, his deep voice resonating with an almost mournful tone.

“Or wanted to save,” Remy finishes, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the ground, lost in thought.

Elektra’s gaze hardens as she looks around at the group, her voice resolute. “Maybe these three are our chance, to be remembered the way we deserve.”

“Yes,” Wade agrees, his voice jumping an octave.

“An ending,” Elektra says, her voice filled with a mix of finality and hope.

“A legacy,” Blade adds.

Wade, unable to resist injecting some levity into the heavy moment, clapped his hands together. “Yes, yes, let this man cook. This is what I’m talking about. Big slow motion, fight sad music, everybody working together. Who knows if you live or die, that sort of thing. Who’s ready?”

Blade straightens, his expression fierce. “I was born ready.”

Wade turns to Remy, a playful smirk on his lips. “Yes, Gambit?”

Remy shrugs, a wry grin spreading across his face. “I ain’t know my daddy, but I’m sure I shot-out-of-his-dick ready.”

Wade pauses, blinking in disbelief before shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, that is graphic. Pumpkin?” His gaze then drifts over to me, and I can feel his eyes on me, almost as if he is trying to read my thoughts.

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’ll do it,” I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. I glance at Logan, searching his face for any sign of what he might be thinking. “I might regret it,” I admit, the weight of my words hanging in the air. “But I have nothing to lose.”

Wade’s expression softens, a rare moment of sincerity in his chaotic persona. “Oh, sweet cheeks, you won’t regret it. The author has some crazy plans for you.” He then tunrs his attention to Laura, his voice taking on a challenging tone. “X-23, what’s it gonna be?”

“The name’s Laura,” she says, her voice cold and determined. “Let’s fucking go.”

Wade grins, his excitement bubbling over. “Let’s fucking go.”

Elektra’s eyes blaze with a fire that has been long extinguished. “We’re doing this,” she declares, her voice unwavering.

Logan, ever the cynic, mutters darkly, “You’re all fucking dead.”

Wade, not missing a beat, shoots back, “My god, read the room.”

Logan huffs and storms out the room, I watch him leave, hesitating before following. I hear Wade whispering from behind me to no one in particular. “It’s happening, they’re finally going to communicate. Thank you, sweet author. I’m sure the readers were tired of the dialogue recaps.” His voice fades away as I follow after Logan.

Next Part

A/N: Guys, this chapter is a lotttt of just going through the meetings of the other characters, the good shit is coming soon. Sometimes when I’m writing for scenes that are in movies I find myself getting really repetitive with it, so next chapter I’m taking more creative liberty.

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

[thehistoriangirl]

Viktor Masterlist

✨ = Fluff

💔 = Angst

💞 = Smut aka Fluff with Horny sprinkled

💀  = Violence; Blood; Major/Minor Character Death(s)

💔 💀 The Silence Between Us [Viktor x gn!Reader]

-> SFW, Secret Crush, Angst, Canon Compliance|

✨💔The Memories We Kept Within [Machine Herald!Viktor x gn!Reader]

-> (A continuation): SFW, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending

✨💞 I’ll Show You, [My Love] in the Shelter of the Night   [Viktor x fem!Reader]

-> NSFW, Explicit, Friends to Lovers

✨ 💞 A Well-Deserved Celebration [Viktor x AFAB!Reader]

-> Christmas Special 2022, NSFW, PWP, Established Relationship

💔It Had to be You,: Part 1 [Machine Herald!Viktor x fem!Reader]

-> Soulmate AU, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Eventual Happy Ending

💀 It Had to be You,: Part 2

It Will Always Be You: Part 3 [PENDING]

✨ 💀 Where the Woods Brought Us Together: Part 1  [MH!Viktor x Fem!Reader]

-> Halloween Special 2022, Magical Forest, Offering, Strangers to Lovers, Forest Guardian Spirit!Viktor, Healer!Reader|

✨ 💔 Part 2

💔 ✨ 💞Part 3 (Final Part) NSFW

💀Primeval Penumbras: Part I [Viktor x Fem!Reader

-> Halloween Special 2022, Void Monster! Reader, Strangers to Lovers

✨💞 Part II NSFW

[PENDING: Part III & Part IV]

✨ Not Just a Summer Affair: Part 1 [Viktor x Fem!Reader]

-> Crushes, Friends to Lovers, Beach AU, PWP

✨ 💞 Part 2 NSFW

✨ 💞 Part 3 NSFW

💔 ✨ I Love You, As Friends Do  [Viktor x gn!Reader]

-> St. Valentine Special 2023, Friends to Lovers, Misundestanding, Light Angst, Happy Ending

✨ I Hope to Found You [Viktor x fem!Reader]

✨💞When You Warmed Up My Heart  [Viktor x AFAB Reader]

-> Mild NSFW

✨ I’ll Be There for You [Viktor x gn!Reader]

✨When You’re Not Here, I Lie Awake and Dream of You [Viktor x gn!Reader]

✨[We’re] More than a Match Made in Heaven [Viktor x gn!Reader]

✨These Ones Are For Love [Viktor x AFAB!Latinx!Reader]

✨To Feel Better, All I Need is You [Viktor x gn!Reader]

-> A request

✨Amuse Me, Love [Viktor x gn!Reader]

✨ Let Me Be Your Shelter [Viktor x gn!Reader]

-> A request

✨All Our Ways to Say “I Love You” [Viktor x gn!Reader]

-> A request

✨ You, My Solace [Viktor x gn!Reader]

-> A request

✨The Sweeter Trick [Viktor x gn!Reader]

-> A request, Halloween Special 2023, Established Relationship

✨ Loving Gifts [Viktor x Fem!Artist!Reader]

-> A request, Holidays AU, Established Relationship

Until Our Secrets Drift Us Apart [Viktor x Fem!Reader] EXPLICIT

-> Modern AU, Marriage of Convenience, Strangers to Lovers, Slow Burn [8/16]

> M A S T E R L I S T 

Technique: Reverie on Canvas[Viktor x fem!Noxian! Reader] MATURE

-> Soulmate AU, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Machine Herald!Viktor, Poisoner!Reader [3/?]

> M A S T E R L I S T 

The Oblivious Game I Want to Lose (Without Losing You) [Viktor x Hopeless Romantic! gn!Reader]

-> A request, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst & Fluff, Happy Ending [COMPLETED]

>  M A S T E R L I S T 

The Tides Have Veiled [Viktor x Fem!Reader] MATURE

-> Halloween 2022, Gothic AU, Spooky Sea AU, Strangers to Lovers, Magic, Ghosts, Mermaids [17/40]

> M A S T E R L I S T 

Without Compromise [Viktor x Fem!Reader] EXPLICIT

-> Blind Date, Valentine's Day 2024, Matchmaking, One Night Stand Going Wrong [1/7]

>M A S T E R L I S T

If You Hadn't Left (Me) [Viktor x Fem!Reader] EXPLICIT

-> Second Chance/Exes to Lovers, Valentine's Day 2024, Angst & Fluff [1/10]

>M A S T E R L I S T

[thewertsearch]

...oh, fuck! Is that what I think it i-

Fuck!

Ok - let's think this through. I stand by my Murderstuck assertion that Karkat and Terezi are too important to die. My guess, then, is that Vriska will deliver them to their Quest Slabs, assuming they survived Jack's assault on Prospit.

That's if Vriska survives this fight, I guess. Avenging her friends' deaths sounds awfully Heroic to me - and if any trolls survived the Veil's destruction, she'll be fighting to protect them, too.

Jack's only produced two bodies, and it's not impossible that some of the others escaped via an Aspect power. Kanaya's a Space Player, so maybe she learned to teleport, or something? That would admittedly be a bit of a stretch, but something unprecedented clearly needs to happen here, or it's all over.

I guess Aradia could arrive to provide some backup - but my gut tells me she's out of the session for good. She's fully committed to managing the Dream Bubbles, and even if she wanted to help, I doubt she could navigate the Ring quickly enough to arrive in time.

We're really in the weeds here, aren't we? I don't have a clue how this is going to resolve.

lmao, that HONK tome is basically a family photo album to him.

Again, sorry for the interruption. My conversation with the girl ran a bit long, slightly exceeding the one second I scheduled for it. This is where events begin to outpace my awareness. The deeper into this dark pocket we explore, the more I will be forced to speculate.

Apparently, this fight is a dark pocket - and I assume Hussie is fully aware of its outcome, so I don't think my author-clairvoyance theory is relevant here.

My only other guess, then is that a Void Player is involved, since it's been established that they can cloud Scratch's awareness somewhat. Surely Equius hasn't been resurrected offscreen?

[dark-and-kawaii]

𝐹𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒟𝑜𝓋𝑒

Haarlep x Reader/Tav

Summary: Haarlep is torn between their nature as an incubus and unexpected feelings for you as they comfort you through a nightmare.

Notes: This was supposed to be apart of the soft Haarlep series but I preferred it on its own. Maybe I’m wrong for that, but still enjoy our favorite incubus xoxo

Ao3

Haarlep stirs from their slumber as they sense your body wracked with silent tremors. Their groggy gaze, heavy with the remnants of the void, lands upon you. There, in the dim lighted boudoir, they watch your features contort in silent agony.

Your brows knitted in distress; eyes flickering in a frenzied dance behind their veils, fists clenched to the point of blanching, and oh, those delectable beads of sweat adorning your brow, rendering you a vision of tortured grace. Trapped in the clutches of a nightmare, how Haarlep’s dark heart revels in the sweetness of your fear. You looked beautiful like this.

Yet, as he languishes in the sight of your torment, a bitter reminder gnaws at them; you are Raphael's precious "little mouse”. A reluctant savior, the incubus nudges your shoulder, coaxing you back to the waking world of Avernus. Your eyes flutter open, brimming with tears that carve trails of sorrow down your cheeks.

"Such agony etched upon your face, a sight so deliciously tragic," Haarlep muses, propping themselves up on one elbow, drinking in the view of your disheveled form. Your breaths come in tattered heaves, your gaze locking onto theirs with a terror that suggests you're still ensnared by the nightmare's tendrils.

"Haarlep?" you whisper, the name a feeble breath of sound.

"Last I checked," Their tone laced with an edge of mockery.

You scan them, searching, clinging to the reality of their presence. "I... You were-,” You hesitated, your eyes twitching from the vivid nightmare, “You were dead…- taken from me in that nightmare…," you confess, your voice a fractured whisper as you burrow into their warm chest, seeking solace. "The fear was-, the thought of losing you… I-”

Those words strike a dissonant chord in Haarlep's shadowed heart. Their expression falters, unseen by you. Shouldn't your heart be laden with dread at the thought of losing Raphael, not them, a mere incubus bound to the infernal depths? The revelation is a torment all on its own, a twisted irony that stirs within their damned soul.

Your head remained buried in their chest, Haarlep could feel the cascade of tears soaking into their skin, each drop a testament to your fears. Your grip on them tightens, as if afraid to let go, as if desperate to anchor yourself to Haarlep to assure you of their existence. Fingers dig into their fiendish skin, a grasp so desperate it borders on pain, a silent plea for him to remain at your side, "It felt so real, Haarlep," you murmur against them, the weight of your sorrow imbuing your every word. "To lose you… I- I couldn't bear it… I was so scared."

How Haarlep longed to devour those precious tears, to gorge themself on your terror. But, there, in that moment, with your trembling form nestled against their chest, your words meant for them rather than Raphael, they feel the ache to embrace you, to soothe away the shadows of your nightmare.

"You should watch your words, dove," Haarlep purrs, stroking the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair. "What would Raphael do, should he hear these words?"

You stiffen at the mention of his name, your breath caught in your throat, but the tears continue to spill.

"What would you have me do?" Haarlep hums. "Would you have me vanquish the devil that taints your dreams?" They punctuate the question with a nip to your shoulder, savoring the flavor of your skin, your body responding with a shudder.

"Just… stay with me," you breathe. "Please. Don’t ever go."

Haarlep sighs. How cruel this night proves itself to be, taunting them with a morsel of desire and then robbing them of its sweet sustenance. But they oblige, allowing you to wrap yourself around their frame, their limbs coiling around yours.

"Sleep," Haarlep whispers against the nape of your neck.

Their command seeps into the air. It beckons to your consciousness, dragging you back into the realm of sleep. Haarlep watches as your muscles relax, a contented sigh escaping your lips. A smirk graces their lips, yet the expression fails to reach their eyes, an emptiness lurking behind their crimson gaze…

An emptiness that is foreign, unwelcome. A feeling unbefitting of a creature born of darkness and lust. Haarlep's nature dictates they relish in the despair of others, and feed off their pleasure, not offer comfort, not feel the pang of something akin to... concern? But as you lie there, clinging to them, Haarlep cannot deny the shift within, the stirrings of a sentiment they dare not name aloud.

In the quietude of the boudoir, with only the flickering shadows as their audience, Haarlep contemplates the enigma you've become. To them, you are Raphael's, yet, in this moment, you are undeniably theirs. The incubus is caught in a web of their own making, one thread of true care woven into the fabric of deceit and seduction.

"Little dove," Haarlep murmurs, their face pressing into your shoulder. You nestle closer, a silent affirmation of the security you feel in Haarlep's arms as you drift off.

Haarlep remains still, allowing the quiet rhythm of your breath to wash over them, a calming counter to the chaos of their thoughts. Soon a new day will bring reality, and with it, Raphael's return. Haarlep knows that when the time comes to relinquish you back to their master, the incubus will do so with a heavy heart, a heart that should know no such weight.

