#and he seems to have his mother’s curse of being mortal

[sarafangirlart]

all these medusa retellings, do any of them even touch on Chrysaor? ain't he like a full on person? her son? anytime I look him up to see if people talk about him all I find is that he's a pedo in those percy jackson books

Rarely, they’re more interested in giving Medusa an OC daughter or making Pegasus a girl, bc god forbid the girlboss is also a boy mom, god forbid that we explore how a son rather than a daughter feels about his dead mother.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Thirsting Grail, Outergod of Wants and Wounds

Artsource

Adventure Hooks:

While travelling the party encounters a once famed surgeon who seeks their help in undertaking pilgrimage to the distant shrine of a death god. When pressed on her motivation, she reveals that through some curse or divine act of cruelty, those she operates on can never die, but also cannot heal. 

There is a tree that grows in the ruins of the old braon’s castle, said to have sprouted from the chopping block upon which he had his wife’s lovers executed. The tree grows no leaves, only flowers, and it’s said that if you make a tea from its blossoms, you will receive a vision of your one ture love.  Beings of woven thorn are said to guard the tree, but there are those who would pay desperately to drink of its boughs. 

A once peaceful kingdom dissolves into a generations long civil war, any hope of peace drowned beneath a tide of violence, ruination, and grievance that none can hope to escape.

Among the outergods there are none more eager to engage with mortals than the entity known as Thisting Grail. It is a thing of violence and appetite, and seems all too eager to lend its power to those most likely to misuse it, whether they sought it’s aid in the first place or not. 

Scholars and madmen have long debated the Grail’s motivations, what goal or ideology it is trying to achieve with the visions and often horrific miracles it bestows. In truth, Thirsting Grail has no goal beyond the pursuit of violence and longing, it is a means without an end, ready to lend itself to any cause that would make the world a bloodier, hungrier place. 

The god is formless, an ocean of boling blood that takes on the shape of whatever “vessel” its followers imagine for it, borrowing their cultural iconography and birthing itself anew each time. There are litanies of these avatars, hundreds more likely forgotten by history;  blood saints and baleful red stars and heart hungry blades. Perhaps because of blood’s ubiquity in ritual and occult practice the Grail’s influence can “seep” its way into the worship of other entities, divine or demonic, and it’s not unheard of for otherwise upstanding and dogmatic worshippers of banal gods to accidentally begin practising the grail’s bloody rites. 

Sanguimancy and other forms of blood magic are the most obvious of Thirsting Grail’s gifts, but it has other more esoteric offerings: smoke from sacrifices or incense mingled with the formless god’s essence can grant visions of desires made manifest, though often twisted through a disturbingly carnal (in both senses of the word) lens. All too often worshippers ( and the cult leaders that encourage them) see these visions as prophetic, leading to the outergod being sometimes called “the mother of truth”.  It can also manifest the objects of desire: succulent fruits, unearthly lovers, weapons of inordinate power, but there is something fundamentally wrong with these creations as they cannot grant true satisfaction, and often leave those that partake of them wanting more than when they started. 

Those who fall prey to Thirsting Grail’s influence can become warped as their own veins become polluted by the entity’s ichor: becoming feral creatures of endless cruelty and appetite, or having their wounds open wider and wider until there is nothing but wound remaining of their swollen flesh. Those so overtaken grow and warp and merge with others until new horrors are birthed from them, a permanent seedbed of 

Titles: Mother of truth, formless mother, font erubescent, the bloodstar.  Symbols: A red grail or fountain, cultural iconography stained with blood.  Signs:  Wounds that bleed but do not heal, plants overflowing or cracking open to expose their innards. Unsettling red dreams.  Worshippers: Those with bloodstained hands be they doctors, butchers, or murderers. Vampires, occultists, and other sanguiphiles. Instatiable gourmands and unfulfilled lovers.   

Inspiration:  I wear my influences on my sleeve with this one.  I’ve been turning the Elden Ring mythology over in my mind for some time partially because I think there’s a lot of fun ideas there but also because I felt like (in typical Fromsoft fashion) there wasn’t enough shown to really scratch my itch for discovery. 

The formless mother/bloodstar was chiefest among these elements: A killer aesthetic with lore that was a little too thin to use as inspiration. After a while that thinness turned into a feature, the idea of an eldritch entity of pain and violence that conformed to the needs of those who worshipped it, granting power to those who would go out and make the world more violent and painful.  I liked the idea that “mother of truth” was a misnomer, and that cultists would ascribe meaning and intent and iconography to a god that didn’t care one way or another. 

Another strong influence is the Grail from Cultist Simulator/Book of hours ( SERIOUSLY, play book of hours you fools), an eldritch entity/aspect of reality that presides over hungers and births be they literal or figurative.  The Blood + Mother connection was obvious here, but the Grail provided some more texture and esoteric aspects to fill out my version’s storytelling potential.

[cece693]

Hiii!

I just recently saw your PJO fanfics about Nico and I loved them.

And I also noticed the severe lack of PJO x male reader fics in general. So I was hoping if you could write a fanfic with son of Demeter reader x Percy Jackson. (Can be a fanfic or just headcannons ur choice)

You don't have to do this request but it would be nice ^-^

Alright ty for listening to my Ted talk

Wildflower (Percy Jackson x Son of Demeter)

Thanks for the request :) You really had me dig out my books to remember how Demeter was portrayed, and surprisingly, she's kind, so it wasn't much trouble doing this request. It seems I got carried away, so I hope you enjoy!

tags: fluff, some angst, overprotective Demeter, who knows who your father is, headcanon and fanfic, mentions of calypso, break up/make up

Being a son of Demeter is a big deal. Because although she wasn't a virgin like Artemis or Hestia, it was rather difficult for a mortal to catch her attention. So not only are you a demigod but also cursed (lucky) to be a descendent of such an esteemed goddess.

Compared to other campers, you don't hate your godly parent. Sure, your mom is absent for many things and your memories of her are rather scarce, but, on the flip side, you are made aware of just how much your mother loves you. Afterall, you are her youngest child and she must keep an eye on you.

So, when news reaches her that you've begun dating Percy Jackson, she grows overprotective. What do you expect? After the whole fiasco with your sister, Persephone, she wants the best for her son. So expect the goddess to keep an eye on you two.

Percy doesn't mind your mother's overbearingness. In fact, it reminds him of his own mother. However, this doesn't mean that Percy is reckless. Demeter might be kind, but inquiring her wrath was stupid. So, he's extra careful and strives to show respect to the goddess—never stepping on flowers, always keeping a respectful distance from sacred plants, and treating every piece of nature as if Demeter herself is watching.

It takes some time, but your mother comes around. In fact, she's pleased you found someone 'worthy' of your affections. This might or might not have something to do with the fact that Percy has begun helping you tend a garden dedicated to her. Growing flowers known to be sacred to Demeter, like poppies and wheat. They work on it together, Percy’s hands clumsy but earnest.

Not everything in your relationship is easy. There are times, winter and fall especially, when your mood is foul and Percy is no help at all. His recklessness and impulsivity always ticks you off, but none more so when he keeps secrets from you. Like how Calypso kissed him before departing Ogygia.

The moment you saw him walking down the hill, something was off. He had that nervous look in his sea-green eyes, the one he got when he was about to face something dangerous—only this time, it was you. You crossed your arms, trying to root yourself in place, like your mother, Demeter, had taught you. But the anger simmering inside made that hard.

Percy reached you, giving a half-hearted smile. “Hey, I—”

“You kissed her?” Your words cut through the air like a sharp gust of wind.

Percy blinked, looking caught off guard. “What? No, it’s not like that—”

“Don’t lie to me, Percy.” You felt your fists tighten, your connection to the earth deepening as the grass beneath your feet curled and twisted with your emotions. “You let her kiss you, didn’t you?”

His brows furrowed, and he stepped closer. “It wasn’t like that. Calypso was—she was saying goodbye. It wasn’t…I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“You didn’t want to hurt her?” You repeated, the words feeling bitter on your tongue. “What about me? Or did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Percy exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly frustrated. “I was stuck on her island. I didn’t ask to be there! She kissed me because she had to say goodbye to something she couldn’t keep. It wasn’t my choice.”

You laughed, but it was bitter, like the taste of dry soil. “Maybe not, but you didn’t stop her either.”

Percy’s eyes flashed with frustration, the sea’s storm brewing behind them. “Come on, that’s not fair!” he snapped, his voice rising above the whispering trees. “I was stuck on a cursed island, not on some vacation! What was I supposed to do? Tell her no? I didn’t exactly have a lot of options.”

You took a step back, the sting of his words making your chest tighten. But anger pushed you forward again, overriding any hint of reason. “No, what’s unfair is me thinking you were gone, Percy!” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The pain had to come out somehow. “I waited here for weeks, wondering if this was the quest that would take you away from me forever. Did you even think once of me while you were away? Or was Calypso the only thing on your mind?”

Percy opened his mouth, but for a moment, no words came out. The guilt that flashed across his face was brief, but it was there, plain as day. “Of course I thought of you,” he said, his voice softer now, though still tinged with frustration. “I thought about you every single day. But I was stuck on that island with no way out. It wasn’t about wanting to be with her. I was just trying to survive.”

“And that’s supposed to make it okay?” You could feel the vines creeping up again, brushing against your ankles like a reminder of everything you were trying to hold in. “You were trapped; I get that. But a kiss, Percy? Do you know how that sounds?”

“I didn’t want this to happen,” he whispered, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You looked away, blinking back the sting of tears you refused to let him see. “Well, you did.”

The silence between you was heavy, thicker than any storm. Percy stared at you, guilt and regret etched into every line of his face. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he said, almost to himself.

You swallowed hard, forcing the lump in your throat down. “I don’t either, but right now, I need to figure out if I even want to.”

To say Demeter was mad at Percy is an understatement. The goddess's wrath casted a dark cloud over Camp Half-Blood that left even the bravest demigods feeling uneasy. Percy found himself stuck inside his cabin, trapped by an invisible force of nature, the very flora that usually thrived in the camp now threatening to attack him.

Not even Poseidon, the god of the sea, could ease some of Demeter’s anger. He tried to vouch for Percy and his love for you, yet the mere mention of Percy's name caused your mother to shake the ground beneath him. That was the first and last time he meddled in your affairs.

The campers were worried for both of you—the fight had clearly affected everyone, their agriculture suffering greatly, but they truly believed you guys were it. So it pained them to see the perfect couple at the verge of going seperate ways.

It was Annabeth who managed to get you two to talk things through. With her acting as the mediator, you three were locked inside a room and forced to speak about your feelings. Looking back, it was comical how it closely resembled marriage counseling.

The room felt thick with tension, every breath heavy as if weighed down by the unspoken emotions swirling between you, Percy, and Annabeth. You sat on the edge of the worn-out couch, legs bouncing anxiously, eyes fixed on the floor as if the threadbare carpet held the answers you desperately sought. Percy was beside you, close but not close enough. The usual warmth of his presence felt distant, and though you could sense his guilt radiating off him, it wasn’t enough to bridge the gap.

Annabeth stood before you both, arms crossed over her chest, her expression a blend of sympathy and frustration. She was here as a mediator, but even the daughter of Athena couldn’t easily navigate this emotional minefield. “Let’s just go over the events,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She turned to Percy, urging him to explain. “What led to the kiss?”

Percy sighed deeply, running a hand through his unruly hair as he gathered his thoughts. “Calypso gave me some items—supplies, food—and made sure the raft was stable enough to withstand the ocean’s currents. I was grateful; she’d done so much to help me. So, I turned to say goodbye and thank her when she…when she suddenly kissed me.” He glanced at you, his eyes pleading. “M/N, please believe me when I say that I didn’t reciprocate—I didn’t want it.”

You finally looked up, eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made him flinch. “That’s not the problem, Percy,” you said, your voice surprisingly calm but laced with hurt. “What hurt me was that you didn’t push her away, that she thought you were interested enough to even try.”

You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat as you tried to keep your composure. “During your time on Ogygia, did you ever once mention that you had a boyfriend? Did you ever think of me when you were with her?”

Percy’s eyes widened in panic, the hurt in your words cutting deeper than any monster’s blade ever could. He reached out, but his hand fell short, hovering between you as if afraid to cross the fragile line that now separated you two. Desperation filled his voice as he finally spoke, each word trembling with urgency and raw honesty.

“I did tell her,” Percy blurted, his voice cracking. “Gods, I talked about you all the time. From the moment I set foot on that island, I told Calypso about you. Every single day. I told her how you were waiting for me, how you were my anchor—my reason for fighting and my reason I couldn’t stay with her. She knew, M/N. She knew you were my everything.” He ran a hand over his face, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill.

Annabeth’s expression softened as she glanced at you, silently urging you to listen. Percy’s words were coming from the heart, and even she couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice. But the pain in your eyes remained.

“When I first got there, I was barely conscious,” Percy continued, his voice softer now, tinged with a mix of sorrow and desperation. “I was so beaten up, so tired, and all I could do was mumble your name. Over and over, even in my sleep. She heard me say it—Calypso heard me calling out for you, asking for you.” He paused, swallowing hard. “She knew there was someone else. She knew how much I loved you. I made it clear, but I didn’t push her away fast enough. I was stupid, and I’m so sorry.”

You felt your heart twist at his confession, the image of Percy lying on that distant shore, broken and alone, but still calling out for you. It was the kind of story you had dreamed about before—the hero fighting impossible odds, returning home to the one he loved. But now, hearing it from his lips, the romance was stripped away, leaving only the raw truth of a mistake made in a vulnerable moment.

Annabeth cleared her throat, trying to diffuse the tension, but even she seemed at a loss. “Look,” she said gently, “what matters now is where you go from here. You two have been through worse together. If you still want this—if you still want each other—then you’ll find a way.”

Percy reached out again, hesitantly, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’m not perfect, M/N. I screw up, and I hurt you, but I want to make this right. I love you, and I’ll spend every day proving it if you’ll let me.”

Even if you forgive Percy, you take baby steps to rebuild your trust. You agree to talk more openly about your feelings and avoid keeping secrets from one another. Percy goes out of his way to make you feel valued, leaving you notes, planning small dates, and constantly reminding you how much you mean to him.

Percy knows he didn't only need to seek forgiveness from you, but your mother. To truly show his commitment, he request a chance to speak to the goddess. It’s terrifying—facing the goddess’s wrath head-on—but he humbly apologizes and explains how deeply he loves you, promising to never let you feel sidelined again. Demeter doesn’t forgive easily, but she appreciates Percy’s bravery and sincerity, granting her reluctant approval with a warning not to hurt her son again.

To solidify his commitment, Percy organizes a surprise picnic in the strawberry fields—your favorite spot. It’s filled with your favorite foods, and Percy shyly presents a flower crown he made himself, though it’s a little uneven. It’s simple but heartfelt, symbolizing his renewed promise to always cherish you.

After reconciling, you and Percy start talking about your future together, beyond Camp Half-Blood. You both decide that New Rome is the perfect place to build a life after everything you’ve been through. The idea of living among other demigods and having a peaceful life feels like a dream finally within reach.

The move to New Rome is filled with excitement and nerves. You find a cozy apartment together, and even simple things like grocery shopping or decorating the space feel like small adventures. It’s a fresh start, and every day feels like you’re building something new, hand in hand.

One evening after a particularly good day—whether it’s celebrating an exam passed or simply enjoying each other’s company—Percy gets down on one knee. He doesn’t have a grand speech prepared; he just tells you how much you mean to him and how he can’t imagine a life without you. The ring is simple, with a small gemstone that reminds you of the sea, and you say yes without hesitation.

Surrounded by your friends from Camp Half-Blood and New Rome, you and Percy get married in a beautiful ceremony filled with flowers and ocean-themed decorations. Demeter attends, blessing the union with flourishing blooms, a sign of her approval and happiness for you both. The ceremony is intimate, filled with laughter, tears, and the undeniable feeling that you’ve both found your forever.

[marali-iin]

Hey! Would you mind writing a Hera x Male reader feat Jealous Zeus from BoZ?

Hey, yeah sure! I love seeing some Hera lovers on my request list, they're quite rare

(I ended up making it a little bit too gender neutral, my bad)

"He's jealous of you.."

Wasn't it only fair after all? It wasn't her intention at first, she was only pissed off on her husband as he made a fool off of her. Again

Why couldn't he just keep it in his pants?! It was so hard to just respect their marriage for once? Hera had recently found out about another one of Zeus's affairs, and it was maddening.

At first she lost her temper, she swore every curse on him for disrespecting her that way once again, but sooner than expected from her any drop of anger died quickly, replaced by the exhaustion of being in the same position as always. They both knew this wasn't the first time it happened, and only a fool would believe it would be the first time. She was tired of this, she was the goddess of marriage for Olympus's sake! And he couldn't even be decent for a single decade, it was a bastard child and an affair after another, and all she could do was punish the woman and her child, it was just a waste of time for everyone involved

But then there it was, a little distraction for her anger and betrayal. In one of her temples, a new worshipper, she had never heard that voice before, and the prayer was quite good. She decided to suck her anger for a moment and go down to one of her temples to see this new worshipper.

And there you were, introduced to the temple by your mother, Hera was the goddess of family, protector of them, so your family had decided to worship her decades ago, and now it was your turn to join them. Yet it somehow felt weird, you felt your worshipping prayers were definitely heard, your offerings appreciated and you swore every time you left the temple, it was like someone was watching you, waiting for you to come back.

You were different from her husband, he was..a cheater, yet you seemed devotional to her, you appreciated what you had and respected your family. She was surprised you weren't married, because to her, you were the perfect spouse! Not that she should feel that way though... because unlike you she was married...but did he really deserve her loyalty?

"what do you think you're doing? Meeting with a mortal just for fun, you think I'm a fool?" It had been a while since this started going on, she hadn't taken revenge on his new mistress, and while Zeus was happy to know that, he was also aware it was unusual from Hera. She seemed too calm to be someone who got cheated on again, especially her, practically all Olympus realized this unusual behavior from her. The truth was, she got too engaged with her new favorite worshipper, these last weeks she decided to go down and show herself, have a conversation, she couldn't point out what it was that made her so calm whenever she heard your voice, so she felt so eager to know you in person. Of course, Zeus didn't take long to realize this either, and he knew infidelity when he saw it. "What is it? You're still mad at me, that's why you're doing this?"

"What I do with my temples and worshippers is none of your business. You have a lot of nerve to accuse me of cheating, being you after all. I bet you took advantage that I haven't punished your new whore, and have been seeking to see her again and again." The truth was, while she wouldn't call it 'cheating' she had grown quite fond of you, your interactions had been nothing but pleasant conversations. You listened to everything she said, cared about her, your voice was like hearing the most beautiful flow of the river pass by, stopping to softly kiss her worries away...the last part wasn't really a metaphor of any kind, you two did kiss once, under the soft moonlight that could reach the temple, it felt soft and full of love unlike her marriage. But she'd rather swallow all her feelings that admit them to Zeus, she wouldn't give him that.

But it was too obvious now, she was getting ready to see you, her hair carefully brushed and she was wearing her most beautiful jewelry and the most shining gemstones one could ever find. She looked happier just from the thought of getting away from Zeus and going down into your arms. Because tonight, you two would have your first official date.

