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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

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FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 1/4

(König x F!Reader)

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Word count: 5.3 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Lol what now? König dual wields 2 swords, goes Mike Tyson on his enemies, teaches his captive girl constellations in German, cuddles her and feeds her grapes, buuut mainly just tries to get into her pants (which historically did not exist at the time) A bit of a slow burn, but don't worry, they'll bang eventually ^^

AD 90, somewhere in the untamed frontiers of the Roman Empire…

The end of the world is here.

Not only have the crops failed for two years in a row, making chieftains beggars and beggars food for the fish, but now there are rumours that the god of war has arrived to destroy the land. The accursed Romans had turned their eagle gaze back to your land after years of sending their troops elsewhere, making it seem like they were not interested in your distant land after all. Untamed, they called it, harsh and barren and therefore inferior – your lush, abundant, beautiful land. No doubt they spat on it in their war councils because your roads were not paved, because your crops and villages were modest, and the women sometimes fought alongside men. Their storytellers immortalized false tales about you, calling you barbarians, but the only barbarians you could think of were the Romans themselves – crude, filthy and boorish creatures, drowning in wine and shit in their cities.

Rumours started to get fat and distressed when the troops approached your village. They said there was a giant at the head of the army, that the Romans followed a Titan's son who loved to eat men, torture women and impale children. They said he didn't accept proper food but preferred to eat his fallen enemies, washed his weapons with the blood of children, and split captured women apart with his cock, as long and sharp as his sword. They told that the Titan ordered his soldiers to poison the wells and destroy the growing crops with salt and vinegar. The rumours said that his tent was bigger than any chieftain's house and that he still struggled to stand at full height inside it.

Even the land itself seemed to bow before him. Good weather followed his conquest wherever he went; ambushes failed, scouts got caught and tortured, exposing more villages to pillage and ruin. Your brother told you to flee the village, but how could you survive without your clansmen? You didn't know how to hunt; you barely knew how to fish. Your task in the village was to gather clams from the shore, dye wool and help the old Seer. How long could you survive on sorrels and clams alone?

. . .

The old woman calls you to see her on the brink of war, and tells you to prepare for a ceremonial offering. Two horses, black as night if possible, brown at the very least, to appease the Great Mother of the Earth and quench her thirst for blood. If the Mother is satisfied with your offering, She will perhaps stop the approaching army or convince the Titan to leave your village alone.

She does a small rite before you, and you need to stay with her through her visions. You hate the smell of the leaves she burns, and try to cover your nose with your tunic to prevent breathing in the bitter fumes. The seer looks like she’s just lying herself down to sleep, but it’s always a burden when the spirits arrive and she starts to talk. You turn your back on her to coax them to rise: a mortal stare annoys the chthonic ones. You nearly fall asleep too as you wait, wanting nothing more than to go back to your own hut and have a good night’s sleep. Perhaps because you’re lousy tonight, and less vigilant as you should be, the spirits arrive sooner than either of you thought.

“He’s strong,” the seer croaks from the earthen bed, and you fight the urge to turn around and peek at the old woman, currently in the clutches of spirits.

“Invincible… Hungry... The horses…won’t suffice…”

She drifts someplace else, and you try to memorize every word, every intonation, as cryptic or as simple as they are, for later interpretation.

“I see you,” she says in a slightly more cheerful tone, which is odd because the old woman is never happy or satisfied, no matter how bright the sun shines or how much food there is in the storages and pits.

“Me?” You dare to speak even though you’re not allowed to disturb the spirits. You could slap yourself for blurting out a single word, but luckily, the hungry ones don’t attack you for your insolence.

“You.. will be his downfall,” she speaks as if you are having a conversation here. “Be there. When he arrives.”

“...Be there? Why?” You dare to utter again, more concerned about what the Mother implies than the potential fury of some lowly earthen spirits. You haven’t got the faintest clue about what She might be suggesting. Why do you have to participate in the battle? How can you be there without getting killed? You’re not a warrior… The Mother has it all wrong.

Suddenly, you curse the night, you curse the whole day, knowing your brother’s late proposal was perhaps a warning, a hint from the gods to leave, and leave quickly.

The old woman laughs dryly on the ground - the throaty, outright sick cackle makes you flinch.

You don’t like this... You don’t like this at all.

“Mother. What must I do?” You demand to know, thinking about how all the gods, spirits, old women, and Titans should go to hell.

“Become a tree,” the old woman offers as if it’s the easiest thing to do. “A flower. Me...”

. . .

You become a marten first, then a bird. Then perhaps a tree.

You climb a spruce and wait there. You wait until the sunrise; you wait until noon. You wait until you see the glint of the Roman spearheads and hear the sound of their march.

You’ve dreamed of the Titan ever since you left the seer’s hut. You’ve dreamed of him slaying everyone in the village; you’ve dreamed of him driving a thick spear into the ground and grabbing you with an intent to raise you into the air and impale you on it. You’ve dreamed of him behind you, above you, inside you. You wake up one morning only to see that half of the people have left. You don’t know where they have gone, and you can’t follow them even if you did because the old woman waits for you in front of her hut and gives you a nod the instant you walk into another beautiful, sunny day.

That’s why you’ve turned into a branch in a tree, but for what purpose, you have no idea. You can’t understand why you must be here to witness the world’s end.

Your men scream and shout and roar as they crash into the thick forest of spears. The enemy is silent: it’s eerie, how the world burns and falls into ruin around you, people are screaming; everyone who has a soul and a heart is screaming for Mother as they die, but the men behind the Roman shields refuse to emit a sound. They don’t curse or shout or summon their gods; they simply stand their ground and pant mist into the air as wave after wave of men break on their shields and die before their feet. Somebody loses his spear because it gets stuck between your clansman’s ribs, but the Roman simply draws his sword in its stead: it’s the only sound among the pitched wails that cut through the forest – the cold, clear ring of a gladius being pulled from its sheath.

That is why you flinch at the sound of the first shout, a brutish command that sends all the shields to the side, only to present more shields: the Romans switch positions in their formation as if they’re not even human beings like the rest of you, just a single enormous creature made of iron and leather and bone, operating it's flat forest of weapons.

And then you see him: the giant of your dreams, the hungry titan everyone has told you about. He rises from the tide of helmets like a summoned god, concealed as one of the soldiers and only now revealing his true nature. He stands at least two heads taller than the rest, pushes his own soldiers to the side and breaks out of the formation these vicious Romans love so much. You knew he would be strong and big, but you didn't know he refused to show his face… You wonder what kind of a monster hides behind the black cloth with nothing but two eye holes ripped on it. As if this man needed the additional effort to stand out from other soldiers...

He's like a God of War, just like the survivors said: his armour is of Roman design, but the amount of metal that had to be scraped together to cover this man's shoulders and chest must've demanded a fortune in gold. He doesn't seem to care about the Roman ways, however: he throws his shield away as soon as he's out of the cumbersome formation as if he has carried it only as a decoration up until this point. He draws another sword in its stead – if any other man did such a stupid thing, traded his shield for a weapon, you would snort. But not now.

Standing between the Romans and your clansmen like a challenge, a threat, a deity, even the men possessed by the seer's blood spells hesitate to approach him. But when they do, the god unleashes carnage: the first warrior gets his stomach slashed open, and the two thick swords look like toothpicks when wielded by this man. A stomach wound is a gruesome, slow way to die - but just before the warrior's entrails spill to dangle between his feet, the brute grants him mercy by sweeping his head off with a single blow of his gladius.

A roar finally rises from your enemy: they cheer Death on as the head of your neighbour meets the mud next. The soil is already soaked in blood, but the Mother is hungry still. The forest booms with Her bloodlust as the god moves around like a slow tempest of muscle, metal and darkness: he breaks every Roman rule by fighting as his own man instead of demeaning himself as one of them, a lowly part of this odd metal beast before you. He sends a limb flying in the air with a swing of a sword; he uses the same weapon as a bludgeon to bash in someone's skull. He crushes a man's chest simply by sinking down onto one knee, breaking bone, tendon and flesh to splinters as a whole ribcage gets crushed under his massive weight.

Warriors flee before him, they fall under the combined wrath of the Mother and the Titan's sword. The dead seem to fall eternally, along with your heart, before meeting the ground with a hollow thud.

Your chieftain is among the last men standing, meeting this unstoppable foe with admirable courage. Not having succumbed to the spells of bloodlust in years, he meets his death as a seasoned but old warrior. With his fighting years behind him, your chief doesn't have a chance against this man, but you have to grant the beast a feather's worth of honour, because he recognizes your chieftain as the veteran he is and salutes him with his sword. Then he proceeds with the bloodbath: flinging your leader's sword and axe easily to the side, he walks straight into his arms like he would into a hug, grabs him by the waist, and raises him into the air like he's nothing but a child.

Your scream never leaves your lungs as you watch how the Titan raises the draping cloth from his face, just enough to sink his teeth into your beloved chieftain’s neck. The noise that erupts from your elder is not that of a man but a tortured animal. It’s not from this world, what you witness next: the giant tears a hunk of flesh from your chief like he’s a piece of roasted meat. Blood streams forth, his screams fade away all too slowly, and you hear your own weak wail in the air as the Titan lets go of the heap that used to be a strong male and a wise leader.

Your chieftain is dead; his essence spills to the earth in spurts to appease the God of War, who spits blood and flesh to the ground, making you gag into the cold spring air.

Then he raises his swords towards the sun, and the forest erupts into a roar with him: the thundering, ear-splitting cheer from his warriors makes the very earth quake beneath your tree. It seems to shake the branches of the forest, and before you know it, the giant’s howl of triumph breaks the one you’re curled around, and you fall, fall, fall into the mud beneath you.

You're not a tree anymore. No: you’re very much a human woman there in the dirt as the sound of shouting ceases like a distant dream.

And he turns.

Death turns.

Mother always said you were a curious creature, which is perhaps why you search for his eyes, even though you should be running. She also said you were a smart one, which is why you know that running is futile. Your limbs wouldn’t carry you far anyway. It is a cruel joke from the gods to have what little strength you have left pour out of you into the ground and up to the feet of the enemy who is already strong, both in body and in will.

The Titan looks at you with genuine wonder, a curiosity that surpasses your own. To your odd thrill, you find that his eyes are blue: the same blue of the sea which you used to collect delicious clams from.

The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.

You had hoped for a swift death… Violent but quick. But it’s clear that it’s not death he has in store for you as he takes a step towards you. It’s not a quick nor a slow death; it’s not death at all, because–

No.

You’d rather have your arms torn off and fed to the Romans rather than have him thrust the sword between his legs, his third weapon, inside you. If you’re going to die screaming, it will not happen on your back; you will not amuse this beast with your womanhood and tears.

You scramble forward to pick up something, anything: a bronze dirk from a fallen warrior. The giant’s eyes fall on the sad excuse of a weapon, then on the sorry excuse of you. He thinks you’re planning to fight him with that thing, and the corners of his eyes crease a little from the prospect of having to subdue you. You’re proving to be quite the entertainment, and you curse those eyes, looking so kind and lively when just moments ago, the same eyes were inhuman and possessed. His are the eyes of a wayfarer, a wanderer, not a soldier: you catch a hint of sadness in them and curse again.