For now, they allow themselves this indulgence, to watch over you as you sleep, to be your silent protector against the night's terrors. And when you awake to greet Raphael, Haarlep will retreat behind their mask of indifference, their role as your companion tucked away like a shadow at daybreak.

Yet, as Haarlep's eyes finally close, surrendering to the weary pull of their own slumber, they cannot escape the truth that has been whispered in the dark: they do not wish to let you go. And that realization is perhaps the most terrifying dream of all.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

hi I’m such a big fan of your writing 💕and overall so grateful that you write for Donna since I feel she is very underrated especially RE Donna

but I wanted to request ✨ a scenario where Donna and R are having a normal afternoon and R out of nowhere blurts out how they used to do modeling for a little while and Donna get curious so R shows photos of a photoshoot where she wears a little revealing dress and Donna get slightly jealous so R convince Donna she will give her a personal photoshoot and so they do it and it turns into smut

go Donna please 🙏

also if you don’t want to it okay and you can just ignore this request but hope you have a good day ❤️☺️

Yess!! Thank you for your request and for your nice words!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

You can leave your veil on

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff,

Word count: 6,440

Summary: Maybe a photo session can make her jealousy disappear...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

“Be careful, it's hot,” Donna commented, leaving a steaming cup of tea on the table. You smiled gratefully, nodding as you looked out the window of the old house.

You could have tried to run away, escape from that cursed village, but you didn't. In your work as a photographer you had visited many places, but certainly none like that. A village set back in time, servant and faithful to someone similar to the witches in stories.

But, in reality, you saw no reason to do so. One priestess, four Lords, that was the system by which that place functioned. A castle, a dam, a factory, a house. Of all your options, the house was the best one.

Donna Beneviento, ventriloquist and doll maker, had a series of nightmares prepared for you, to drive you crazy.

You fought against those hallucinations, you screamed, you ran away until it was no longer necessary. No matter how much fear a woman like her could cause in someone like you, it wasn't enough. She was a mysterious, mourning figure that hid her face behind a black veil. The mystery overcame the fear and you stopped living those nightmares, to live in dreams.

Little by little, you got to know that woman, and the more you did, the more you fell in love with her. Compassion, love, you couldn't say why you didn't end up jumping into the void, down that waterfall. Maybe it was that Donna was as lonely as you in this world, maybe she didn't want to kill the last ray of hope of dark and lonely life.

So there you were, you had been on that estate for months and you didn't regret it at all. Her hidden beauty, which you forced her to show you, the changes Mother Miranda caused in her body, everything that gave her a complex was suddenly eclipsed by your kisses, by your words of love, by the whish to leave your boring life behind to join hers.

“Thank you, Donna,” you said kindly, as she sat in front of you, looking at you with that same bewilderment from the first day. An eternity could pass, but Donna would still wonder why you decided to stay, why you loved a sick, dark woman like her.

Her corners turned up as she raised her own cup to her lips. You sighed as you remembered everything that had brought you there, and above all, when you thought about the reasons that made you never want to return home, reasons that sat in front of you like every afternoon, that you hugged every night, reasons that had a first and last name: Donna Beneviento.

“Is it, is it to your liking?” She asked timidly, with the soft and hoarse melody she had for a voice. You smiled even wider, pretending you hadn't comically burned yourself.

“Yes, I... Ugh, it's perfect,” you said, fanning your mouth in a funny way, to which she laughed in a shy and funny way, looking away.

“I told you it was hot,” she murmured, with a knowing whisper, with that so intense look which could even pierce your skin.

“I should learn to listen,” you joked, shaking your head. “That's what they told me at school.”

“Did they tell you that it was hot?” The lady asked, disconcerted. You would always admire that shy innocence.

“No,” you said, laughing, making Donna look at you confused. “They told me that I didn't know how to listen.”

Donna Beneviento was a lonely woman. She had been alone for so many years so human relationships didn’t exist in her own world. At first you were surprised by those curious reactions to simple phrases or expressions, but little by little, you got used to them, finding them adorable in their own way.

“It's funny, they told me the same thing,” she said, with a melancholic smile. You nodded, blowing away the smoke of that burning tea.

“Did they? Because I think there is no one in this world who is capable of listening as well as you,” you said in a soft voice, making your compliments, once again, to get her cheeks blush.

“That's not true,” she said, downplaying that true fact.

After days of nightmares, you had only heard her speak through the Angie doll. It took a lot for Donna to be able to communicate with her own voice, even after your first kiss.

“Well, well, I don't want to contradict you but... Yes it is,” you whispered the last sentence, making the smile light up her face again, hiding it shamefully behind her cup of tea.

There was a small moment of silence, one of hundreds every day. A contemplative moment, in which your photographic eye admired each of her features, her figure. Yes, there was nothing more beautiful for your camera, you were sure.

“Mmm,” you murmured, savoring that delicious artisanal tea that Donna adored you with every day. “It's delicious.”

“Everything I make is delicious according to you,” she whispered, suspicious. Alert, insecurity approaching at high speed.

“Well, yes,” you said with a serious tone, crossing your arms. “Everything.”

Donna smiled again, shaking her head.

“Don’t say those things…. You know it makes me ashamed,” she said with a pink tone on her cheeks, with a mischievous but shy look at the same time.

“What did I say?” You asked amused, leaning your back on the couch.

“You know what you said,” Donna said hurriedly, with her hands trembling because of the shyness and nervousness caused by your seductive gaze. Yes, you said it on purpose.

“I said I like everything you make to me,” you said with an indifferent tone, ignoring that too obvious insinuation. “Why are you ashamed of that?”

“Because I... You know, you mean...” She stammered, further evidencing her nervousness.

“Your food,” you joked, leaving her completely confused and much more embarrassed.

“My food?” Donna asked, blinking profusely, looking with her eye for a place to hide after that sentence.

“Yes, of course, what did you think I was referring to, Donna?” You asked, biting your lip. Maybe you shouldn't play with her that much... But it was quite funny.

“I don't... You know what? I'm going to get more tea,” she said, getting up from the armchair to cowardly flee, as always when the conversation got a bit hotter.

“Uh, uh, honey…” You said hurriedly, standing up and grabbing her wrist tenderly, caressing her soft skin with your thumb. “Come on… Don't be nervous, it was just a joke.”

Donna nodded, letting you grab her waist and pull her into a slow, loving kiss, calming her breathing with it.

“So...” She murmured, with a more relaxed expression, playing with the buttons of your blouse. “You like my food.”

“I love it,” you said amused, stealing another quick kiss from her. “You have to show me how to make it.”

“Sure, of course,” she said, excited by the idea, moving away from you and dragging you back to the tea place.

“Before I met you, the only thing I could make was something prepared in the microwave,” you explained, sitting down again, changing the conversation to an easier and less... Hot one.

She nodded curiously, sipping her tea calmly, as if that little joke had never happened.

“Once, I remember that I had to promote some diet products. I was eating protein bars for a month, I guess that's my level of cooking,” you commented amused, remembering that part of your past. Donna looked at you curiously again, frowning.

“Em... Yes, I...”

“You didn't understand anything I said, did you?” You joked, making her shake her head, scratching the back of her neck.

“Niente”

“Niente,” you repeated, amused. “Well, I worked being a model once, you know, I had to take photos with products, with clothes...”

“Model?” She asked, this time leaning towards you, showing interest in that detail. You nodded, not caring.

“Yes, well, I had to pay for the photography academy somehow,” you explained with that same amused tone, which calmed down when you saw her confused and with an intriguing face. “Once a man from a clothing brand came and well, it is known that he found me attractive enough for the job.”

“A man? What man?” Donna asked abruptly, you couldn't tell if she was curious or annoyed.

“Well, one man...” You whispered, studying her movements. “Bah, it doesn't matter, that's part of my past.”

“It matters, who was that stronzo?” She asked, with a dark and worried tone. You should already know that your past, like lovers and relationships, was a completely forbidden topic in that house.

“Hey, don't worry, Donna, he was just a businessman,” you said, moving your hands to calm her increased, nervous breathing. “It's not a dark thing at all, I promise you. I just let them to take photos with new clothes, or things like that.”

“What things?” She asked, still with distrust in her voice.

“You know what? I better show you, I still have my photo book,” you said, patting your knees and walking towards the room.

Everything that had to do with the modern world aroused a certain curiosity in the lady in black, but also jealousy, a lot of jealousy. You couldn't blame her for being possessive, not after knowing her past. Maybe you thought it was a good idea to show her what you did when you modeled.

“Come, sit here,” you said, indicating the woman to come to your side, while you opened the photo book for the first page.

“It's you,” Donna said, bringing her closer to that photo, a bit provocative one, to be honest.

“Yes, of course, see? I wore clothes that they wanted to promote and they took photos of me, nothing strange,” you said, turning each of the pages slowly, being studied by the lady in black, who couldn't help but smile. “I looked beautiful, huh?”

“So beautiful…” She whispered with a tender smile, running her hand over one of the photos of her. “That dress is interesting. Maybe I can make a similar one for you.”

You nodded curiously, studying her reactions. Everything seemed to be going well, just one more afternoon in which you dedicated yourselves to talking about your past life, to astonish Donna with the world she didn’t know about, and she would never know about, the world you didn't want to return to.

“What is this?” She asked after a few minutes, with her expression changed, showing you a photo that occupied both sides of the book. A photo that even made you blush.

“Oh, well...” You whispered, taking the book and not having an answer that would help her face to relax. “Me, posing, with a dress.”

“That's not a dress, (Y/N), it's more like a long scarf, not even that,” she said angrily, looking at you with an expression that alerted even more jealousy. You had to make an effort to hold back your laughter at the reaction and shook your head.

“No, no, it's a dress, do you see the sleeves?” You said, pointing to a part of the photograph.

“What I'm seeing are your breasts,” Donna responded, without looking at your face, with her eye fixed on that photo, which, yes, was a little too suggestive.

“Oh, they can't be seen at all,” you said, downplaying it. Donna sighed, ignoring your excuses. “They are well covered.”

“I can see them,” she corrected, with a brusque tone. “You say everyone could see these photos?”

“Well, yes,” you said whispering, closing the book and leaving it on the side of the couch, with a shameful smile. “At least during the advertising campaign.”

“The campaign... Let's see if I find out, are you telling me that everyone could see you showing your breasts?” She asked, with an annoyed tone, her chest rising and falling rapidly again.

“Well, not everyone…” You said, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Only those who passed by the bus stop on line 4, those who bought fashion magazines, those who went to a hairdresser, those who…”

“Basta,” she said, having a hard time. Unlike you, who was having a lot of fun because of her absurd jealousy.

“Besides, you can't see my breasts, I've already told you,” you said in your defense, feigning anger and crossing your arms. “I don't understand why it bothers you, Donna. You've seen them too... And I know you love them,” you said in a seductive tone, nudging her, making her head turn towards you abruptly, with that childish anger in her look.

“I'm your girlfriend, (Y/N),” she hissed, revealing what you were to her right at that moment. You hadn't thought about it, but you knew that girlfriend wasn’t enough. She was the woman of your life.

“Oh, I see... You're jealous, huh?” You asked with a funny tone, launching yourself at her body to tickle her, which made her laugh, trying to push you away. “How jealous are you…”

“Stop, (Y/N),” she said, holding your hands so they would stop playing with her dress, diluting that funny moment with jealousy. “I don't understand why you had to do something like that. Showing your body to everyone is...”

“It was a temporary job, nothing serious, Donna,” you said calmer, worrying because her jealousy didn't seem to give in to your cuddling.

“It seems serious to me,” the lady in black protested, trying to calm herself down with your little tricks for anxiety. “I don't even want to think about how many people have seen you and…”

“Hey, come on. It's okay,” you said, wrapping your arms around her and rubbing her body to comfort her, something that usually worked. “That's the past.”

“That's what you say, but I don't even want to think about how many people look at those magazines and... (Y/N), they probably masturbated with that photo,” she said with a serious tone. But the words entered your mind causing you to laugh, a laugh that you couldn't contain.

“Masturbated? Donna… Really?” You said laughing, but with a stab of reality hitting you in the back. Well, she could be right and that was… Disturbing.

“I don't see where the fun is. I'm completely serious,” Donna protested, moving away from you to show how offended she was by your laughter.

“Yes, yes, it's just that... It's a very uncharacteristic statement for you,” you explained, letting her know the reason for your amusement. When Donna was nervous, she might say that kind of things. Well, nervous or terribly excited.

“Why? I used to masturbate before I met you. It’s a natural need” she said, still with that abrupt tone. You had to stop laughing or Donna would get really angry and you didn't want that.

“Oh...” You whispered with a different tone, returning to that tireless seduction that your body was asking for. “I see… And would you have done it by looking at that photo?” You asked in her ear, making her body shiver and the blush return to her cheeks.

“Yes, (Y/N),” she said in a barely audible voice, her fists clenched on her knees. “That's why I don't understand how you could...”

She couldn't continue speaking, because your lips crashed against hers abruptly, kissing her wildly, trying to make her passion blind her jealousy, at least a bit.

“I would love to see you doing that...” You whispered, giving her one last kiss and checking that your actions had an effect, making her smile slightly.

“Um, (Y/N), I...” She stammered, fleeing from the caresses you made on her chest, caresses that distracted her from her anger with unprecedented success. Maybe it had been the sight of your barely covered breasts that made her calm down. That excited you, a lot.

But an idea appeared in your head to interrupt that moment, a much better one, one that would dispel the doll maker's jealousy forever, or so you thought.

“Mm, I have an idea, Donna,” you said thoughtfully, making curiosity return to her face.