"Now leave, I have better things to do than listening to your lying voice" She had no intentions on giving it to Zeus, to let him take away her little calm and happiness in this faulty marriage. As soon as she came back she'd murder that new affair partner of his, to lower his interest on her new favorite mortal

[hpgal]

DC x DP : Those Glowing Green Eyes

CW: Blood, Gunshot Wounds, Violence

TLDR: Danny is on the run from the GIW and ends up in Gotham heavily injured where he gets found by a gun wielding vigilante.

Word Count: 2313

Everything hurts.

But when did it not?

But this time it wasn’t just injury number 67942 causing these aches and pains, though it did contribute to it. The mental anguish of being ran out of my own home and turned away by those I loved. Because I was a ghost. That pain was worse than the wound in my side.

Now the GIW is chasing me across the country and my last scuffle with them left me hurt worse than ever. They’ve been pushing hard this time around, new toys, more numbers. It was ridiculous. Seeing my own family there made me hesitate when they jumped me too. I didn’t react, just stared in horror as my own mother aimed a gun at me and my own father cheered her on.

Despite it all, I am still convinced there is hope. That there was. But when she pulled that trigger, all hope was gone. 

Now, that leads me to the present. Somehow I escaped and now was walking around with a gunshot wound in my side, a bum wrist and I think a head wound in an unknown city. Thank The Ancients for the luck I had with a portal to The Ghost Zone being nearby. I fell through it but had to immediately find another door to the mortal realm when I saw Vlad nearby, who has also been hunting me since this began. 

So here I am, in a dark, dank city. The ectoplasm here is toxic as hell and tastes like multiple smokers' houses smashed together and death. Night was falling and it got cold here fast. That could just be my core or it could be that I am slowly bleeding out. That was unclear at the moment.

Either way, I walked the street looking for shelter, mostly ignored by others or simply stared at. Honestly, I did not mind, I didn’t want the attention. Even with the toxic ectoplasm here I could heal up quickly and bounce back to the Ghost Zone to expel the toxicity of it with the help of the feeder ghosts and be good as new. It was abundant here, not nearly as much as Amity Park but it was a close second. That little fact told me this city reeked of death which meant it was probably also dangerous.

Maybe once this whole my parents and the government trying to murder me passes, I could come back here and purge the toxic ectoplasm as Ghost King. Because that is the only thing left for me to do, become Ghost King since my human life seems to be over. I have no clue what there is left for me to do with everyone I loved and the U.S Government wanting me dead

Too bad I can’t fully exercise that power of King until I come of age next year. I could’ve resolved this and just hid in the Ghost Zone for the rest of my undead life. Vlad wouldn’t be able to touch me then. Curse my stupid half alive and half dead existence, no other ghost would’ve had to wait but the council likes to be a pain in my ass. Probably in spite of Clockwork in all honesty, I half joke to myself.

My mind reels as I think about home, my friends, even Vlad. All of them had turned overnight. Even Jazz, though she showed hesitancy at every turn. Their eyes seemed to have a tinge of red when I saw them attack me for the first time, reminding me of Freakshow and his mind control abilities. That was the only thing I could justify holding out hope. But I didn’t see that in my moms eyes this time when she shot me.

Even Vlad switched from the whole crazed rich fruit-loop routine of trying to make me his son to attempts on my life. By the Ancients, if he were there this last attack and not in the Ghost Zone, I would’ve been dead. I had no doubts about it. It was pure luck that he didn't notice me in the zone.

I grimace as I continue walking, holding my side, warm blood seeping through my white shirt and the bandages I put on it already. My vision and mind feel foggy as I turn a corner, instantly clearing for a moment when my ghost sense activates, sending a shiver down my spine, hair standing on the back of my neck.

Now?

Really?

I nearly groan both in pain and frustration at this change. I look around pissed off only to find a guy in a red helmet across the street. My entire being on edge as I see him. He didn’t look like a ghost but he gave the impression of having an association with ghosts. He had higher ectoplasm in his body than normal. Even more so than most Amity Park citizens. For a second I thought I saw the flicker of a core but just as quickly as I saw it, it goes away. 

Could he possibly be possessed?

The gears turn in my head as everything screams at me that he is bad news regardless. The moment this masked man steps towards me, I muster all the energy I can and start to run, my decision being made. There was no way I could fight in this condition. Every inch of my body, my muscles scream at me for this. My side burns and my vision is blurry at best.

I risk a glance back to see him following and pick up speed. Grateful for my inhuman abilities still being of use despite my injured state. It’d be easy to go ghost or phase through a wall on a normal day but this was not normal, even for me. There are so many ways I could lose this guy but no, I keep running, oblivious to anything except the urge to escape this new, unknown threat.

Him following me all but confirms my suspicions that he is bad news. I mean I saw those guns on his side. They could be loaded with anti-ghost bullets. I’ve been shot once today, I do not plan on doing that again. Ever. He has to be a hired gun by the GIW is the only explanation to this.

At some point in the chase, I look back to see he is managing to keep up with me, which in hindsight made so much sense with my injuries. I turn right only to find this was the wrong choice. Because of course that would be my luck today. I screech to a halt, nearly crashing to meet the dead end head on, a brick wall separating me from escaping. I lean against the wall in frustration before turning to see if he was in the alley yet.

I could just phase- ”Demon brat what have I told you about stepping in my turf?” Damnit.

I am so tired. I am trapped. I am injured. This day just freaking sucks.

I glare at him with as much intensity I can muster. If only I could use my powers, scare him away. Now that he was closer it was clear he was a human who experienced death. Not a ghost. Not a halfa like him, just a human. But if he did that then the GIW would be sure to find me again in no time. And the stranger called me a demon brat. That has to be some sort of slur to ghosts, although I am not familiar with slurs for ghosts. Is that even a thing?

I shake the thought away and focus on him. I look him up and down, taking in his appearance and movements, ready to fight back.

Despite the mask covering his face, I could feel this stranger looking at him up and down despite it being dark. Maybe his mask had some sort of night vision built into it. He was assessing and judging him. And I was doing the same to him between the glares, my superhuman night vision letting me miss nothing in this dark space.

He looked like what I imagined a human vigilante would look like. Except 10 times scarier like he wouldn’t care if he helped civilians or not. Maybe this guy was just here for an adrenaline rush or some other bullshit reason a normal human would act like this. The red mask was intimidating, he was well built and tense, ready to pounce on him like I was on him. Except he wasn’t fighting death itself right now so he for sure would win without me using powers. Maybe he is a hired gun by the GIW with how he is sizing me up.

The vigilante takes a step towards me, “Woah, woah, you're bleeding.” he seems to hesitate but I glare back up to him like a feral animal. This had to be a trick right? The care and concern in his voice wasn’t real.

I backed up against the cool brick wall behind me, sinking into a low stance, ready to jump and fight back. I let the wall support me where it could and where it couldn't, I sucked it up with gritted teeth. I had faced worse before. If I died here I’d probably become a full ghost anyways so I could haunt his ass for the rest of his life, exercising the full power of Ghost King just to be petty for the inconvenience. Serves him right for the scary vigilante routine. Too bad for him, I am scarier and I would not fall for cheap tricks.

I try to make myself as intimidating as possible. Hell, the blood seeping from my head and how ready I was to fight probably made me look like a feral, wounded, animal right now. I mean that is what everyone else thought I was anyways, right? I bare my teeth at him, my canines most definitely unnaturally pointed.

“Seriously, kid? Two can play this game.” The man takes a step closer, I watch, calculating. 

Then his eyes glowed green.

At least that had to be what happened under the mask. I felt the surge of ectoplasm being used when it happened and I snarl at him in response. This would be a harder fight than I thought. How did I miss the ectoplasm tainting him, enhancing him this way? The fact he could willingly do it meant he was trained and well versed in his abilities.

Well shit.

He seems taken aback at my response, not expecting me to not be frightened. Well tough luck buddy. “I can do that too.” I say with venom dripping off my tongue between gritted teeth, not willing to let this guy get the best of me.

I look up at what I presume are his eyes based on his mask and allow my own eyes to flare neon green, brighter than his. A show of power and dominance that some ghosts use to avoid a fight. Maybe I could avoid this fight entirely if he had the innate understanding many liminal beings had when experiencing this with or without knowing what it means. Either way it was clear he knew something.

“I have been hunted, shot, maimed, and tortured by much, much worse.” I threaten. “You do not scare me. And I sure as hell am not going to go down to a nobody like you.” My vision  continues to blur and darken at the edges as the adrenaline from the chase starts to wear down, the rapid heart rate pumping my blood much faster than I need it to be to prevent blood loss as more blood seeps from my wounds. That little trick took more energy from me than I anticipated.

The unknown man looks at me, his body language indicating he was confused and concerned. I nearly wanted to laugh but I needed all the energy in case I had to fight. “Shit.. you’re not Demon Brat. Kid,” he starts, his body relaxing ever so slightly, “you need help, let me help you.”

The man takes another step forward, holstering a pistol. When did he draw that to begin with?

I flash my eyes again, a bit weaker this time as I feel my legs start to buckle under me. No. Not now. I can’t go down now. Panic welling up inside me as I growl at him and try to steady myself against the wall.

“Go away,” I muster, throat dry, “this isn’t your problem.” I manage to say as my last attempts to get him to screw off.

The man takes another step towards him, now in arms reach, “Look, I know a doctor who might be able to help you. She-” I stumble a bit and he reaches out ready to catch me, still keeping from touching me, “Shit- kid. She won’t turn you away. She can help. She doesn’t share the identity of her patients. She treats the Bats. You can trust her if not me”

My body shakes at his words. Or maybe I was shaking the entire time. God it was so cold now. Almost as cold as being dead for real. And man do I have experience with that. My entire body felt so heavy and aches everywhere. It was almost peaceful, in a way. Except I hated how dark my vision had gotten and blurred.

Something about how he speaks and acts, I decide in my haste, wanting to not die a second time to trust him. My body relaxes, no longer ready to fight him. Was it a bad idea? Probably but I did not want to die in an alley this time. My vision darkens and the last thing I remember is falling into his arms as my answer to him.

Please help me, stranger.

--------

A/N: This was a fic I planned on writing but got burnt out after writing the first chapter so I figured I'd post it here, maybe it'll motivate me to continue it.

[kedsandtubesocks]

all of this (& heaven too) - hades!Gojo

He is not what you pictured. You had a painted image in your head of a terrifying immortal, ancient and dreary, who ruled over the dead. Instead you discover the king of the underworld is young, all brilliant wide smiles, and more importantly - dangerously handsome.

Or

You are a goddess of spring torn between two fates, that is until you meet a strange man leaning against a tree…

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

tags & warnings: 18+ only mdni, loose interpretation and altering of the hades & persephone myth, complicated/strained parental relationship (could be read as controlling/manipulative), mentions of kidnapping, brief physical assault, clingy + lovesick Gojo, slight wound licking and finger sucking, allusion to fem!oral receiving, Gojo being Gojo and offering gruesome violence as a form of love… if there is anything I missed pls let me know!!

wc: 14k

a/n: title is from the florence + the machine song of the same name. I already hate myself for wanting to write a companion piece to this from gojo’s pov… okay that’s all please enjoy, thank you for reading! Also biggest thank you to @stellamancer & @willowser who have been my best comrades in Gojo hell

When you were just a young little sapling your mother once asked you what your favorite thing about this world was.

“The great big sky!” You had told her brightly.

“The sky?” Your mother asked, amused. “Not any of the flowers? The rivers? Or the fields, my little sprout?” 

“Nope!” You were adamant.

“Then why?” Your mother grinned and so you told her.

“Because it’s so big! Like there’s so much room to grow!” 

Then you added. “And it’s so blue, like the sea!” 

Your mother had laughed warm, vibrantly loud like the morning rays waking you up.

The sky. You always loved the sky. Even as an immortal crafted from ichor and stardust, the sky made you feel mortal in the best ways, especially now.

Now, as a fully matured celestial being, you are as old as one of the grand redwood trees you loved running alongside when you were a little.

You glance up at the sky while the wind blusters through your fields. Even with looming clouds clustering above signaling the arrival of a storm, you find reassurance there. The storm now actually feels comforting as a similar storm of unrest swirls inside of you. You stomp down from the mountain not even waiting for your mother.

That entire meeting with her, you, and the lord of the skies was pointless. Gakuganji, with his thunderous melodies and even with all his wisdom, made you curse the skies. 

“We shall need to discuss terms of the arranged courting rituals soon.” You had almost choked when you heard the old god’s words. He could not be serious.

Even when you yelled confused, even when your mother sent you a sharp glare to keep quiet, Gakuganji never once acknowledged you. It was like you were not even present, just a simple wallflower ignored against the grander of other immortals. Because to them, you would always be a little sapling, your mothers offspring, nothing more.

The thunder booms ahead and you wish the rain would pour down on you. Maybe the rain would help simmer you down.

“Well now, don’t you look just as feral as a chimera?” A voice emerges,a coy playful tone you’ve never heard before. 

When you snap your gaze to the side, you discover a man. Clothed in deep obsidian robes, he seems just as tall as the sycamore tree he leans against.

His hair is a startling white and -

His eyes are blindfolded.

Being so close to the sacred grounds tells you this man must be another immortal. But you had never met him before.

Then again, you had happily enjoyed staying unaware among your blooms. You wistfully ignored the problems and squabbles the others had. Even when you came of age centuries ago you did not have any desire to accompany your mother to Olympus. It was only recently that she began dragging you with her. Now you wonder if that decision has caused you to be the fool.

You glare at the mystery man. “I’m just fine, thank you.”

“Mhm, doesn’t look like it.” His taunts lightly and it makes you want to shriek.

“Wanna tell me who’s responsible?” Now his lips form into a soft grin. “I could deal with them for you.”

Even as strange as this man is, there’s some sense of comfort in his casual comment. The tension in your body, even in your face, slowly flutters away.

You sigh. “No it’s fine.”

Looking at his covered eyes, you already wonder what color they are.

Your name is called out sharp before you can ask your mystery man what his name is. Your mother’s voice snaps your spine straight. Quickly whipping around you see her scurrying to you with wide worried eyes. 

“Head home, little sprout.” She urges you.

“Wait, why?” 

“Head. Home.” Her words echo with the same force as the storm brewing around you.

Your mother’s magic swiftly swirls all around. She is getting ready to sweep you into the wind that helps her run along her wheat fields. You can’t help it. Your eyes fall to the mystery man. His handsome features smirk amused. You mother however stares at him as if he is an abomination from the depths of the underworld.

“Lord Gojo, good day to you.” And when she says his name, you discover this mystery man is not just from the depths of the underworld, but its ruler.

Your heart plummets fast into your stomach. The strangest concoction of emotions swirls in you. Terror and curiosity are not a desirable pair to navigate through. 

Then in a wild gust, you are teleported home. You wonder if your mind might have flown out in the whirlwind because you still cannot believe it.

You just met the Lord of the underworld.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

His existence was a simple phrase of his name you were told never to utter. 

Lord Gojo. 

The strongest of the immortals. The rumors paint him as a mindless monster who slaughtered titans during the Great War. He was a ghastly terror. The only immortal fit to rule over the dreary underworld. You used to paint him in your mind as someone aged like Gakuganji. The lord was carved from myth, ancient and terrifying. So you imagined him more creature than man.

Yet instead he exists a smiling handsome man who appears to you now. 

“M-my Lord!” You stammer out frantically.

You had been sitting by the riverside braiding another floral crown to keep your mind at ease. Then, out of the blue, like a strike of lightning, the underworld’s king appears beside you. 

“Oh no,” Gojo simply waves. “Please no titles, they disgust me.”

You almost choke on your own confused inhale.

“What are you doing here?” You squawk confused, trying to ignore how rapid your heart races in your chest.

This god was painted to be a terrifying tale. You mother once even told you he would only bring chaos and misfortune to anyone who crosses his path. 

Now he lounges beside you under the shade of the trees. 

“I came to see if you were alright. You looked so upset before.”

His words knock you breathless. Your mind could not believe this was truly the dreaded god of the underworld. Suddenly said king gasps obnoxiously loud and you almost jump out of your skin. 

“What are you making?!” He leans down to point at the flowers in your lap.

“Flower crowns, they’re for the village children nearby.”

You loved to leave them off at the edge of the fields where the children played. Whenever you catch them wearing the bright floral wreaths your heart soars .

“Aw, that’s sweet.” Gojo admires, like a loud wind chime. “Can you make one for me then!?”

You wonder if the ground has given out from under you. The man whispered to be pure power, now wears a childish frown with his lip sticking out in a full on pout.

“Please?” He pleads. 

Left with no choice, your attention goes back to the flowers bunched lonely in your lap and you furiously return to braiding.

“That one better be for me!” The king of the underworld comments in a song-like tone. A quick temptation rises in you to throw the flowers in the nearby river.

“What are you even doing here?” For some reason, you blurt that out.

The words leave before you can stop yourself and your eyes widen in horror. This is it. Your mind jumps to every awful thing he could probably do to you. And he does the absolute worst.

He laughs.

It colors his cheeks lovely and you hate how it somehow intensifies his handsome features even more.

“I told you! I wanted to check up on you.” Gojo smiles toothy but swiftly the image of a grinning crocodile waiting in the water comes to mind. 

“I don’t believe you.” Again, you speak out too fast. Thankfully his lips thin into an amused line.

“You’re a lot more perceptive than you look, I like that.”

His words shake your brain, a fierce little rattle that has you staring at him stunned. Your heart races to find a regular beat.

“Well,” Gojo sighs. “I did have an annoying meeting with the others. But… while I was up here I thought I’d drop by and see how you were doing, petals.”

The fond playful name he bestows upon you is done so casually. Yet, it snags your breath.

Petals.

The nickname has your mind reeling until you fully process what he said. The meeting he went to was the same one your mother must have gone to earlier and is still at. 

“What was it about?” You ask a bit calmer as you braid simple dandelions to pop against the forget me nots. 

Silence softly settles and mixes in with the rush of the river.

“You mean…no one’s told you?” 

Gojo’s voice is a soft but stunned whisper that steals your attention back to him. You now are frustrated you can’t see his eyes, can’t see the emotion in them.

“Told me what?” You frown.

The lord of the underworld stays quiet. He tilts his head towards your lap.

“The color of those flowers are lovely.” He says simply and even with a touch of awe.

Indignation rises in you, a heated over spilling boil and you snap. “What did you all discuss!?”

Then it hits you. You just flat out demanded so fiercely to the ruler of the underworld.

“I apologize-”

“No,” Blindfold or not his attention is fully directed towards you now. “Don’t apologize. You deserve to feel frustrated. Believe me I would be too.”

You exhale shakily. 

“There's been more talk about your place among the others.” Gojo tells you simply. “Arranged marriage is being thrown around.”

Your heart sinks fast.

“I should have known.” You sigh as you rapidly return back to looking at your flowers. Slowly vines start to grow against your ankles. Your powers react to your emotions, and now the sensation of feeling tired manifests itself. 

“Everyone thinks I’m just my mother's offspring,” you snap mainly to yourself. “Or that I’m only here to be someone’s marriage partner, but I’m not.”

The vines start to prickle against your skin. When you glance down so many have already grown across your legs. 

“Who are you then? And who do you want to be?” Gojo’s words are so soft, casual and almost friendly. 

The question even seems like one of your nymph companions would have asked you. Except Gojo’s directed unflinching attention almost makes you fidget.

“I…” you don’t even know how to answer. Even as you try to gather a reasonable one, the words feel chained in your throat.

You instead sigh and return to braiding.

Eventually the words come out, more of a whisper than anything.