He’s not human, you remind yourself and show him what actual humans are made of. What women are made of. You give him another name, Giant, because you’ve always feared giants and hated the stories about them. Dumb and reckless creatures they are, stupid destroyers who always place their trust in their size. You never meant to fight him, and he only catches up on it as you turn the dagger towards yourself and guide it to point straight at your heart.

You will be his downfall, just like the seer said.

“Nein–Warte,” the Giant speaks his first words, surprisingly soft to belong to a man like him.

The sorrow in his stare consumes you in full now. It gushes forth like a tide, causing your breath and hands to shake when they need to be stern. You straighten your spine, jut your chin forward, and call for Mother: you don’t even know if you’re yelling for your bearer, or the Great Mother, or the earth that gives life to all. Perhaps you call them all to gather around and witness your sacrifice, higher in price than any of the Titan’s offerings combined. The blood you’re about to spill onto the soil will surely appease the land and raise it to arms to finally fight against this beast.

He says something else just before you pull the blade back to strike it into your chest, and you curse for the third time in your mind: giants aren’t supposed to move that fast; they aren’t supposed to interfere in your last ritual.

But the worst of it is that even when he finally subdues you, even as he wrestles the blade away from you, he ends up drawing a large gash on his forearm… As if he is trying his best to protect you from accidentally cutting yourself.

. . .

You are brought to his tent, screaming.

It’s not as big as a chieftain’s house; it’s barely the size of yours. But it is larger than the tents you saw when you got carried there: as a spitting, screeching, hissing package of what these brutes would no doubt consider a true barbarian woman with uncivilized manners and a fuckable cunt. They will talk about you around their campfires tonight: about you getting broken in by their true commander. It’s enough to satisfy them for now: to imagine their champion to fuck you bloody and sore. And who knows: perhaps they’ll receive the scraps if the Titan gets tired of you.

The precious dagger is somewhere in the mud, probably trampled there like it’s nothing but a piece of worthless metal. Your own trampling is only about to begin as the Giant marches into his abode and sends the men away, giving you uneasy looks in the process, perhaps checking if any of them had enough time to have a go at you. Luckily for him, you’re in the same condition as he left you: legs together, safe and pretty, because he bound them with a rope along with your hands. You are nothing but a delivery, thrown on the floor of dirt and a few animal skins. He just nods at you, happy to acknowledge that you are untouched by the others, as if it would somehow be worse for you to be raped by ten of those petite men than be raped by him: a cruel, bloodthirsty Giant with a giant cock.

Your ankles and wrists get sore as you watch him doff his armour. He takes off the helmet, the belted straps, the segmented plates of his shoulder guards and the heavy Roman cuirass. The gods have truly favoured this man, not only gifting him tremendous height but insurmountable strength too. His muscles are large and lean and quiver with latent power as he moves; his back is so broad it almost competes with the wide mouth of the tent. He doesn’t seem to suffer from the cold either, but he keeps his mask on for whatever ghastly reason. Even if there is a monster under that mask, his body speaks of virility: he’s a man in his prime, a giant at his strongest, making you feel like an elf, a tiny little creature in the feet of this man who must be descended from titans indeed.

You continue to watch as he washes his hands in a small basin, cleans his mouth and neck, too. You reckon the water in that bowl is blood red and dark when he finally dries himself with a white cloth. He stands before you in nothing but his mask and the dark red tunic he had under the armour. He ties it from the waist with a simple leather belt, and it only now makes sense to you why Roman soldiers dye their clothes red: you’re pretty sure you can still see the darker spots on the hem of that tunic, the ones that used to be the lifeblood of your clansmen and kin.

He has the audacity to ask you - wordlessly - to clean his wound, the one you caused him. He sets you free from your bounds, and you are given fresh water and another cloth. He even opens a smallish wooden box of salve that has a familiar smell to it: pine tar and honey, used by your people to treat minor wounds and prevent bad spirits from getting into the wound. You wonder how he even knows about such a balm: is this warrior a Roman at all, or is he some odd creature hauled from the edges of the world to fight for them? You wonder if he has made the salve himself, extracted the tar from the pine and foraged the wax and honey himself, then cursed with his coarse language when he got stung by multiple bees…

You drive away the thoughts that threaten to make this brute human by snorting at his injury. The damage he gave to himself when he tried to guide the blade away from you at the price of his own blood.

It still troubles you that he did it. Even a tiny wound like this can bring any man down if it starts to fester. The cold winds and rains of spring can easily get into the gash and make it rot.

The idea of this giant being forced to his knees because of some filthy dagger wielded by a squirrel of a woman makes you smile inside. It would be a fitting fate for this man. But the vision also makes your heart sting. The thought of him dying of a simple flesh wound, alone and far away from his home, makes your heart grow kinder than it should.

You decide there is nothing you can do but treat his arm, strong and scarred from previous battles. He sits down while you get to stay on the ground, and you try to ignore it that your face is now level with his groin. He sits with a wide spread in those powerful thighs, and you wonder if it's because the rumours about his cock are true. You keep your eyes everywhere else except the hem of that tunic and what's going on under there. He purrs at your touch, making it clear that it doesn't need much more than your soft fingertips to get him hard after a triumphant day on the field of battle.

The wound is not deep, but you clean it carefully, trying to ignore the way his eyes seem to bore into you as you take care of him. Your hand is somewhat steady as you treat the damage with the nice-smelling salve, but you flinch as his hand suddenly meets your cheek. You look up at him, heart plummeting, thighs instinctively pressing together from the gentle way with which he cups your face.

“Schön,” he says, again with a tender voice and an adoring, almost worshipful stare. You don’t have a clue what he’s saying, but you know now for sure that it's not the tongue of the Romans he speaks. The scent of pines and bees lingers between you as he brushes a thumb over your lower lip. You are weak enough to give him a breath, a helpless, hot little exhale that meets his hand like a gift.

“Schön wie eine Fee,” he rumbles, sounding intoxicated or like he's under a spell of sleep.

“What the hell are you saying,” you whisper in your own tongue: just a meek little sputter, a tiny, horrified breath, but the giant’s eyes narrow with a smile.

“Sie redet,” he says happily, and your shoulders sink – you are on the verge of screaming from frustration alone. Whatever you do seems to only amuse this man, and you snap your mouth shut. Your cheeks heat up with recurring waves of odd fever. The ground beneath your shins is all but warm, and yet you feel warm all over: a dangerous sign, you know, and oddly tied to the peculiar bodings you have seen all week.

Because there have been many omens in the air lately.

It’s just that none of them were portents of war.

The cranes started to mate early this year, and you have found a lot of clams from the shore every day. Even your brother encountered a boar with nine piglets; everyone celebrated him as some holy man who had seen the Great Mother when he returned to the village that day. The wind started to blow from south soon after, and the moon has grown along with your womb: this morning, on the brink of war, you woke up wet and restless.

All the omens speak of fertility, of growth, of a new cycle and of birth: of spring and life. There’s nothing about death and decay, nothing except what the people have told you about… him. The death himself. The war god.

“König,” he says as if he can hear your thoughts and wishes to correct them. You look up and see he’s pointing to himself, or rather, holding his hand over his heart. You fight the urge to scoff at the gesture. As if this beast had a heart…

“König,” he repeats the word and pats his chest, and you realize he’s trying to tell you his name. You wrinkle your nose in distaste, and he smiles. It’s easy to tell when he does, even with the cloth that covers his face: you can see the joy clearly from his eyes, the boyish grin that must be occurring under that mask.

“Du?” He points at you next, inquisitive. He has an odd way of pointing: with two fingers, slightly crooked, and you understand very well what he’s asking of you. You refuse to tell him your name, however, settling for pouting a lip at him next. The smile in his eyes only deepens.

“Fee,” he pokes you gently on the shoulder and leans back in his odd Roman chair, seemingly content with having now named you.

And Mother was right: you are curious, so incredibly curious to know what this beast has chosen to call you and why. Are you a rat to him…? Some bird? Perhaps simply a girl?

He is so pleased with your conversation that he pours himself some wine and drinks the whole cup with one gulp. Great, you sigh inside your head, a beast and a drunkard. He pours another cup and tries to offer it to you, and when you don’t make a move to grab the clay mug, he brings it to your lips. You entertain him with a tiny sip: you’ve heard of wine and know that Romans are fond of it, but you have never tasted it yourself.

The tart, bitter flavour almost makes you cough. You thought wine was supposed to be sweet: everyone always describes it as something like milk or honey or juice from an overripe apple. It very much is not, and you almost choke on it and then make a wry face at your captor. He - König - only laughs. It’s another thing that catches you off guard: first those boyish, sad eyes and now this hearty, grown man’s laugh. You have proved to be such an amusement to him that he doesn’t force you to drink any more wine and enjoys the rest of it himself.

Then he rises and makes you shrink from him again, towers above you for a moment, and looks at you with that warm curiosity that makes your heart race.

“Müde?”

He tilts his head, the bag of darkness shifts, the blue eyes behold you fondly, and for some reason, you whimper an answer to yet another question you can’t even understand. He takes your little squeak as a yes and falls to crouch before you, then raises a massive hand to the leather strings that keep your demure little dress up.

To your horror, he pulls the knotted tangle open before you can stop him. Your dress falls from your shoulders and drops to pool around you, and you simply and verily stop breathing.

His eyes wash over you, he examines every little part of exposed skin like an entire treasure chest has suddenly opened before him. You pray to all the gods that he would find it in his heart to be gentle tonight. Your nipples perk up – from the cold or from his stare, you don’t know.

The rough callous of his palm meets your breast and encloses it in warm support. He cups you, weighs you like he would a fruit, and then he squeezes you, rather hard, too: a deliberate attempt to make you squeal again. He replies to your pathetic mewl with an approving rumble, and you look up at him with all the helpless tenderness of the Mother, hoping that Her gentle pleas might persuade this man not to hurt you.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, and his eyes dart to your mouth, to your eyes, then back to your lips again. He immediately softens his touch. Then he lifts you from inside your poor dress, picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, and carries you to his broad bed, the sturdiest you have ever seen.

This man feels like the strangest of fates, like a hopeless destiny, as he sets you on the skins and straw mattress, right next to your fluttering heart. Your insides ache as he undresses before you, entirely without shame. He’s hard under the tunic he rips off and tosses on the cold ground. Your eyes are glued to the legendary cock you’ve heard so much about, the cock that splits women apart: and it’s true that it's huge. It resembles the ones you’ve seen on horses, not on men, and your thighs are glued together as he comes next to you while that pale, monstrous cock sways long and heavy between his thighs. He moves you around a little, and you squeal from how weak you feel: weak as a mouse as he covers you with one of those rich furs he has in plenty on the bed. Then crawls under it too, right next to you.

Your heart almost wrenches itself out of your chest as a strong arm pulls you against him: the swell of your ass meets his thighs, solid and broad like treetrunks, and your lower back meets the hot, almost too hot horse cock. It starts to leak and throb against your skin the instant your flesh is pressed against his. You try not to whimper and moan as the Giant, König, curls around you like you two have always done this.