“What idea?” She asked, moving nervously on the couch, revealing her excitement, trying to hide it in the black fabric of her dress, a detail that you, of course, didn’t overlook.

“What do you think if you do a photo session for me? One just for you...” You proposed, resting your head in your hand and biting your lip as you saw how she played with her dress to hide her enthusiasm.

“A photo session?” The lady asked curiously, frowning, but interested, of course.

“Uh-huh,” you stated, taking her hand so she would stop playing with the black fabric and you could caress her. “One that only you can look at…”

“Only me...” She sighed with a smile, intertwining your fingers.

She seemed to think about it for a few seconds, but, after that time, she nodded profusely, giving you her approval.

“Wait, I'm going to get the camera,” you said amused, running towards the elevator stopping at the last moment to pick up your old modeling album with an amused expression. “I'll take this, to avoid temptations...” You joked, calming her protest at your inappropriate comment with a kiss on the cheek.

Well, at least you had managed to solve the jealousy problem and the idea sounded quite... Funny in your head, well, also in your head.

“Say cheese,” you said jokingly, shooting a photo towards the couch, catching Donna off guard, almost blinding her with the flash.

“Don't do that, (Y/N)” she protested, rubbing her eye while you laughed in amusement, looking at the result on the small screen.

“Oh, look how pretty you are...” You said, ignoring her complaints and showing her that improvised photo. Her natural expression was truly worthy of one of your favorite works, of course.

Donna leaned in to look at herself, and she stepped back immediately, shaking her head.

“No, I'm horrible,” she said, with that tone that betrayed nervousness, the fierce attack of her complexes again. You caressed her cheek, forcing her to look at you.

“You're beautiful, Donna, the camera doesn't lie,” you said softly, placing your lips on hers.

“But you do,” she said, ignoring your compliment, looking askance at that improvised photo. “I could never be a model like you. Not with my hideous face.”

“Oh, come on, Donna... You know you're beautiful, you know it, I know you know it,” you said, relaxing a bit, wiping away a tear that was slowly running down her cheek.

“I know you don't think that way but... Thank you,” she whispered, closing her eye due to your caresses, resting her hand on yours, squeezing it against her skin. You smiled, kissing her again, not insisting on making her complexes disappear. You had your whole life to get it.

“I have to make some room on the memory card... I took a lot of photos when I arrived at the village,” you commented, ignoring that conversation, which was getting really sad. “Oh, what the…? Angie!”

You shouted to the doll as you flipped through photo after photo, showing the irreverent puppet posing comically in many of them. What a session she had given herself.

“What do you want, stupid stranger?” The doll Asked, running towards you in a graceful and fast manner, climbing into the lap of her owner.

“Have you been playing with the camera?” You asked, ignoring her contempt. You would always be a threat to Donna, Angie would never like you, or so you thought.

“No,” she responded childishly, earning a suspicious look from her owner. You blinked in disbelief, turning the camera towards her.

“What is this?” You asked, going through the photos that the doll had taken one by one, making her laugh with a sinister laugh.

“Mmm, it looks like me,” the doll murmured, making you roll your eyes, with a severe pose, reminding yourself of your parents when you did something wrong.

“Yes, yes... What have I told you about touching my stuff?” You protested, sighing. “You could have broken it.”

-But I haven't... Look, Donna, this photo is great, don't you think? It's me, with me, and with you...” the doll said, ignoring your scolding, pointing to one of the photos that had Angie posing next to the portrait on the stairs.

Donna smiled, looking at you amused. You were incapable of getting as angry as you wanted.

“Wonderful, Angie, you are quite an artist,” you mocked, trying not to laugh to emphasize your annoyance. “Although I have to admit that I'm surprised that you've learned to handle the camera that well,” you said, more to yourself than to her. Angie jumped mockingly, pleased by your admiration.

“It's easy, stupid, you just have to hit that button,” she said, pressing the camera trigger and blinding you with the flash.

“Oh, shit...” You said closing your eyes and listening to the puppet laughing as she cowardly ran away from you. “Damn…”

“Are you okay, tesoro?” Donna asked, with a hand on her mouth that prevented you from seeing she was laughing. Laughing at you, of course.

“Yes, I... Are you laughing at me, Donna?” You asked amused, blinking to eliminate the lights that formed your eyes after that flash.

“No,” she said with the doll's fake tone, something that made you sigh with tenderness.

“Well, well, we'll see if you laugh so much after the photos you're going to take of me...” You sighed, getting up from the couch.

“But, but I don't know how to use that device,” she protested, allowing herself to be dragged towards the elevator.

“If Angie could do it, so can you... Come on, I have a lot of ideas...”

It took you a while, but you finally managed to make an improvised photography set. The place chosen was the doll workshop, one of the bleakest parts of the house, but artistically perfect. All those wooden limbs hanging from the ceiling and its stone walls and floor made it an ideal place for that private session, one that you were eager to begin.

“Just a bit more...” You said, giving instructions to the brunette to move a wooden table, which you would desecrate with your sensual poses “Perfect, leave it there.”

Donna sighed, unable to hide the desire she had for those photos, for that gift for her, just for her.

“Come,” you said, gesturing towards the tripod where you had placed your camera, pointing it at the middle of the room. The lady in black approached slowly, studying that curious device. “Look, Donna, you can see what you are going to photograph through this gap here. Come on, take a look.”

The lady obeyed nervously, looking into the camera and smiling afterwards, letting you know that she understood you.

“Whatever appears here will be seen later on that screen, right?” She asked curious. You nodded.

“Yes, but don't use it as a reference, the light could deceive you. Okay, then you keep the lens centered and put your finger on the button, like this,” you said, taking her hand and gently placing her finger on the button, making the lens move. “You see? You have to press it softly first to get it to focus, otherwise it will be blurry.”

“Oh, it seems complicated,” Donna whispered, checking what was in front of the camera and then above it.

“It's not, trust me. You'll do it great...” You said, patting her on the back and heading towards the suitcase you brought with you, choosing what your first item of clothing was going to be. “If you can’t, I can tell Angie to do it…”

“No,” she said abruptly. “I can do it.”

You nodded with a smile. Naturally, that was the answer you expected.

“Well, then... How about this one to start?” You said, displaying that red and provocative dress that aroused so much jealousy in the brunette.

“(Y/N)...” She hissed, annoyed by your choice.

“You don’t like it? My breasts can be seen with it...” You hummed, waving the garment comically until a shy smile formed on her face as she shook her head.

“Shut up and put it on,” Donna ordered, hiding her embarrassment with the camera while you played with the red fabric, making it look even more provocative.

Your modeling days were still evident in your actions, posing naturally under her attentive gaze, perhaps too attentive. You posed in a much more provocative way, making her hands shake when taking the photographs.

It was funny, very funny, especially when it came to raising a bare leg towards the table, or kneeling on it in a seductive pose, which made Donna have to clear her throat several times to focus.

After that dress, successive combinations of the clothes you brought to the village came: lace bras, negligees, your entire wardrobe being captured by the camera lens, as well as by the eye of Lady Beneviento, who seemed to enjoy that seductive vision, the provocative poses and the increasingly obvious lack of clothes.

“You like them?” The brunette asked after a fun and exciting time. You flipped through the photos and nodded in surprise. They were good, much better than you thought. Luckily, none of them would ever leave that house.

“Sure, it's a good job, Donna,” you said, hugging her waist from behind, making her laugh pleased. “Besides, they are all for you.”

“Yes, that's the best...” she sighed, looking carefully at the places of your naked skin, which you exposed on purpose.

“Wait, the best is yet to come,” you said amused, moving away from her and leaving the workshop.

“(Y/N)? Where are you going?” Donna asked, confused by your sudden escape.

You ran to the bedroom, eagerly looking for that piece of clothing you wanted to use on a crazy idea in your head, an idea that presented itself in the middle of that improvised session.

“Can I use it?” You asked, entering the workshop again and carrying Donna's black veil in your hand, that veil with which she covered her face long ago, and with which she continued to do so with anyone that wasn’t you.

“Um, yes, but... What do you want it for?” She asked confused, watching how you played with the black fabric in your hands.

“Well, I've thought that I would like a couple of photos with it on, if you don't mind, of course,” you explained, looking at that fabric, looking for the correct way to put it on.

“Fi, fine,” the lady in black murmured turning it over, and placing it on your head making you laugh with amusement.

“How can you see anything with this thing?” You joked, reaching out to touch her while you tried to make out something with your eyes. “Donna? Who turned off the light?”

“Stop fooling around and stand there, tesoro,” she said, amused, pushing you towards the table, which you prevented by digging your feet into the floor.

“Wait, wait... I'm not ready,” you whispered in her ear, moving away from her and pulling at the tie that kept one of your dresses stuck to your body. “I want you to take some photos of me with the veil on...”

“Yes, you already said that,” she said, confused, interrupted by a finger between her lips.

“Just with the veil on,” you whispered, slurring your words as the clothing covering you fell to the stone floor, leaving Donna in the same material, looking at you up and down, checking that during your escape to the bedroom, your underwear also disappeared.

“I think you like the idea, don't you?” You whispered again, biting her earlobe and running your hands over her body, caressing the incipient bulge in the black fabric of her dress.

She nodded nervously, closing her eyes at your fleeting touch, one that disappeared at the same time you walked away from her, leaning on the wooden table.

“Come on, move, Donna.  Shoot,” you said seductively, making Donna blink and shake her head, her entire body trembling from the view she had.

Her attitude was much more nervous than before, taking her time with each photograph. You played with your body, opening your legs slightly, moving the fabric away from your face to show how you were biting your lip. It was a vision too erotic for Donna, who could not bear more than a dozen photographs.

“Wait, (Y/N),” she said stuttering, making you laugh and get off the table where you were kneeling, pushing the veil away from your face again.

“I hope you captured these last ones well, Donna, I think they're going to be your favorites,” you joked, continuing with your sensual movements, moving your hips in an exaggerated way as you walked slowly towards her.

“They definitely are,” the lady said, her voice low, moving away from your naked body, only covered in that black cloth.

“Mm, this photo session has warmed me up,” you murmured, removing the veil from your face and playing with it in your hands, surrounding the neck of the brunette with it. Donna was receding more and more. “Where are you going, my love?”

“Um, I...” She stammered, unable to speak clearly, with a marked and suggestive accent as she was dragged by her own veil towards your naked body.

“You're hot too, huh?” You asked on her lips, touching them but without kissing them, taking advantage of that erotic moment that you were not going to lose. “Shall we take a break, Donna?”

She nodded, unable to resist the temptation of kissing you in a hot, wet way, bringing her body closer to yours, making her arousal more than evident, something that made you moan in anticipation.

“I want to take you, (Y/N),” she whispered in your ear, making your entire body tremble in satisfaction from that statement. You smiled and raised an eyebrow, holding her gaze and pulling the black fabric closer.

“Mm yes, it could be a good break,” you said, removing the veil from her neck and walking towards the table, opening your legs again, shiny with excitement, making the humidity between them more than evident, running a finger through your folds under her attentive gaze and slow steps.

“Wait,” she said, approaching, but with something in her eye that made her reveal a hidden intention. “Put it on again, please,” she whispered, taking the piece of black cloth that was still in your hands and putting it back on your head, to which you frowned and laughed amused.

“Oh, fine...” You whispered, pulling on her waist, with the black fabric clouding your vision, but not your senses, which were beginning to burn with the kisses that Donna began to place on your neck. “Wow, do you like that?”

Donna didn't speak, nor did she nod. She simply caressed your face beneath her veil, letting you know her response as she played with the buttons of her dress.

You gasped at her seductive, burning touch, at how her hands ran over your bare skin, at how they covered your breasts while her mouth traveled down your neck and her body rocked against yours.

You laughed, closing your eyes, noticing how her hand moved the fabric away so her lips could devour yours for a few moments while her fingers played with your nipples and her obvious erection rubbed against your body.

“Mm, Donna...” You murmured, opening her dress so her torso was revealed to you, so her pale skin would send shivers through your body.

“Shh, silenzio,” she whispered, laughing sinisterly, squeezing one of your breasts with subtle strength, which made you gasp with pleasure and move your hips against her body. “They are mine, you understand?” She asked. “Just nod.”

You obeyed, curious about that question, about that attitude so out of the ordinary for Donna.

“Only mine, (Y/N)...” She sighed again, joining the movements of your body as her own bra gave way in your skillful and mischievous hands, hands that she grabbed immediately. “No, no, tesoro…”

“I'm yours?” You asked, defying her order to keep you quiet, pushing aside her veil so you could shamelessly capture her lips, making her move away, placing her hands on your chest.

“Mine, (Y/N),” she responded, slowly turning you around and leaning over the wooden table, leaving you completely exposed to her desires, to her body's desire to dominate yours, to make it hers, again.

“Very well, then make me yours,” you said amused, separating your legs, making her gasp at the exciting vision she had before her. Your face was still covered by that black cloth, which she placed in such a way that it wouldn't move, before leaning down to your ear and pressing her shaft against your wetness, now free of her underwear.

“Don't take it off, (Y/N)...” Donna whispered softly as her hands ran down your back, down your legs, until one of her fingers ran through your wet folds, making you moan and nod, moving your legs.

Her caresses were slow, almost like a small warning of what was to come. The wetness that permeated her fingers was enough to make her moan as well. The position you were in and the veil prevented you from seeing her face. You knew she was smiling, you knew she had that smile.

“Shh, stay still,” she told you, lowering your back so it leaned on the table while her finger played with your entrance, with your clit, moving in circles so your hips demanded a little more contact, just a little more.