“I’m me…that’s all. And I want to continue just being me.”

It probably made no sense, maybe even sounded awfully simplified at all to the god who watched over the dead. But the words held heavy truth in your heart.

You might not fully know who you truly are, but the choice to figure it out, to grow and simply make decisions for yourself, is all you wanted. You don’t want to be a simplified extension of your mother or a piece to use in a marriage arrangement.

After braiding in another daffodil stem, you notice the king beside you has gone quiet. 

When you turn to the side you discover the god of the underworld is gone.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

Something dances in the air, an unknown sensation that tingles and crawls against your skin. It feels like a warning you can’t fully describe. 

When you try to press your mother about the meeting she avoids the conversation completely. It causes enough anger to rise so quickly in you that thorned roses pierce your hands. Then, one morning she arrives at your side with the heaviest expression.

“Mother, please tell me, what is happening?” You try asking as earnestly as you can. 

Your mother, with her emotional turbulent eyes like a brewing storm, instead walks over to you and tenderly holds you in her arms.

“Know everything I do, I do for you.” Then she vanishes.

You swallow back a frustrated scream and instead furiously stomp away to your spot by the river stream. 

Thankfully none of the tree or forest nymphs come near you. They must sense your frustration or see the prickly cacti slowly starting to sprout around you like a safely sharp fortress.

“Did you finish my flower crown, petals?” 

A twinkling voice comes swift. It galvanizes your body as you scramble up fast to whip around.

There behind you, with an amused ease, stands the king of the netherworld. At the sight of him, the cacti plants bloom wild and bright buds.

“I like the color of these.” Gojo smriks nudging his face towards them.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper. 

“I’m sorry, petals, don’t have much time.” Gojo frowns and then squares up firmly. It stuns you at how broad and striking he looks, a black ink stain against the picaresque forest landscape that has you captivated.

His face is somber, a true image of a composed ruler. 

“The others made a decision. You’re going to be married off to another young immortal. But… your mother is coming to get you. She plans to keep you locked away. Made a whole scene about it.”

The words pierce your heart, piece your lungs and maybe your very soul as you choke on an exhale.

Blinking away tears, you stare at the king.

“Why are you telling me this?” Your voice cracks.

“Because I believed you deserved to know, and that you deserved a choice.” Gojo answers but in its simplicity you find absolute comfort.

“So here are your choices…” Gojo continues and the scenarios flash a vivid picture in your head.

You can let your mother whisk you away and keep you locked by her side forever. Or you can let the lord of the sky decree all powerful and place you in a marriage with someone you don't even know.

“Or…” Gojo’s voice now dances optimistic and light. 

“You can come back with me.”

The offer hits you with the force of a landslide. You sputter out nonsense, unable to process what you just heard.

Gojo decides to clarify himself.

“Come back with me.” He beams. “No one will know where you went. You’ll get to lay low for a while, maybe figure out what you want to do. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“And, best part of all? You get to enjoy as much time as you’d like with me.” Gojo sounds absolutely ecstatic at the idea. 

Spending time with him and in the underworld however sounds like a terrifying punishment. Just the thought of the underworld itself draws a haunting dread. Would you be safe there? Could you even last long among the cold dreary depths?

The wind blows fluttering leaves around you. The strange sensation you sensed in the air arrives thicker and now the wind swirls like a warning. This time it urges you of your mother fast approaching with the fate tied with her.

Surprisingly, the lord of the underworld waits so patiently silent. Then, a cocky smirk twitches his lips, a silent challenge almost as if to say he might know your answer. 

Your answer comes in three simple steps. Before you are even fully by his side, you blink and disappear from the surface. 

In the forest, all that remains of you are the cacti now completely covered in glorious colorful blooms.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

The underworld is a crystal dream.

When you first thought of the realm of the dead your mind conjured up a dreary desolate wasteland, one filled with anguish and wailing, dark hallowed hallways lined with skeletons. Instead gem lined caverns greet you wherever you go.

A solemn gloom however faintly hangs in the air and could not be ignored. You spot multiple shades, souls of those who have passed, wandering towards the different rivers or simply fading in and out at the edge of the castle. Death did soak this land. From a distance the looming light of Tartarus solidifies that haunting realization. The blood soaked fire orb flickered a chilling reminder of the dangers this realm posed.

“How long will I be here?” You had asked. 

“As long as you want.” Gojo chirped. “You can leave whenever you want. Can take all the time you need to figure out what you want to do.”

It was warm and heartfelt. However…

“There are only two rules I need you to follow.” Gojo had added ominously and shattered the warm welcome. The rules were simple.

Never go to Tartarus.

And never eat anything from this world.

Simple, but the ominous directness sparks your mind to wonder about what terrors really did lurk here. Besides those two warnings, Gojo welcomes you with grand excitement into his grand home.

That first night you arrived he practically bounced with every step as he showed you around the kingdom. You were so worried the sight of this world would scare you. Instead elation and even a tinge of appreciation blooms in you. You had never once imagined in your lifetime that you’d ever see this. A new appreciation emerges for this place that would be housing you until you figured out your path. 

Gojo also introduced you to the two other immortals living within the halls of the underworld.

Shoko, the goddess of death, who with her stunning features and dreary eyes smiles so kind whenever she sees you.

Then there was Utahime, the goddess of magic, of spells and the crossroads. 

“I hope you will enjoy your time here. The underworld has a special way of… revealing to us our true selves.” She had told you sagely. You enjoy browsing her vast collection of scrolls and you eagerly listen to any tales she shares with you. 

Even during the times you spend with her or Shoko, the king of the underworld quickly arrives to your side like a persistent gnat.

You decide to take strolls along the charcoal sand riverside, a familiar tradition you did on the surface. Gojo accompanies you any chance he can.

He’s a curious creature and asks you a range of questions. What do you love most about the surface? What do you dream of? What color do you associate with yourself? You answer them all and then some. You tell him about the nymphs, your friends, about the days you used to grow sunflowers so big they would rival trees.

He snickers, makes playful commentary, but listens with full rapture. His attempt to know you better has you grudgingly slowing easing into his presence. 

As much as you enjoy the time spent along the riverside, it doesn’t compare to your favorite place in the entire underworld.

The Elysian Fields stole your breath away the moment you first saw them. You never believed anything organic could grow in a realm meant to harness and hold the dead. Yet the fields stretched before you in wonderful waves of green, of color, of life.

It’s why you spend so much time here. 

Among the grass and the trees, your mind can freely wander. Your mother must be upset. You could only imagine the pain she must be going through not knowing where you are. But frustration quickly leaks in remembering if you did return to the surface, what life could you be able to find there? 

You dig your feet into the lush grass and try not to let poisonous annoyance overwhelm you.

“You look lost in thought.”

Gojo’s voice flutters in. Then his shadow falls over you. You don’t even have to glance your head up because the king of the underworld casually sits down beside you. 

“Haven’t figured anything out yet huh?” He asks and you shake your head a quiet no.

“That’s okay. There’s no need to feel pressured or get upset about it. It’s a big decision, trying to figure out what path you want your life to take.”

You never expected him to be this comforting.

“Besides, it’s not often I get visitors here. So I’m enjoying your company as long as I can, petals.” A grin spreads across Gojo’s face as wide as a sunrise.

All you can do is yank up some of the grass and playfully throw it at him.

He laughs a bright snicker but you notice something very quickly. The grass never fully hits him. The slight distortion peaks your curiosity and you go to do it again.

“If this is your form of attack then I can only imagine how terrifying you’d be in battle.” Gojo teases but you pay him no mind because the grass again does nothing. It falls short from hitting him as if he’s protected by something.

Completely ignoring his comment, you ask him about the strange occurrence.

You appreciate how comfortable you’ve become here and with the god of the underworld to now ask such questions. The king’s lips twitch.

“What exactly have you heard about me?”

A strange question but one with a layered answer. Simply put, he’s the ruler of the underworld, considered the strongest of all the immortals. 

When your mother had told you stories of the titan war, she never failed to mention the power the ruler of the netherworld held. And there is one image tied to him you remembered vividly.

“A helmet, I heard you wrote a helm that gave you immense power.” 

The entire time here your mind has thought too much about the helm. You wondered what it looked like. What was more dangerous though was the curiosity, the desire, to see what he would look like wearing it. 

Gojo’s face blooms with a toothy smile.

“It’s…not technically a helmet.”

Then the god playfully points at the blindfold across his eyes. 

The grand helm has been in front of you this entire time and you didn’t even know. Of course he wore it constantly. 

“That’s incredible.” You can’t help but fully admire the black cloth now. To think something as simple as this cloth was so strong to be considered a war helmet, it amazes you. 

“I heard it made you invisible though. I remember asking about it!” You blurt out. That was another legend you heard about from a few of the nymphs.

“Oh? So you’ve asked about me, petals?” Gojo smirks slyly and your face heats up. Carnations rapidly blooming start to tickle your ankles and you immediately squish them. 

“You know, I’ve always wondered where that rumor came from.” He hums, thoughtfully. “But no. I don’t have powers of invisibility. Instead I have something way more impressive.”

Pride swiftly leaks into his voice and flourishes more when his chest visibly puffs up. The vivid image of a colorful squawking peacock flashes in your mind and you almost snicker until Gojo raises his hand up.

“Hold your hand out for me please.” His voice drops lower and the tone jolts your heart. You wearily lift your hand up. 

Gojo presses his hand against yours. Your heart beats faster, rivaling a humming bird’s wings, and you wait for the impact.

It comes. However, Gojo’s hand applies no actual pressure. You don’t touch his skin or brush against his fingers. Instead only liminal space floats between. The barrier can’t be more than a hair width away yet feels as if it’s oceans wide. 

“What is it?” You ask breathless and intrigued.

“Infinity.”

Gojo explains how the helm, his powers, rely on the eternal force that is infinity. Everything repeats. Everything can be continued into an unbreakable cycle, the purest form of infinity. 

“And what is more infinite than death? Even universes are born and die.” He speaks with an ancient patience. But, you swear you catch an underlying sadness in his voice just out of your reach. Or maybe it is just your own sadness that you were facing as you realized the weight upon Gojo’s shoulders. 

He exists as the personified infinity of death’s cycle continuing over and over again and someone must watch over it. He is unable to step free from that cycle because he is it. 

“You look so sad, petals. What? Am I boring you?” Suddenly Gojo’s jovial voice shatters your thoughts.

The black cloth hiding his eyes holds more weight than it did moments before.

Then you notice none has pulled their hands away, neither your or him. No one makes an attempt to move even now. You simply sit there with the space of infinity resting solid, unwavering, against you and Gojo just out of reach. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

In the underworld, monotony can creep in easily. You find even after browsing all of Lady Utahime’s interesting collection of spells and curses, you grow restless. 

“If you ever get bored,” Gojo previously told you. “You’re more than welcome to join me in the throne room.”

You had only seen the throne room during the first grand tour Gojo took you on. Now you stare at the throne room’s grand doors petrified to even open them.

“Why don’t you go inside? He would enjoy your company.”

Shoko’s calm sweet voice makes you almost bolt like a skittish deer. Caught red handed and the goddess of death sleepily smiles.

“Oh no. I couldn’t!” You sputter out. 

For some reason, the thought of seeing Gojo on his throne, in his role as king of the underworld flickers something hot to boil under your skin. Shoko’s curious gaze burns a hole in the side of your face.

The goddess gives you a soft nod then continues her walk down the hallway. 

“You know, there’s a hidden alcove above the throne room that can be accessed from the stairs…just a thought.” Shoko muses aloud glancing over her shoulder with twinkling amused eyes. Then the goddess turns a corner and leaves you alone with her words rattling in your brain. 

Were you going to watch Gojo from the shadows?

Before you could even rationalize your thoughts you move quietly up the stairs until you reach your destination. 

The alcove is a type of balcony obscured by the columns towering in the throne room. The view from high up grants you a wonderful sight of the entire room composed of marble and crystal. Instead of the imposing grand ruler you imagined sitting regally composed on his throne, the white haired god is sprawled half lying across the large throne. For some reason you’re reminded of a lounging lethargic cat and you bite your cheek from laughing. 

Gojo stays reclining for some time. Eventually he does pull a scroll out from beside his throne and glances it over. At first you thought he appeared bored. But now as he sighs and flops to the other side of the throne childishly, you now think -

He looks lonely.

Even among the walls gleaming of the riches soaked in this realm, this incredibly boisterous immortal seems lonely. You even notice a hollow air rests in the room and reminds you of a day in winter when the earth seems frozen.

Then a giggle comes. 

You wonder if maybe you misheard it. That is until a child quickly peeks from behind a column. The little girl pops out a bit more before returning to hiding.

Very quickly she scurries to a column closer to the throne. 

Your eyes flicker to Gojo who continues overlooking the scroll on his lap.

The girl begins to tip toe closer and closer to the throne. You now wonder how the king will react. She seems gleeful, unafraid of him. Especially as she approaches with the proudest toothy grin on her sweet face.  

Then Gojo whips around to her.

“GOT YOU!” He shrieks proudly and even points at her accusingly. She jumps like a scared little rabbit until she hunches over laughing. Her joy fills the throne room with so much warmth you find yourself smiling at the interaction. 

“I got closer this time!” The girl stomps pouting and her face puffs up adorably.

“You did! I have to give you credit for that Rika.” Gojo addresses the girl with a delighted friendliness.

“I’ll get you next time!” The girl, Rika, announces sternly as her face furrows determined. 

“I believe you.” Gojo nods and you even believe him. 

The girl narrows her eyes harder at the king but then she quickly giggles. 

“Why don’t you go back and play in the fields, Rika? It's much nicer than playing around here in this boring place. Trust me I don’t even enjoy being here sometimes.” 

They both share a giggle and Rika beams up at him so kindly.

A molten smile draws over Gojo’s face and your heart melts. Softness, gentless, looks wonderful, beautiful even, on his handsome features.

“Alright you little pest, head back to the fields you go.” He playfully shoo’s Rika away with a dismissive wave and she sticks her tongue out at him.

Turning on her heels, you watch Rika slowly fade into the air. A sadness settles over you knowing this young girl passed away so young. But, it comforts you seeing how joyous and bubbly she is even in the afterlife. 

Then, it slowly dawns on you. 

The lord of the underworld is not the terrifying monster whispered to be. He is a silly terror, a bit eccentric, but a kind man. 

Your eyes glaze over staring at nothing in particular and you decide to leave as well.

As you rise from your little secret perch a shadow looms across you. Glancing up, the lord of the underworld towers grins down disgustingly victorious.

“Well now, aren’t you just the sneakiest little weed I’ve ever seen!” 

His comment pulls an indignant shriek out of you as you scramble up. Your face is on fire and you storm away in fast rapid stomps.

Gojo follows fast behind laughing so loud it bounces off the walls and echoes among the throne room. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

Days come when tears sting your eyes thinking about the surface. You do miss your mother. 

You miss the feeling of the sun on your face, the breeze of autumn fluttering in for the change of the season. You can’t even remember how many days have passed since your arrival in the underworld. 

But even thinking about returning to the surface terrifies you stiff. It makes your stomach turn because you know your answer to what lies above. 

You don’t want to be in an arranged marriage and you don’t want to be locked to your mother’s side. There was no middle way, or other option between these two.

You stay in your room for a few days, wiping away the tears.

Eventually out of your clouded haze a soft knock arrives at your door.

Gojo waits on the other side. You don’t like how effortlessly your heart jumps seeing his tall stature leaning against the door, a striking ink stain with his black robes. His lips are a small but sad crooked grin.

“Can I show you something?”

You wordlessly nod and follow his lead. He doesn’t press you about your sudden cloistering. He doesn’t try filling the space with talk. You’re grateful in the silence that he understands.

Through different corridors of the castle this area feels unfamiliar and a spark of curiosity flickers in you. Then Gojo stops.  

There in the shade of the hallways, a secluded large square open area is before your eyes. The area seems out of place carved out from the marble and gem walkways 

“What is it?” You feel a bit foolish asking.

Gojo grins wide beside you. “Why don’t you go and find out?”

You give him an incredulous and worried look. This could be a playful trick. Utahime had warned you how notorious the lord of the underworld was at playing surprise tricks which included hiding behind corners to scare anyone passing by. 

“I promise, you’ll like it.” Gojo however reassures you with a gentle earnestness. So with a sigh you walk and step into the patch.

Beneath you is actual soil. It’s soft, smells of comfort and you can’t help it, a watery laugh escapes you. How long has it been since you felt the earth above?

Even since you visited the Elysian Fields, you discovered an ominous truth about your favorite spot. 

“Nothing can grow there.” Utahime told you sadly. “While everything is lush and beautiful and cannot die. However, nothing can grow as well.”

But you remembered the carnations. You knew they bloomed when you were there and you revealed that to Utahime.

Her lovely face scrunched up in wise thought and her eyes became distant.

“Unfortunately it could have just been a simple fluke. The Elysian Fields are meant to be a place of peace. Maybe it was trying to comfort you as well… let you feel some sort of semblance of the surface world.”

The thought was comforting but also carried an ocean abyss of sadness. Understanding nothing could grow here in this world made sense.

But now you sat on solid soil, true soil from above.

You scramble to your knees and can’t help but dig your hands through it. The cushiony familiar texture, the smell that has been with you since you were a sapling. Tears threaten to cloud your vision.

Turning around, Gojo is there leaning against the hallway’s frame and beaming bright like a marigold.

“How?!” You ask breathlessly, unable to still process this.

“I have my ways.” Gojo coyly replies. More questions only rise in you but you quietly set them aside.

“Utahime said nothing could grow here.” 

“Hm…that is true. But, why not give it a try?” Curiosity oozes out of him. 

So you decide, why not. With your hands in the soil you inhale and the magic in your veins flickers to life.

You clutch the dirt tight in your grasp as if trying to hang on to this last sense of who you are.

Out of the earth. a small green sprout suddenly peeks out. 

Absolute excitement and giddiness unfolds in you like a wild hurricane. You can’t help but snap your face back to Gojo in pure joy.

A wide open and even a bit proud smile illuminates his handsome face.

“Well look at you, petals! Nice work. Although I was expecting a tree or something, that little thing is nice I guess!”

You playfully throw a handful of dirt at him. It’s childish but it’s the only way you can fight the fondness growing in you, a festering weed you don’t know if you want to eradicate. 

Gojo breaks out in amused cackles. His cheeks puff up and you can almost sense the amusement in his covered eyes.

“I’ll let you enjoy.” He pushes off the hallway frame and is about to turn around when you quickly call to him

“Wait.” 

He freezes and glances over his shoulder. 

You have to ask. “Why did you do this?” 

Now the god of the underworld fully turns his attention back to you. 

“Do what?” 

You sigh exhausted at his innocently coy reply.

“Why did you do this? Give me this plot of land?”

Gojo’s lips, which you have been alarmingly thinking about more, turn into an eased crooked smile. 

“It’s a gift. You’re my guest here and my friend. So why not?” He replies anticlimactic, even shrugs. 

The answer is not satisfying and it slightly irritates you. But you’re still grateful. You might not know the true reason why he did this and might not ever know. But Gojo still did this for you all the same. 

So gathering that gratitude you smile at him, a true earnest one. 

“Whatever the reason is…Thank you, Gojo.”

This is the first time you say his name. Just the taste of it in your mouth leaves a strange tingle. 