He takes a long, earnest inhale from your neck and hair, rumbles deeply and contently, and tightens his grip. Apparently, you smell and feel good…

You wait and wait to be plundered and raped, but König only settles for holding you tightly, like you’re a children’s toy made of the softest straw and purest undyed wool. You relax slowly, and he purrs against your back, starts to fondle your breasts, ardently, until your body betrays you and you find yourself wet again; he squeezes and squishes your teats slowly, approvingly, then pinches your nipple once before finally falling into a heavy, deep sleep.

…

Please forgive your author for any historical inaccuracies and other silly things you find facepalmable <3 During this time König would've probably spoken some form of Old Saxon but since I'm not a TOLKIEN we have to settle for modern-day German here. I don't have a taglist for this fic so please check my pinned masterlist for future updates.

Translations

Nein, warte - No, wait

Schön - Beautiful

Schön wie eine Fee - Beautiful as a fairy

Sie redet - She talks

Du? - You?

Müde? - Tired?

#könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x you #könig #könig cod #konig x reader #könig smut #könig fluff #historical au #Roman soldier!König #könig x female reader

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mspopstar · 26 days ago

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What were the movies that Susie and King Dedede made like?

Thanks to Haltman Works' Company's Entertainment and Media division I was able to utilize its funds, assets, and technology to the fullest extent, well the extent that his Highness allowed for me to use. There were some limitations he put on, something about keeping the charm of 'practical FX' or whatever. Such as only allowing robotics to be used for enemies that our actors would destroy. How gruesome, right? I don't understand it, but I obliged. He knew a few work arounds, like painting the Waddle Dee who played Magolor's feet green so that in post it looks as if he was floating. How rudimentary and yet I found it so silly too! The movie production was fun, and there were hiccups here and there such as the insistence on one of our actors to not play as Zero! It was only a short flashback, the poor thing turned pale as the body paint when we brought out the fake blood and King Dedede came from the SFX team! Then there was Green Kirby, or formally known as Kusa Mochi, who for some reason kept picking apart each and every rendition of our script. How infuriating! But alas, we made it through and we're still making more! It's always fun and sometimes I get a friend like Magolor to help. Now if I had to be honest, which I'm usually not, I would not say the movies are good in terms of quality especially the acting, but I know on some planets they're regarded as "so-bad it's good" so at the very least there is that, however, I believe that a high percentage of Dream Land nat- inhabitants, enjoy them and regard them at the height of cinema so there's that to be proud of! Oh, and King Dedede is a wonderful co-director and he's surprisingly a great actor when it came down to his scenes in particular he can really put emotion into his words.

He made the entire thing a lot of fun and after our current production we want to start working on something called 'The Dark Matter Trilogy, a King's Retelling' and while I know it will all be just one big ego stroke for his Highness, I still can't wait.

-Executive Secretary Susie P. Haltmann.

#mspopstar #kirby askblog #kirby #magolor #susie haltmann #waddle dee #waddle doo #king dedede

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loveriotss · 2 months ago

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Yo! I was wondering if you could do some headcannons for Shigaraki, Aizawa, and Dabi with a male reader? I also thought it would be cool if reader had a quirk that had the abilities of a wendigo or skinwalker, and he would be really tall (around 6”6 or 7ft maybe?). I think it would be cool to see them with a guy that has a creepy quirk and personality, but really he is a gentle giant.

Anyway, have a great rest of your day/night! Thank you!!

HIM WITH A SKINWALKER QUIRK USER ⸻ tomura shigaraki + shota aizawa + touya todoroki

# tomura shigaraki + shota aizawa + touya todoroki INCLUDES — male! reader, fluff(ish), headcannons

main masterlist — mha masterlist ༊*·˚

[🎭] TOMURA SHIGARAKI . . .

when you both first met, he thought you were some kind of nomu.

was surprised to find out that you're a human but he respects you nonetheless.

he's intrigued by your quirk's eerie and supernatural nature.

very very curious about the details of your quirk but he won't ask you about it, he will just stare at you a bit creepily.

as you two grow closer, he's drawn to the contrast between your menacing appearance and your gentle demeanor.

he’s used to being misunderstood and understands the feeling of being seen as something to fear rather than to be understood.

he likes how your personality doesn't undermine your abilities.

if you're in the lov with him, he will rely on you a lot.

he trusts you, even if he doesn’t always express it verbally.

when it comes to missions or plans, shigaraki values your input and abilities.

your quirk’s versatility and your understanding of the darker side of things often make you a crucial ally in his schemes.

he respects your contributions and sees you as an essential part of his plans.

despite your imposing stature and fearsome quirk, you have a way of creating a soothing environment.

shigaraki treasures the quiet moments you share, where you can both escape from the chaos of the world and simply enjoy each other’s presence.

he's an odd guy who likes odd things and trust he will yap to you about it.

you just stare at him like '😀' while he casually talks about some gruesome thing that he's hyperfixated on.

[💤] SHOTA AIZAWA . . .

when you and aizawa first met, he was a bit cautious of you.

the appearance your quirk gave you was something he had never seen before.

that paired with your personality began to intrigue him.

feel like it would be funny if he had a pet cat who never really warmed up to everyone but the first day you visit his house he finds his grumpy little cat on your lap in minutes as you happily pat it.

will apologize on your behalf if you accidentally startle someone.

(which is like everyday 😓)

however if anyone tries to be rude to you because of your appearance he will defend you firmly.

has tried erasing your quirk which takes away whatever additional abilities you have but you appearance remains as towering as ever because of it being a physical quirk.

aizawa finds your quirk fascinating and is eager to understand it better.

will occasionally request training sessions with you where he will face you with scenarios that challenges you to use your quirk in different ways.

he values the calm and thoughtful conversations you two have.

you're one of the few people who can match his vibe since he is mostly surrounded by loud extroverts 🙏 (a/n: looking at you present mic).

if you were a hero, he would be one of your biggest supporters and will not tolerate any disrespect towards you from other heroes or even civilians.

[🔥] DABI . . .

when you and dabi first met, he was intrigued by you but still kept his distance.

your towering height and the unsettling nature of your quirk made him cautious.

if you were introduced to him through the lov he wouldn't really speak to you much in the first few days, opting to just observe you from the sidelines.

your personality was bit of a surprise to him.

it made him suspicious of you as he thought you were hiding your true personality and whenever he tried to bring it up with the other members they just laughed at him.

eventually he decided to 'investigate' you on his own and found his assumptions about you terribly wrong.

as you two grow closer and become 'friends', he starts teasing you.

will call you the most oddest nicknames but it's okay because you call him odd things back.

friendly fire between the two of you is common but a very fun sight to see as whenever the argument get's a bit heated, dabi tries to look menacing but compared to you he looks like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

despite his jeers and sarcastic remarks, he genuinely respects you.

he acknowledges your strengths and doesn't doubt your abilities.

he is a horror/supernatural freak so seeing someone who looks similar to the creepy books he snags from corner bookstores in front of him makes him fanboy internally.

he occasionally lets his guard down around you, sharing bits of his past or personal thoughts.

is also a very good listener. during your rooftop conversations he will patiently listen to your stories or whatever struggles you've faced.

NOTE — posting this embarrassingly late, really sorry to the anon who requested this 😓😓.

#loveriotss #anime #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #tenko shimura #aizawa #shota aizawa #eraserhead #dabi #touya #touya todoroki #x reader #male reader #x male reader

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rainforestakiie · 3 months ago

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hi! i am back with part 03 of Promised Soul! so happy i got it posted! i will be writing your ask next @lilacwriter07 i do hope you've enjoyed this AU so far! everyone has been so nice!

this is an adamapple fic placed in the omegaverse. there is so much lucifer in this chapter, finally! lucifer was inspired by @inubaki's Naga lucifer!

Promised Soul (Omegaverse Mythology AU) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

The massive head of Quetzalcoatl loomed over the stairs; its stone visage larger than Adam’s entire body. It jutted out from the smooth side of the temple, surrounded by intricate feather-like carvings that framed the god's crocodilian face. Adam paused beside it, captivated by the beauty and craftsmanship. The details were far more exquisite than those he had seen on the walls below; each feather and scale was etched into the golden stone with a precision that seemed almost divine.

As Adam’s eyes drifted upward, he marvelled at the sudden surge of energy coursing through him. The moment he stepped onto the first stair, it was as if an unseen force was propelling him forward, allowing him to ascend each step effortlessly. It was maddening how he could keep going without breaking a sweat. Now, so high up that the entire layout of Pentagram City unfolded beneath him, Adam understood for the first time why the city bore its name—the streets and buildings formed a perfect pentagram.

He squinted towards the point that contained Eden and his family, spotting the eternal flames of the Phoenixs even from this great height. A pang of doubt gnawed at him as he wondered what his family would say if they knew what he was doing, defying the sacred temple in such a blasphemous way. If the Jorōgumo caught him, his life would be torn away in the most horrific manner. Would his clan even mourn his loss?

Shaking off the melancholy thoughts, Adam turned his gaze back to the carved face of Quetzalcoatl, releasing a soft sigh. The sides of the stairs were lined with emerald stones, reminiscent of the emerald bones Quetzalcoatl had used to create the first humans, animals, and gods according to their ancient lore. Adam reached out, brushing his fingers over the smooth surface of the emeralds. The story in their textbooks told of Quetzalcoatl’s journey to the underworld, where he gathered the emerald bones of men, women, and animals, but in his haste to return to the middle realm, he accidentally mixed them up, giving birth to their current world.

Tilting his head back, Adam stared up at the remaining steps. He still had a long way to go, and time was running out. He needed to reach the top before sunrise, or risk being spotted by the ever-watchful Jorōgumo. The thought of what might happen if he were caught flitted through his mind—would they devour him on the spot or hand him over to the Red Caps? The Red Caps were a gruesome breed, notorious for spilling blood just to keep their hats crimson. They were relentless killers, driven by the belief that the blood on their caps had to remain fresh at all costs. Lilith had once mentioned that if the Jorōgumo didn’t want to feast on a captured traitor, they would throw them to the Red Caps.

But the strange ache within him, the one that had been urging him onward, was growing stronger, pulling him up the steps with an almost magnetic force. His fragile body should have been aching, but he felt nothing but the burning need to reach the temple’s peak. He didn’t fully understand what he was feeling or why this overwhelming compulsion was driving him to such reckless heights, but he couldn’t stop himself. The closer he got to the sacred structure at the top, the more determined he became.

As the sky began to lighten and the first rays of the sun crept up behind him, Adam found himself nearing the summit. Pride swelled in his chest as he realized how far he had come. He pulled himself up what he thought was another step, only to find that he had reached the top.

Panting softly, Adam flipped himself over and let his legs dangle over the edge of the platform. He wiggled his feet, feeling an exhilarating mix of exhaustion and triumph. As the sun rose, casting a golden glow across Pentagram City, Adam’s breath caught in his throat. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so full of life. The city below, bathed in the light of dawn, seemed almost magical, as if the world had come alive just for him.