Her hot commands entered your ears like a current of warm air, causing your legs to spread even further and her finger to slide inside of you slowly, making your world spin, making you fervently desire more contact, more pleasure, more Donna.

“Stop playing with me,” you protested, amused, feeling her finger curl inside of you, exploring your body, getting your walls used to the contact.

“I like to play with you,” she hissed, raising your back so she could kiss you on your neck and continue dancing with your body.

“Donna, don't make me suffer,” you begged, clenching your fists on the table as her finger disappeared from your body and her hands roamed your chest from behind, squeezing your breasts, claiming them as hers.

“Okay...” She sighed, leaving that game aside and approaching you, placing her shaft at your entrance but just playing with it, running through your folds in a hot and wet caress.

You moaned at the contact, at her erection caressing your body, making you claim her to be inside of you with a few discreet movements of your hips.

“Donna,” you said with a more serious tone, hitting the table with one of your fists, looking at her through the sides of the veil. “Please…”

She sighed, but she didn't say anything. She simply complied with your wishes, slowly inserting the tip, letting your body adjust to hers. You moaned in pleasure, noticing how your walls stretched, hugging her body in a terribly exciting way.

“Am I hurting you?” She asked by surprise at your hisses of pleasure. Donna always will be the kind innocent woman in black. She couldn't be any other way.

“No, no, move, please,” you said, moaning with pleasure when she was completely in you, sliding along your wet and eager insides.

She obeyed your request slowly also beginning to moan at the sensation, gently grabbing your hips to maintain a stable rhythm, but it couldn't help but be anxious, desperate.

The wooden table creaked under your movements, adding to the wet sounds of your improvised lustful act, turning that sinister room into the warmest one ever, the most obscene ever.

“You're so wet, (Y/N)...” Donna whispered in an amused tone, panting as she moved inside of you, alternating strong thrusts with weaker, more intense ones. Just the way you liked it. That was just for you. “Did you like posing for me?”

You smiled, grabbing the edge of the table to keep from losing your balance, moving your hips to match her thrusts, to feel how your walls hugged her erection, how they made it slide inside and almost out of you.

“Mmm, yes, I love posing for you,” you said almost without thinking, overwhelmed by pleasure, by all the sensations you had experienced, by the relief you felt between your legs and by the excitement that wearing that veil caused you.

“I see...” She murmured, laughing amusedly as she leaned over you, reaffirming her control, reaffirming that you were hers, reaffirming that she was inside of you and you, even if you wanted to, couldn't get away. You didn't want to either.

“Donna, fuck... I'm, I'm close,” you moaned with a growl, noticing how your body tensed little by little, how the pleasure clouded your vision much more than the black veil.

“You're rude, (Y/N)” she said, amused, giving you a small spank on one of your buttocks, which was the spark your body needed to arch completely, letting yourself be carried away by the waves of pleasure from your orgasm. A scandalous one, probably the most scandalous one you had ever had.

Donna held you tightly so she could continue moving inside of you, this time much faster, affirming with her actions how close she was to possessing you again. It didn't take long to happen, causing the heat to accompany your orgasm with her wet caresses, making you full of her again.

The lady sighed, letting herself fall onto your back, staying very close to you, inside of you as her body relaxed, enjoying the obscene wetness that dripped between your legs.

Exhausted, you turned around, pushing the black fabric away with one hand while you kissed her, as long as you owed her that love that you used to give her in those situations. Although this time, she didn't seem to feel insecure at all.

“I love you,” she said, returning to her being, returning to being the shy and affectionate Donna that a lust caused by you had hidden for a moment.

You took off the veil, passing it back around her neck and pulling it, looking at her with a loving and satisfied expression at the same time.

“Me too...” You sighed, returning her affection with a slow, loving and tender kiss, far from the previous actions. “Hey, I've been thinking...”

“What?” She asked curiously, burying her head in your shoulder, letting herself be embraced by your protective arms.

“I would really like to take some photos of you with the veil on too, just with the veil on...”

[alyrasturnz]

PETER {{ matt sturniolo }}

— part 1

summary — you find yourself grappling with the passage of three long years since the promise was made, yet the anticipated return remains elusive, casting a shadow of uncertainty over your heart and mind. the lingering question of whether he will ever fulfill his sweet nothings linger like haunting whispers in your thoughts

warnings :: mentions of alcohol , gore mentioned if you squint

— angst!

a/n ,, first fanfic ever!!!! idk how to feel 😭

part 2

its the gut wrenching feeling of your heart splintering into myriad fragments, tears meandering down your visage in intricate rivulets, reminiscent of the essence of your being seeping from your inert vessel.

the very last breath relinquishing from the depths of your being, mirroring the conclusive caress you shall ever grace upon his lips. that’s how it felt like. the sensation mirrored the cold embrace of mortality itself.

it was akin to the feeling of parting ways with someone you never intended to depart from. it felt as though a fragment of your essence had vanished, leaving behind only the visceral remnants seeping from the core of your existence.

it was as if existence itself had become an illusion, a mere facade of vitality. though your physical form remained animated, with a pulsing heart and functioning lungs, the essence of life seemed to elude you. lying motionless in your bed, gaze fixed upon the ceiling, devoid of movement or cogitation, a silent observer of your own subdued presence.

the third anniversary of your separation from matt had arrived. his solemn vow to mature and seek you out had dissolved into the void, his hollow promises echoing like a haunting melody, draining every ounce of hope from the depths of your soul.

you held onto his words like precious gems, trusting his assurances that the fault lay not with you, but with the passage of time. every pledge he made, every vow he uttered, you embraced with unwavering faith, convinced that time alone stood as the sole adversary between you.

he said it was just goodbye for now.

you've journeyed through countless seasons, yet the grip of the past refuses to loosen its hold on you. in the depths of your contemplation, you ponder whether he remains the enigmatic mind reader, the innate master of stealing the spotlight in every scene.

In the intricate dance of fate, blame never found its place upon his shoulders. the capricious goddess of timing, with her whimsical ways, stood as the true adversary. despite your earnest efforts beneath the shared moon, the cruel revelation dawned upon you that you existed in separate galaxies, destined to traverse divergent paths.

you stood as a silent witness to his triumphs, beholding the realization of every aspiration he had shared with you, every dream that had ignited his soul since childhood.

you shield the truth of your anticipation with unwavering resolve, never to divulge, while the flickering flame of hope persists, casting its glow upon the passage of time.

you harbored a mix of longing and anger towards him, a tumultuous blend of emotions swirling within you like a raging tempest whenever his memory surfaced. despite his assurance of a temporary farewell, absolution never found its place upon him.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

“it doesn’t have to be like this, matt,” your tear-filled eyes beseeched earnestly. “please. let’s just try”

“we tried. you tried, i tried. we've given our all, but, the pieces do not align," matt exhaled heavily, his head shaking in resignation. “it’s not working, y/n.”

the weight of his words struck you like a thunderbolt, sending a sharp pang reverberating through the chambers of your heart. the sensation of your heart fracturing into countless shards mirrored the tears cascading down your cheeks, painting a portrait of profound sorrow and emotional tumult.

“so what? you're calling it off?” you whispered softly, the words hanging in the air like a delicate veil of uncertainty. the weight of those few syllables carried a profound sense of finality, a moment frozen in time where the echoes of your voice seemed to reverberate with unspoken emotions, leaving a lingering question mark in the stillness of the room.

“no, I'm not," matt declared, his gaze meeting yours as he drew nearer. “it’s just goodbye for now. i promise, y/n, i’ll seek you out when the time is right."

it was an unavoidable outcome. prior to embarking on this relationship, he forewarned you of the potential unfolding of events in this manner. his personal aspirations demanded his undivided attention, leaving scant remnants for you.

you were entangled in a toxic web, yet your yearning for him was insatiable. his presence became as vital to you as the air you breathe, an indispensable necessity for your very existence. each breath you took felt incomplete without him, your lungs aching for his essence as your heart echoed its longing for him.

“we'll cross paths again?” you inquired, the tremor in your voice betraying the depth of your emotions, tears cascading down your cheeks like a relentless stream of sorrow.

“yes,” matt murmured, his tone laced with a sense of urgency, drawing you close as he captured your lips in a fervent embrace. “when we can handle it. when we're ready. when theres nothing in the way and your well-being reigns as the sole focus."

tears cascaded down your face, mingling with his own, as you reunited your lips once more in a poignant connection.

you withdrew, a profound stillness enveloping the room, before fixing your gaze upon him for a final moment. tenderly cradling his face in your hand, he surrendered to the moment, closing his eyes in quiet surrender.

his gaze met yours, a silent exchange that conveyed volumes beyond the reach of words. with a faint smile, you nodded in understanding before gracefully stepping away, leaving unspoken sentiments lingering in the air.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

the aroma of alcohol saturated your senses, the vessel cradled in your hands, your vision weighed down by its effects, while the symphony of the bar's music danced subtly in the background, adding layers to the ambiance.

the complexity of the situation deepened as you grappled with the internal conflict of straying from your usual habits, recognizing the necessity to purge his lingering presence from your thoughts.

the intricate web of circumstances entwined around you as your companions coerced you into this night out, knowing your reluctance to venture forth since matt.

the pulsating club scene unfolded before you, your friends immersed in the chaotic dance of fleeting connections, either lost in the rhythm with unfamiliar partners on the dance floor or ensconced in the front seat of a stranger’s car

the strands of hair gently tucked behind your ears, your eyes shutting in contemplation, followed by a subtle shake of your head, signifying a moment of introspection amidst the chaos surrounding you.

amidst the tangled threads of emotions, you grapple with the enigma that is the concept of one-night stands, questioning the motives behind the players who toy with hearts like pieces on a board. despite your unwavering belief in love, the complexities of this generation make it a Herculean task to hold onto that belief with unwavering faith.

matt thought the same.

he unveiled to you a realm of love so profound, so uniquely tailored, that it transcended the boundaries of conventional understanding. through his actions, he gently nudged you towards the realization that perhaps your musings on love were not mere illusions but rather fragments of a deeper truth waiting to be unveiled.

in the labyrinth of your emotions, a fear lingers like a shadow, whispering doubts about your ability to bare your soul to another as you did with matt. the depth of your love for him resonates with such intensity that you find yourself contemplating the notion of offering your very heart, a symbol of your devotion, should he ever seek it.

the ache of his absence reverberates through the very core of your being, a poignant reminder of the profound connection you shared with him that remains unmatched by any other relationship in your life.

exhaling a deep sigh, you gently set the glass upon the polished bar counter, the clink barely audible over the din of the room, before rising gracefully and proceeding deeper into the labyrinthine depths of the bustling bar.

you've downed one too many, the liquid courage coursing through your veins, blurring the edges of reality as you navigate the labyrinth of intoxication and self-reflection.

“y/n?”

[writersblockiskillingme]

that’s okay, I’ll change my request from this: Sejanus x coriolanus angst where instead of Sejanus being hanged he finds out coryo betrayed him in the worst way possible (kind of like a hurt no comfort thing but Sejanus is hurt because coryo betrayed him) to Sejanus x reader. Could it be the same concept but instead of character on character is Sejanus with reader please?

Betrayal | Sejanus Plinth

Pairing: Sejanus Plinth x fem!reader

Summary: After Coriolanus betrayed him once again, he seeks comfort from the person that will forever be by his side.

Warning/s: angst, hurt/somfort, heartbreak, Coryo is a warning itself, sadness, betrayal, revenge, a bit of fluff (just a bit), possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: This took way to long, I'm sorry. Enjoy.

The air in the Capitol was thick with tension, and Sejanus Plinth felt it wrap around him like a suffocating shroud. Coriolanus Snow, his once-trusted friend, had betrayed him in the worst way possible. The details were etched into Sejanus's mind, the whispered conversations, the clandestine meetings, the secrets that had unraveled their bond.

"Sejanus." Coriolanus had said, his voice honeyed and treacherous. "This is for the greater good. For our future."

But Sejanus knew better.

The greater good was a veil for ambition, and Coriolanus had torn it away to reveal the darkness beneath. He had sold out their cause, their shared dreams, for power and privilege. And in doing so, he had shattered Sejanus's heart.

The night after the betrayal, Sejanus wandered the empty streets of the Capitol. The moon hung low, casting shadows on the cobblestones. He felt lost, adrift in a sea of broken promises. The weight of it threatened to crush him.

And then he saw you.

You stood there, a beacon of warmth in the cold night. Your eyes met his and something shifted within him. You were a fellow rebel, a fighter who had also tasted betrayal. Your presence was a balm to his wounded soul.

"Sejanus." you said softly, reaching out to touch his cheek. "I'm here."

He didn't need to say anything. You understood. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. The tears he had held back spilled over, and you held him tighter. In that moment, Sejanus realized that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope.

°

Days turned into weeks and Sejanus sought solace in your company. You didn't ask questions, didn't demand explanations. Instead, you listened. You held him when the nightmares came, when the memories of Coriolanus's betrayal clawed at his mind.

"Why?" Sejanus whispered one night, his fingers tracing the scars on your skin. "Why did he do it?"

You didn't have an answer. But you stayed with him, your heartbeat a steady rhythm against his chest. Sometimes, comfort came not in words, but in shared silence. You were his refuge, the one who didn't judge, who didn't expect him to be anything other than broken.

°

As the rebellion gathered strength, Sejanus found purpose once more. He fought alongside you, fueled by anger and determination. But he never forgot Coriolanus's face, the face of betrayal. The whispers in the shadows haunted him, but you were there to chase them away.