The ruler of the underworld’s face. It drops so fast that you barely catch it. But it was there. A look of pure surprise, confusion and something else you can not pinpoint. But all of that quickly vanished only to be replaced by a smile radiating artificiality. Then Gojo vanishes.

In this new space, you exhale against the new weight building in your chest. Leaves then begin tickling your hands and you glance down at your new blooms.

Pure confusion strikes because this is actually a brand new bloom.

You’ve never seen this flower before.

Delicate cotton white star-like flowers greet you and you’re afraid to even touch them. So many of them cluster around each other in rather tall stalks. They remind you of lilies in their shape but are smaller and have a fragility to their thin petals.

You stare at the blooms slowly filling out the area around you until you are completely surrounded.

Horror strikes you fast. 

The cloudy white petals match the white hair of the lord of the underworld. 

Unknown to you, as you sit frozen among your new flowers, wheat fields decay above on the surface.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

As much of a king and ruler he is, boredom plagues Gojo most of the time. It doesn’t surprise you one bit. 

He pesters you constantly in your garden now. Currently you threaten to grow Venus fly traps large enough to eat him.

“You know, I’d actually be interested to see that.” He muses light and you hate that the thought of creating such a thing has you curious as well.

Gojo and you exchange a glance. Soon enough a large Venus fly trap stands around the same height as the god.

“It’s huge!” He cries impressively and pride flutters through your chest. 

Then the underworld's king sticks his whole head inside the opening mouth of the Venus flytrap and waves his hands with the brightest expression. 

You scream in panic and Gojo cackles beyond entertained. He thankfully removes his head. It’s perfect timing as the plant’s prickly mouth snaps itself shut. 

You are horrified but Gojo just continues to laugh. 

He opens the plant’s mouth and starts moving it. Changing his voice to a high pitched tone, he begins talking as if he’s the plant itself in some sort of bizarre performance. 

“I beg your garden?!” He shrieks in an absurd voice.

It’s ridiculous, unbelievable and you can’t help it. You burst into wild giggles that shake your body. You have laughed more in his company than you can even remember. You’re having true fun with him in a way that you can’t even remember experiencing with your old companions.

You remember previously noticing how lonely the god of death looked and it only made you wonder how you’ve also tasted loneliness. Always stuck to your mother’s side, living in her shadow, it grew lonely there. 

“Don’t laugh at me! Just wanna have fun, be-leaf me!” Gojo continues in that shrill tone. 

Now here you are laughing in pure fun at his antics.

Gojo quickly drops the performance and immediately asks you to make a lotus as small as a clover. It’s tricky but when the flower unfurls a tiny lovely blossom in the palm of your hand, Gojo cheers.

Then you start thinking of jacaranda trees the size of bonsai. With a furrowed concentration you form a beautiful miniature tree. The lovely violet blooms even so small color the area exquisitely. 

“You’re incredible.” He breathes out the words and they almost sound in awe. 

You try not to get flustered but it is hard with his attention so intently focused on you. Instead you wave your hand out. Playfully a bunch of cherry blossoms nearby rapidly swirl in a whirlwind of petals all around him

Gojo shouts an amused ecstatic cheer, flinging his hands up among the petals. You snicker even more. 

It becomes a game. Gojo offers new plant ideas or to grow vegetation he never knew existed. His face genuinely scrunches up at the odd smelling plants you call forth and you snicker pleased at his reactions.

Eventually you take a seat and start to make a few flower crowns. One particularly is for the young girl you saw in the throne room, Rika, and who you’ve caught now a few times peeking at you from around the palace columns.

No surprise but the lord of the underworld takes a seat right by your side. 

“A flower crown huh… You know, you never made the one I asked for when we first met.” He comments with the worst pout. 

Of course he remembers that. You had even forgotten about that meeting by the riverbank. 

You scan around looking for something to use until you spot the perfect crown. 

Reaching to a nearby shrub, you break off a bare small twig. You regally place it on top of Gojo’s head.

“Aw!” His deflated reaction, seeing this powerful god with a simple twig on his head, has you snickering. Then you realize Gojo stopped his infinity barrier for you to place it on him. 

You don’t even want to linger on that thought. So violently shoving it away, you continue braiding the flowers. You concentrate hard, even scrunch your face as you weave in lily stems. 

A delicate but soft crawling sensation suddenly dances across your leg. The culprit is a branch from a leatherleaf fern Gojo has plucked. You wiggle away in a panic.

He again drags the delicate green leaves to playfully tickle you and try squirming away from him as much as you can. An urge to even hiss at him rises. 

“What?! Are you ticklish, petals!?” Gojo beams with excitement. 

“No, you’re just annoying!” You reply sharply trying to stay calm. 

The king however is patient and stubborn. Instead of relenting he wiggles the fern’s large leaves firmer across your arms then to your shoulder where it meets your neck.

You squeal, laughing so unattractive as you wiggle away with all your might to flee from his playful torment. You can’t even chide him to stop, too caught up in the wild infectious giddiness taking over. 

Your body buckles under the ministrations very slowly until your back rests on the solid soil ground. Your eyes snap open.

There, the god of the underworld leans over you.

Gojo is handsome. You knew that from the first moment you saw him. But now you take in how wide his shoulders are, how celestially white his hair glows, and how compromising, as well as dangerous, this position is.

Your mind had started drifting more and more towards deeply temptatious thoughts of him. Thinking of how your hands would grasp his broad shoulders, wondering how his body without any barriers would feel pressed over you. 

A dizzying fire licks through your veins. Gojo finally stops his tickling bombardment and now stares down at you. Even without seeing his eyes they pierce you with a hypnotic pull.

A moment passes or maybe a millennial has. Time ticks by too molten to process.

You want him. You hate how badly you want this infuriating man. You hate thinking about how easy it would be to lean up and kiss him. As tempting as that idea is, how much it consumes you, you remember a heavy truth. If your lips leaned up to kiss him you would only find infinity.

Before anything else can be said or done you rapidly spring up from the soil like a new bud. You say nothing. Neither does Gojo. Quickly you return to braiding your poor discarded flower crown. He remains quiet long enough you wonder if maybe he left your side quietly. 

Until the ground shifts besides you as Gojo moves to stand. 

“Don’t let the plants eat you, petals. You wouldn’t make good fertilizer.” 

You can’t even find a quick retort to shoot back at him. 

When you reach for a few roses to add their lovely color to the floral wreath, you wince. A sharp prickling sensation stabs your fingers.

Drawing your hand back you see your golden blood, the ichor of an immortal, dripping down your fingers.

Suddenly an image flashes wild and frantic in your mind.

Gojo appearing before you suddenly. He inspects your wounded hand. Instead of applying a wrap or even allowing you to heal with time as all immortals can, he delicately places your bleeding fingers into his mouth. He sucks on them gently and fierce. His tongue swipes against your wound, against the blood. He moans, loud, debauched, and it mixes with the wet slurps. He sucks and sucks without any desire to stop. His tongue fondly runs up again along your fingers. The pressure of his mouth, the warmth of it, letting yourself bravely trace his teeth, then feeling him playfully bite your skin… 

You scramble out of your thoughts as a slick liquid heat pools between your legs. Grabbing your flower crown, you storm off to your room praying to flee from the god of the underworld haunting you. 

But you know it is hard, almost impossible, to outrun and hide from a god. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

“I have to leave for a few days.” Gojo explains as he sits besides you in the garden.

The garden has now become a lush oasis for you. Various ferns happily grow to one side. A few fruit trees already take root and grow steadily. So many flowers sprinkle beautiful clusters of colors all across the space. 

Of course your new white flowers continue to bloom patiently and delicately. Wherever you turn, so many seem to pop up. It's to the point even Gojo made a comment upon seeing the new florals.

“Oh? These look new.” You ignored his curious comment. 

Now you ask about his trip with the same curiosity.

“Leaving? What for?” 

A pause comes. 

“Unfortunately there’s been a recent increase in the amount of newcomers arriving in our realm.”

You don’t miss the way your heart jumps hearing him say “our realm.” The main issue at hand however has you concerned.

“Do you think it’s a sudden war? Or a natural catastrophe?” Your heart twists thinking about either terrible possibility. 

“Don’t know. That’s why I’m heading up to figure it out.” Gojo sighs. 

You nod understandingly and sympathetically to Gojo. Even with his eyes covered, his gaze seems to stare somewhere far away. Then he quickly averts his attention to the budding trees you’re tending to.

“This one seems to be doing great here.” Gojo notes curiously. He leans closer to you, a pressure softly pushing against you. Any giddiness of having him so close is quieted by the truth that it’s infinity against you. 

“It is.” You agree happily. “Pomegranate trees are resilient. They just need the right soil and can bloom with much worry. They even can handle different types of pests.”

Gojo hums a curious thing.

“Sounds a little familiar, don’t you think?” He comments but his voice is deep, low. Hearing his tone this way sparks a dangerous desire to life and it drags its claws down your spine. 

“Familiar how?” You hesitantly ask.

Something gentle, barely with the lightest of pressures, runs across the back of your hand. You think it might be his fingertips. Your body reacts, galvanized in a frenzy. But when you whip your head to the side, the king is gone. 

As you sit alone in your garden, you almost scream.

When the time comes to bid Gojo farewell, you now wonder how you’ll handle truly being alone without him. 

“Don’t miss me too much, petals.” He teases and you roll your eyes.

“Please, I’m going to enjoy having this place all to myself.” You scoff. 

Gojo grins like a cat that’s caught a canary and then, he leaves without another word. 

In his absence you find, at first, you do enjoy the peaceful solitude. But that gets old quickly because stars above you do end up missing him.

You didn’t realize how much your existence here has now become so entrenched with Gojo’s. You miss the strolls you and him take. You miss his questions about the new blossoms growing. You even miss the way he playfully throws figs at you at dinner while you sit not eating a single bite. It has become not just a friendship with the underworld’s god but a true deep bond with him.

“Can you stop with the wistful sighing please?” Utahime sternly asks as you lounge in her study.

“I’m not wistfully sighing!” You stammer out embarassed.

“Uh huh.” She does not seem convinced but also does not press the subject further. The goddess of magic instead stays completely focused on her piles of scrolls scattering her area.

The underworld seemed to be slowly constricting around itself. A tension tightened the air. Everyone, even Shoko, seemed scarce and occupied. Whatever was occurring above on the surface was greatly impacting this world.

You decide to leave Utahime to her devices and slip away quietly.

Now you wander the edge of the royal grounds. Your eyes scan the realm stretching out before you. There, like a lantern among the darkness, the fluttering flickering red light of Tartarus shines unwavering. 

It is the last place that you have yet explored.

You remember Gojo’s rule, his warning about not going to it

However, a small twinkle inside you even feels as if it’s being drawn there by a soft gentle pull. 

You could just walk and see it from the outside, not  even enter its gates. No harm would come from just inspecting the grand prison from a closer distance right? 

Before you can stop yourself your feet guide you across the river’s path to the other side.

The atmosphere distorts into something sinister like the way the air hollows out before a terrifying storm. 

Soon the crystalized rocks become jagged spikes. A smell of sulfur fills your senses and a wave of heat begins to tickle your skin. Soon the glowing red is now a vibrant bleeding sun before your eyes. 

You dare not step any closer. 

Terror slowly claws over your body. This is as close as you will get and will ever get. You turn around to walk back. 

“…Little flower…” a soft raspy voice sends a horrifying chill up your back.

Your head snaps to the side. A creature unravels from the bottom of a rock and stares up at you with tree branches like eyes.

A cursed soul.

Something now besides the creature wiggles from the ground. It morphs and shifts from a clay like structure to take the shape of man. He reminds you of a patch quilt and his body screams that he too is another cursed soul.

“You are far away from home, little goddess.” The curse coos.

You can’t even speak as fear chokes your throat.

Move, you have to move! Something inside you screams. It sounds almost like Gojo. 

Before you can move, hands, or maybe branches of some sorts, suddenly snap around your legs and yank you back. A scream escapes you or maybe you believe you hear a scream.

Everything happens fast. Your body is dragged and pulled closer to the prison. Laughter cackles sinisterly all around you and you thrash as much as you can. Tears clog your eyes. You wonder if this is it, if this will be how your end greets you. You swat at anything you can reach, but the panic is rising more and more.

Then a blinding heat sears under your palms.

You can’t help it, your eyes squeeze shut and your hands feel as if they have exploded. 

Then the pressure is gone from across your body. Your eyes, water soaked with tears,

Your eyes open and you find you are free. No more decayed limbs and branches on your body.

You scramble up as best as you can. Your legs however give out from the amount of wounds sliced across you. You try to heal as quickly as you can but being around such sinister evil for so long has drained you. 

Suddenly something rushes besides you and you are too late to react. The patchwork creature jumps on you. With a gleeful monstrous smile he morphs into like a cage claw against your body and has you in his grasp. 

You scream but you can’t even hear it over the horrifying laughter. You thrash, try to free yourself again, but your body grows too exhausted to even move. Your vision begins blurring.

Then another scream of anguish comes but you can’t even process what or who it is.

Your body is released. You pitch forward, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Then someone catches you. 

“Petals.” Gojo’s voice rings panicked in your ears. You wonder if he is a figment of your imagination.  Before you can even focus, your vision gives out and you fade into oblivion. 

The next thing you know, you wake up in the comfort of the softest sheets and a place that is not your quarters. 

When you come into consciousness and see the grandness of the room, the dark shade of the walls, you piece together quickly this is Gojo’s bedchamber.

A new type of panic grips your heart and you scramble up.

“Careful, careful!” Suddenly the man himself reprimands you in a quick panic. Gojo sits up from his chair beside the bed. Whatever emotion lies in your eyes freezes him from approaching you. 

“What happened?” You ask in a small whisper. You wonder if it was all a nightmare, a terror fueled fever dream.

“I found you in Tartarus.” Gojo replies. This is the first time his voice has sounded this upset. His face darts away from you.

“What were you thinking? What were you even doing there?” His voice is sharp as a blade’s edge and it cuts you swiftly.

Your reason now sounds so childish. 

There have been multiple times when you rolled your eyes at Gojo’s antics. You believed him to be a fool, a childish king who has not grown up, a result of being alone for so long here in this realm. But now you wonder if you are the foolish one. 

You croak out an apology that rips your heart open. Squeezing your eyes shut you try to stop the tears from coming but it’s no use.

“I just…I just wanted to see. It was…it was something you wouldn’t understand. I’m sorry.” You apologize again. A poisonous frustration and anger at yourself for being so foolish fills you. If you had only listened. 

Suddenly a hand rests gently on top of yours. No barrier, no infinity. Just Gojo’s soft larger hand enfolding yours. It’s warmer than you expected.

Gojo does not yell, doesn’t even say anything else. He simply sits besides you staring so concerned but understandingly. You squeeze his hand and more tears form rivers down your face. 

The underworld’s king stays by your side the entire time. 

Right before you fall asleep, still in the king’s bedchamber, you swear the most delicate and tender touch runs across your face.  

Once you are healed Gojo, holding your hand, takes you back to Tartarus. 

“I should have showed this place before.” He explains quietly. “I could have only imagined your curiosity.” 

You try to focus on his voice but it is hard when you try to process what lies before you.

“Wait…Are you sure we’re at Tartarus?” 

“Uh…yes?” Gojo replies a bit confused but you are more confused than he is. Because there is no possible way this could be the same place. 

The same burning furious fiery glow is now a simple flicker of a flame like a dwindling candle. All the rocks and sharp spikes have been crushed and leveled into debris cluttering the whole area. The air even holds a haunting stillness. This reminds you of a forest after a fire, a quiet entombment that spoke of a tremendous fury. Did he do this?

You realize as much as you want to know, you want to leave even more.

A squeeze of your hand is all you have to say before Gojo squeezes back. In a blink you and him are back at the palace’s main atrium. But a quest stands there waiting.

“Ijichi!” Gojo cries bright and happily.

Your eyes go wide.

The messenger of the gods. You had seen him in passing and even then you found him to be an uptight god. Now his face is hardened and upset. His keen eyes spot you and his mouth drops. 

Ijichi cries your name and something inside you falls. 

“What brings you here Ijichi?” Gojo asks with a twinkling curiosity.

“You know exactly why I’m here Gojo!”  The messenger snaps and a part of you wants to shrink away. But, another piece of you knows you can’t run anymore.

You know why the messenger is here. 

“I need to speak with you.” Ijichi urges with pleading eyes staring so intensely at you.

Reality weighs you down. You have to address this. You cannot keep hiding anymore.

So you let go of Gojo’s hand and you and Ijichi move to a private room.

You sit down ready to hear about your mother, about the urgency that you need to return to the surface world and face your fate.

But what comes to you instead plummets your entire soul. With a gentle but stern kindness tells you all that is happening.

Horror, dread, and all of their friends, fill your body.

The surface world is dying. Famine plagued the fields. Livestock is suffering. People are suffering.

All because of your actions.

Ijichi, bless him, is not accusatory, does not shame you or put blame. 

“You need to return home with me. I’m sorry.” The messenger urges but sympathy seeps out.

You don’t hesitate to nod yes as tears come in tidal waves.

There is not much to take with you. You say farewell to your garden, to the beautiful palace, to Utahime and Shoko who both hug you incredibly tight.

But when you go to say goodbye to the lord of this world, he is nowhere to be found.

You do not have to search long. He sits in his study. This the most you’ve ever seen him actually use it and look so dashingly studious, regal, at work. He completely ignores your entrance and does not even spare you a glance. 

“I’m leaving.” You announce. He stays silent.

You swallow hard and compose yourself.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay here for as long as I have. You’ve been a wonderful host.”

A wonderful friend. A wonderful companion, and maybe something even more wonderful, so fond and dangerous, you dare not speak its name.

He stays quiet and you are about to walk out of the door when suddenly Gojo’s hand grabs yours in a rapid grip. Your heart trips over a skipped beat from feeling his true hand clutching yours.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He argues. 

“I have to go back. I have to face this.” You urge even though your voice wavers waterlogged.

“You don’t have to. We can figure this out.” 

He does not want you to go.

You even accept you don’t want to either. Not just because you fear the truth awaiting you, but because you’ve become terribly attached to this place, attached to him. 

At first you wanted to laugh it off as simply being stuck here and left with no choice but to just tolerate the god of the underworld. Instead you found you sought Gojo on your own more and more. You wanted to know him, not as a ruler of the eternal realm of death but as the man you learned hates pickled radish and loves any type of sweet treat.

You swallow hard and shake your head.

“I can’t keep running away.” You even surprise yourself at how firm, how solid and unwavering, your voice resonates.

Gojo’s hand releases yours. The air brews tense and thick. Then the god of the underworld lifts his blindfold up. 

Your heart stops.

Beautiful ocean blue eyes stare at you. Of course his eyes would be luminous pools.

You can’t speak, don’t know what to say. 

“Satoru…” he instead speaks first. “That's my true and first name... Thought you should know it before you leave.”

The gift he is presenting to you is immense. No mortals know the true name of your kind. Even you are addressed by a secondary name so tightly tied with your mothers. 

Now he is giving you this pure full piece of himself. His eyes, his name, his heart, all are pieces you tenderly lock away in your heart. They hold more precious value than any of the gems buried in this land. 

Before you can even reply Gojo leans forward.

With the most delicate of pressure, he kisses your forehead. Your eyes water but now for another emotion too grand to process while you drown in its waves.

He whispers out and says your name, your pure true name. He’s never said it before. 

Then he disappears. 

You swallow back a deep sob and return back to the atrium. 