Adam lingered for a few moments, savouring the view despite the danger that might lurk below. He knew that staying in one place could make him an easy target for the Jorōgumo, but he hoped his altitude would keep him out of sight. Yet, the gnawing sensation deep in his chest returned, this time with a force that nearly took his breath away. A shiver ran through him, compelling him to sit up straight as an inexplicable urge drew him toward the temple.

It was as if the very force beckoning him knew he was idling just outside the door...

Adam wiped the back of his hand across his nose and forced himself to his feet, casting a final, wistful glance over Pentagram City before turning toward the temple's grand archway. The structure before him was breathtaking, a marvel of gold, red, and green. Emerald stones embedded in the temple walls glistened even more brilliantly as the sun crept higher in the sky. From this height, the temple's box-like structure appeared far more massive than it had from below, looming above him with an archway that resembled a gaping, cavernous mouth.

Adam trembled, his fingers knotting together in nervous anticipation. He had ventured farther than any creature from Pentagram City had dared. Slowly, he inched forward, the warmth of the temple’s stones seeping through his boots. He squinted against the sunlight as he approached the golden-framed archway, tentatively raising his hands to touch the gilded stones. Peering inside, he saw the sunlight flooding the temple, illuminating its exquisite murals—depictions of Quetzalcoatl himself. With nothing but the sparkling ruby pillars supporting the ceiling, Adam hesitated before stepping inside.

His gaze was immediately drawn to the paintings of Quetzalcoatl. His breath caught in his throat as he studied the mural, which dominated the main wall of the temple, a testament to the deity’s grandeur. Quetzalcoatl’s serpentine form was resplendent, his body adorned with emerald and gold scales, a stripe of lime green feathers running down his back like a soft plume. His underbelly shimmered with warmer hues of gold, orange, and red. The deity’s face, a blend of dragon and bird, was framed by a magnificent mane of rainbow feathers—blue, red, green, yellow, pink—every colour Adam had ever known. But what truly captivated him were the six glorious wings that stretched out from Quetzalcoatl’s long body, surrounding it in a halo of divine power.

And beneath Quetzalcoatl's body...were seven egg-like objects?

Adam tilted his head in curiosity, unconsciously stepping backward. Eggs? Why would Quetzalcoatl have eggs? Had the god consumed eggs during his time in the mortal realm? Just as the thought crossed his mind, Adam’s back brushed against something that was most certainly not stone.

It was warm. Very warm, but not unpleasant—quite the opposite, in fact. The warmth was comforting, inviting even, and Adam felt an almost irresistible urge to curl into it. As his back pressed against the solid form, his hands flew out to touch it, encountering softness and a series of feathery ridges beneath his fingers. But he resisted the urge to snuggle in, because whatever he was touching...was moving. The body beneath his hands was slowly breathing, its breaths shallow and rhythmic.

Adam’s eyes widened, his face draining of colour as fear wrapped its icy tendrils around his heart. He took a step forward, balancing on the balls of his feet, and slowly turned around. His body shuddered with dread, his eyes growing even wider, his jaw clenching in terror.

It wasn’t a wall at all. No, it was a massive, coiled body, its full-length filling nearly the entire temple chamber. Adam couldn’t see the creature’s head or tail, but the sheer size of the body made him feel as insignificant as an ant. What he had assumed to be wings were folded tightly against the creature’s serpentine form, draped over it like a protective blanket. Soft blue and white scales lined the top of the body, while crimson feathers adorned its back.

Adam swallowed hard, his body trembling as he tried to retreat without making a sound. But in his panic, he backed into a row of waist-high ruby pillars, each topped with an emerald stone. One of the stones toppled to the ground with a resounding clank. Breath hitching, Adam scrambled to retrieve the emerald, running his hands over it to check for damage before hurriedly placing it back.

The shallow breathing had ceased. Adam’s heart plummeted as he turned to face the once-slumbering serpent. The massive body twitched, then slowly began to unfurl. Huge wings stretched out wide, and a monstrous, dragon-like head rose from the coils of its own body. Glittering gold and red eyes narrowed down at Adam, the creature’s wings spreading with a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down his spine.

It was...it was...

“Q-Quetzalcoatl?” Adam stammered, trembling.

A deep, resonant voice rumbled from the serpent as Adam’s voice echoed through the temple, causing him to flinch.

“Not quite,” the serpent replied. “That’s my father.”

“F-Father?” Adam stuttered in disbelief. “Quetzalcoatl has children?”

The serpent let out a snort of amusement before twisting its massive body. It dove back into the nest of its own coils, but as it did so, the enormous form began to shrink. Adam watched in awe as the snake god’s body diminished in size until it was nearly as small as Adam himself. The creature’s form coiled tightly before a humanoid figure emerged in its place, pale arms crossing over its snake-like tail, chin propped on top.

"I believe I've mentioned that before, Adam," the man murmured, his voice laced with smug satisfaction, a sly grin curling on his cherry-red lips as he regarded the failed Phoenix Omega with an amused glint in his eyes.

Adam could only stare in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a fish pulled from the depths. The man before him bore familiar golden curls, crowned like a twisted halo atop his head, with two prominent tufts reminiscent of horns. His lips, lush and stained a deep, sultry red, contrasted strikingly against his mismatched eyes—one a molten gold, the other a burning crimson. From his wrists, black and green claws, framed by a cascade of crimson feathers. Further down, emerald and ruby feathers peeked seductively from his hips, forming a long, sinuous tail where his legs should have been. The tail was a mesmerizing tapestry of blue, red, and white scales, blending seamlessly into his serpentine form.

“You're real?!” Adam choked out, his voice a strained screech as he pointed a trembling finger at the ethereal being before him. “You weren’t just a figment of my imagination?!”

The man threw his head back, a rich, melodious laugh echoing through the chamber, deepening the flush of the crimson circles on his cheeks. “Sorry to shatter your illusions, but I am very much real.”

“You are?” Adam's voice wavered, barely more than a whisper. “You’re real, and...and you’re here? Here? You’re the—the what?”

The man tilted his head, an endearing gesture as he nestled deeper into the plush embrace of his tail. “Son of Quetzalcoatl. The youngest child, to be precise.”

“Y-Youngest child of…” Adam faltered, raising a hand to his temple as confusion swirled within him. “This can’t be real... Did I hit my head? Did the Jorōgumo catch me? Did Lilith kill me and I’m—I'm dead?”

A soft hum fluttered from the man's cherry-red lips as he tilted his head skyward, parting those tempting lips to release a sound so mesmerizing it could make the Sirens of the Black Lake envious. The man's eyes fluttered shut as an enchanting melody danced off his tongue, wrapping itself around Adam, binding him in its spell. The song was sweet and beguiling, twirling through the temple and causing the emerald stones to glow with an otherworldly light. The soft green and red feathers adorning the man's body shuddered, standing on end as he sang.

Adam found himself irresistibly drawn closer, his heart skipping a beat. As the man’s lullaby ended, Adam’s gaze was caught in the deep, entrancing pools of the man’s golden and crimson eyes.

"You sang that to me before..." Adam whispered, the memory stirring in his heart. "When I was a child."

"Indeed," the man replied tenderly. "You were crying. Do you remember me now?"

Adam nodded slowly, his legs giving way beneath him as he sank to his knees before the feathered serpent's beauty. "I thought you were a dream... Everyone told me there was no such thing as a feathered Naga. I searched for you, I never stopped looking, but..."

"I told you then, I had to return home," the man said softly, his long serpentine form beginning to unfurl from its nest-like coil. He raised himself, towering above Adam, and slithered closer, lowering his face to Adam's. "It seems you don't remember everything after all."

"I..." Adam bit his lip, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. "I was young and emotional. I convinced myself you were nothing more than a comforting dream."

A disappointed click of the man’s tongue cut through the air, though a fleeting look of regret passed through his pretty eyes. But it was quickly replaced by a determined gaze. He raised his black and green clawed hands, lightly cupping Adam’s cheeks, forcing the trembling Omega to meet his gaze once more.

"I wasn’t allowed to linger in the mortal realm for long. I could only stay until I had chosen my intended mate. Then I had to return to the higher realm, where I slumbered for five years, before descending to the underworld for the final years of my journey."

Adam swallowed thickly, feeling the heat of the man's touch seeping into his skin, his heart pounding in his chest. Mate... The word echoed in his mind, sparking a memory long buried.

"Now, tell me, Adam," the man’s voice slithered into his ears, sweet as honey yet tinged with a serpentine hiss. Adam’s eyes were drawn to the man’s forked tongue as it flickered out, teasing his cherry-red lips. "Do you remember my name? Even after I warned you never to forget?"

He couldn’t look away, the man’s face inching closer, his golden and ruby eyes hooded, pupils dilated, trapping Adam in a gaze that left him paralyzed.

"Say my name, Adam," the man whispered, his forked tongue brushing against Adam's lips, sending a shiver down his spine.

"...Lucifer..." Adam breathed out, his voice barely audible.

A sharp, wicked grin spread across Lucifer’s lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners in delight. The end of his feathered, rattling tail quivered with pleasure, his sharp clawed fingers stroking the soft curve of Adam's cheeks.

"Good boy," Lucifer cooed, nuzzling his face against Adam's. His hands held Adam's face still as he brought his lips dangerously close. "Now for your reward~"

"My reward?" Adam whimpered, his breath hitching.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Lucifer claimed Adam’s lips in a kiss. The soft, plumpness of those cherry-red lips sent a tingling sensation washing over Adam, making him quiver. Lucifer’s kiss was gentle at first, a sweet caress of lips, as he began to coil his serpentine body around Adam, not quite touching him but forming a coiling nest around him, leaving no escape should Adam try to flee.

Lucifer’s sharp fangs grazed Adam’s bottom lip, capturing it between his own lips and sucking softly, before slipping back to deepen the kiss. His forked tongue flickered against Adam's lips, a teasing request for entry, as the serpent's embrace tightened, holding Adam close within his seductive grasp.

Cradling Adam's flushed cheeks, Lucifer’s sinuous tongue persisted in its quest, licking insistently for entry until the tip of his tail slithered with serpentine grace behind Adam. It trailed along the nape of his neck, purposely brushing Adam’s Omega glands and sending a shiver racing down Adam’s spine. In that moment of unexpected contact, Adam jerked with a startled squeal. The sound was swiftly silenced as Lucifer’s tongue took advantage of the parted lips, slipping into the now open haven of Adam's mouth.

Adam shuddered violently, his back arching at the unfamiliar sensation of Lucifer’s forked tongue exploring him. The tongue traced the contours of Adam’s own, a possessive dance that claimed every inch of his mouth as its territory. Finally, Lucifer withdrew, pulling back just enough to leave a thick, glistening bridge of saliva connecting their rosy lips, a testament to the intimate invasion.

"You... y-you kissed me..." Adam panted, his voice trembling, his face an uncharacteristic shade of red.

Lucifer's grin widened with delight as he leaned in to steal another quick, playful kiss. "Mates kiss, Adam. They kiss all the time."