"We'll bring him down." you promised one night, your fingers laced with his. "Together."

And so, you both plotted. Secrets exchanged, plans made. Sejanus knew that revenge wouldn't heal his heart, but it was a start. Coriolanus would pay for what he had done.

°

When the day of reckoning arrived, Sejanus faced Coriolanus across the battlefield. Their eyes locked and Sejanus saw regret in Coriolanus's gaze. But it was too late. The damage was done.

"Sejanus." Coriolanus said, his voice raw. "I'm sorry."

Sejanus raised his sword.

"Sorry won't change anything."

And then it was over. Coriolanus fell, defeated. But Sejanus didn't feel triumph. He felt hollow, empty. Revenge hadn't filled the void. Only you could do that.

°

In the aftermath, you found Sejanus sitting alone, staring at the horizon. The Capitol was in chaos, but he didn't care. You sat beside him, your presence a lifeline.

"I thought revenge would heal me." Sejanus admitted. "But it didn't."

"Love will." you said, your fingers entwined with his. "Love and time."

And so, in the ruins of betrayal, something new blossomed. Whispers of love, fragile and tentative. Sejanus leaned into your touch, and for the first time, he dared to hope.

->

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TAGLIST

@randomgurl2326 @caroline-books @hellonheels-x @jehjehstyle @runningfrom2am @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[talonabraxas]

Veil upon Veil you hide The well-spring of the Infinite, The blue that delights, Pierces the heart, And produces a sapphire jewel.

Celestial Deity Talon Abraxas

"The light of the sun is the source of the colour we see reflected in the world. It begins in gamma rays whose wavelengths are a million times too short to see. By a process of absorption and re-emission throughout the sun's body, these spread out into longer wavelengths which travel through space and are further altered by interaction with the atmosphere. If there are no dusts or gases in the heavens, the sky appears black, as it does ten miles out from the earth's surface where the atmosphere thins out almost to the vanishing point." The old man adjusted himself in the chair and continued: "The colour of the sky, child, is closely associated with the way light, falling on matter, is scattered in all directions. The amount of scattered light is greater for shorter blue wavelengths than for longer red ones." Here the learned mariner became more technical and spoke slowly, using his hands to explain. "The intensity of scattered light is inversely proportional to the fourth power of the wavelength. Because of this, blue light loses more energy than red and its scattering is dependent upon low atmospheric content. In the atmosphere of the earth, molecules of gases scatter the blue waves in all directions while the red waves are absorbed, causing the sky to appear blue. The more rarefied the air, the greater the scattering of these short waves and the deeper the colour of blue. But when there is considerable dust or moisture in the air, the layers of particles scatter the longer red waves and cause the sky to become whiter. The red and blue light mixes to produce the whitened sky so common in higher latitudes where moisture particles hang in the air. So the dust rising in a hot, dry clime bleaches out the heavens until a heavy rain settles the earth and leaves behind it a deep saturated blue. Men long for that blue, child. They always dream of travelling south into the azure intensity that has inspired poets and painters for countless years. So thus they gaze out over the horizon as you do, trying to penetrate its vastness."

“Blue color is everlastingly appointed by the deity to be a source of delight.” — John Ruskin

Appointed by the Deity, it is the abode of the gods, their intrinsic attribute and celestial surrounding. It is the colour of the Queen of Heaven and the feminine principle of the Great Deep. It veils the impenetrable void of chaos and yet recedes into its folded mystery. It is the colour of the cloak of Hera and Zeus and clings to Diana's fleet, forested shape. It is reflected in the blue robes once worn by priests at the grave and by the Levites who called their garb the livery of heaven. 'The Blue' is a synonym for heaven and all that is divine. In the darkened depths of its expanse lies Nature's solitude, wrapped in a cold noumenal glow whose purity is incomparable. By its grace, the sea takes on its colour and draws the ocean of space into the world, but the purity of 'the Blue' remains aloft to be viewed from mountain tops on perfectly clear and blessed days.

[mayakessarin]

"The severed dreams of the titans were the original source of The Taint(Sorry, the Blight) " bwuh. Alright. Lets go through this. -so, there was nothing to the myth of Andruil bringing it back from the void? Okay... -the titans were effectively made tranquil by the Evanuris, yes? That state that famously stops the subject from dreaming??? -what are these severed dreams, then? The game talks about them as a rather tangible thing. -and on that note--they're being locked away by the veil? What? You locked water in the ocean? Sure, why not. -Solas had his plan for the Evanuris when the veil came down, but if we take the above idea at face value, did he ever suggest a plan for dealing with those dreams(again, ???) being released? -running with that premise: So the veil weakening would then lead to the taint leaking out, right? So why did nothing happen at the breach? (I guess the red lyrium there? maybe? This game didn't expand on the nature of red lyrium in the way I expected it to) Why isn't there blight in Kirkwall's sewers? Why doesn't blood magic have that risk? Do you see the problem? -if the titan's severed dreams are the source of the whole problem, how does that track with time? Why do the blights start in 800 TE?

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ “Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene” — Geto Suguru

Synopsis: For money and power, Suguru would do a lot, but for a love he didn’t want? Somehow, he finds himself bending even the strongest of ideals. Five years ago he’d saved a monkey—not actually processing the estranged entanglement that would lead him to.

— word count: 8.7k

— A/n: I wouldn’t be a thorough Suguru fucker if I didn’t write cult Geto and just something I (we) deserved<;3

— New Taglist: since the last one got confusing, here’s a new one babies&lt;3

— Warnings: smut!!MDNI!!Afab! Reader x Suguru; use of religious themes; minor death; power play; slight gore; impact play; sub-dom dynamics; degradation; humiliation; impact play (fem receiving); oral (m! And f! Receiving); reader is mostly referred to as a female; complicated storyline; mentions of blood

The first bell.

The second bell.

Then the third.

Married.

~5 years ago~

The words echoed in your head, over and over and over and over—it hurt.

His hands were soft as they held yours, he led you slow, your father’s did.

The white veil that you’d spent hours to decide upon, the one you would never care about—it swept beside you, gasps escaping the lips of many as you walked out. And there, there your eyes met his.

Poised he stood, white hair slicked back—nothing like those superficial memories his Servants had sung to you about, nothing like the glimpses you’d caught of him. This man, the one on your altar—that was Suguru Geto.

Not the Geto-Sama you’d heard of, the ones who was a deity to all- a pretty hand fared upon those who sought him blindly; not the Curse user Geto, the fugitive you recognised him to be, the one you hated—no.

None of that.

This was Suguru Geto—your husband to be.

You hadn’t assumed your wedding to be a fairytale—in all honesty, you hadn’t assumed anything at all. But the heart of the little girl in you wept, openly so, when the worn upon thin line of a supposed smile didn’t do so much as even cast a shadow upon you. Not to be perceived wrong, however—Suguru certainly had grinned and smirked, laughed and tickled himself senseless—perhaps so to forget this ordeal—to forget you.

Eyes moist, a tear he did let go off—superficial it was, you knew it, but a saint Suguru Geto would be deemed the next day in the whispers of his followers, especially the ones who envied to be you.

Don’t get me wrong, congratulated by everyone—he did show joy, in some meaning of the word, just not the way you hoped—or even supposed for that matter.

Yours was never meant to be that perfect wedding, not at the core of it—you knew that from day one of the sequenced wedding but then—just something, a little dream and heart crushed grudgingly when you realized it wouldn’t be your husband who cried the moment he set his eyes on his bride—it wouldn’t be you telling those cute stories about your wedding day.

It wouldn’t be you—it was normal you’d heard, for grooms to be overwhelmed in their weddings- the thought of spending a forever with his bride, the supposed memories flooding their mind—but it wouldn’t be for you. He stood there with hands behind him, eyes awaiting your presence still.

A smile he held—empty as you joined him—eyes were very telling your father had preached, never once had you found him to be wrong.

His hands felt cold as you held them—cold like the storm his warm hands had saved your family from, colder still somehow was his presence, then and now. And you realized, your heart — to what you had thought to be a void, trained so — breaking as you realized that the marriage was a cage to him as much as you. Neither happy—he wasn’t happy within your presence, or anyone else’s.

Pathetic.

But again, did it truly matter?

The wedding had begun— officiated, soon your “I do”s would slip, the wedding couldn’t be stopped now, not ever.

And in that moment your eyes flickered to your own mother—she stood regal.

Embroidery she’d fought into you, cooking and baking, sewing a skill she’d made you own too—pity she couldn’t teach you controlling your emotions—pity you despised all that was your influence.

Your eyes managed to flicker onto him—saintly, your brain mused—your heart couldn’t help but agree. And those saintly features held an ugly heart you told yourself, solace to a lonesome mind.

“Suguru, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect Y/N, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”

When he took a moment to answer with a blank gaze, you could feel tiny pricks being sent straight to your heart. Just a mere glance at his stolid mien was enough for you to believe that he was going to call off the wedding and run away—mayhaps you wanted that, mayhaps, you didn’t.

What else could you expect?

He clearly didn’t want this, understandable was the fact. It wouldn’t surprise you if he took a step back and announced that he couldn’t go on in making an oath to offer the rest of his life with you. That he would rather get out of this hell hole and be somewhere else than to proclaim a love that was being forced out of him.

But it was his choosing, was it not? And mayhaps, yours.

The cult leader had chosen you, and in the process, you—him.

He’d watched you a while, days, you knew of his lingering gaze—respectful then, disgusting now.

“I do,” he professed, despite the inner turmoil that plagued his head.

You sighed—soft.

“Y/n, do you promise to love, honor and cherish and protect Suguru, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?”

You remembered the day clearly—father had knocked once on your once—a new found privacy in your sheltered house was the first sign.

A wide smile—“He’s chosen you.”

Your heart sunk.

He’d chosen you.

Your eyes were quick—a glance here and there and everywhere—the pause was heavy; you watched your father’s nod of encouragement—your mother’s sharp eyes—his daughters’ smile, innocent - his followers’ sip of champagne—your sister’s eyes were hazy; his best man’s tipsy.

You couldn’t say no—“I do,”

“Bride and Groom, you have heard the words of love and marriage, have exchanged your vows and made your promises, and celebrated your union with the giving and receiving of rings. It is at this time that I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declared, “you may now kiss the bride.”

Your eyes widened behind your veil- not your first- the breath hitched as Suguru removed your veil—crystal seemed his eyes, crystal clear was his distaste. He was tall—comical in fact—you tip toed slight, he leaned in a bit—the kiss was warm, chill, foreign. His hand rested upon your cheek, a stroke—a pull, brief.

Your eyes watched as he pulled away, a new smile on his lips—an actor he would have proven to be—or, as you knew, he was.

A million thoughts clouded you and him—known to only the two of you—marriage worked quick in that sense you supposed, your mother and sister were perhaps right. But when all was said and done—the marriage was officiated.

And your eyes met then—a thought passed between you and your husband—stuck together—sincerely, fuck you.

The ride back ‘home’ was tedious, it burnt, it burnt all too much.

“Geto-Sama will prove to be amazing,” the driver yapped yet, all too soon—as he had been for the past anxious hours—time moved slow, slower than the gaze you didn’t dare hold against him.

A soft smile he held, serene as if, “I’m sure he will be,” just as fake a smile you held too—husband and wife—equal footing, equal qualms at the truth you didn’t accept and lies you foretold.

‘Geto-sama’ this and a ‘Geto-sama’ that— the entire reception had been torturous, you hated it—hated the man they chose not to acknowledge—hated the murderer.

All to your liking though, the car finally came to a stop, at your residence—your new home.

-

“You may sleep here,” soft a voice, too cold, however, compared to the gaze he held—it felt welcoming.

You nodded just as quietly, a good wife would never fight, they’d taught you—more important than ever for your life now depended upon so.

“Geto-Sama,” you hated the way it rolled off your tongue so smooth—meant to be, “where will you sleep?” Innocent enough a question and yet the scoff he passed under his breath was all well noticed by you.

“Not to worry you darling,” he smiled softly still, “I wouldn’t ever imagine sleeping with you,” and wrapped in his words lay the tone of condescension—hidden all so beautifully, a small round of hide-and-seek in itself.

Lips pursed, you stared at him—“Alright, drop the act, we’re alone,” the tone itself surprised you—the confidence all the more so, as you bore deep into his eyes, unwavering.

A brow cocked, he passed a smirk well of his own, “So the monkey is capable of thinking huh?”

“To call the bearer of your children a monkey, you should know your kids will be a part of me,” it was desperate really, bringing in the prospect of a future you never wanted for the sake of some respect.

A deep rumble emerged within his chest—chaos, “You think you’ll have such rights? What are you if not worth less than your father’s money?” Your face burnt at his words—hot, embarrassed, it was true.

“A reminder perhaps,” you spoke through clenched teeth—“you were the man who came begging to my father for-”

“-begging? Please,” he scoffed, “and I wanted protection not a whore to be passed around,” his words lay sharp, all so much so that the hilt of his words was enough to penetrate too mayhaps.

“Could have called yourself a celibate, Geto-Sama,” his sharp- yours blunt, impact lay the same with both—regret caused to the other.

“Are you so desperate that you are willing to fight to sleep with a strange man, all so alien to you?” There it lay, that constant lazy smile—the one he never shied to portray to his desperate followers—now, to you.

“A husband,” gritted teeth, you baree, “you are a husband now, accept the fate,” sharp inhale—sharper exhale, you simply despised him.

Annoyance hung loose in the air, an open wound to you both.