Gojo is nowhere to be seen even when you head to  the stairs that lead back to the surface.

Before you leave, Utahime gives you one final hug then discreetly slips something into your hand. It’s a simple cloth with a sigil on it. You had seen her work on these types of spells many times and knew they all had various uses.

“Should you ever need us again or want to return, just use this.” She whispers low in your ear.

You clutch it tight, like a lifeline. When you go to give one final glance back to the underworld, the king is missing. You can’t find him anywhere and heartache clogs your throat. So you turn your back to the darkness and step into the light of the surface.

The smell of the air hits you first. The crisp scent of the dying leaves arrives in the brisk breeze. A barren earth stretches out before you and you walk into the desolation to meet your fate. 

The sky above is a clouded muted gray. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

Your mother is furious, absolutely in a rage that would rival a tsunami. But thankfully with your return the earth flourishes overnight as if by a miracle. The lush green should be a comfort to you. The smell of the sunlight should elevate your spirit warm but instead you ache for the soft glow of the gemstone walls. 

“You have two choices.” She tells you sternly. “Either marry the immortal chosen for you or stay here with me.”

You stay quiet and she snaps out your name, a part of you wants to laugh because it sounds like a curse. 

“Answer me!” Your mother demands and you break.

“I dont want neither!” You cry back. “Can’t you see?! The reason I ran away to the actual place of death is because I cannot pick either! Because I don’t want to!”

“Could you truly be so selfish?!” Your mother accuses you with a seething venom.

Selfish. Were you being selfish? 

You once discussed this with Gojo because you had wondered many times if you were simply being a selfish brat running away from your problems. 

“I don’t think so.” He shrugged. “Isn’t it selfish of you mother to want to keep you beside her forever? Besides, if you are being selfish then who cares. Nobody realizes it’s actually okay to be somewhat selfish every once in a while, especially when you’re deciding what direction your life is going to take.” 

His voice becomes a soothing balm to your frustration. 

So you bare your soul and heart before your mother. You could never be happy being forced to wed another. Nor would you ever be satisfied staying stitched to your mother’s side. You need your freedom. You wanted and deserved to have your own choice away from those options. 

Her eyes flicker a kaleidoscope of emotions. She thankfully lets you speak the entire time without interruptions. When you are done, she gently walks forward and embraces you. You squeeze her tight.

“I’m sorry, my little sprout.” She comforts you. 

You exhale, relieved. 

“That damn monster of the underworld,” she says with a steady anger. “He filled your brain with nonsense.”

She pulls away and your face falls in horror. 

“Don’t worry. I already plan to discuss with Gakuganji a meaningful punishment for him.”

You cry out a plea to her. But she simply smiles and pats your cheek.

“You won’t have to worry about him or anything else ever again.” She affirms confidently

Your frustrated scream falls on an empty room as she leaves in the breeze of the wheat fields. Emotions bubble up in you so wildly that your head begins to throb. 

The panic clouds your vision. What will happen to Gojo? Why couldn’t your mother listen to you? Then an idea quietly emerges among the chaos. 

You remember the slip of cloth tucked away in the private corner of your chambers.

Before your mother could come back, before you can even fully think, you race to grab it. You trace your finger along the intricate ink and then close your eyes.

When you open them, you are in the underworld, back in your garden. 

It is as lush and beautiful as the day you left it except now the trees have grown in beautifully. Their shady leaves flourish against the marble and crystal. Your eyes land on the lone tree standing so firmly among the others.

The pomegranate tree flowers happily in full bloom filled with a fruitful harvest.

You remember the discussion you had with Gojo over these trees. You spoke of how resilient they were, and he quietly offered how familiar that sounded. The beautiful reddish violet fruit you now pluck so effortlessly from the branches you recognize is you.

You grew and flourished, gained a new sense of yourself. You carved out an existence here and bloomed into a new life. 

You act fast. With all your strength you smack the fruit against the bark of the tree. Thankfully it cracks open to reveal the glistening seeds inside.

A conversation you had with Gojo has been playing in your mind since you returned to the surface.

“Why can’t I eat anything here?” You asked the first time you joined him for dinner. 

“As tempting as these cakes are,” he grins, taking a large bite out of the sugary sweet. 

“Eating anything from here means…you’re pretty much stuck here forever, petals. And I don’t think a pretty bud yourself could handle that now could you?”

Those words echo more than ever as the pomegranate seeds stain your fingers.

You could handle it. In fact you want to embrace it. A life here, with Gojo. You knew the consequences awaiting you. A part of you even screams to stop.  

But you instead scoop out a handful of seeds and swallow them swiftly.

Their juicy delightful nectar fills your mouth. If this is being selfish, you think it has never tasted sweeter. You wait thinking there would be a reaction to doing this, to stealing yourself to this world. The only thing that comes is someone breathing out your name.

You snap your face to the side. There Gojo stands completely frozen.

His blindfold is missing. The ruler of the underworld now stares at you with his bare wide cerulean eyes that rival a field of bluebonnets.

“Petals…” Confliction strangles his voice and his eyes flicker to the pomegranate in your hand.

“What are you doing here? What did you do?” You don’t think you have ever heard him sound this confused and panicked.

“Satoru.” 

His name, it’s all you can say. It’s a prayer so beautiful you never want to stop saying it.

You blink and the king vanishes. Then he is before you. His hand clutches your face firm and he swoops down to kiss you.

You can’t help but whimper as your breath gets stolen from your lungs. You clutch onto the god tighter, desperate to get as close to him as you can. 

Under your touch infinity disappears. 

Satoru’s tongue slips effortlessly into your mouth and explores with a chaotic mess. You taste the same desperation he has mirroring your own.

He lifts you up effortlessly with one hand and it makes you squeak. Then, the two of you are whisked away.

When you arrive in his chambers a frantic edge is set ablaze as Satoru presses you against the cool wall of his room. He effortlessly grinds against you and another whimper leaves you to get caught against his lips.

You are drunk on the taste of him. You don’t even care how loud you pant because you are too afraid this moment could end at any moment.

Satoru starts to kiss the corner of your lips. He quirky nips sharp bites against your skin and your eyes close in bliss.

He kisses across your cheek, down your neck, alternating between kissing and softly biting. 

Then cool air tickles your bare kiss soaked neck and your eyes wearily open. 

Satoru is now on his knees.

His hands reverently run against your delicate robes. A meditative but possessive gleam darkens his eyes making them look like deep trenches.

He kisses your exposed thigh and you tug at his soft white hair. His rich cobalt eyes now flicker up to you.

You sigh out his name with a slight whine as you miss his lips against yours. 

“Shh...” he urges softly as he bites at your skin again harder. Your hips rise on their own accord. He chuckles deep and thick.

“Let me worship you.” He whispers with reverence with eyes drenched in delicious lust. It’s the last thing he says before his tongue suddenly licks an intent path up your thigh straight to your sex and you see stars.

Eventually he carries you to his grand bed where you now lie against him. 

Love drunk in the afterglow you can’t stop giggling at how Satoru continues to kiss any inch of your body. 

“You really are the terror of the underworld.” You snicker playfully.

“Oh of course. Can’t let you forget my reputation.” He beams proud as he kisses your fingertips once again. 

His chest is solid and warm under you as you rest against him. His heart beats like a beautiful strong drum you can rest your ear against and hear now. Instead you slide up higher to burrow your face against his neck. All of this is intoxicating and a gift you cherish. 

But even in the afterglow, the weight of this union settles over a grim cloud.

“My mother is going to set the world on fire.” You mutter soft and pained.

“No,” Satoru kisses the top of your head. “The old geezer upstairs won’t let her.”

A comforting in his own Gojo way and you snort amused for a moment. Against his warm solid neck Satoru only draws you closer to him. The two of you stay in bed for what feels like a millennia but still not enough.

You are about to slide out of the bed when the god of the underworld whines grabbing you back like a child refusing to let go of their favorite toy.

“I need to get ready.” You softly say as you run your fingers through his cloud white hair.

“No.” He pouts. “You’re stuck here with me forever now, petals.”

That is true. 

“I am, but you know I can’t avoid this.”

As you go to slip on the new beautiful robe that of course Satoru had ready for you, he blurts out-

“Marry me.”

Your knees almost give out. 

You screech out a confused noise and whip your attention back to him.

“Are you serious!?” 

“As serious are you were when you banged that poor pomegranate against a tree!” He fires back.

In a blink Satoru is suddenly holding you in one of his arms while the other cradles your face in his hands.

“Marry me.” He repeats again but this time his voice leans sincerity. “Let me annoy you for the rest of eternity by your side as your husband.”

You don’t hesitate. You pull his face towards you and kiss him desperate. The poor robe you slipped on is hastily yanked off and you are returned back to the cooling bed sheets.

“You know,” Satoru muses playfully as you rest again tangled up in his arms. “I never heard you say an official yes or no.”

You lift your head up and give him an incredulous glare.

“You can’t be serious, Satoru.”

“You’re right.” He softly beams down to you. “The amount of times I heard you screaming ‘Yes Satoru! Yes my love!’ was the best answer.”  

You grab the nearest discarded pillow and smack him with it. It fully collides against his too gorgeous face and he laughs at the collision. The tables turn when he swiftly snags the pillow from your hands and playfully retaliates. Your laughter and his bounce together so brightly in the room. It fills you with enough strength to finally face whatever fate awaits you. 

Your beloved headache of a fiancé reassures you with one soft kiss to your shoulder.

Before you can even step out of the palace, the surface world’s entrance cracks open. From the shadows you see your mother and then beside her is the god of the skies himself.

“Oh ho! Well now…this is going to be fun!” Satoru cackles with excitement.

“Hey, my darling soon to be wife,” he turns to ask you. Even with his eyes covered again you know  glee shines in them. “You want the old man’s head on a platter as an early wedding gift?!”

You almost choke on air. Of course you’re not the only one outraged at what he said.

Your mothers voice cracks the air with destructive anger 

“You’re engaged to this monster?!” Her eyes are blistering fires threatening to scorch you where you stand. You reply a solid yes without hesitation.

“Aw! I didn’t realize you liked me so much already, my dear mother in law!” Satoru coos. Your mother flat out ignores him as do you.

“This is prosperous! Outrageous!” The lord of the skies, Gakuganji, thunders in an outrage rivaling your mothers.

“She ate food from this world, and is so bound here.” Shoko explains with a steadied ease.

“There is now way you will survive here any longer!” She seethes at you. “You are not meant for this world!”

“Actually…” Suddenly the poised voice of the goddess of magic herself flutters into the room. With a steeled conviction, Utahime steps forward. She explains how she has been watching you ever since your arrival and noticed changes happening.

“Growth, new life has emerged here. We have all witnessed it. On top of that, I think being here has unlocked new abilities I don’t think we even thought were possible.” 

Powers?

“When you momentarily stopped those curses from Tartarus.” Gojo explains patiently as if he read your mind. Faintly you hear the horrified voice of your mother screaming Tartarus?! 

“I did that?” You ask stunned.

“Yup, you did.” Satoru beams, prouder than ever. 

“What is the meaning of this!?” Gakuganji demands.

“It means she can survive here. If anything it maybe even suggests she might have even been destined to be here.” Utahime replies steady.

Destined to be here.  

You think of the words she once told you, about how the underworld revealed truths about one’s self.

“Even with that possibility, you stay here and there will be no peace.” Gakuganji urges.

You know the suffering that could come. Your mother is a stubborn creature who would never relent.

For some reason, you think of the bleeding heart flower. You think of their stems and how distinctly the flower seems to be two parts blended together beautifully. Some of the petals even have to curl open for it to grow. So you decide to split your existence in half.

“For half the year I will be here, in the underworld with my husband.” The word rolls effortlessly off your tongue and it feels right, feels as if you have always said it. “And the other half will be on the surface. Equal time to each place.” 

Gakuganji hums a moment to consider.

“You cannot allow this!” Your mother pleads to the grand elder god. 

“No one can undo what has been done. The fruit has been eaten and she’s tied to this world.” Shoko clarifies simply. 

Satoru hums a playfully amused noise that makes you want to smack him upside the head. Instead you ask for the room to speak with your mother. Now it’s just you and her, as it has been for so many centuries. Except a canyon now stretches between you and her. She waits on the other side of it a vengeful fury.

“Did you do this to spite me?” Your mother asks pained. Exhaling exhausted, you shake your head.

“I did this because it’s my choice, and because I love him.” You tell her with a patience that even surprises you.  

“And that’s all I’ve wanted. Not to choose between what you wanted me to pick but instead make my own decision.”

“You…you cannot love the lord of the underworld.” She croaks with so many emotions tangled in her voice.

Your lips tug as if Satoru himself pinches your cheeks into a smile. 

“I’m sorry, but I can and I do.” Might be one of the hardest tasks you ever faced, but you would do it for all of infinity. 

Your mothers eyes scan over your face. The emotions in them seem endless, a bottomless well that you can’t even swim in.

“You’ve grown, my little sprout.” Her voice wistfully comments. The two of you simply stare at each other. 

After that she barely looks at you even after the others return.

The decision is made rather simply compared to the riotous calamity that preceded it. Six months with your mother and six months here. But of course, your mother declares your time on the surface begins now. Gakuganji agrees and your spirit pops.

Any moment of celebration, any hope of wanting to enjoy being here, decomposes in your chest. You gather yourself as best as you can.

“Can I at least say goodbye to my husband?” You ask.

“You are not even married yet.” Gakuganji sneers.

“We aren’t. But you could wed us right now and change that if you’d like, old man!” Satoru offers. The old god’s face crumbles up so disgusted you have to hold back a laugh.

Thankfully you’re allowed a moment of solitude with Satoru in his chambers. You embrace his tall frame and he holds you tight.

“My offer still stands. Just say the word and I’ll throw the old man in the one of rivers.” 

“Satoru please.” You sigh.

“What?! All I am saying is there is still time, I could easily throw him in. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.”

A small snicker does leave you as you shake your head no. 

“Fine.” Your soon to be husband sighs disappointed. 

“So much for an engagement announcement.” Gojo teases trying to soothe the moment with humor but a question about your sudden engagement has been weighing on your mind. You need to ask him before you leave.

Holding Satoru’s hand you gently lead him to the beautiful carved out window nook. When he sits completely flush besides you, you reach over to draw his blindfold away.

His eyes are oceans you never wish to leave. But you will have to. Every six months you will be away from this man who has burrowed a hole in your heart and made it his home.

“Why do you want to marry me?” You ask.

His eyes scrunch up slightly curious but also as if he doesn’t understand your question. 

“Because you’re my other half.”

That’s beautiful, but it’s not enough. You’re thankful Satoru senses that’s not the answer you wanted and he sighs dreamily. 

“That first time I saw you, do you remember?” He begins.

At Olympus, that seems like centuries ago now. 

“You had so many petals and leaves stuck in your hair. Yet, your face was so angry…like you could’ve ripped apart the mountain in half.” He explains fondly. “Now I have no doubt you could if you smack a fruit against it.”

“Hey,” you playfully laugh but it’s watery, soaked in disbelieving love.

“But you were incredible, this hilarious creature of both fury and flowers. I had never seen someone so beautiful.” Satoru adds 

His hands now have moved to encompass yours.

“Do you think we’re rushing into this?” You question.

“Do you think we are?” He mirrors it back to you.

A piece of you agreed this is rushed. But then the ache inside of you already dreading leaving this man speaks louder than your doubt.

“Look,” he speaks first. “My life has been the same for so long. Like I got stuck in my own infinity and then you came stomping in… ”

Satoru’s cerulean eyes fiercely flicker up to you and he stares unwavering.

“I’d tear apart the skies for you.” He says simply “You make my life brighter. You and your scrunched up annoyed face you always give me. Your laugh. The way you talk to all your planets like they can speak back-“

“Plants respond better to hearing voices.” you croak interrupting him.

“It helps them grow faster, yes I know.” He finishes for you so cheekily and your heart is about to float out of your body.

“So you really want to marry me?”

Satoru rolls his eyes at your question. 

“Petals, I wanted to marry you the moment you threatened to shove me in the River Styx during one of our morning strolls.”

You bark a watery laugh. “Don’t tempt me. I’d still do it.” 

The god of the underworld suddenly breathes out your name.

Tenderly Satoru leans forward and kisses you. You don’t care that your mother is waiting for you. You simply want to enjoy this slice of eternity for as long as you can. 

“I love you.” You whisper the words, a holy sigh, against his lips.

“That’s nice.” He muses. He’s lucky no throw cushions are nearby or else you would have smacked him. 

It dawns on you that this is the closest to a wedding you will get until you return. So you pull away from his lips and vow yourself to him. 

You vow to always roll your eyes and snap at him when he says something ridiculous. You vow to always now take the biggest bite out of his confectioneries even if he complains. You vow to be by his side until the cosmos collapses and even beyond that.  But mainly, you vow-

“That you never feel lonely for too long ever again, Satoru.” 

His eyes go wide, shimmering almost in awe. The king rushes forward and kisses you with a dizzying passion.

“We would make terrible marriage officiants.” He mutters against your lips.

“Who cares.” You scoff.

“Hm seems I’m rubbing off on you in many other ways, petals.”

You chide him for being crude and he snickers, your ridiculous husband.

“What a cute new queen you are.” 

Queen. By marriage, by love, you are a queen now. 

“Your crown is going to be a twig, like the one you placed on me that one time.” Satoru grins playfully.

“As long as you match with me.”

He laughs so freely and it’s beautiful. 

The thought of being a ruler, a monarch, for some reason does not scare you. You thought it would. Instead it only comforts you knowing the king who would be beside you is Satoru. 

This joyous bubble however deflates as you return to your mother. This would be it. This is your goodbye until six months from now. But even among the heartbreak, a wave of reassurance washes over you. Because it is just six months. Compared to a lifetime without Satoru, six months is a simple breeze.

Once again you bid goodbye to Utahime, to Shoko, both embrace you tighter than ever. After all, you are one of their own now. And your husband, your poor Satoru, now wears the most obnoxious teary face that makes you want to flat out walk away from him. 

But of course you embrace and kiss your king softly.

“You better not kill my garden.” You warn against his tender lips.

“No promises.” He smiles. 

As you’re about to start your journey, Satoru wails dramatically.

“One last kiss to remember me by!” Then making a  horrendous kissing-like sound, he rushes to your side. You effortlessly hold your hand out to stop his face from reaching you. He weeps horrified while Shoko and Utahime kneel over laughing in unison.

You’re amused at his antics but among the hilarity, Satoru leans into your palm. Gently he tilts his face and leaves a soft kiss on the palm of your hand. 

It grants you tremendous strength to start your journey. 

As you reach the edge of the stairs, so close you can almost taste the sunlight, you turn around. The last time you did this, Satoru was nowhere to be found. Now he stands at the very edge of the bottom of the walkway.  

A moment passes. It is just you and him staring at each other. You’re tempted to run back to him one final time. But you can’t. You inhale a deep resolve and Gojo looks on proudly as he nods.

“I’ll see you soon, petals.” His voice is low but you hear it, clear as day, even from the top step. You nod back, not trusting your own voice to reply.

His words give you the push to reach the surface.

The morning breeze tenderly greets you first. Your legs feel like they can give out from all the emotions rushing through your body. So you look down to focus on where you step.

There among the lush green grass your white underworld flowers already sprout below you. Your lips twitch trying to hold back a tearful laugh.

Glancing up you see the grandest blue sky stretching far and wide. 

You’ve always loved the sky. 