"Well, um, y-yeah, but I'm—not—why would you want to kiss me?" Adam stammered, his words stumbling over each other as an unexpected bashfulness crept over him. His mind was a whirl of confusion, and though he couldn’t see it, an instinctive sense of danger began to close in around him, tightening like a noose.

Lucifer's hands continued to cradle Adam’s cheeks, a soft rattle-purr emanating from his feathered tail. "Because you are my mate, Adam. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that, too? You’ve been mine for ten years now, Addie~"

A shaky gasp escaped Adam's lips as Lucifer’s rattling tail continued its teasingly caress, sliding up and down his spine, brushing repeatedly against the Omega glands at the back of his neck—glands that had remained untouched for years, now throbbing with a newfound sensitivity.

Lucifer tugged Adam closer, pulling him into an embrace that forced the Phoenix Omega to rise onto the tips of his toes. Adam's hands instinctively shot up, grasping onto Lucifer’s wrists for balance, especially as Lucifer pressed their lips together once more, sealing their connection with another deep, intoxicating kiss.

It was nice. Maybe too good. Adam found himself melting into the kiss, sighing pleasantly and even beginning to try and kiss back. He stretched himself onto the tip of his toes further and push his lips back against Lucifer’s.

The sense of being wanted. The feeling that somebody out there wanted to mate with him, wanted Adam to be their Omega, had him warming up. A wetness formed between his thighs, making him rub them together.

Breaking the kiss, Adam was dazed and needy. He’s eyes were dilated and glassy, large and reflective. Lucifer purred, brushing his fingers over Adam’s cheeks with an even wider smirk. His long serpent body rattled, and he swiftly swirled himself around Adam’s body, caging the failed Omega against him. Lucifer’s clawed hands crossed over Adam’s chest, rubbing the hidden flesh through his sweater. His sharp claws pinching at the cotton fabric, slicing the threads little by little.

“Addie~” he sang teasingly, nuzzling his face into the Omega’s neck. His lips ghosted along the warm skin and soon his tongue licked across the exposed mating glands, making Adam gasp. “I can smell your slick~”

“My – my what?” Adam squawked, blinking his eyes furiously. His heart skipped a beat as he shakingly took in the sight of the feather and scaly snake body had coiled itself around him.

A hungry giggle escaped the feathered serpent Nephilim. Lucifer tilted his head, allowing his long fork-tongue to slither out. He ran it down Adam’s throat, tracing the macules and flickering at the collar of Adam’s sweater.

“Your slick. It’s strong.” Lucifer cooed, his right clawed hand crawling down Adam’s front and stroking his stomach. “It smells divine, it’s making my mouth water~”

Adam squirmed immediately as the wetness between his legs intensified. So that must be ‘slick’ and gosh, his face warmed up at the words. He quivered as Lucifer’s other hand continued to caress his chest through the fabrics, Adam’s eyes falling to watch the two hands anxiously. A knot began to form within his gut and his breath hitched further as Lucifer’s right hand sunk further down, sliding over his stomach fully and rest just above the area that contained Adam’s Omega-hood.

Releasing a range of rattle purrs, Lucifer continued to lick at Adam’s neck. His lips brushing repeatedly against the untouched Omega glands, enjoying the way his mate gasped and trembled from the actions. The clawed hand that was sneaking down Adam’s body finally reached the flimsy waistband of his mate’s black pyjama pants but instead of using inside like Lucifer originally aimed for, he immediately cupped Adam through his trousers.

A startled yelp escaped Adam, and he squirmed even more within the snake coiled grip, but Lucifer held tightly and secured. A wave of something new washed over Adam’s body as Lucifer abruptly began to rub his hand firmly between his legs, giggling as Adam reacted to the actions with delight.

Taking advantage of Adam’s reaction, Lucifer’s other hand slipped underneath Adam’s sweater. All the hairs upon Adam’s body stood up on end as Lucifer’s hand touched his chest somewhat aggressively.

“You’re so cute, Addie~” Lucifer hummed, resting his chin on Adam’s shoulder. “I’ve been dreaming of the day I get my hands on you~”

Adam’s breath hitched, making his throat burn and his eyes grow so wide that he feared they would pop out. His hips arched as Lucifer continued to caress him between his thighs, his legs trembled and the tingling knot deep inside his gut increased, growing tighter and tighter.

“You have? But why?” Adam gasped, his own mouth beginning to water with too much saliva. Where did it all come from?

A laugh bubbled from Lucifer, the pretty feathers of his body fluttering and scales glittering. Lucifer nuzzled his face into Adam’s throat again, pressing butterfly kisses along the soft flesh. “I don’t know what it is for you mortals, but for ones like myself, we mate for life. We can only court once in our lives. The moment I scented you, I committed my full soul, heart and body to you and you alone~”

“Oh…” Adam began quietly.

Smirking widely, Lucifer’s long fangs peeking out from his cherry-red lips, his hands continued to fondle his adorable mate. He pulled Adam’s sweater up, forcing his chest to be exposed and immediately grabbed the right breast. While his long-wet tongue extended over his shoulder and began to lick at the left breast. His eyes crinkled at the corners and became hooded with desire, the taste of Adam’s flesh was delicious. So much better than he could ever have imagined.

Licking his lips with a hiss, Lucifer twisted himself around Adam’s left side, slithering himself underneath Adam’s arm. His lips contacted the exposed skin and Adam released an embarrassing cry. He kissed softly the tender skin, rolling his tongue across the skin and even sucking a little.

Adam wheezed and clenched his teeth together, unsure of what to do. It felt good but it was all so overwhelming and making Adam feel rather lightheaded. It was just yesterday morning that Adam was depressed and heartbroken, thinking the only person who he could ever be with didn’t want him at all but now, hours later, he was tangled up and being touched by his apparent mate.

Lucifer gazed up at Adam’s face as he sucked upon the exposed flesh. A dark glint appeared within his gold and ruby eyes; the hand nested between Adam’s legs slid upward. He dipped his hand down his trousers and touching him again. Lucifer purred when Adam jumped in surprise and released a rather loud moan.

“You sound so pretty~” Lucifer purred, working Adam over tenderly and delicately. “You sound so nice, Addie. You really do.”

With another cry, Adam’s hips arched and everything inside him jolted. The tight knot unravelled vastly, leaving Adam out of breath and shaking. His vision blurred, stars shimmering across his sight.

With a devilish grin, Lucifer pressed closer to Adam's neck, his lips grazing the delicate Omega glands, sending shivers down Adam's spine. His grip softened, transforming into a tender embrace as he cradled the fallen Phoenix Omega in his arms. The serpent godling's sinuous form coiled around Adam, caressing his neck with gentle nuzzles that trailed upward, their cheeks brushing in an intimate dance. Lucifer’s intoxicating pheromones enveloped Adam, marking him as his own, a possessive and primal act of claim.

Adam’s vision blurred, his body a blend of numbness and warmth. As Lucifer captured his lips in a kiss, it was sweet, tender, and brimming with a gentleness that contrasted his usual cruel demeanour. When their lips parted, the sharp, predatory smirk that usually adorned Lucifer’s face melted into something softer, more affectionate—a loving smile that radiated from his captivating eyes. A low, purring rattle emanated from Lucifer, a sound akin to a contented serpent, as his golden curls shimmered with vibrant, iridescent feathers that fanned out like a hummingbird’s wings. Adam’s breath caught in his throat, utterly entranced by the ethereal beauty of the feathered serpent godling before him.

But then, a sudden gust of fresh air swept through the temple, dispelling the stifling heat and Lucifer's enchanting pheromones. Adam blinked, his senses slowly returning as the sacred stones were cleansed by the breeze. He squinted, glancing around in confusion as clarity and fear crept back into his mind.

Oh Quetzalcoatl... What had he done? What had he allowed himself to be swept into?

He had broken the sacred laws of Pentagram City, trespassed onto sacrificial grounds, and ascended the temple of Quetzalcoatl. He had committed treason, and the consequences would be severe—he would be torn apart if he descended. The Jorogumo warriors were likely already lying in wait, ready to capture him and exact their cruel retribution.

Worse still, he had desecrated the temple of Quetzalcoatl. He had allowed himself to indulge in something forbidden, something sacred. Lucifer could very well be the divine offspring of Quetzalcoatl himself, a holy being sent to deliver the next stage of destiny to Pentagram City. If Quetzalcoatl had not returned in his own form but sent his Nephilim son instead, it meant Lucifer was to fulfil this year's covenant with the people. And Adam... Adam had touched him, kissed him, allowed himself to be marked by him.

Holy gods. He was doomed. He had practically defiled Lucifer in the eyes of the elders! The punishment would be swift and merciless. They would deem him unworthy, a failed Phoenix, an unfit Omega, and he would be executed so Lucifer could find a more suitable mate.

Lucifer, who had been nuzzling into Adam with blissful contentment, barely had time to register Adam’s sudden panic. His golden and ruby eyes widened in surprise, round as an owl’s, as he tumbled to the temple floor in a dishevelled heap of serpentine coils and puffed-out feathers.

"Adam?" he called out, confusion lacing his voice as he pushed himself up from the stones, his sharp fangs glinting as they protruded from his lips. "Adam?"

The failed Phoenix stumbled to a halt in the archway, his gaze lingering on Lucifer as he bit his bottom lip. This was everything he had ever dreamed of— the boy who had promised to be his mate returning to fulfill that promise, a chosen mate who was more than he could have ever hoped for, a god himself. He yearned to return to Lucifer's warm embrace, but fear gripped him—fear of what Pentagram City would do to him once they discovered his transgression with Lucifer.

With a thick swallow, Adam turned and ran through the archway, his heart pounding with anxiety. The burning light of the sun blinded him, but he refused to look down at the walls, terrified of seeing the Jorōgumo warriors readying themselves to capture him. All he could think of was getting home, back to his flat where he could hide away, lick his wounds, and nurse his second broken heart. He would dream of the mate and the love he could have had if only he had been worthying.

Lucifer watched Adam flee, a disappointed growl rumbling deep in his throat. It took only moments for him to untangle his serpentine body, his clawed hands smoothing down his feathers as he straightened. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of his right claw—the one he had used to caress Adam—and he brought his finger to his lips, licking it thoughtfully.

Adam had rejected him? Adam had run away from him? No. Absolutely not. That wasn’t allowed. Adam was his. Adam was his mate. He wasn’t allowed to change his mind. Lucifer’s blood and soul screamed for only one mate, and he had chosen Adam.

With a determined huff, Lucifer licked his fingers clean and slithered toward the archway, the bright sunlight barely fazing him as he poked his head out, gazing over the city his father had created.

“So, this is Pentagram City?” he clicked his tongue in distaste. “I expected something bigger.”

Lucifer's skin crackled and snapped, a sinister symphony echoing down the winding staircase as his eyes narrowed, sharp and unforgiving. His fork-tipped tongue slipped out like a serpent’s kiss, tasting the air, while the tip of his tail rattled with anticipation. Through the dim light, he glimpsed the silhouette of Adam, hastily descending the golden steps, his every movement betraying his desperation.