“The only fate,” he paused—ears ringing unto the sound of footsteps—his daughters’, “is the one where you’re no more but a mere shadow in my life, monkey,” disgust all so prevalent on a pretty face as his—pity, really.

“So be it,” you nodded, a lick of your lips and a deal on the tongue, “no more a legal wife am i to you,”

“Be glad you could achieve that at all,” and just as quickly the somber mood had shifted to annoyance, it was back too—as the door clasped open, the twins rushing in to meet their new found mother.

Mother—oh just how hilarious the fate’s jokes lay.

A mother—a wife—a woman for his needs.

-

A week.

A week spent in solitude, the white ceiling, a new friendship you’d found, the dark wood flooring your vice as you suffered.

Day in and day out—seconds ticked by, slowly churning out the hours and eyes that lay moist

forever remained so.

You despised it all.

His expanse and his family, his charm and his style, his maids and his followers — his daughters, ah.

Something, perhaps you didn’t hate, that belonged to Geto, did exist.

Innocent smiles, the kind you’d never worn—hefty laughter he provided them with, his pride and his joy—now yours too, mutual a partnership the marriage was.

“Y/n,” they’d murmured excitedly, Nanako had— Mimiko's shy glances and little smiles, just as endearing.

A mother you’d become, how complicated.

But fickle was your happiness, just there and often never at all.

Your heart raced, ears perked up at the voice of approaching footsteps—daughter of Suguru Geto’s best hitman, a little too many tricks lay up your sleeves themselves.

Quick, soft, padded—your servants.

Loud, racy and sudden? His daughters.

Soundless? Suguru.

Thoughts proven none but correct, Suguru did stand bearer of your observation—a frown as always on the beautiful face.

And you wondered just how prettier it could be, if only he were gagged and stuffed aside.

“Get up,” words shuffled fast—frenzied, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

“Why?” Defiance, slight defiance in the form of annoyance presented to him you displayed, little impact but just enough—especially when he would let out a ragged sigh, holding himself back.

“Don't question me, now is not the time.”

Your heart soared giddily at that too—“What? Your blind followers realized your reality huh?”

A sharp gaze, piercing, bore into you.

Dead, at a finger’s flick if he wanted—but then again, he didn’t, he couldn’t.

So he did the next best thing that he’d realized in a week’s worth of time- the little smirk was wiped off quick as he kneeled close to you, so close.

“Shut the fuck up,” a whisper, all too serious, curious, you looked up at him.

“Get up,”

“No.”

Your head turned to the right sharp, a swift slap he’d landed on your cheek—it didn’t hurt,

you’d faced worse after all—but oh how it hurt you.

Apathetic, he stared.

Blankly, you stared back.

A moment of silence, heavy.

“Are you dumb?”

Silence again—you wanted to rip his hair out—“Get up,”

“Why?”

His voice, almost panicked now, it was weird.

A clench of his jaw and a brush of fingers through the hair—“Monkeys like you aren’t safe here, let me take care of it.”

And somehow, it warmed your heart.

“I can fight-”

“-yes and I know you’re hunter as passed down your lineage but shut the fuck up right now,”

Dumbly, you looked—“what is it? Some…” your mouth ran dry, “some attack?”

An unamused chuckle he was quick to let go—“no,” he paused, face reigning back to all his seriousness—“wouldn’t want my pretty wife to suffer,” his words felt fake, maybe they were.

You swallowed hard—“where to?”

“My chambers,”

Your heart sunk and yet you felt a rush of serotonin.

~3 years ago~

“Y/n,” Nanako’s voice dragged, “c’mon we’ll be late!” The constant sound of typing annoyed you—squinting eyes stared at her from a distance.

“Remind me why such enthusiasm again?”

“Papa’s dealing with non-sorcerers today,”

Again-as he had been, always.

“Mama,” the word rang in your mind—Mimiko’s voice was soft in contrast — Mama, a certain ring to it, familiarized and yet so antagonized in your head.

You hummed in response simply—“Papa requests you to be there tonight…” her words trailed away, the convocation all too loud, the impact all so evident.

“Right…” you let your words hang open as well—he wanted you present, in day and light, flesh and sight—his wife to be shown off.

Every once a while, you were his lucky charm after all.

-

Crowded, nauseating, full of idiots.

A dagger rested at your side, gift from no other than your Geto-Sama, two years ago—a

wedding gift.

You hated the fact that it was the best you could’ve managed to find.

Slow, the proceedings were, lazy his smirks as the likes of you begged.

As the monkeys begged to him.

“Headaches, nauseating? Hmm,” he smiled, pensive, reflective—“sounds to me like you’re troubled,” and just so, it amused you—to how dumb humans truly were.

Fickle-minded.

“Geto-Sama,” eyes squinted at the tone of the woman, a whimper—a common whore—begging for his touch in broad sunlight, for your husband’s touch.

Sure, you hated him—but oh how you hated the fact that he touched so many other women whilst being married to you.

And somehow, you always became the other woman.

“Yes darling?” He called back coolly, your blood boiled.

“I think…think you need to…” her words trailed away, a satisfied murmur erupting through the crowd—they remembered, remembered it well.

Engraved in the memory of most what you’d only caught the gist if, even as a rumour.

Suguru had fucked her—in front of them all.

In the name of all that was holy, all that was religious—he’d sworn it would help her—it made her addicted. One drug to another, Suguru did nothing, he would do nothing today

either perhaps.

Was this why he called you?

To humiliate you such?

“Ah ah ah,” click on pf his tongue, sharp—“Not in front of your goddess, don’t flatter yourself,”

Your heart burned.

Goddess, their goddess—you were their goddess—his goddess.

Jaw clenched, you stared from the side, distaste evident upon you and her—adorable, he deemed it.

“She’s nothing-”

-silence, as quick as she’d begun, just as quickly she retreated.

Beyond livid he seemed, amazing actor surely, never one to hear words against his precious wife.

A chuckle interrupted his thoughts and yours—“Oh Geto,” the suitor—the one Suguru’d been trying to impress—the one you’d been called upon for—to hit the nail on mark. The one who would sign his deal.

A continuity of a deep rumble — relevance all so long as Geto would decide.

“You act like she matters at all,” your stomachs dropped, he was right, was he not?

“What is she? A hunter?” Another prolonged chuckle—electing those from beside you as well, your ears hurt from how hot they were.

“Just a trophy wife for you isn’t she?” Unwantedly, even in moments such—of your disrespect, your eyes gazed onto him.

You hated the helplessness but…he was yours, right?

Something about the thin smile reassured you, it wasn’t much—not an ounce of anger reflected upon his face, if he felt any, that is.

You could feel the eyes of all, not the first time you’d been presented to the assembly, the first time the ruse you played was out.

“She’s my wife,” his voice was calm, “trophy or no is none of your business—she’s priced if anything—far more than you could ever afford, so think with that thick head of yours, at least once if you can manage before you dare to look at her.”

Definite—his words were fast, surprising all the more.

The laughter halted, silence was all so deafening, “You’re defending that slut before me Geto?” Shaky, the man’s voice was held—your grip tightened on your dagger.

Suguru’s smile only ever grew right beside you, “Do you want the honors darling?” You froze on spot.

Face whipped to face him, he could see the way your face shone—“Talk to me you fucker! That bloody bitch and your cult can’t do shit without me” His words rang through the hall as he did so—your feet worked upon its own.

“Just give me those whores beside you then,” he grinned further, directing his gaze onto Nanako and Mimiko.

A nodding smile from your husband being all that you need—swift you came, swift the man fell, mere seconds.

Bloods oozed, some rested upon your cheek just as much, three stab wounds—a drowning business deal of Geto—a sailing heart of yours and his smile.

The body twitched in dismay, adrenaline coursed through you—three years since you’d last killed something living, you couldn’t the feeling.

“Dismissed,” Suguru spoke aloud, basking in the shock of his followers and alike—however, yours too.

A hunter you were, sure, but not humans.

Never humans.

A sinner—his sinner.

Your body shook, the dagger fell quick, the moment the Hall was empty, just you and Suguru inside.

“What did you have them prepare for lunch today?” Domestic as if, normal, if he’d name it—acting as if a murderer did not just happen—the man’s body was still warm.

You offered none but a soft silence—“y/n?”

You hated him.

You hated everything.

You hated how he pretended to be confused by your moral dilemma.

“Can you stop?” A hiss of a voice—“you just- I- stop!”

Small an outburst, tears trickled the verge of falling apart.

“It’s fine,” he mused, “you can let go,”

“shut up,” you whispered fast- “don’t talk to me like that- like- like you’re superior. You just made me- fuck- I-”

A step all too close he took, “come here,” softly he spoke—uncharacteristic, why now?

After three years of an empty marriage—had he found your use? A hunter for him?

Not the first time you’d cried in front of him, many a confrontations had come and gone—many a times you’d thrown empty jars at him—many times he’d threatened you, all in vain.

So why now?

Empathetic all over a night? Couldn’t be.

Your heart paced, mind hurdled- hands held onto his form tightly as he did yours, body convulsing in his embrace, your kill lay astray, forgotten.

“You’re fine,” he murmured against your head—all so close, first time. And a thought you couldn’t help but withdraw—is this how those women felt? When he held them so close to where you’d never been?

“You did as you should’ve, a great wife you are,”

Sheer shambles your heart lay in—you wanted to hate him, perhaps you did—most probably, not.

“Why?” You whispered, pressed deep into his chest—an almost soothing hand upon your back rubbed, all so confused—both him and you.

“Figured you’d like it,” he smiled, “you’re not a pawn y/n,” a fumbling kiss pressed on your forehead, the spot was now sacred.

“You’re the queen on the board and it was wrong simply to let go the potential,”

“Why all this? Why now?”

An urge to pull away, an urge to ingrain yourself in him.

An empty marriage—all too loud your desires.

“You’re their goddess aren’t you?” He didn’t sound sweet anymore, it was all real—you knew so.

-

Two weeks since your outburst, two weeks since he’d held you for the first time—two weeks, you’d suffered all so much.

Mentally, emotionally—physically.

It was absurd, you’d spent three years still, yearning just some touch—but now more so than ever, you would perhaps beg for him.

A shared bed you lay in, the heat in your heart was

scorching—nothing close however to the desire between your legs.

You craved him.

“You’ll accompany me tomorrow?” fingers clasped right around the book he was reading, he didn’t do so much as glance at you—yet, it was somehow endearing.

Gradual was the display from being ordered by his servants to show up when he pleases you to, to his daughters requesting you—to him, personally recommending it, it was sweet.

You knew you were grasping on broken ends—but just something to the fallen was miraculous enough.

You poised to think, “WAR AND PEACE”- Leo Tolstoy, hefty the handler, heftier its state, creased in the middle—whitening, pages browned years ago and a certain scent you couldn’t place.

Golden were the words still, it shone.

A simple “well?” From him broke your trance, a nod you passed.

Second time in the past fortnight, perplexed you say by, watching moments tick by, unsure.

“Should I carry the dagger?” Same question as you’d asked last week—same reply awaited you, the same cunning smile, “Just your presence is enough,”

-

“23, 594 of you,” Suguru spoke in the same sweet tone of his—a mistake his words held.

A tilt to the right, to correct him or no—you sucked in any air, perhaps your last.

“Not a simple feat it-”

“-25, 394,” your voice was low, had the crowd been that of a murmuring one, it would have gone unheard—not from him perhaps, but in general.

Not a glance spared, just a single smirk, “Ah, of course.” A lick of his lips and a look downturned, “I apologise—how sweet of my wife to remind me,”

My wife.

Amusing how you still shivered at the thought of it.

The rest of his words were a blur, his tone was hollow right after the apology—the same as you’d heard when he was upset—mad.

When he’d condemned your family.

-

“Leave,” the words seemed final, a tear rolled down your eyes.

“Geto-Sama,” your father panted, pathetic—simply so, no deniance to it.

“Please,” three days you’d been beggin, three days that Geto Suguru had stripped you all of any and every sense of dignity, of some thought of self preservation.

A scoff you heard, heart shattering—as eyes gazed onto the sight of your crawling father- a hitched breath, Suguru’s eyes lay stuck on you.

“The debt,” Suguru mused quietly, “you want it forgiven?”

Your father nodded at his feet—broken sobs your mother flushed, sister’s nimble fingers upon yours—you hated Geto Suguru.

Perhaps that was exactly why you found yourself such.

Hating his woes, his breaths and his ideology—perhaps all lay a lie.

Perhaps you hated him for the humiliation he granted that day, 6 years ago.

“You’re nothing but a monkey, you know that,” Suguru mused simply, “But you are one of my best,” a hun he passed to second himself.

Eyes, obsidian as they bore into yours—“What’s your name?”

Quick, you almost didn’t catch his words, “y/n,” your father weakly muttered before letting out a pained cry—result of none but a kick from Suguru.

“I was talking to her,” a lazy smirk he adorned, “hunter?” He inquired, a nod you passed.

“Skilled?” And that you were, having served so many over the years—skilled you simply were.

“You can have her,” your father’s words lay rushed—heart seizing up deep. He couldn’t- wouldn’t- your mother wouldn’t.

“Virgin?”

“We can offer a fine dowry lord,” pants, his—gasps, yours—“Uoull be doing us a favour, in fact two.”

The man’s face flits curiously between the two of you. You wonder if he can see the embarrassed tears threatening the corners of your eyes, the set of your lips, the way your fingers are clenching and shaking.

Your heart raced, face flushed—your parents eyes’, your sister’s, all trained upon you.