Except now your breath hitches at the sight. 

Because the color above is the same captured and crystallized in your husband’s eyes.

In the endless blue you find a new reassurance about the growth waiting for you in this new life. You also think of Satoru waiting for you as well. With the open sky now a welcoming blessing, you walk confidently into this new life.

With every step you leave behind delicate cloud-white underworld flowers blooming beautifully among the grass. 

[emiplayzmc]

Coughs

God AU's your Toxic Yaoi Glisten & Twisted Rodger.

( @ash-lien apologies if the @ bothers you but you seemed interested in the God AU ^-^ )

Anygays. Hi. First official art thing for one of my *checks notes* 6 or so AUs for Dandy's World? The 'Once We Were Gods' AU, where the Mains + some other Toons are gods, and the Twisteds are brought upon as a curse that Dandy unknowingly caused, gradually infecting the other gods and even some mortals.

Played around with the artstyle of old Greek pottery for this one - rendering that so it looks like a shiny pot is AWFUL omg. Little ramble of what's happening below the cut!

So basically, Twisted Rodger ends up luring Glisten by sending him a message as if he's still regular Rodger, asking him to meet because he thinks he found an answer as to how to cure the curse (since by that point it had already affected Shelly, Sprout, and Flutter - Flutter being a lesser goddess). When Glisten shows up, Rodger ends up spreading the curse / infection to him, which is how the AU's main story would end up being directly started (will ramble about that later). This whole scene is just the moment when Rodger infects / curses Glisten ^-^

Also turned Twisted Rodger's lower body into more of a snake since that's a thing in Greek mythology - mainly inspired by the story of Lamia, and woman who was cursed by Hera to have the lower half of a snake (also the mother of Scylla, apparently!) and would end up seducing young men before drinking their blood. So I went and thought. Huh. With the direction of this story it could also be symbolism with a snake and the promise of knowledge to lure the other (in this case, Glisten). So yay, throwing in a good ol' Bible reference, kind of!

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

Cursed Warlords AU - Chapter 3 - Passing Out

You have been traveling constantly since you fought against those bandits. Your body has grown exhausted and you’re now running on fumes.

Macaque sat on the mortal’s shoulder with a huff. She was their current source of food and she was keeping them safe. There was in no way that he trusted either her or her ‘friend’ especially after she had grabbed his mate the way she did. However they didn’t really have much of a choice, so here they were sitting on her shoulders as she followed behind ‘Spirit’.

‘At least we’re going towards Flower Fruit Mountain,’ Macaque chirped to his mate who responded with a huff, his tail half wrapped around your neck to steady himself.

The path they were taking was getting them closer and closer to their home where they would be able to get help from their generals. Loyalty ran thick between their people, so all of them would do anything to help and support Wukong and Macaque when they learned about the curse. Macaque was sure about this.

“Oh that’s pretty,” You’re voice caught their attention as you’re attention was diverted from the road to look at some deep red roses growing from the ground.

Spirit stopped from up ahead and looked at the flowers before chuckling. You were gently touching the petals of the flower bush with a smile spread across your face. After a moment of admiring the roses you stood up and made your way to the monkey demoness. It was odd, why did you feel the need to stop for a single bush?

Macaque tilted his head and looked at his mate who had narrowed eyes as he glanced around. He must have thought the same thing, a human shouldn’t roam alone in the forest especially a forest full of monsters and demons.

“You are strange,” Spirit chuckled as she placed a hand on your back to get you to move forward.

“Not really, I just like looking at flowers. And plants, my mother used to grow flowers a lot of them too. She had this huge garden of flowers in the backyard,” You giggled as you spoke.

Macaque glanced at Wukong who scrunched his nose, why would someone grow a garden of flowers? Were they for medicines? Potions? He shook his head, as he gripped her shoulder slightly tighter as she jumped over a root. She was getting slower, he noticed. The thought annoyed him, she traveled faster than him and Wukong could alone but she was still so slow.

“We need to speed up. Those bandits are bound to try to find us soon enough,” Spirit grumbled as she continued on, her tail swaying gently behind her.

“I know, I know,” You grumbled a pout covering your lips before a yawn escaped.

Macaque’s ears shot up, BANDITS!? A low hiss left his lips as he let the information sink in. They were being followed by bandits, that changed things. That changed many things, it would be better to leave these two in order to protect themselves from the humans they weren’t going to be able to face right now.

‘Macaque, you heard them too right? We should leave before-,’ Wukong seized his chirping as a hand settled on his head with little scratches, a second hand scratching Macaque’s head too.

“Don’t worry Peaches and Plums. We got away from them before, they weren’t very smart bandits,” You giggled stumbling a little as you walked, your voice sounded slower as you kept moving forward.

Macaque processed the words but then soon ignored them in favor of the heavenly scratches that you were giving right behind his ears. He could hear Wukong start purring too having yet to snap out of whatever spell you seemed to settle over them. You were trying to reassure them, it was kind of… cute.

Wukong’s eyes snapped open as both him and Macaque stopped purring seemingly both have thought the same thing. They were letting a human woman give them head scratches!? Snapping his teeth at you, you pulled your hand away with a little laugh. Your smile was so warm as you continued to walk, with Spirit to who knows where.

Wukong let out a small growl, how dare a lowly human touch him. It did feel nice though. NO! He would not be fooled by some human woman! Humans were weak creatures who only existed to get in the way of his goals and for him to get rid of. He thought to himself but found himself staring at this strange woman. If not for the stupid curse he would have never thought twice about killing her.

Grumbling to himself for a second he realized that once again they had gotten slower. He huffed looking at him mate who also looked irritated about that fact. At this rate it might be faster to get to Flower Fruit Mountain by themselves. So much for using this human to get home faster.

Suddenly there was some fruit right in front of him, specifically peaches. Without hesitation he snatched the fruit to devour it only to hear the woman giggle. He looked at her with a glare, his face stuffed with peaches as she handed some plums to Macaque.

“Hurry up Reader, we need to keep moving,” Spirit called back, and for a moment you started moving faster only to slow down soon after as if you’d run out of energy.

Spirit turned to fully look at you a scowl crossing her face as she walked back to take your hand which you accepted graciously. Your foot snagged on a root and you nearly fell on your face causing both monkeys to screech. Spirit caught you easily.

“What in the world is wrong with you right now?” Spirit asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to pull you closer.

You didn’t explain that you were tired, all you did was giggle. Clearly embarrassed for nearly falling over you pushed yourself forward without another word. Spirit didn’t dare allow you to get too far away from her, more than likely afraid that you would fall again.

“Are you sure you're okay?" she asked certain that you weren't.

"I'm fine, perfectly- AHH!"

"Eek!!" the monkeys shouted as you fell flat on your face, the monkeys falling on the ground with you.

"Seriously? Reader?" Spirit groaned, walking up to you with an annoyed expression.

She leaned over you, before squatting down to look at you closer. She didn’t get a response, and you didn’t move. Frowning she picked up your hand and let it drop, which resulted in a low groan.

Beside you the two monkeys who had fallen onto the ground off of your shoulders jumped back up, each shaking the dirt off of them. Their tails swished behind them angrily as they let out tiny growls. The one you named Peaches jumped over to you, and hissed angrily.

“Reader, we don’t have time for… are you okay?” Spirit’s irritated tone was slowly turning to something more akin to actual worry as you tried to push yourself to stand up.

“I ran out of adrenaline,” You giggled, your words slightly slurring together as you pushed yourself up only to fall back down with a groan.

At this point you were pretty sure the only reason you were giggling so much was because it was the only way you could let your anxiety escape without bursting into tears. With a groan you tried to push yourself up, only to feel yourself get picked up off the ground rather effortlessly. You stared into Spirit's light grey white eyes with confusion when you realized she looked rather annoyed.

"What do you mean?" she didn't put you down and just held you in the air for the moment. Because she was about 6 ft tall, the action made you feel small.

Before you could answer you felt tiny claws on your pants as the two small monkeys climbed up your clothes rather quickly. They both had many words to say too, though you didn’t know the true meaning of the angry chirps that were quickly sounded. You didn’t Have time to even pet them to try and calm them down when Spirit growled.

“Hush you two. I am speaking with Reader,” her words were a low growl as she glared at the monkeys. Peaches did not like the tone she used at all, responding with his own cute growl.

Your vision was starting to blur, everything around you switching between clear images to an array of colors. Your head was also beginning to feel warm as you were set down on your feet. But just as the support on your arms was lifted you fell forward.

‘That… can’t be good,’ you thought as you fell into Spirit’s arms.

“Reader!” Spirit yelled as everything went black. Her voice didn’t sound annoyed this time… heh was she actually worried?

Spirit froze as she watched your eyes roll back and you fell. Wrapping her arms around you she realized you’d lost consciousness. Macaque and Wukong were confused almost immediately as you’re breathing seemed to increase before you fell and then slowed as soon as you were down.

Both of the monkeys had to hold on tightly as Spirit began to shake you trying to get you to wake up. This didn’t work even as she shook you for several minutes, there wasn’t a single moment when you opened your eyes.

*Chirp* *Chirp* Macaque chirped and pushed his head against yours to help wake you up, you couldn’t help them home if you weren’t awake. Seeing his mate’s actions, Wukong followed suit doing the same but you didn’t wake up at all.

*Snap*

Spirit immediately went ridged before scooping you into her arms as she spun to look at the source of the sound. The source of the sound, a large deer that bounded away as soon as she caught sight of them. A sigh of relief left her lips catching Wukong’s attention, she must not be very strong if she was all worried for some small twig.

Wukong felt his fur bristle at the thought, they needed to get back to their clan. They needed to rid themselves of this curse. Before they could do that they needed to get this damned woman to wake up.

“Come on Reader, let’s get you to the village,” Spirit muttered as she crouched down to adjust Reader so she was laying across her back.

Please give me your honest opinions! Have questions? My ask box is always open!

Credits

Masterpost

Part 4 - Boat Ride

[merrunzs]

anyway does anyone ever think abt how lonely the chosen are.

how ketheric does everything for his family but he is the only one really left. everything in his home and everyone he loves are either dead or twisted by the shadow curse that kills everything there anyway. isobel, the daughter he had being doing Everything for, ran from him when she found out what he had become to save her

how gortash was always too smart for his own good that he was cast out and sold like damaged goods by his own parents . he was sold to the hells where nobody is your friend . he is the chosen of bane, representing the sphere of tyranny and subjugation, in which nobody is your friend. he has the entire city under his thumb either through fear or his charm and the brittle, tense partnership with ketheric and orin and yet he has no true allies (except the durge arguably but. theyre either gone or dont remember him) . how he Seeks Out the equal partnership with tav/amnesiac durge which to me seems So antithetical to banes sphere- i cant imagine theyre too fond of sharing- in a way that fascinates me so much

how orin is a bhaalspawn that has never been good enough. never pure enough. she has always been second best, the childish girl to durges mastery. how she does everything for sarevok and for bhaal she has nothing but her family and that temple. no matter how much she devotes herself to them she is only ever looked upon by her only loved ones with hatred and contempt. orin whos own mother attacked her on sarevoks orders. orin who is unwanted wherever she goes no matter how hard she tries to be the very best

the dark urge, too. durge who is a tool, a vessel and instrument for their fathers will. when sarevok says 'you belong to bhaal. he manifests within you' . how theyre shackled to bhaal and kept from everything else. the first people they ever killed were their family. even in the temple, with their True family, durge is alienated from orin and sarevok by virtue of being made and not born, not connected to their shared bloodline. durge who is constantly pushed onto a pedestal by those in the temple through their divinity and purity and has never had a true peer to stand beside before gortash. durge who is so so cut off from other people and intimacy and who is forced to kill everyone they get close to or love by their father and the urge. durge who is an object for bhaals use, unafforded the mortal luxury of real connection

deeply deeply interested by how they are all such powerful and influential characters and yet all have such a strong theme of isolation. :(

[dgrailwar]

Round 13, Day 5 - A Wish for the Future

It seemed like the majority of you were willing to side with the goddesses. The tensions seemed high for just a moment, before the Ancient God's anger seemed to subside briefly, an expression resembling gratitude slowly forming on her face.

' I thank you. This future… '

There wasn't a moment for the Mother of Monsters to fully indicate her own gratitude, as another voice rumbled.

' I'VE HEARD YOUR WISH… A WORLD DEVOID OF HUMANS AND MONSTERS… '

The ground rumbled.

A massive beam shot towards Echidna, aiming straight for the core of the 'Grail'.

"...!"

The Ancient God's eyes widened, her own mystic eyes flaring with immense magical energy in defense of the Mother of Monsters as her curse flared outward, meeting the sudden attack head on and the resulting clash causing the chamber to rumble. Even then, the Ancient God's attack didn't seem to be enough, as two more waves of energy spewed outward, the cascade of magical power slamming into her massive form and causing her to stumble back with an agonizing roar.

"He's awake…?"

' Typhon… that is not my Typhon… '

While it did look almost identical to the dragon that Avenger and his Masters had seen, the pulsating purple growth on its chest was new. A small shape circled around the behemoth, white wings fluttering as dark ooze began to drip from the beast. Each dark puddle formed into a creature, as the three-headed dragon let out a massive bellow, the ground shaking once more as the Servants stumbled, quickly trying to catch their balance.

' I WILL GRANT YOUR WISH. '

The voice, that seemed to rumble like thunder and quake the earth itself spoke again.

"Hrm. So, the moth carrying Pretender's curse still lives, and it has begun piloting the Father of Monsters instead. How… vexing."

"Wait, a Pretender-Typhon? Not to steal MoonCancer's thunder as the worrier, but Pretender was already an incredibly powerful dragon… hooking up a fragment of him to one of dragonkind's progenitors is both way too compatible, and way too dangerous."

"Wait… why'd he talk about the wish being 'a world without humans or monsters', rather than a 'world of humans and monsters'…? Do you think that whatever Pretender's 'infection' is, it's like… twisting wishes around?"

The Gunner shrugged, before focusing his gaze on the Ruler and the MoonCancer.

"So, seems like the dragon doesn't want our world either. Plan on joining its team, or are we putting grudges aside?"

"...At least your wish considers humanity. Even if I don't agree with the principle… I'm not going to abandon my Masters or mankind! We're fighting together! To the end!"

"As if I'd turn down the chance to fight a final boss like this! I mean, I'm still super scared, but I've got to show off my god's divine might, right?"

"Hahaha! Glad that we're in agreement, then!"

The Avenger boldly stepped forward, throwing his arm outward. His mana, flames of vengeance and disaster, flared violently around him as you felt his Spirit Origin expand and grow in might, pushing his manifestation to the absolute brink.

"Kuhahaha-- KUHAHAHAHAHAAA! Behold, the giant Typhon! Beyond mortal, beyond dragons, beyond gods! Birthed of the Earth and the Abyss, his might was not meant to be overcome by humanity, nor his own kind! However, this serves as our final trial! A world of human and monsterkind, this is the path that our Masters have chosen!"

"I am Avenger! My True Name is the Count of Monte Cristo! Let us burn our spirits to the limit, and push on to a bright future!"

One by one, you felt as your Servants began to push their own Saint Graphs to the brink. Magical energy, prana surging like rapid rivers as they prepared to throw everything they had against the massive godkiller.

"Masters, let's prepare for battle! Show me the faith in the world you want, and I will respond in kind! You have Jeanne d'Arc's banner, so let it fly in the name of victory!"

"C'est la dernière danse! One last performance before it ends! I hope you're prepared, Masters, because there's no time to get cold feet now!"

"Alright, here goes nothing… Shree Vakratunda Mahakaya Suryakoti Samaprabha… Nirvighnam Kuru Me Deva Sarva-Kaaryeshu Sarvada…!"

"Go! Kiheitai! Come forth, Proto-Arahabaki! We're sparing no expense, we're pushing with everything we've got, so let's put on a show that'll make even the gods tremble!"

The Gunner pointed his hand outward, the space on the ground being filled with a swath of armed and ready soldiers, his mana burning alongside the others as he leapt upwards, landing on the shoulder of a massive pseudo-divine machine.

"This is it… one more battle, and we'll have done it…!"

The massive form before them let out an echoing, terrifying roar.

The six remaining Servants readied their skills and weapons, preparing for the fight of their lives.

Behold, the ancient weapon that struck fear into the heart of the king of gods. A god-killer, world-shaker, he who could rip asunder the cosmos. Behold, the ancient ephemera that struck him down in the short time of its manifestation. A being that holds no desire for wishes, but only a desire to see one's hopes laid low and their hubris brought crashing down.

The Progenitor Dragon, corrupted by the Mors King's curse! Typhon-Ephemeros!

The Extra Class of Twisted Wishes, Pretender!

[lura-valentine]

Answer to my survey:

It's just a concept image, but with every stroke on my graphics tablet, a story was put together in my head. It's totally mental and has nothing to do with Shigaraki per se, but I feel the need to share this fantasy with you.

Maybe when you look at the picture you have a completely different backstory. Write your thoughts in the comments or reblog✏️ to share your ideas like I’m doing now.

I for one am curious to hear what others think, so please don't be shy and join in 🤗

!!ヽ(ﾟдﾟヽ)(ﾉﾟдﾟ)ﾉ!!

The legend of Shigaraki, the cursed daimyō

Setting: Feudal Period (Medieval Japan)

This era is characterized by wars between samurai clans, shōgun rule, and Japan's isolation from the rest of the world.

Why this setting? Most myths and legends have their origins in the Middle Ages, which is why I chose this one.

Story

As a baby, Shimura Tenko was nothing more than a shadow in a dying empire - a child of a daimyō (Provincial ruler) with no future, rescued from the flames of war. An allied daimyō took in Tenko and his sister when their father fell to the blade of an enemy daimyō. They grew up in silk and honor, in a family that considered them their own, since the ruler's wife could not bear offspring. Shortly after his arrival, Shimura Tenko was given the name Shigaraki Tomura, heir to a fair clan, a ruling family that watched over their province with a firm hand but a kind heart.

However, his seventeenth summer brought not the rush of young power, but the bitter breath of death. A famine spread across the land like a heavy, invisible curse - fields withered, wells dried up, livestock died. The old prayed, the weak died, and in the dark nights people told stories about the cause of this torment: a Gashadokuro (Japanese demon (yōkai)) - a skeleton made from the bones of the starving, driven by an insatiable hatred for the living.

Tomura went into the forests with his father and his most loyal warriors to drive away the monster. The fight lasted an eternity, and when the daimyō seemed to have defeated the beast, the yōkai struck one last time - his bony claws digging into Tomura's chest and his curse flowing like black ink into his blood. With the last of his strength, the monster breathed out words colder than death itself:

"Wretched people... your kind will suffer as I have and decay will be your downfall."

Tomura survived, but the yōkai's dark poison now pulsed in his veins. The priests of his clan bound his curse with sacred seals, forcing the poisonous force back into the depths of his heart, but the seal was no cure - just a lock on the door to damnation.

When news of the cursed heir reached the Tennō (The official, divine ruler), the emperor was overcome with holy anger. He, a pious ruler, could not tolerate the existence of such tainted blood and ordered the shōgun to remove the scum.

But the Shōgun (the de facto true ruler of Japan) was a pragmatist - he didn't waste a second on supernatural fairy tales. No honorable samurai should risk his life for a superstition. Instead, he bought the services of a horde of Kusa-Musha, outlaw mercenaries who wiped out villages and anointed their blades with blood for a sack of coins.