With a sudden, violent twitch, Lucifer's body surged, and from his back erupted six magnificent wings, their beauty both terrifying and divine. They stretched out along his spine, extending all the way to the base of his rattle-tailed form, a display of dark splendor. A low, rumbling purr escaped his lips as his clawed hands curled around the edge of the top step. Leaning forward, his shoulders rose, framing his face as his blood-red eyes flared with predatory hunger. The spider-like women clinging to the walls of his father’s domain caught his gaze, their presence only deepening his hunger.

"Ah," he murmured, arching his wings wide, feeling the power ripple through them as he tested their strength. It had been far too long since he had flown in this form, a form both glorious and deadly. "Adam’s about to stumble into a web of trouble, and I haven’t feasted in such a long time..."

With a graceful, effortless motion, Lucifer launched himself into the sky. His wings beat with a speed that outpaced a bullet, carrying him swiftly through the air, unseen and unstoppable. For whom could ever hope to spot the Nephilim coming? After all, Lucifer was the very child of the winds, an omen of doom that none could escape.

~#~

It was a strange sensation, one that Adam couldn’t quite explain. An inexplicable surge of energy pulsed through him, propelling his legs faster than they’d ever moved before. He leaped down the temple steps, his skin tingling with a sense of foreboding, as if unseen eyes were watching him from above. Yet, every time he glanced upward, he found nothing but darkness.

The failed Phoenix dashed across the sacrificial grounds, his heart pounding in his chest. He sprinted straight through the night sky's twinkling pathway, eyes fixed on the ancient wall of Quetzalcoatl. His throat burned, his nostrils flaring as if inhaling fire. Suddenly, a chill sliced through him when he glimpsed the silhouette of a Jorōgumo warrior near the wall. But as he drew closer, the shadowy figure vanished as though it had never been there. Had he looked more closely, he might have noticed the fresh blood staining the ground beneath his feet, but fear blinded him to the signs.

His heart raced, pounding a relentless rhythm in his chest, urging him not to stop. And so he didn’t. He skidded forward, dropping to his knees, scrambling across the cold stone. Unaware, he crawled beneath the statue of Quetzalcoatl, his hands outstretched, reaching for safety. Just as he pulled himself through, the waiting Jorōgumo warrior, hidden in the shadows, barely had time to scream before being snatched away by a blur in the sky. Adam blinked in confusion; his breath ragged as he glanced around.

"Where did all the Jorōgumo go?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, wincing as his fingers brushed over his sensitive Omega glands. Startled, he jerked his hand away, stumbling to his feet, and began to speed walk toward the border of Pentagram City.

"Maybe they didn’t notice me," he whispered to himself, picking up his pace.

His eyes brightened as he spotted other creatures of the city going about their daily business. It seemed no one had noticed him sneaking past the walls. Maybe he really was lucky! Perhaps Lilith herself had taken pity on him, distracting her clan just long enough for him to slip by unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to Adam, the Jorōgumo warriors were being silently picked off behind him, one by one, by a shadowy figure darting through the sky. Oblivious to the chaos, he zigzagged through Pentagram City, his legs burning as he jogged past the crowds. His ears rang with the echo of his own heartbeat, so heavy and fast that it made him dizzy. But still, Adam didn’t pause, driven by a desperate need to return to the safety of his rundown flat.

When his apartment building finally came into view, Adam nearly wept with relief. His eyes glistened with tears as he slowed to a walk, sweat trickling down his clammy skin. He leaned over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. But his relief was short-lived. A cold dread washed over him as he felt a hand on his backside.

Adam's eyes widened in horror as he shot upright and spun around, only to find himself face-to-face with the seedy Alpha Minotaur. The very same Alpha who delighted in stalking him, his eyes gleaming with sinister intent.

"Not today," Adam choked out, his chest still heaving as he tried to push past the brute. "I'm in no mood for your bullshit."

"That's a bit harsh," the Minotaur growled, his voice a smoky rumble that sent a shiver through Adam's spine. His massive, calloused hand clamped around Adam's arm, effortlessly pulling him closer. "Considering I'm your last shot at any kind of courtship, don’t you think you should be a little sweeter to me?"

Adam stared; disbelief plastered across his face. The audacity of this asshole. He struggled in vain to break free from the Minotaur’s iron grip. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I heard all about the Jorōgumo turning you down. I tried to warn you," the Alpha murmured with a smug smile, leaning in close to exhale a cloud of musky breath across Adam’s face. "A Jorōgumo would never go for something as weak and delicate as you."

Ignoring the sting of the insult, Adam glared at the Alpha Minotaur, his eyes dark with anger. "Let. Go. Of. Me."

"I’m offering you a chance—what every Omega dreams of. I’m a strong Alpha, I could take real good care of you!" The Minotaur’s grip tightened around Adam’s slender arm. "Better than that spider freak, anyway."

Adam swallowed the growl rising in his throat, still struggling to wrench his arm free. "Fuck off!"

"Oh, you’ve got spirit!" the Minotaur bellowed with laughter, finally releasing Adam and sending the Phoenix Omega stumbling backward. "You’ll come around eventually. They always do."

Disgust twisted Adam's features as he sneered. "I might be unwanted by nearly everyone in Pentagram City, but even I have standards. Even I, a failed Phoenix, deserve better than a fuckhead like you!"

Without giving the Minotaur a chance to respond, Adam spun on his heel and stormed away. His eyes began to sting with unshed tears, but he refused to cry in front of that asshole Alpha. His arm throbbed from the Minotaur’s grip, but Adam was damned if he’d let that assclown know he’d hurt him. No fucking way.

As he approached his apartment building, something slithered down from above, and in an instant, the Minotaur was yanked into the air by his horns. His startled scream was cut off before it could even begin.

Adam all but collapsed against the door, his chest heaving as he stared blankly at his dimly lit flat. The tension in his body began to unravel, and he slowly slid down the door until his backside hit the floor, his head resting heavily against the wood behind him. Safe at last, surrounded by the familiar shadows of his home, Adam found himself drawn irresistibly to his comfort nest.

He crawled across the floor, each movement more desperate than the last, until he reached the nest of tangled sheets and blankets. With a swift, almost frantic motion, he threw himself into it, cocooning his trembling body within the soft layers.

As he lay there, the tension slowly drained from his stiff muscles, and the whirlwind of emotions he'd been holding at bay finally surged forward. The memories of the past few hours crashed down on him, leaving him breathless. A childish squeal of disbelief escaped his lips as he covered his face with both hands, rolling onto his side and curling into a tight ball.

"Holy shit," he whispered, peeking through his fingers as if the darkness might somehow confirm the impossible. "Did that really happen?"

Had he truly ventured all the way to the temple? Had he really committed treason, defying every law he knew, and scaled the temple’s sacred crown? And more unbelievable still—had he stood before the Godling of Quetzalcoatl, the Nephilim himself? Was any of it real?

Had he really met Lucifer? And had Lucifer truly touched him like that?

Adam's breath hitched, his disbelief mounting with every question. Could the kind boy he’d met all those years ago have been the Nephilim of Quetzalcoatl?

His breath shook, a tremor of doubt seeping into his thoughts. There was no way it had all happened... right? It had to be in his head. Maybe he’d never left his nest, and all of it had just been some vivid, twisted dream. That seemed more likely, but then…there was wetness still between his legs. The evidence was still inside his pyjamas.

Adam groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, desperate to believe it had all been a dream. His heart pounded with worry because if it wasn’t… he had pushed Lucifer away and fled like a coward. Who knew what the Nephilim would do now?

As he nestled deeper into the comforting embrace of his nest, the exhaustion of being up all night finally caught up with him. His thoughts began to blur, his breathing gradually slowing as sleep claimed him. How long he slept, he couldn’t say, but when he awoke, the light outside his grimy windows was already fading into twilight.

Whining softly, Adam rubbed his tired eyes and sat up, his hair a tousled mess. Even after sleeping, he still felt drained, as if he could easily slip back into slumber. But something wasn’t right. What had woken him up? The flat looked as it always did, nothing out of place.

Shrugging off the unease, Adam lay back down, burrowing into his blankets once more. Just as he was about to drift off again, a faint tapping reached the edge of his consciousness. At first, he ignored it, thinking it was just the rain. But the sound persisted, almost rhythmic in nature.

His eyes snapped open, annoyance bubbling up as he sat up and listened more intently. The tapping was coming from his window? But even with the shoddy glass, Adam could tell there was nothing on the other side—not even a drop of rain. His brows furrowed in confusion as he crawled toward the wall, yawning and accidentally bumping his forehead against the cold surface.

Groaning, Adam rubbed his forehead before pulling himself to his feet. He grumbled under his breath as he repeated his usual morning ritual, tugging at the stiff, worn-out latch. The hinges creaked loudly in protest as he forced the window open.

He peered out into the darkening city, stretching out a hand to feel for rain, but there was nothing. His head lolled against the window frame, his eyelids growing heavy again. There was nothing out there, and he was so tired—he could just doze off like this and—

"Hi, Adam!"

Adam’s eyes flew open in shock, freezing in place as a face suddenly appeared inches from his own. Black and green claws gripped the top of the window, and a familiar, mischievous head hung upside down, grinning at him.

Adam stared into Lucifer’s ruby and golden eyes, his groggy mind struggling to catch up. Lucifer? It was Lucifer! The Nephilim of Quetzalcoatl! His supposed mate—the one Adam had shoved away and abandoned at the temple. A startled yelp escaped his throat as he stumbled backward, landing on his backside. Meanwhile, Lucifer, with impressive agility, wiggled through the small window, his grin never faltering. The Nephilim slipped inside, his long tail snaking in after him, rattling as it stretched all the way across the room, revealing just how unnervingly long it was.

"You have wings?!" Adam squawked in surprise, his voice breaking.

Lucifer hummed contentedly, his twinkling eyes surveying the room until they settled on Adam's nest. A wide grin spread across his face as he immediately slithered toward it, nuzzling himself into the makeshift walls of pillows, cushions, and sheets.

"Hmm?" Lucifer murmured, patting down the pillows as his six wings fluttered on either side of him. "Of course I do~ All my brothers and sisters have Father's wings~"

Adam crawled backward until his back hit the wall, his eyes wide with shock. "You… You didn’t have them before."

"I can retract them!" Lucifer replied cheerfully, his wings suddenly straightening before folding back into his body, disappearing seamlessly into the feathers and scales. "See~"

Adam opened his mouth to respond but clamped it shut, his gaze shifting awkwardly—until he noticed something alarming. Red liquid. Everywhere. His eyes widened as he followed the trail of crimson from the floor to the walls, and finally, to his nest.

"You’re covered in blood!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with panic.

Cuddling an emerald, green pillow close to his chest, Lucifer buried his face in it, inhaling deeply. He snuggled the pillow and peered at Adam with half-lidded eyes. "Don’t worry. It’s not my blood."

Resisting the urge to snatch back his favourite pillow, Adam frowned deeply. "Whose blood, is it?"

"Ah, those Jorōgumo. They were planning to ambush you, but don’t worry! I dealt with them!" Lucifer chirped, his feathers fluffing up and the tip of his tail rattling with satisfaction. "Oh, and that annoying Alpha Minotaur. He touched what’s mine, and I don’t like sharing. So, I dealt with him too!"