What a pity—a shake of your head, Suguru’s smirk widened as he knelt onto your level.

“Whoever would marry a used whore hm?” It was the exact smooth voice that you hated—the exact low grumble you feared.

“Fuck off,” the words were quick to slip out—perhaps, not appropriate but you regretted not a single moment.

Not your mother’s gasps or your father’s tremble or Suguru and his furrowed brows.

“You’re talking to a god,” he whispered—“I don’t worship a fraud.” Your reply was defiant—the situation was bared.

A made up god among men and a woman who would never worship him—and hence came about the dilemma when the god simply found his religion in the woman.

“Interesting,” he’d hummed then, the same smile that he wore then in the assembly, three years after your marriage.

A padded thumb reached into your cheek—wiping your tears away roughly—“I think you’ll be just as useful as your father,” he grinned, and something told you he’d use you in ways more than just a hunter.

“You’ll be a better pet right?”

Before you could gasp, before you could cry—before any sense of grief had caught you, fate had tied its strings with a man you deemed a monster—and the monster to his angel.

-

The assembly took a good while to finish, 2 hours you sat, anticipating everything.

Something told you Suguru wouldn’t go tough on you—usually, he’d have someone humiliated to no extent but…you were his better half—not you, right?

“Dismissed,” he muttered as always, you couldn’t help the squirming anymore.

The last two hours you’d suffered, the wetness in you edging onto itself at the worst time possible—everytime he’d make eye contact, every time he’d glare.

“Not you,” your heart dropped, you stood as a deer in headlight then — just about to step out of the room as everyone else had.

“Come here,”

You swallowed hard—“I- I am sorry my lord I didn’t-”

“I didn’t ask you to talk monkey,” a slight pang to the heart—two weeks of overthinking was all down the drain, it didn’t mean anything perhaps.

Slowly, you trudged over, near to his feet—as close as he’d let you for the last time.

Cold eyes met you, blank a face and hair brushed open—“kneel,” he simply commanded, most days you’d have fought back- earned yourself a reprimand but not that day.

What you had was enough already.

From your position, you stared up at him—lips parted as small breaths you let out.

A moment of silence while you watched him take off the yakuta, slender a form inside—the one you’d watched simply all too many times.

“You think you’re smart hm?” Your body shook, blame put on the coldness, you let yourself shiver—passing him a shake of the head.

“Geto-Sama I-”

“-is it that difficult an instruction?” Sharp a voice, it pierced through you, “don’t talk unless I fucking tell you to.”

A frenzied nod, any deniance to be passed onto him leaving your body as you gazed upon him, ethereal—and maybe, just maybe, the fraud of a god you hated was not all so bad a money to adore.

“Thought you looked cute correcting me hm?” Ever so serene a voice, one couldn’t almost differentiate whether he truly was upset or not.

Another shake of your head, another tug at his lips.

“No?” Squinted eyes stared at you, “then attention? You wanted attention?” Your ears felt hot pink, maybe you did.

“I wouldn’t be shocked honestly,” he paused, squatting down to your level, “your father did offer me a whore,” bottom lip clasped between your teeth, you dared not to look up at him—afraid simply of the hot tears spilling.

“What is it, hm?” A large hand raised to flick the hair of your forehead—“Jealous, are we?”

Clenched jaw, you stared at the ground—audacious he was to even question it—“but that shouldn’t be it right? A legal marriage is what you promised eh?”

Too smug his voice lay, you hated him.

His hand rested at your cheek, hot to the touch—searing cold to the testament—“what was it then? An attention seeker? Or a whore?”

A ragged breath you let out—“You think it’s hilarious?” Your eyes stared down into his, “to make a fool out of me?”

The hurt in your voice was no less than prevalent, it echoed still.

“You fuck women left and right like it’s nobody’s business-”

“-oh it is about that hm?” A short chuckle he passed, euphoric to the ear, “you are a jealous bitch after all,”

“Cut it out Suguru,”

His brows raised too, and internally—yours, at the courage of calling him such, “You don’t respect me but at least respect the wedding,”

“With a monkey?” It angered you as to how deep just a couple of his words could cut—‘a monkey’ you’d never be his equal.

“Yes, with a monkey—with your wife—with the woman your daughters seek a mother in,” quick you spoke—desperate to get it all out—“The woman you’ve turned into a murderer,”

Another short laugh.

“And now it’s about that is it?”

Your blood boiled—to see him treating it all so insignificantly, “you made me-”

“-made you kill him? You killed a monkey darling, an animal of incoherent thinking. You should be glad. If anything I did you favors by granting you the opportunity to regain your skills, which are impeccable if I may,”

A tug here, a tug there— your heart was torn at his words.

“Further, you liked it—you like everything I do,”

A desperate no spilled of your lips—meaningless.

Maybe you did like it—maybe you did like the way he took you away from that monster of a father, maybe you did like the way he isolated you, gave you all to hone your skills and what not, maybe you did like the little shows of affection because you were starved.

Maybe you were simply naive.

A series of clicking sounds of his tongue entered your ears—“you create ruckus over such things hm darling?” He got up again, “calls for a punishment doesn’t it?”

A final plea you passed—broken.

“Suguru please,” shaky, “I just- you can’t fuck women like that, the servants spread rumours and- and- its all so-”

“Strip and get on all fours,” lower an octave, his voice was serious, you bit your lips and complied.

No other choice-dead at his feet otherwise, with a fate worse.

Slow, your fingers moved to take off all that was left of your decency—never the first time that you’d stripped for a man, but the first time you felt the lingering gaze.

All down to the matching set of lingerie that he’d gifted you—every once in a while as he did, a sought compensation for his actions mayhaps.

“Faster unless you wish to lengthen your punishment?” A quick shake of your head, your face felt hot, fingers twisted into the waistband of your panties —silk and lacy, almost As if innocent—as you slowly pulled them your lower half, feet tugging them off.

Bra forced away the same, shame enveloped you—not strong enough for all of you stood exposed, a cry of mercy to the god all in vain—for all too apparent, your supposed god was a fraud.

A step taken slow towards Suguru, you were interrupted with a cough—“You’re a what y/n?”

Mind blank, you stared dumbly—and exasperated sigh he let out until you finally responded, “A monkey,”

A nod of encouragement, he smirked, “and monkeys don’t walk right?”

Heights of your shame were peaking with every second passed, no other option to substitute, you nodded back—down on all fours as you crawled over to him.

The carpet was coarse underneath your knees, it hurt—not more so than your mind.

“Already so pliant sweetheart,” too giddy a voice, you wanted to punch him—but perhaps this was far better than what that would entail.

You reached over to him shortly, “only had you been all so quiet from the very beginning…but oh how does it matter now,” a grin sounded to your ears—you wanted to cry.

“All so naked,” he was walking about you now—all so exposed you stood, “so vulnerable—is this what you wanted?”

Your ears burned.

“Jealous of the women I fuck in front of my followers right? Would you want to be fucked the same? I could summon them now—” another short chuckle, “their god with their goddess.”

You swallowed hard, lips licked as you awaited—unsure of what he could do.

“Tell me, does the thought make you wet?”

“No,” lies—you knew it, and you hated yourself at that.

A hum sincere, was all he passed—“alright then. Since you do love running your mouth all so much, your tongue and hands—”

Your ears ringed as the sight of the man you’d killed flashed in front of you—“25 strokes.”

Eyes wide you stared at the ground.

A silence awaited his words and he sighed loudly.

“Say yes or does my whore want more?”

Another silence—soon he was right ahead of you—a sharp slap soon adding to the sting on your face.

Tears took no time, resting at the verge—you stared up at him, broken a voice meeting him.

“I'm sorry,” you muttered softly—trembling at the look of it—not even sure what the apology was for.

“Please please please don’t I can’t-” and somewhere along your blurred sight, his eyes softened all too little—“15.” He decided silently.

You nodded, knowing the bargain had gone deep— lowering your head, unsure of the entirety.

“Spread your legs,” he murmured, you winced slightly as you did so—the texture of the carpet felt rough—your predicament all the more.

“Count and thank me after each,” and all before you could agree— smack! The first smack struck hard.

Your eyes widened and a sharp inhale—“One—thank you Geto-Sama,” he nodded in confinement, satisfied Mayhaps, to your words.

His hand rested along the round of your ass—squeezing it, feeling it around—another smack alternated on the other cheek—“Two! Thank you Geto-Sama,”

Another squeeze—another exhale, you could feel your wetness spread.

The third strike was on the same spot as before—a pink tint added already to your ass, he adored the way you felt in his hand—“Three— thank you Geto-sa-! Ah!” You bit hard onto your lip as in the midst of your count he landed another strike at the same spot and another.

“F-four and five! Thank you Geto-Sama,” a ‘good girl’ he murmured right after, and even such—humiliated to all accords, his praise did none but cause you to feel butterflies right there.

And just there you also hated how his slaps could provide you the pleasure you hadn’t been able to.

The same cycle went on, remaining 9 spanks hit hard as before— a grab and squeeze offered in the midst of each.

“So fucking pretty,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss one of your reddened cheeks—warm to his lips as his other hand smacked onto the other cheek.

“Spread your legs further,” and you did, afraid to upset him anymore.

And all to your surprise, suddenly you felt a finger probe your pussy lips—beyond ashamed you could help the weak whimper and desperate cry from escaping.

“Tch tch tch,” another sharp smack on your ass, “So wet? From a spanking?”

Another whimper as your head only ever lowered in response—“or was it thought of getting off in public huh?” You could feel his tough hands tease you, he wouldn’t enter, no—just tease your slit for the hell of it.

“So pathetically turned on f’me,” he groaned—face up right against your gaping hole, inhaling sharply and taking in your scent.

“N-no,” you protested, halted only by another mean slap on your ass—“Don’t lie to the man you worship,” another nod, he’d already broken you.

The pretend disappointment was sheerly evident in his voice—his expressions, “Well I cannot really move further until you’re punished thoroughly darling,” his words sounded almost calming, even when you knew they were all so not.

The tip of his fingers were slow, slowly gliding across your glistening pussy—your inner thigh—squelch!

Eyes wide, a gasp erupted from your mouth as his large palm landed flat against your folds.

“I don’t think it’s your fault however, it’s her issue isn’t it?” Words so sweet, you only ever could think of succumbing to him—finally passing a weak nod.

“Ah ha,” he smiled to himself—impressed perhaps—“That’s a smart girl, now how many do you think are appropriate for her hm?” As he spoke, his fingers wouldn’t be called shy in the way they inspected you—gathering your slick from your hole, never entering enough to please, and leading it up to your asshole—dirty.

A sense of dread coursed through you, involuntarily you tried turn around to beg him not to—another sharp slap, a sob from you.

“5?” Your voice was soft—and somehow, even in his moments of pure power Suguru couldn’t help but want to be kind to you.

And this time, he hated it.

“5 it is,” he murmured, pressing his fingers upright to your pussy lips—“Count, no need to thank this time,”

Slowly his hands already your thighs further apart—shame no more a blanket, you could only moan at the shy touches to your core.

His hands stroked your inner thighs slowly—easing you out, you knew the trick of course, as a hunter must and even then a sharp inhale and “sh-it,” you spoke as his hand Landed on your pussy.

“One,” you called out meekly, and unlike the slaps he used to redden your ass, these weren’t all so pleasurable.

Without a word he landed another—your body lurched forward just the slightest—“Two!” Your voice trembled at his touch, especially in the way he dragged his fingers all so close to your clit and then landed the third spank.

“You’re taking it so good sweetheart,” a mess, a sincere mess is all you were—breaking apart at his touch and words- all so unsure of how you felt.

The last two Spanks were a blur, broken sobs eliciting your throat at them too as finally Suguru caressed your hips— held it soft, smothered it with slight kisses—as if he cared.

“Think you deserve a reward now, monkey?” A whine escaped you at the reference to the animal he deemed everyone else as—and yet another “Yes please,”

You knew better than to hope he’d have pleased you but all how it went, you could help the slight disappointment in you when he sat across you—spreading his legs.

An amused chuckle he let out at your expressions—“You really didn’t think I’d touch a used up pussy as yours eh?”

He would—oh how he desperately wanted to—your eyes remained down cast.

“C’mere be a good slut and get me off,” hesitant was the way you crawled over to him nestling yourself between his legs—hesitant, yes but eager all the more.

And just the same his other followers felt engulfed by the need to please him.

Fingers fumbled with his belt for a second before a raised brow from him stopped you—“did I tell you to take it off?”

Your breath hitched- confused you gazed up to meet an annoyed expression, “Do only as much as you’re told to, don’t true that pretty mind of yours.”

All the encouragement you needed as you slowly raised your face up to his crotch—“Go on,” he murmured, placing his hand at the back of your head—and just so you found your face pressed hard against his crotch, taking in the musky smell— your eyes watered with the pressure he held you with, your pussy grew wetter with the avoidance he lay.

Soft whines you let out against the thin fabric of his underpants as your fingers gripped onto his toned thighs.

You could feel the thick outline of his dick—not that you lay experienced much but that would certainly be big as it went.

His hand stroked your hair softly and pulled you away too—“pull them down,” he ordered and fervently your fingers pulled the waist of the only fabric covering him down—his hardened dick spring out at once.

You fought all urges to touch it at once—looking right into his eyes, awaiting any command.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he shifted his hips to angle himself better—“Tongue out,” he muttered softly, staring at your face.

Adorable to him.

On your knees you say, tongue out and mouth wide as you watched him drag the tip of his cock and slap it against your cheeks twice—demeaning you usually would’ve found it—now you craved it dearly.