⚠️🔞 And so they came in the night like wolves waiting for the wind. They set fire to the palace, killed samurai as well as servants and raped the women of the house - Tomura's mother, his sister... No one was spared. 🔞⚠️

In the ruins of the burning ancestral hall, as the icy night sky shook with the screams of the dying and Tomura's father was murdered before his eyes, it happened - the pain, the despair, the burning, inextinguishable hatred broke the chains and the seal broke.

A storm of pure darkness erupted in a single wave of destruction. Tomura's body tore apart with the birth of a new being - no longer human, no longer a mortal creature, but a walking curse. Flesh and bone gave way and the yōkai within him screamed, "Free at last!”

He destroyed everything and spared nothing, neither the murderers of his family nor the few survivors who had called him “Lord” that morning. A massacre that no one would sing about.

When Shigaraki woke up, he was lying on cold stone. His palace was nothing more than a skeleton of charred wood and molten bronze. The halls where his father once ruled are now rubble and dust. The streets - or what was left of them - were covered in ash that settled in his lungs as if it was taking away the last of his humanity.

He glanced at his hands and for a moment he thought they weren't his. Too long, too sharp, too strange. His nails were black, his skin looked like it was made of parchment and was streaked with fine, dark lines.

"The Hand of Decay" he thought, but before the thought was fully formed, a strange, deep voice interrupted him:

"Not the hand of decay... the wings of decay."

The voice was like thunder rumbling in his head, as if the sky itself was speaking to him - it was the yōkai within him.

Shigaraki froze. A shiver ran down his spine, so strange and yet familiar, as if something inside him had been sleeping for centuries and had now opened his eyes. His breathing was heavy, his heart was racing - or maybe it didn't beat at all anymore, maybe it had long since become something else.

Then he felt something, a tingling sensation in his shoulders, a tugging deep in his back - wings.

With a sound somewhere between a gasp and an unnatural crunch, he spread her. Thin, ghostly wings, veined like coarse parchment, as if they had lasted centuries before finding their true form at this moment.

The wind tugged at them as if to carry them away, but they held firm, trembling as a strange heat spread through his veins, making him drunk and burning the truth into his core.

He was no longer human, no longer a daimyō, no longer an heir to any name. He was a beast, a yōkai - a dragon of destruction.

And from that day on his name became a curse. Whispered on dark nights, murmured in prayers for mercy, a shadow over the land that had betrayed him:

Shigaraki, the cursed daimyō - the dragon with the wings of decay.

Basic idea of ​​my kite design

Western Dragon

I deliberately chose a Western dragon design because the Japanese dragon (Ryū - 龍 or 竜) is different from them in many ways. They are often associated with water, storms and divine wisdom, rather than fire and destruction. Their symbolism ranges from protection and prosperity to chaos and divine punishment.

So why did I choose a Western design when a Japanese dragon can also represent chaos and divine punishment? The reason is that I know very little about Japanese culture and am only equipped with Wikipedia knowledge. I don't want to tarnish this or any other culture, so I chose a dragon design that is clearly associated with destruction, chaos and revenge.

Moth: Symbol of transience and death

Moths have a subtle but profound symbolism in Japanese culture. They are less well known than butterflies, but their meaning is often associated with transience, destruction and obsession.

In contrast to butterflies, which often represent rebirth and the soul, moths are seen more as a sign of decay.

Since moths often live in the dark and are attracted to light, they symbolize the longing for something unattainable.

There is a Japanese proverb: 「飛んで火に入る夏の虫」(Tonde hi ni iru natsu no mushi), which meant: "Like a summer insect flying into the fire." It describes someone who brings his own ruin - just like a moth that is drawn to the flame and burns up.

Some Japanese folk beliefs say that the soul of a deceased person can return as a moth to watch over the living or to deliver a message.

In some ancient tales, the moth is associated with Yōkai's and evil spirits that lurk in the dark.

Their “dust”, which remains on the skin when touched, was once considered “poison” or “curse”. It was believed that moths flying into the house at night heralded bad luck or an impending disaster.

My moral supporters

@doumadono | @alexandhisstuff | @unhinged-bratty-boy | @jake-lockley-vengeance | @taco-bee | @grossograsso

I mention accounts that my works 💜️ and 🔁. If someone no longer wishes to be mentioned, please write it.

[deadlyflames]

Abigail + The Invitation with a Klonnie twist

Klaus successfully broke his curse in 1492 and, consequently, Hope was born much earlier.

She is the apple of her father’s eye and he does little to curb her temper nor to temper her bloodlust.

But all children, even the immortal ones, crave the love of a mother.

Xxx

Sorry Im late Klonnie fandom! This is part 1 of 3 parts that I have planned - spoilers for Abigail (kinda) if you havent seen it

xxx

Hope isn’t in her room. In fact, she isn’t anywhere in the compound.

Which means she is likely in the hunting house.

When Klaus arrives, he finds evidence of carnage throughout the decrepit house. He sighs in exasperation as he searches the grounds for his daughter.

He finds her in the library, drenched in blood from head to toe, matching the blood that coated the walls and floors.

It’s vampire blood. The blood of a newborn, and the stench of it permeates the room. He'd have to compel several humans to scrub down the entire library.

Whatever mischief his daughter was up to tonight, he was going to have a stern talk with her about playing with her food.

A young woman faces Hope with her back to Klaus. Much like his daughter, she is covered in blood. But he can hear her pounding heart.

A mortal woman.

Hope sees him before the woman notices his presence, and the soft expression on her face shifts.

“Father!”

The woman turns and stumbles back in shock when she sees him standing before her. Klaus examines her face and he can see she's a pretty thing beneath the gore that cakes her skin and clothes.

But there is something familiar about her features.

“Klaus.” Even though she whispers his name, he recognizes her voice.

He recognizes the fire that burns in those olive eyes, even as they are wide with fear.

This was the little Bennett witch that tried to kill him the last time he visited to Mystic Falls.

Seems Hope was playing her old games again. Bringing a few of his enemies to this house and hunting them down through the night for her entertainment.

In her attempt to back away from him, the Bennett witch slips in the pool of blood and falls to the ground.

A vicious grin curls at Klaus’ lips as he watches her try to scramble away.

”Not that same plucky teen witch anymore, are you?”

“Father, don’t!” Hope’s voice fades into the background as he advances on his prey. “You don't understand!”

”I can smell your fear.” The witch flinches as his fangs grow and his eyes darken.

“Please stop!” Hope yells, but he ignores her.

“I can taste it.” Klaus snaps his teeth and though the Bennett witch grimaces, her eyes begin to harden. If she needed to fight him for her life, no matter how tired she may be or how unlikely she was to succeed, she would.

Hope does not allow things to go any further and she quickly stands between him and the witch. “She saved my life!”

“Hope. Move.” His voice is low with warning. Despite his attention being on the Bennett witch, he was cross with his daughter. She never should have been putting herself at risk and playing these games with his enemies in the first place.

Hope does not falter and her face remains as hard and cold as stone. ”She was here when you weren’t.”

Klaus straightens. “I came when you needed me.”

Hope says nothing but she holds out her hand. When Klaus takes it, he sees the events that transpired. The scheme Hope concocted in order to get several former foes and annoyances into one place. And how things went awry when one of her intended victims, a siphoner, turned himself into a heretic. Half witch and half vampire. How Bonnie Bennett fought tooth and nail in order to kill the heretic and save Hope’s life.

Beneath it all, he feels his daughter’s pain. Her loneliness. Her desperate desire to be seen and heard and cared for by her father. The kindling of fondness she had developed for the clever and plucky Bennett witch.

And finally, she shares with him the secret wish she now has, hopeful for him to grant it.

As Klaus sifts through his daughter’s thoughts and emotions, the Bennett witch slowly stands from the floor with a wary look.

Hope releases her father’s hand with a pout, her eyes wide and shining.

“Can we, father?” she pleads.

Klaus sighs deeply. He never could refuse his daughter anything. Even after all these centuries.

“Very well.”

Klaus turns his attention to the witch (Bonnie. Her name was Bonnie) once more, and she stays resolute when their eyes lock.

She was only a teenager the last time he saw her. A pretty young girl, righteous and impulsive, who managed to harness the power of her ancestors and drive him out of her town. She has grown into a beautiful young woman now, hardened and weary, but that iron core of hers remains.

This witch nearly killed him half a decade ago, but she saved Hope’s life.

Bonnie does not flinch as he reaches for her, and he can't help but be impressed by her fortitude. Her bravery soon turns to confusion when the hybrid gently takes her hand and brings it to his lips. He savors the taste as he places his mouth against her bloodied knuckles. When he pulls away, his lips are stained crimson.

“You must be exhausted, love,” Klaus croons, and the softness of his voice seems to unnerve the witch much more than him flashing his fangs had. “There is a spare room you can use upstairs for the night. And a bath where you can clean yourself up. Hope will show you.”

Bonnie glances hesitantly between Hope and Klaus before she finally manages to find her voice. ”I-I actually think I should... probably go home.”

“I insist.” His tone leaves no room for argument and after everything that had happened to her in the last 24 hours, the young witch had no energy to fight him.

Klaus watches as Hope takes Bonnie's hand and leads her out of the library. She goes along numbly but turns to meet his eyes one last time before she is pulled out of the room.

[angrygirlromero]

BASTARD LOVE, PROLOGUE

WARNING: grammar mistakes, violence, suggestive content! MDNI

Demitra Lyninxic was no fool, she knew despite being claimed by the goddess Hera that she was no child of her's, not because of her behavior towards the young demigod, but rather because of the power that coursed through her veins, deep down she could feel the storm brewing inside her and when it came no one not even her mother, the goddess of marriage would be able to calm it.

She knew her father had failed to take notice of her being, yet he had taken care of his sweet Thalia, but when Demitra had arrived at camp with hundreds of monsters on her tail, while almost being killed at the border Zeus stood by and watched yet he did nothing, as if she wasn't his own blood, but as Luke had always said "no one could force the gods to do anything", most especially take responsibility for their children.

But she was tired of being in her so called mother's shadow, the other gods turning a blind eye to her being due to Hera's fondness for the girl, and Demitra played the part of the dutiful daughter of Hera becoming the maternal figure at camp, every single camper looked up at her for guidance what seemed like a blessing from the gods would someday be a curse to them.

She pretended not knowing that her beloved mother Hera had been the one to leave her an orphan being the one to take her mothers life out of jealousy and spite of her husband, what seemed like devotion and pure love from afar deep down was resentment and hatred up close, no one would ever notice, except for him, he saw straight threw her, from the moment he had met her all those years ago in the Hermes cabin, a scared girl who had been abandoned and been thrown to the Wolfes, Luke saw the same darkness he saw in himself in her.

Demitra sat alone in the woods a small fire burning in-front of her as she sat with a blank look upon her beautiful features, the young girl took her time to pick up her plate where a slice of chocolate cake sat perfectly waiting to be eaten, yet instead of eating the delicious pastry Demitra leaned forward raking the pastry into the fire where the flames soon consumed it.

"It's my birthday today." stated the girl as she stared deep into the fire "I doubt you even know that, or care but I turned sixteen today, it's been fifteen years since she passed, I doubt you even remember her name or what she looked like" said Demitra as a tear slipped down her right cheek, "I don't think she would be proud of me, because I know you aren't, cause if you were you'd acknowledge me. I- I just hope one day you'll be proud of me, either way I'm sorry for bothering you father" said Demitra with a broken voice.

Her head hang low in shame at her actions she did this every year, knowing deep down that she would get no response but maybe this year would be different she thought, the curse of hope that haunted her as a mortal was her enemy, it always would be what haunted her.

"Deep down he is proud of you" said a deep voice from in front of her, Demitra quickly raised her head to lock eyes with the figure before her, Demitra thought she was losing her mind at the god before her, there stood the almighty Ares, the god of war, the protector of women, with his arms crossed as he stared at the demigod before him.

"You are as beautiful as mother claims, sister" stated Ares, to which Demitra frowned with her lips parted, "a beautiful woman should never have to cry to gain a mans affections" stated Ares bending down to his sister's level taking his hand under her chin then whipping the tears from her cheeks, "Our father isn't worth it, you should know that by now" he said.

"Why have you come to me?" asked out Demitra in a soft voice to which Ares smiled, "I have been watching you for a while sister, I admire your actions and I am grateful to you for caring for my children." explained Ares, "They speak of you frequently you see, and my daughter Clarisse believes that you are destined for greatness" he said.

"Me? destined for greatness? is unlikely" said Demitra with a sad voice "Do you know why our father treats you the way he does?" asked Ares to which Demitra shook her head, "Some years ago there was a prophecy told to the gods, one stating that the children of Zeus, Poseidon and Hades would soon rise up and rebel against them it is why the pact of the forbidden children was made" said Ares but of course everyone knew that story, but why would he care so deeply for Thalia yet turn a blind eye to her?

"But then the oracle went on and told each one of them about their children, Zeus would have three forbidden children, bastards, one would be ungrateful, blind to his affections, and despise what they are, another would be destined for greatness and glory but would have a tragic story, and the last one would be the most powerful demigod to every live, that child was said to despise him and challenge him." said Ares "Father fears which one you would be and mother thinks that you are destined to be the second one."

"I am no great warrior, I have no glory, all I've done is teach and care for the children here, and I can not be blind of affections I do not receive" said Demitra firmly staring at her brother, to which Ares smiled tilting his head at her in curiosity, "I believe other wise" he stated, "Everyday you manage to teach half of the children here something new, they adore you and worship the ground you walk upon, it's more of a blessing than a curse sister. Use that adoration to your advantage" suggested Ares before stepping back preparing himself to leave.

"Why come to me now?" asked Demitra with confusion consuming her beautiful features "Because you're time is coming soon, and when it comes I want to be by your side" said her brother with a soft smile, yet he only provoked even further confusion in the young demigod, "And keep that Hermes boy close, he's quite infatuated with you sister" Said Ares with a smirk before he glowed a bright gold and faded into thin air.

After he faded into golden specs from where he once stood fell a small piece of parchment and with it was a Ipomoea both light objects taking a while to fall to the ground at Demitra's feet, the young demigod picked up the the piece of parchment with a unsure look upon her face, afraid to touch the flower she read the note first.

— To my dearest Demitra, happy birthday my sweet girl I was not allowed to visit you this year but I will see you again very soon little one, in my place I have sent your brother I hope he keep his manners with you. I have sent you a gift it is a morning glory my sweet it will grant you great things in time of need, it is a representation of my love for you it will never fade.

Mother —

⚡︎

Tag list: @puppygirlstar @cecilla @random-girls-loves @purplerose291

BASTAR LOVE MASTERLIST

GENERAL MASTERLIST

[darkpuppysuit]

~Sunshine and Rain~

Pairing: Vampire!YoongixHuman!Reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings: Blood, murder, angst, pain, loss, DEATH, disease, starvation, mention of suicide, cursing (it's a given at this point bruv)

~You brought me sunshine

when I only saw rain.

You brought me laughter

when I only felt pain.~

"I'm terribly sorry- you just remind me of someone I used to know."

Min Yoongi was never prideful, not once during his mortal life would he call himself romantic either, but with you- hell he was the most prideful and lovey-dovey man you had ever met, but only ever for you. 

You a simple young woman of London's high society, the Queen's diamond of the season and him- nothing more than a artist for others including royalty. The two of you were never meant to cross paths but as luck would have it, you managed to catch his eye that fateful night.

A night that doomed him to a living hell the moment he first spoke to you- something the pair of you never saw coming.

The two of you had talked for most of the night and for once Yoongi was actually trying to impress a woman. His close friends Seokjin and Namjoon, two fellow artists, watched on as their usually guarded and reserved friend- charmed the woman in front of him.

He was everything you wanted and more, he was a man made of stone and soft silk. He was rough at the edges but soft in the middle. His hands were calloused from working with different materials over the years that he painted and sculpted with- he even did some woodwork for a few months which gave him a few more scars than he cared for. 

Yoongi loved your hands, they were soft and delicate when he first got to hold them. He wasn't too sure about it at first, because a woman of high society London was to keep her gloves on at all times while she was being courted- though he wasn't courting you officially. Even so the two of you managed to escape your prying older brother and mother for at least an hour.

In that hour you and Yoongi had done nothing but laugh and enjoy each others company under a willow tree- keeping an eye out for your family all the while. He had told you about the many places he had visited over the years- the royal families he had painted on large canvases... really the royalty was nothing to bat an eye at- nothing but a bunch of self righteous, spoiled ass brats the lot of them.

Or so he would say at least twice, only because it made you laugh. 

Eventually your eldest brother James had found the two of you under the old willow tree and scolded you right in front of him, like a child. Yoongi fumed at the exchange but was forced to keep his mouth shut- for if he was to say anything to your brother he would need to put a ring on it to have a say in anything pertaining to you.

A few weeks would pass and the two of you would send letters to each other, each one more poetic and lovesick than the last.

Yoongi was at the palace with the Queen- so getting letters to and from your residence was quick and easy since your family didn't live far from the palace. He would send you little snippets of how his day was, how insufferable the Queens brat children had been for their portrait- moving every minute it seemed. Why those little brats couldn't sit still was beyond him.

But he could never hold his excitement when you told him you missed him and wanted to see him soon. He held his head high and kept a smile on his face those days. Never once snapping at the royal children or the Queens grandchildren like he normally would, his head would always wander to the clouds when there was a small lull in the portrait process.

He would look to the bright blue sky outside the large, gold trimmed windows and imagine you're looking up at the same blue sky as he was in that very moment. He turned into such a lovesick fool he hadn't paid anyone else much attention anymore, not even his two closest friends. They had tried to get Yoongi to come out with them, to live a little instead of entertaining the thought of the two of you ever truly being together.

Did he listen to them?

Of course not.

Should he have listened to them?

Without a doubt. 

But he was young, dumb, and in love- how was he to know the life he had promised you would go up in flames?

That night- oh that night was a whirlwind of emotion and hidden kisses- secret meetings between acts of some play that was going on at the opera house for the Queen who was in attendance. You two paid it no mind- especially when you were too lost in everything that was him, well hidden somewhere far from the opera stage.

Yoongi had mentioned in passing that you two were soulmates, destined to find each other in every lifetime no matter who you became. It was silly at the time but when he had snuck into your room one late night when he couldn't sleep- it began to make sense to you.

He had stayed a respectful distance from you to keep your reputation and honor intact and you understood that much. But as the hours wore on between hushed words and silent laughter you had grown restless- you wanted to be closer to him in everyway that was possible.

That was the first night he had let himself be selfish for once. He had memorized every curve, every dip of your body. Every freckle, every mole and blemish that made up your skin- leaving kisses on each one of them no matter their location. The way his large rough hands roamed over your bare skin was reverent, as if he was painting your body with his skilled hands- it sent shivers down your spine every time they ghosted over your naked body. 

The very next day he had pushed by every single suitor that stood by the parlor door of your families generational home- ignoring the shouts and heinous words thrown his way. Really if those men were here to court you the least they could do was keep their words clean of profanities, honestly. 

He had barely pushed by the last younger man, barreling into the vast parlor and nearly tripping over his own feet like a fool and maybe he was in that moment. Because when he looked up he saw your brother James, standing just in front of the floral loveseat looking at him like he had just disgraced his entire family by stumbling in the way he had- that was the first and last time Yoongi was a little cowardice.