It was as if Adam’s brain short-circuited at Lucifer’s unnervingly gleeful response. He blinked a few times, his mouth opening to speak but then clamping shut again. His gaze remained locked on Lucifer, who stared back at him while clutching Adam's favorite green pillow. Did Lucifer know it was Adam's favorite? Was that why the Nephilim held it so tightly, pressing his cheek against it and—was he sniffing it repeatedly?

"When you say you dealt with them…" Adam’s voice wavered as he asked.

Lucifer’s smirk widened, almost unnervingly, until he seemed like an entirely different creature. His rattlesnake tail swayed lazily behind him. "I ate them. Yes."

"You—you ate them?!" Adam gasped. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been such a revelation. Quetzalcoatl was a god of blood sacrifices and devouring flesh, so it made sense that his children would share the same… tastes.

"I was hungry," Lucifer shrugged, entirely unconcerned. "And they were there, so I figured why not? Killed two birds with one stone~"

Adam nodded slowly, trying to process the twisted logic. It made sense, he supposed, but still, a shudder of revulsion crept up his spine. "How did you find me?"

"It wasn’t hard~" Lucifer snorted, his eyes narrowing at Adam with a hint of judgment. "You’re my mate. I’ll always be able to sniff you out. No matter how far you run, I can pick up your scent anywhere. I just followed it to this building after I had my fill."

"Oh," Adam mumbled, glancing away, feeling weak. "Are you mad at me?"

"Absolutely!" Lucifer chirped, his smile unnervingly wide and cheerful. He didn’t look angry at all. "I’m fuming! I’m so upset with you! You ran away from me! And pushed me off! That hurt so much, you know!"

Adam flinched at the overly cheerful tone, his stomach knotting with anxiety. Lucifer’s voice was light, but when Adam finally met his eyes, he saw it—the pure, simmering anger lurking behind that deceptively happy expression.

"I’m sorry," Adam said, leaning forward without actually approaching the feathered serpent. "I’m sorry. I just panicked."

Lucifer grunted, tilting his head curiously. "Why would you panic? You’re my mate; I’d never hurt you."

"Okay, I—I know that. And I’d never hurt you either." Adam’s cheeks warmed as he spoke, feeling a bit bashful. He doubted he could ever actually harm Lucifer, but saying it seemed to make Lucifer relax slightly. "But you have to understand, you’re a Nephilim, the son of my god. How did you expect me to react? I’m nothing special. I’m not even a fully reformed Phoenix, and you’re telling me my mate is a Godling? It was just… too much."

Lucifer’s expression softened, his head tilting further as he seemed to digest Adam’s words. He hummed thoughtfully and let out a soft sigh. "Okay. I can understand that, so I’ll let it slide this time. But don’t ever do that to me again—I won’t be so forgiving."

"Right…" Adam nodded sheepishly. "I really am sorry."

"Hmm?" Lucifer purred, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eye, one clawed finger beckoning Adam closer. "If you’re really sorry and want to make it up to me, you’ll come over and snuggle with me~ I’ve always wanted to see your nest, Addie~"

Without thinking, Adam climbed to his feet, drawn to Lucifer like a moth to a flame. He found himself standing at the edge of his nest, staring down at Lucifer. But as he looked into those mischievous eyes, he narrowed his own and frowned.

Lucifer immediately pouted, raising both arms to Adam like a child wanting to be picked up. "Come on, Addie~ Let’s cuddle. I wanna snuggle you~"

"No," Adam said firmly, planting his hands on his hips. "Not when you’re covered in blood."

A sharp smirk returned to Lucifer’s lips, and his long, serpentine tongue flicked out playfully. "Well, then you better come clean me~"

"C-Clean you?" Adam stammered, his eyes widening. "You don’t mean…"

Lucifer’s grin widened, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he stretched out luxuriously in the nest, his voice dripping with suggestive mischief. "Oh, but I do~"

“…I’ll find a sponge or a flannel.” Adam muttered, beginning to turn his head away.

“Why would you need those?” Lucifer questioned, catching Adam’s wrist with his snake-tail.

Adam blinked down at him. “To…clean you?”

“Oh no~” with one tug, Lucifer pulled Adam on top of him. “We don’t clean ourselves like that, Addie~”

“…and…how do you want me to clean you?”

Lucifer purred, sliding his arms around Adam’s middle. He rubbed them purposely up and down Adam’s back. His long tongue licked at Adam’s lips.

“You need to use your tongue~”

----

Lilith – Jorōgumo - Alpha

 Origin: Japan

 Description: A spider that can transform into a beautiful woman to lure and devour men. Jorōgumo is a blend of beauty and danger, often featured in ghost stories.

Lucifer – Quetzalcoatl's younglin – Omega

 Origin: Mesoamerica

 Description: A feathered serpent god associated with wind, air, and learning. Quetzalcoatl is one of the most important deities in Aztec culture.

Adam – Phoenix – Omega

 Origin: Ancient Greece, Egypt, and Persia

 Description: A magnificent bird that is cyclically reborn from its ashes, symbolizing immortality, renewal, and the sun.

#hazbin hotel #fanfic #adamsapple #au #lucifer x adam #guitarduck #fanficiton #promised souls #mythology #aztec mythology

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dolliesiu · 1 day ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐔 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 ꒷꒦ ๋࣭ ⭑

notes : I did not expect my previous posts to get the attention they did! Anyways, these are my headcanons for Liu! I just want to clarify that my version of Liu does NOT have DID as I don't believe it was portrayed properly in his original story. I also do not want to portray DID poorly.

★ Has heterochromia iridum. His right eye is green while his left eye is brown.

★ Spends A LOT of time watching documentaries, specifically one’s relating to psychology as it’s a huge fascination of his.

★ Very interested in journaling. He mainly writes about his feelings and thoughts as he has trouble understanding and describing them. Most of his entries include his violent and intrusive thoughts.

★ His alter ego, Sully, was an identity Liu had consciously created as a way to cope with his inner mental and emotional conflicts. He felt indifferent towards his brother. Part of him wanted to forgive him, despite almost being murdered by his own blood; The other held a massive grudge against him, actively wanting to torture him in the most brutal ways possible. As a “coping mechanism”, he resorted to lashing out at others, taking his anger out on innocent pedestrians mercilessly. He got much worse over time as it messed with his overall ability to manage his emotions. It resulted in him recognizing each one of them as overwhelming and unbearable.

★ Feels extremely guilty about his actions. He heavily regrets having taken out his own frustrations and anger on those who weren't to blame for it.

★ Originally had a lot of scars. Most of them have faded away with time, but he still has a few visible.

★ Occasionally has therapy sessions with Jack as he seems to have the most experience in the field. Most of these sessions include Liu rambling and trying his best to talk or even explain his emotions. Surprisingly, it’s helped him a bit.

★ Liu is very different from his persona, Sully. He’s soft-spoken, generally anxious, and quite sensitive. Most of the time, he’s willing to lend a helping hand when needed.

★ Liu tends to layer his clothing to hide most of these scars though, especially the large one on his neck as it hasn’t completely disappeared.

★ Often neglects his physical needs. He tends to prioritize things he considers to be more important, so he ends up forgetting most of the time.

★ Enjoys collecting a variety of items he finds that either catch his interest or is strange in general.

★ Knows how to play the violin as he used to take classes as a teen.

★ Taught himself how to sew! Whenever he’s out, he tends to accidentally rip parts of his clothing out of pure clumsiness, so he figured it’d be a useful skill to learn.

★ His height is around 5’9.

★ He has quite a distaste for horror movies, yet he’ll oddly enough find himself watching them. He especially takes in great detail of the gruesome murders happening in the films.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta headcanons #homicidal liu #crp #slenderverse #slenderverse headcanons #headcanons #liu woods #self indulgent!

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imladris4848 · 14 days ago

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the fall

Just read "A Great and Gruesome Height " straight through and cannot get this out of my head

Text credit to mokuyoubi

#hannigram #murder husbands #hannibal #will graham #the fall

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riding-with-the-wild-hunt · 28 days ago

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"Upon it sat a shape, black-mantled, huge and threatening. A crown of steel he bore, but between rim and robe naught was there to see, save only a deadly gleam of eyes: the Lord of the Nazgûl. To the air he had returned, summoning his steed ere the darkness failed, and now he was come again, bringing ruin, turning hope to despair, and victory to death. A great black mace he wielded." - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King, "The Battle of the Pelennor Fields"

@tolkienhorrorweek day 2 ⇢ angmar + minas morgul + sorcery || THE WITCH-KING OF ANGMAR

[ID: an edit comprised of four graphics in shades of cool brown and green with white accents. They all have brown backgrounds and white italicized text.

1: A rectangular image covers the left side of the graphic. It shows Joao Vitor, a brazilian model with brown skin and dark hair tied back behind his head. He is sitting sprawled in a chair with a skull at his left, and looking up at the viewer with a fierce, moody expression. His shirt is open and he is barefoot, but wearing a large and ornate necklace. The graphic is framed on three sides with white lines that overlap the image, and white text reads "Born the illegitimate son of minor Númenorean nobility, the Witch-king of Angmar would rise to such heights of infamy as would have astounded his forebearers. Having escaped the sinking of Elenna after being sent to a remote outpost near Umbar (despite the destruction of certain pertinent records, the rumor of his parents being half-siblings is widely believed; it is likely his grandparents arranged his appointment as a settlement governor in an effort to conceal the incestuous nature of the union), he removed from the coast with his people, and, after a period of absence, reemerged in the far north of Eriador as the self-styled Prince of Angmar. At this time he first began to produce concrete demonstrations of sorcery, such as the raising overnight of the citadel at Carn Dûm (though this may be mythic exaggeration) and the calling down of a plague upon the kingdom of Cardolan." Below the text is a decorative motif comprised of lines and circles.

2: A rectangular image in the center of the graphic shows conifers surrounded by mist. The bottom edge of the picture is overlapped with part of the same decoration from Image 1. Below it, text reads "Stories of all kinds circulated regarding the Witch-king’s talents and proclivities: it was said that his shadow walked without him, that he could change his shape and assume forms strange and terrible; that he never took a lover but to bring them happy to some gruesome fate. It is unknown which of these anecdotes are true and which the product of ensorcellement or simply a fearful reputation, but certainly Angmar’s powers were great and varied, as evinced by the complete erasure of his right name from all surviving records, including memory."

3: Same format as Image 2, but the image shows the grey stone entrance to a castle surrounded by woods. Text reads "After his defeat at the hands of King Eärnur of Gondor and his allies, the Witch-king journeyed south to Mordor to seek the protection of Sauron his liege. There were all nine of Sauron’s greatest servants first united, and when they once more issued forth, it was against Gondor that their collected might was turned. They laid siege to the garrison of Minas Ithil, driving those within to such extremities of terror that they tore one another to pieces, or else hurled themselves from the battlements in madness and despair."