Three slaps he lay on your tongue from his tip still—plap! Plap! Plap!— salty it tasted, his Precum.

“Take it all in,” none to your surprise, you were quick to try your best—you know you couldn’t, but to try was the way to go.

“Don’t suck just yet,” he commanded, as his dick lay inside the warmth of your mouth—you wanted to gag immediately, pull away.

“Keep it there,” he whispered, the large hand gayab at the back of your throat, keeping you from pulling away.

Tears were quick to rush down your cheeks as you struggled to gag—the slight pull and an annoyed glare from him.

All too quick he pulled out of your mouth.

“Don’t fucking pull away,” a warning, “cry all you want—fucking throw up from gagging I don’t care, but don’t pull away,” you nodded through your tears as you took a second to catch your breath.

“Again,” he said and again, you began.

It was tough to breathe, yes, and hard not to pull away but a look at his blissful face and you couldn’t help it—“start sucking, slow,”

And that you did, tears dried as more came a afresh, you sucked slowly onto his tip and length—weak whimpers seemed guttural as you rocked your face back and forth onto his length.

“You know why- ha- ah,” he paused, moaning, as you teased him slight, “I let you do this?”

His eyes scanned your pretty face, sucking him all so good—trying your best to please him.

“So you remember that mine is the hand that feeds you,” just then his hands balled up your hair into a fist, rough, he pulled you.

“So you- shit! Suckin’ me like the slut you are huh?” Broken gasps he let out as well as he pushed his length down your throat.

As much as you hated him having the reigns, to see him lose composure was a beautiful process.

“That feels so fucking good — ahah — I'm not pleased with you fuck j-just can't believe how good it feels to — fuck — ahhhuh — yeah that's a perfect little slut, just take your master’s cock like you're meant to."

You couldn’t see from down there, his eyes rolling back but you knew it was tough for him to sit still—god how you loved it.

“Listen darling,” he began yet again—his fist was quick to pull your face away from his cock, all to yours and his displeasure.

He held you by the hair—a string of spit connecting your lips to his dick hung loosely.

“Always fucking remember that you’re the one begging to be fed by me—not the other fucking way around,” you wanted to nod but all that let out was small whines.

“Geto-Sama, please,” you cried, “pleasepleaseplease let me- fuck- let me help. Want you to- to mark me? Please will you?”

Suguru fought hard to suppress the moan he wanted to out—he hated that he loved seeing you this way—he hated how he wanted to see you such everyday.

He hated how for the past three years he’d wanted this but how he loved you.

Oh how he loved his silly.

And just as that his length was shoved deep into your mouth again—and internal conflict in his mind as he face fucked you senseless—he just wanted you carnally and you, him.

Not long did it take before you knew he was close.

“Stay right there, fuck — oh my god I'm close. I'm so fucking close. Gonna fill up that mouth, stuff it so good not a drop spills out.”

And at that, without another word he came inside—a warm gush in your mouth as you struggled to keep it all in—to please him—hot and sticky as he slowly pulled out of your mouth.

“So pretty,” he murmured as his fingers tapped your cheek—hinting at you to swallow it all.

-

Suguru watched as your tired body panted and lay still on his form—head resting against his thigh.

A soft hand brushed through your hair, a gentle smile as he wrapped the Yakuta around your naked body.

In hindsight, maybe he would regret it—but in the present of this entirely, he loved it.

He loved you.

Two weeks, suguru’s heart had churned—perhaps more than yours—to have you lay against him for the past three years was no issue, not until he knew your heart was opening up to him.

And something in him fought him to have him now that that, was a bad idea.

He realized now that, that something was all too stupid a thought—especially when he could now carry your body softly, pressed up against his chest as he Carried you to the shared chambers, his chambers.

Oh how he loved you being his.

A monkey—his mind called out, the woman I love, his heart snapped back.

It was confusing, to him and you and everyone around—that he was all so enamored by you—nothing more of a simple hunter you were, skilled yes, but it wouldn’t add up.

But then he’d look at the serene expression on your face as he slept and everything senseless would fall back—as he fell in love a little more when your fingers clasped onto his when he was pulling away.

~now~

Day and night.

Slowly they passed.

The first year, then the second and then third—all the way to five years and there you sat, right beside him, regal.

Don’t get me wrong, you perhaps still hate him and he despises you too—but it is in the certain way, that every third night you’re clamping down on his form and he holds you softly right after—“I love you” muttered by neither.

-

He wasn’t sure on to why it was the way it was.

He hated monkeys, you were one—so equally, he must also hate you—and yet, his heart ached the day your father thrust your hand into his.

He’d seen you before that day still, running about, aloof—you enjoyed your craft—he’d enjoyed seeing you do so. Marriage to him was simply a barrier to your skills—he knew that, and yet not being married to him was a barrier to mayhaps a comfortable life.

Never before Had Suguru pitied monkeys such—and yet, to the see the tears roll down your eyes, he felt captivated.

In the way the silence of his halls was dimmed when his daughters would call for you—in the way you unnecessarily commanded his house—as if you held that power.

But then, mostly you did.

In the way you held pillows all too close to yourself to feel some warmth—in the way you used the pillows as a means of a boundary between the two.

In the way you forced yourself to hate him, in the way you whimpered against his touch.

Everything.

And anything.

All he knew deep down was he wanted you happy, with him and often, without him.

-

“Do you know this man?” The words rolled off his tongue smooth, you stared intently at the man bowing at your feet.

“No,” words were often simple lies when you stood beside him in that assembly, the man, once referred to as your father, inhaled sharp at your words.

Suguru’s smirk only widened—your mother and sister long gone perhaps, you didn’t know, you didn’t care.

Suguru never let you care.

“He’s committed a crime,” Suguru motioned to the crowd awaiting—“A dire crime,” his eyes now trained upon you—“And as always, our goddess here will help us ride of it, yes?”

Not the first time you’d been asked—two years, the first murder you’d committed and since then, that’s how Suguru used you.

The best hunter he had, his prized one.

His hand wound around you softly, a creep to your abdomen—“wanna play a game?”

The blood inside you rushed—it didn’t matter.

None of it.

You’d killed plenty monkeys, Suguru adored you simply as you did and you did too—but today was different.

Today, stood in front of you, a true criminal.

Blood of monkeys never bothered you—you were their deity, Suguru had reminded you every time you cried—they were honored to die at your hands.

The wood that surrounded you was thick—beautiful really, especially for a game of hide-and-seek.

A shove he passed to your father, rough—“Run,” he ordered, dark eyes softening as they landed upon you.

“Kill him in 2 hours and I’ll let take over tonight,” a smile sketched onto your lips—“and if not…” a similar smile etched onto

his.

-

Legs sprawled beside his head—your fingers clutched hard onto the sheet beneath.

“Suguru,” your voice drew out—a whine, “Please…” you cried out softly as his tongue lapped onto your clit.

“Please what darling?” A sharp slap landed on your inner thigh—another whine.

“I was just 7 minutes late,” your dirtied clothes lay away forgotten—the neat white towels he’d used to wipe the blood off of you—used to cleanse and purify you again lay just beside his head as you tugged on hair harshly.

A soft giggle he let out—“7 minutes too late baby- you knew the punishment right? Let me edge you thrice more now, be a good pet.”

And another giggle he passed, eliciting a sharp cry of his name when he pressed his tongue flat on your clit.

And Suguru loved this, so Did you.

Your god and his goddess.

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

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Tags: @illogicallyx @myrand0mfand0mbl0g @rizzmin @lavendervogh @kazoomas @gojoismybitch @mistyheart @spaceisfarfarawayy @4sat0ruu @isentsworld @gl0ri0us-l0ve @playboicartina @hiomi-hiomi @misaki-the-lotusflower @abitoldschool @immurrsed @bbytamaki @hqkalon (no because thanks for the amazing words frfr)

[amalythea]

「 stars 」

⤷ info: kazuha, traveler, venti x gn!reader (separate) || angst-ish || wc: 1180

⤷ warnings: mentions of death (not reader), v sad thoughts, i tried to keep traveler themselves as gn as possible too but please do tell me if i missed something, writing for traveler actually killed my braincells

⤷ extra: i used the prompt xiv. “she’s talking to angels, counting the stars.” from @thexianzhoujade 's personal memoires (of the dearly beloved) event!!

kazuha.

In the tranquil solitude of the night, beneath the vast expanse of stars, you sat on the ground, your silhouette outlined by the gentle glow of moonlight as you gazed up at the stars above. Your heart ached with the weight of loss, your thoughts consumed by memories of your one love Kazuha.

Once, he had been the light of your life, his laughter like music to your ears, his gentle touch a source of comfort in times of need. But now, he was gone, taken from you by a cruel twist of fate, leaving behind only the echo of his presence and a void that seemed impossible to fill.

Every night, you would come to this secluded spot, the one you used to visit together, where the stars seemed to shine just a little brighter. It was here that you had shared your dreams, your hopes, and your love. And it was here that you felt closest to him, as if his spirit lingered among the celestial canvas above.

With a heavy heart, you whispered Kazuha's name into the stillness of the night, your voice barely louder than a breath. "Kazuha," you murmured, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Do you see the stars, my love? Are you watching over me from beyond the veil of the heavens?"

You closed your eyes, letting the memories wash over you like a gentle tide. You remembered the way Kazuha would hold your hand as you sat together beneath the night sky, his words a soothing balm to your troubled soul. And you remembered the promise you had made, to always be together, even when the world conspired to tear you apart.

But now, that promise lay shattered, scattered by the winds of fate. Kazuha was gone, his laughter silenced, his touch but a distant memory. And yet, you could not bring yourself to believe that he was truly lost forever.

For in the depths of your grief, there was a glimmer of hope, a belief that somehow, someway, Kazuha had found peace in the afterlife. You imagined him reunited with his dear friend, the two of them laughing and reminiscing beneath the eternal light of the stars.

And so, each night, you would come to this sacred place, your heart heavy with sorrow yet warm with the belief that Kazuha was watching over you, his love a guiding beacon in the darkness. And as you gazed up at the heavens above, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that wherever Kazuha was, he was not truly gone.

For as long as the stars continued to shine, so too would the memory of your love burn bright, illuminating the darkest corners of your soul and reminding you that even in death, your bond would never be broken.

traveler.

In Teyvat, where the winds whisper secrets and the stars tell tales of heroes, there once was a traveler from a distant world. This traveler had been searching for their sibling, and in the midst of their search had found someone else they cared for: you.

Your love knew no boundaries, spanning across the nations and beyond the reach of time itself. But fate, like a capricious deity, had other plans. Your lover, in their quest to protect the fragile balance of Teyvat, met their end in a valiant battle against a formidable foe. And as their spirit ascended, leaving behind a world engulfed in sorrow, you were left to wander Teyvat alone.

Every night, as the sky painted itself with the luminescence of countless stars, you would go up to the highest peak you could find. There, beneath the blanket of twinkling lights, you would sit, your heart heavy with longing, your eyes searching the heavens for a glimpse of your lover.

"They're among them," you would whisper to the ethereal void, your voice carrying both sorrow and hope. "My love, shining bright among the stars."

In those moments, you would feel a familiar warmth wrap around you, a fleeting sensation that whispered of your lover's enduring presence. You imagined them traversing the celestial expanse, a celestial wanderer among the constellations, watching over you with tender affection.

As time unfurled its tapestry, you found solace in your nightly ritual. The stars became your confidants, the silent witnesses to your whispered prayers and tearful confessions. And though your lover's physical form had departed, their essence lingered in the gentle caress of the night breeze and the shimmering radiance of the cosmos.

And as you gazed upon the heavens each night, your faith unshaken, you found solace in the belief that your lover had returned to their celestial home among the stars, finishing their search at last.

venti.

In Mondstadt, where the winds sing their eternal melodies and the stars dance in the night sky,

Venti, the mischievous bard of Mondstadt, was known for his jovial spirit and melodious songs that enchanted the hearts of all who listened. But amidst his carefree nature, there was one whose heart he held dearer than any other – his lover, a gentle soul whose love for Venti burned like the brightest star in the night sky.

Your love was as boundless as the vast expanse of the heavens, and together, you would spend countless nights beneath the vast expanse of the sky, nestled in each other's arms as you gazed up at the twinkling stars. Venti would weave tales of ancient myths and celestial wonders, his voice carrying across the night like a gentle breeze.

But fate, like the ever-changing winds, can be unpredictable.

One fateful day, Venti's song was silenced, his laughter stilled. News of his passing spread like wildfire, leaving behind a trail of sorrow that even the wind could not carry away. Your heart shattered into a million pieces, each shard a painful reminder of the void left by your beloved bard.

In the wake of Venti's passing, you found solace in the memories you had shared under the starlit sky. You would sit by the edge of the cliff overlooking Mondstadt, watching as the stars sparkled like fragments of Venti's soul scattered across the heavens.

In the quiet solitude of those nights, you would recall his words, spoken with a whimsical smile and a twinkle in his eyes. "If ever I should depart from this world," he had said, "fear not, for I shall join the stars themselves, and from there, I shall watch over you always."

And so, as you gazed up at the luminous tapestry above, you couldn't help but smile through your tears, for you believed with all your heart that Venti was among those celestial beings, guiding you with his eternal light.

Though the ache of loss never truly faded, you found comfort in the belief that Venti's spirit lived on in the stars, a constant reminder that your love was as infinite as the universe itself. And so, you continued to watch the stars every night, knowing that somewhere up there, Venti was watching over you, his laughter echoing in the celestial chorus that danced across the night sky.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.