4: Same format as Image 1, but the orientation is switched, with the text on the left and the image on the right. It shows Joao Vitor, this time turning towards the viewer with one hand resting on his shoulder. He is wearing multiple gold rings as well as bracelets and earrings. Text reads "Thus Ithilien became largely uninhabited save for the fell creatures of Mordor, and all Minas Ithil’s beauty fell into ruin and decay. The people of Gondor shunned the city above all, and it was called Minas Morgul, for any who looked upon those silent streets or smelled on the air the perfume of the flowers growing in the vale was plagued with evil dreams, or became distempered in their wits, or else slept and came never back among living men. But it is said in that city was yet one who was not Sauron’s minion, and it was Eärnur the King. For the ire of the Morgul-lord did not rest, and he taunted Eärnur and challenged him to come once more upon the field. And though his people endeavored to stay him, Eärnur went forth from Minas Tirith in arms, and was taken within the Morgul City; and it is told that the Witch-king set him there to torment, yet would call him ever back within the circles of the World that his suffering might have no end." //End ID]

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khryptid · 2 months ago

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I don’t think we as television Doctor Who fans appreciate the ways in which the Doctor has died/regenerated enough.

Because the more I think on it, it could be so much worse.

The most common causes are old age or internal injury (radiation/laser/illness) rather than anything more gruesome—though falling from a great height and mismanaged surgery come close. And while I doubt anything would ever be shown on Doctor Who, Torchwood did open up the grittier side of the Whoniverse.

So canonically, the Doctor has two hearts, which means their blood pressure has to be through the roof, and say their death happened by a gun or knife/sword, the blood spray would have to be frankly ridiculous.

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pacing-er · 5 months ago

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Death Mark 2 was definitely inferior to the first game but there were a lot of things to like about it too! Some great moments between Yashiki and Mashita, and it was fun getting to see animated versions of the characters walk around (The canon Yashita height difference is so cute 🥰)

It definitely had a very different writing style than the first game, especially when it came to how the lines of the characters were translated. The characters cussed a lot more (especially Yashiki which surprised me) whereas they didn't really swear at all in the first game. It wasn't necessarily bad but it stuck out to me. Overall I enjoyed the characterization since it made for moments like the one above.

I have some complaints about the repetitiveness and how they made it so you can't save the "marked" students. It being set in a school made it so you explored the same setting over and over again with the exception being the forest and bus route. However, I did enjoy the student characters they introduced and found their personalities entertaining. Again though I would have preferred if they gave us an option to save them. Coming from the first game where saving everyone gave you some very satisfying bonus content it made me feel like I was doing something wrong when everyone died lol. The trade off was Yashiki angst which I enjoyed I guess

(MAJOR SPOILERS AND TW BELOW)

I really enjoyed the ending of the game! The backstory of The Departed was satisfyingly gruesome and I really love the role reversal of Yashiki being subjected to the same fate in the bad ending of the game. Overall it was super stylish and I found the conclusion of The Departed story in the good ending very cathartic. Especially the bit where he speculates that The Departed was able to experience the normal life that they always wished for while inhabiting the bodies of those girls. In general I found The Departed to be a very compelling and sympathetic antagonist. Unfortunately the other minor antagonists were overall pretty boring.

#death mark #death mark 2 #death mark ii #kazuo yashiki #yashita #satoru mashita #personal #review #playing NG now #death mark 2 spoilers

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vee-beeee · 1 year ago

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Fun Times At the Station

HELLO

Im back with another short an fluffy one :)

Premise: Fun times at the station :D

Warnings: cringe like SUPER cringe behavior BE WARNED, fluff AGAIN, diet light swearing, connor being a cutie pie

Mean girls reference ahead

(living for a lil protective connor)

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Another boring day at the office.

Well as boring as it can be at a police station.

Today had consisted of just desk work so far, and you were settling in to work overtime to get all of it done. You had already come at the crack of dawn, before anyone else was there, to get started. You sighed as you reclined slightly in your chair, taking a chance to peer over at a certain android.

Your favorite android in fact

The RK800 prototype, Connor

The first time you saw him was during the height of the deviancy. You were one of the investigators on the Ortiz case, and saw him trailing behind Hank at the front door. He looked like a lost puppy, but then it morphed into a more determined expression as he saw the body. You watched him walk around and analyze evidence, and at one point he even came up to you to ask some questions about what you thought.

You remembered thinking "why is this smart, basically super computer guy asking ME what I think?" you had answered of course, but he could tell you were confused.

Even Connor didn't know why he talked to you. He had noticed you staring at him when he entered the house and still felt your gaze watching his form as he scanned and analyzed evidence.

He honestly had no clue what drove him to do it, but looking back, he's glad he did. It essentially started your friendship. He knew one thing, and that was when he did walk over to you and questioned you, he got a software instability notification in the corner of his vision. Wonder why.

You remembered that day fondly, how sweet he was with you, his cute little face, it was so refreshing after being around that gruesome death.

And then you realized you had been staring off into space, which had coincidentally been right next to his face. His very confused face.

Anddddd now he was walking towards you.

"Detective? Is everything alright?" he tilted his head as he asked, His LED blinking amber. You saw his eyes flicker briefly down your body you and realized he was probably scanning you. You snapped out of your trance to respond to him.

"Oh yeah Connor, I'm so sorry I was just staring into space." he raised his eyebrow at you, but eventually nodded and adjusted his tie. You watched him walk past your desk and into the break room, which was a little strange. You exhaled, sliding down your seat and tried to go back to work at this awkward angle. But you couldn't get into it, you felt like someone was staring into your soul. So you sat up and looked over the edge of your computer and saw non other than Hank staring you down. He had an smug expression plastered all over his face. You flushed and looked back down at your computer, and you could barely see him out of the corner of your eye moving with quiet laughter. You grumbled and started typing.

It wasn't your fault Connor was so cute! It was cyberlife! They totally knew what they were doing, making all his freckles and cute eyes and..

"Detective?" you whipped around as a gentle hand rested on your shoulder. Connor was standing with what looked to be a coffee and your favorite snack.

"I was wondering if you wished to take a break? Working for this long can cause the human body to falter." You literally almost cried. He was so so sweet. You were so flustered by him, that the response you had prepared, a tie between cool and great came out jumbled up and mixed around. Future you would be haunted by it for the rest of your life out of embarrassment

"Grool"

You froze and Connor raised his eyebrows in surprise, but then a soft chuckle filled the space around you. He was laughing. You made Connor laugh.

He's chuckles slowly lessened but he still had a lingering smile on his face. He took both items into one hand and held out the other for you to take, and you gladly accepted. You picked yourself up and realized as you were walking to the break room that he didn't let go of your hand

"Detective your heart rate just picked up. Are you okay?" you stopped and stared at him gawking a little as he looked smugly into your eyes. Was he teasing you? he was totally teasing you.

"Im fine! Also, sidenote, grools a totally real word you know" you knew your argument was garbage, Connor was literally the most advanced android and knew basically everything, including the English language, but you guessed messing up had one advantage. Connor squeezed your hand and led you to the break room, filling the hallways with his and yours small chuckles.

After you had that break with Connor, (which had been filled with him and you talking about anything and everything) , he got a report and informed you that both of you were assigned to interrogate a guy accused of selling red ice.

Here you thought today would be easy.

You and Connor put your serious caps on and joined Hank and a pissed off Gavin in the observation room. On the other side of the one way glass was a sweaty looking guy who was gazing right into the mirror. You shivered at his look of determination and defiance, and all of a sudden you felt Connor's hand graze your own and wrap his pinky around yours. Okay, situation forgotten, you need a minute to swoon over Connor.

(What you both didn't see was Hank looking down at your hands and smirking)

Unfortunately, Gavin had other plans than let you swoon.

"Y/N why don't you go in there and try to talk some sense into this guy. He's been annoying the hell out of me since we picked him up." Gavin glared at you and rolled his eyes away when he saw how close Connor was. Luckily you were standing at an angle so he couldn't see your fingers, which would have inevitably lead to more comments.

Speaking of that cute little pinky holding thing going on, you really didn't want to let go. But Connor nodded at you and unhooked his finger, giving you a small reassuring smile which made everything better.

"Okay ill go and question him, but keep an eye on that guy" you turned to look Conner in the eye while saying that last part and he tilted his head, LED flashing yellow.

You stepped into the room, door hissing shut behind you, and tried greet the man, but he wasn't looking at you. He was still looking at the glass. Staring deeply into it, as if he could see someone's reflection.

What he didn't know, was that he was blindly staring at Connor.

And Connor was staring back.

You cleared your throat and started off by reading him his rights, and then explained to him why he was here. When you mentioned the red ice he rolled his eyes and finally turned his head to face you.

"I don't know why everyone keeps saying I'm selling red ice. Have you even found any at my own damn house?

You sighed and looked him up and down, your knee shaking slightly, but keeping a straight face. "No, we haven't." His face fell back into a smug grin. Time to risk it for a chocolate biscuit. "Buttt.. we were tipped off that you might have a storehouse somewhere filled with the stuff. Mind telling me where that is?"

He wheezed out and turned his full body in his chair to look at you.

"If you think I'm going to tell you where that is, your dreaming." He then started leaning his weight over the table to stare you down. "They also shouldn't have sent in a little thing like you to question me."

You shivered, but held eye contact and didn't back down. Connor balled his hands up in the observation room and continued to stare down the guy. Hank turned and gave him an eyebrow raise, seeing his angered state. Connor turned his head slightly to acknowledge him but didn't dare take his eyes off the guy. He needed to be ready to move. The man continued to sit there, slinking back into his chair and with a look of victory. He thought he won.

When really you had.

"So you do have a separate storehouse?"

His face instantly paled.

You leaned back and crossed your legs. "We actually didn't know that. Thanks for the new info." you stood up and walked out of the room while he blubbered, door closing shut after you. Stepping back into the observation room, you were greeted by 3 faces beaming at you.

You instantly got embarrassed, not liking this new attention you were getting and you absolutely panicked. And then said the worst thing EVER.

"I don't mean to toot my own horn, but toot toot" you made a motion with your arms to go with the toot toot, and to top it off your voice cracked as you said it going high pitched. And then you just stood there. Cosplaying as a tomato.

Hank looked like he was going to cry and burst into laughter, and Gavin sighed and shoved you on his way out the door, hollering out a "And just when i thought you were cool" as he strode down the hallway.

Connor knew one thing while he watched you awkwardly stand there and pat Hank on the back as he wheezed from laughing so hard.

He liked you. Like-liked you. A lot.

And when Hank had left to go back to his desk, you and Connor were left alone.

"That was very impressive detective." he murmured as you looked up into his eyes, and your lips twitched

"My imitation of a horn or the interrogation?" Connor chuckled, taking your hand into his and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, LED glowing amber. You let him do so and gazed into his eyes as you both leaned closer, inching forwards.

"Both"

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SORRY FOR THE KISSY KISS CUTOFF

I SWEAR ill try to write a kiss scene sometime, but im so not confident enough to do that yet.

I hope you enjoyed this fluff fest, im still working on banter so if it comes off weird forgive me, this is like me 4 week of writing.

THANKS FOR READING

hope it wasnt cringe for yall

sorry for spelling an plot holes lol

#dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh rk800 #detroit become human #dbh hank

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