Yoongi adjusted his collar and suit lapels- a suit he had used the last of his money to buy from the tailor, he wanted to at least look presentable for your family- maybe then they'd give him a chance, that's all he wanted. Your mother had looked him up and down with a searing gaze sizing him up like cattle meant for slaughter- it made Yoongi so damn nervous because even if your brother approved of him- the one who held his fate in her hands was your mother.

Yoongi swallowed thickly as he introduced himself to the only two of your family members present. He didn't have any flowers with him- he should have grabbed some when he passed by the floral shop in his rush to get here before someone could take you from him- since it was the last week of the season. But he was so focused on getting here that he didn't have much time to think after he left the tailors- he left in such a rush that he still had some lingering thread attached to his coat tail. 

Your mother wasn't all that impressed with the artist but your brother- he was completely taken by Yoongi and his stories. The way he told them- it felt as if he was right there living it with him. Yoongi really did have a way with words or so he thought. All was going well until your mother stopped him mid-sentence stating that was enough and that she had heard all she needed and waved Yoongi off without so much as a glance in his direction. 

Yoongi, who was once so sure he was going to be able to impress your mother, visibly deflated in front of the pair of them and James could only give him a tight lipped smile and a firm pat on the back. The artist walked back down the stairs he had earlier ran up with a racing heart and a dream, he knew it was foolish to think he could have you but goddamn it all to hell- he was in love with you and he would have you in the end. He had already taken your honor and by whatever God above he was going to marry you one way or another.

He stomped out of the manor that day fuming and seething with anger, how could your hag of a mother dismiss him so easily? Was it because he was nothing but a wandering artist? Sure he painted for royalty but the pay never kept his pockets full for long. He could give you the world and more- more beyond just money, he could give you a life full of travel and wonder. He could take you to Paris, Rome, even the Americas if you wanted to go. He would take you anywhere you wanted, all you needed to do was ask and he would move mountains for you.

 That same night he had snuck into your room like he had so many times before- you were still awake reading a book by candle light, laying in your bed with your beautiful hair draped against your shoulders and across your pillow. You looked breathtaking to him, your pale face dusted in a light shade of pink when you heard him open your window after he scaled the fencing on the side of the manor leading to your bedroom.

Yoongi put a finger up to his perfect lips, silently telling you to keep quiet as he gently set his feet onto the wood below him. He was careful of the few spots where the old wood would creak under pressure and after a moment he was with you on your bed, his lips instantly finding yours in a passionate kiss. He caressed your cheek, his touch lingering down to your neck and pulling you closer to him as much as he could in that position. 

He broke the kiss in need of air and once he caught his breath, he told you everything that had happened this morning since your father had chaperoned a stroll with you and another suitor before he got there. You were taken aback when he told you the events of the morning, your mother was never one to just dismiss someone so rudely but she did it to Yoongi, the man you loved more than anything in this world or the next.

With a wild look in his eyes- he asked you to run away with him, to leave all of this high society bullshit behind. He wanted to take you out of the ton and away from all of the prim and proper stuck up assholes in it- he didn't say it like that but you got the picture nonetheless. Of course you jumped into his lap happily and kissed him with a sunshine smile after but he had to hush you again and told you to keep it down and to find some clothes to ride a horse in and put them on.

The two of you climbed onto the back of the "borrowed" horse with nothing but the clothing on your back, a satchel full of food and a decent amount of coin to get you through your journey until you'd have to stop for food and maybe a room to sleep in for the night. 

The days went on like just like that, the two of you staying no more than a night in a crappy hotel- to save some money of course. Most of your days were filled with laughter and sunshine- the ever present fear that Yoongi once held in his heart of never having the chance to really be with you- to marry you was gone. Stomped into the dirt- along with the pain in his chest he felt that day your mother basically told him to fuck right off.

Yoongi- the artist, married you a few months into your new life together and he couldn't be happier. You two had settled in a small town surrounded by people and as the times changed- more steam powered machines made their way into the world. That meant more bodies and the need for more housing- you two managed to keep your small one bedroom house all to yourselves for the most part. 

The town had built more buildings and housing on either side of your home to accommodate the slew of people pouring in from all around for new jobs working the machines that powered the factories and among other things too. 

Soon the small town was bustling into a city- a disgusting rat infested city. There was hardly a place the two of you could go without stepping on a rats tail or someones foot. There were people- adults and children too- everywhere, most of them were on the streets begging for food or coin to buy food.

You and Yoongi kept mainly to yourselves as a uncommon disease spread through the slums- taking nearly every man, woman, and child's life. If there was a need to go out Yoongi left you at home to keep you safe- giving you a sweet kiss goodbye before he walked out the door- the last time he didn't kiss you before he left he got held up by a few of the poor and sick, he swore to always kiss you before he left and maybe that way he could possibly avoid them. The dead also began to pile up in the streets leaving behind a foul odor of rot and decay- needless to say whatever this terrifying disease was it had a high mortality rate.

No matter how hard the two of you tried to stay healthy there was no stopping the disease- you had nearly every home remedy stashed in your pantry yet none of them seemed to help when Yoongi fell prey to this wild and terrifying disease. 

First like many other diseases- it started with a fever then a horrible cough- if you were part of the lucky few the disease would go away on its own. But if you were one of the many unlucky few the cough would turn into throwing up anything you tried to eat, making your body weaker and weaker as the days dragged on.

Then came the blood- oh god the blood- Yoongi had been laying in bed for weeks and he began to cough up blood, so much of it mixed with whatever else came up. You didn't fair much better either but while Yoongi was knocking on deaths door, you had fallen ill as well.

It was difficult for the sick to take care of the sick but at least this way it wouldn't spread to others. The days were long an miserable- the two of you could hardly get out of bed to take care of one another.

But as Yoongi had somehow gotten better-still sick as hell but better- you were still laying in bed sweating bullets and coughing up too much blood for his liking. He begged many doctors to help you but none of them would even dare come to the district you two lived in. It was dark, damp and filthy which he understood but you were the love of his life, his wife and he couldn't just sit idly by and watch you die- if it came right down to it Yoongi would have taken his own life so he didn't have to live an empty existence without you.

Tonight was the night he would die, just not how he thought he would.

He had just sold one of his many paintings of you for a decent sized pouch of coin and was on his way back to you through a dark corpse filled alleyway. This money would pay for two weeks worth of food by itself and anything else you needed- Yoongi kept the pouch in his hand with a smile on his face as he walked down a few stairs and under an archway.

It happened so quickly he didn't have a chance to take a breath when something had ran by him and stabbed his neck with a sharp object.

Yoongi hissed and put his hand up to his neck and when he brought it in front of him he was mortified- eyes blown wide and he almost screamed but the pain that surged through his body stunned him into silence and he fell to the ground choking on air and soon blacked out.

When he awoke next everything felt new- like he wasn't sick at all. Colors were brighter- he could see everything from the flying birds to the smallest of insects.

The air around him didn't smell just of rotten flesh- he could smell the bakery a few blocks from where he stood, the perfume shop further down the road was an intense wall of different scents- so much so it made his head spin.

He could see the small specks of ash from the nearby factory floating in the air around him- he could hear the shop keep in the pottery shop to his right fight with his wife upstairs- he also heard two different speeds of rhythmic thumping.

What happened to him?

Yoongi didn't have a chance to question his new- whatever this was- as his head turned on a swivel when he heard a few men shout at each other down the street- close to his home, close to you. He barely heard any of their words but the few words he did hear made his heart drop to the ground at his feet.

Yoongi had never ran so fast in his life- it felt as if his surroundings blurred together and the wind like a hushed hum past his ears.

That's when he saw it- saw them...

They had torches and a few buckets of something clear and were pouring it on the houses surrounding his- and before he could act everything went up in roaring flames right before his eyes, everything including his own home where you laid helpless on the bed unable to scream or even shout.

The candles must have gone out because if they hadn't those idiots wouldn't have laid waste to the surrounding buildings by burning them like they do with diseased bodies.

Yoongi fell to his knees-tears streaming down his pale cheeks like waterfalls. He was angry-pissed even, but most of all he was in agony because he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Once the fire was out he tentatively walked into the charred remains of what was once the home you shared with him.

Everything was burned to ash- nothing was left of value to him... not even you.

When he saw your remains he fell to his knees once more beside the small bed you two once shared. The blood curdling scream that ripped through his throat was as if someone had stabbed him in the chest- straight through his undead heart.

He stayed there crying and sobbing over you for hours- but when he was done, his eyes glowed red- something had snapped inside him... Something that kept him sane during the hardships you two had endured together.

He was a man- or whatever he had become- on a mission. He knew what the men who had burned you alive smelled like so it was easy for him to hunt them down like animals.

These bastards wanted to act like animals- he was going to slaughter them all like animals and whoever got in his way would meet the same fate as them.

He skulked around the city- in the shadows moving as silent as death itself.

The first man he found was drunk at a pub about half a mile from the slum district. He was an older man with a round stomach and greying facial hair- Yoongi knew he was one of the eight men that had killed you... he could smell it on him.

He waited until the man stepped into the alley to take a piss and that's when he attacked. He didn't get the chance to scream in horror before Yoongi grabbed him by the throat and ripped it out of him- the man fell to the ground with a thud.

Yoongi quickly moved onto his next target. This one was another older man- only he was thinner and walking down the alley with a few of his friends.

Yoongi used his newfound speed to his advantagethis time- he slowly stalked closer at first... then just as the man turned around Yoongi plunged his hand into his chest and yanked his heart out if his chest with a wicked grin.

The man's friends screamed like little girls when his body fell limp onto the ground with a gaping hole in his chest- Yoongi was already gone by the time they began scanning the area for him, too consumed by his deep hunger for revenge.

When he found the last bastard he was at home eating dinner with his family. Yoongi watched from the darkness through their dining room window- his glowing eyes the only thing seen in the alleyway.

Once the family had all gone to bed he climbed the fire escape of the tall building- letting the mouth watering aroma of this man's blood guide him.

He broke locks with his bare hands as if they were made of butter- but he took his time getting to his last victim. He wanted to enjoy it this time, because this fuck was the one who lit it all up with a torch.

Yoongi broke the door handle to this assholes home quickly and slithered inside under the cover of night. He found the children's room first but closed and locked it by crushing the handle- not enough to break it but just enough to render it useless so they couldn't open it.

Then he found their parents room- the door was cracked open slightly. Yoongi pressed the pads of his slender fingers against the wood- opening the door as silently as possible.

He walked in- his steps feather light and stood on his side of the bed and watched him sleep. Yoongi shoved the man's shoulder after a moment passed- the man woke up with a jolt and his gaze instantly fell on the dark figure with glowing eyes standing in front of him.

He was about to scream when Yoongi held his index finger up to his lips to hush the man and surprisingly he complied. Yoongi's lips cracked into a creepy cheshire grin as he kneeled down to the man's height.

He grazed the man's head with his pale hand and hushing him pretending to be worried- then he grabbed the man by the back of his head and yanked it back to make the man look him into his cold dead eyes.

"You took the only one that kept me sane- and now you- and your family- are going to pay for her death with your life."

With deadly accuracy Yoongi wretched his head back and long, sharp fangs had pierced through his gums and around his eyes darkened- he bit into the man's throat forcing the scream that was caught in his throat to ring out into the room, waking up his wife.

Yoongi had swiftly grabbed her by the neck and ripped out her throat like he had so many others while he feasted on her husband like a man starved. He had no clue what possessed him to drink from the man's neck but fuck did it taste divine.

Once Yoongi had killed the parents and taken his vengeance for his beloved, he walked back home- back to you covered in blood from his mouth down his chest- the crimson liquid having stopped right at his belt.

It would be months before Yoongi even thought about leaving you alone ever again- maybe he was going insane but he like to pretend you were still alive. Going as far as to talk for you when he asked you a question but didn't answer.

There would be days he would cry over your charred body- others he would kill anyone who came near his home- his love. On those days he would scare everyone sometimes himself too, eventually his district became known as; The Blood District.

Most humans would stay far away from that area, scared for their lives and rightfully so- Yoongi liked it that way... at least now people would stop looking for him- the ripper. A name that would put fear into every man, woman and child for years to come.

That was well over 230 plus years ago and Yoongi never forgave himself for it- not a single day went by that he didn't blame himself for your death. He was so close yet so far that night, he couldn't stop those bastards as they lit the house on fire to keep the mystery disease from spreading- thinking nobody was inside.

That was the same night he had killed over a dozen or more men- ripped their throats out of their necks or wretched their hearts clean from their chest. He couldn't stop himself he was in pain and anguish- oh how he nearly became insane as he danced down the brick roads and allies- maybe he was insane. Yoongi knew that if he had his way- he would've painted that entire city blood red.

In today's world Yoongi was a doctor- a traveling doctor, he still got to travel all over the world- while helping both humans and vampires that had fallen on hard times.

It's something you would've done had you gotten the chance to- even during your last days you made it a point to try and help anyone who asked for it.

The few vampires that made up his clan- including his maker, Hoseok- who had managed to convince Yoongi to finally bury you somewhere your soul could be free nearly a year after your death- only one was younger than Yoongi the rest were eighty to three hundred years older than him.

Hoseok and Yoongi never got a long in the beginning- the younger vampire always, without fail- blamed his maker for keeping him from you that night. But as the years passed and the tears stopped- Yoongi learned to accept what was and what wasn't.

What was- Yoongi was a vampire who had endless wealth and an endless life. Free to roam the earth and anywhere he wanted to be- as long as he came home every couple months or so.

What wasn't was you- you were dead and long gone from his grasp for the afterlife was a place he could never reach. There was never a day he didn't think of you- looking up at the stars imagining you were looking down on him and his damned soul from the heavens.

Countless times Jimin- a vampire only older than him by eighty years- tried to comfort his brother. He would accompany Yoongi many times to your grave so he wouldn't be alone.

Hoseok and Jimin had made sure to give you the best headstone money could buy- Yoongi had engraved your portrait into the stone himself... with the same hands that once held you so close to him.

On days Yoongi would visit after he'd come home from wherever he was- he would stay with you most of the time, there were days he'd sleep by your grave- even if he had to pretend to sleep sometimes.

It brought him comfort and solace in the oddest of ways- Hoseok would worry for him and often came to your grave in secret... laying down a single tulip before waking Yoongi up from the trance he was in and going home.

Home was this old castle out in the woods- long forgotten but still in imaculent shape- sure the stones were older than dirt and covered in thick vines and moss- but inside was still as grand as a castle should be.

The castle had high walls with many large paintings- a few of which Yoongi had painted himself- and quite a few works of his old friends of the past- Seokjin and Namjoon.

The trim was golden of course with pearly white walls, a grand chandelier as you first walk in with a grand staircase leading up to the bedrooms- which most were used for storage but a few housed the vampires who were sired to Hoseok.

Yoongi kept the room with an old grand piano inside when he first arrived to his new home- the once cluttered and dusty room was cleaned and some furniture was put in to make it livable and over the years Yoongi had collected small trinkets that reminded him of you... each of them made him smile and wonder just how much you would cherish them if he could give them to you.

Yoongi had a difficult time going on without you- during his early years as a vampire he would always keep to himself- hugging the one poorly painted portrait of him you had done to his chest every night and quietly sobbing to himself.

Most days were always harder than the last but after 120 years he learned to cope with the empty feeling in his heart- he never truly moved on but what can one possibly do when you're immortal and not even your favorite whiskey tasted the same?

Their youngest- Jungkook- managed to coax Yoongi out for a night on the town after years of begging the older vampire, Yoongi only went to get him to shut the fuck up for once.

When he entered the club the flashing lights blinded him and the music made his sensitive ears feel as if they were bleeding. Nonetheless he pushed through the sea of bodies to a secluded corner of the club.

Jungkook and Jimin were having the time of their immortal lives- convincing young men and women alike to their corner of the world and nearly sucking them dry- they never killed anyone though, they simply drained them until they were too loopy to remember their encounters the next day.

Yoongi however hated feeding on humans- especially after his days as a ripper- the taste was like swallowing silver to him and he'd throw up any human blood he drank after.

Yoongi fed on animals in the woods- it wasn't much to keep his strength up but it kept him from starving and turning to ash, so he couldn't complain much. He'd always keep a pouch of animal blood on his person should he need it.

Jimin tried to get Yoongi to quote: to get over someone he needed to get under someone else. The thought repulsed him- to even think he could forget you by fucking another human was absurd.

But he tried to- he walked a young girl back to her apartment after talking with her all night- he didn't do much talking but the girl was like a broken record, doing all the talking for him.

That had to be the worst mistake of his long life that he had ever made. Nothing happened of course- nothing tangible at least- it was merely a simple kiss to her lips... after she had walked into her apartment and closed the door he was disgusted with himself.

Yoongi had sped down the two flights of stairs and into the dimly lit alley next to the apartment complex and wretched the blood bag from his pocket and sucked it dry just to get the lingering taste of her out of his mouth.

When he got back home though- he was seething pissed and went straight to his bedroom upstairs- slammed the door shut making the wood crack under pressure and fell to the floor in front of the last work he ever painted of you, in a few of your last days on earth.

The painting was mediocre at best because when he'd painted it he was still trembling with a high fever- but it captured some of your beauty, had the faintest hint of your perfume still on it and it was the only painting he never sold.

You were laying on your shared bed asleep- like you were for the most of your last living days- your wedding ring he had bought for you stood out the most against the pale colors he had used. Your long hair draped over the sweat soaked pillows- your pink cheeks pressed against them in a deep slumber.

It wasn't his best work but he had to keep your memory alive somehow- a Yoongi was on his knees in front of you his face void of all emotion until the tip of his index finger brushed your painted cheek and that's when he lost it.

Yoongi has screamed so loud and full of pain Hoseok and Taehyung who had just gotten home from hunting thought someone had plunged a silver dagger into his undead heart.

He stated in his room for days until a call came in from a vampire he had helped just last year- Yoongi didn't want to leave, it took him two days after the call just to get up and pack what he needed for the trip.

After he had made it to Rome he booked a hotel room for the night and out of the corner of his eye he barely caught long hair flowing past a corner and laughter that sounded just like you- bright, happy, and full of life.

He couldn't snatch his key card from the staff fast enough and just as the woman who sounded just like you had nearly shut the door it happened.

The two of them made brief eye contact before the door was closed and it was like his heart had started beating again- he knew those eyes, those beautiful mesmerizing eyes all too well.

Maybe this was father time playing a cruel joke on him- maybe this was a punishment from the gods perhaps. Either way Yoongi had to know- needed to know if what he saw was truly real and not a figment of his imagination.

But he couldn't bring himself to knock on her door- he stood there for a moment before shaking his head of the absurd thought and walked away to his hotel room- that so happened to be a few doors down from hers.

The next day he had exited the hotel without seeing the woman again- Yoongi kept telling himself it was all in his head, that what he saw was nothing but the ghost of you he longed to see.

Yoongi tried to keep his thoughts clear as he walked through the streets of Rome and he managed just fine until he heard your laugh again.

He was just three blocks down from his destination but he took a detour and followed the adorable melody around corners and small alleyways until he stopped a few feet from an old coffee shop.

Back when he was human Yoongi would frequent this very coffee shop nearly every time he'd visit Rome- but as he scanned the outside tables he saw her- he saw you.

Sure your hair was a different color and your skin was a shade or two darker but it was you- his love, his wife, his reason for being- sitting at a table with a few others he assumed were your friends.

You looked different yes but your laugh was the same and your eyes- oh gods your eyes we're still the same color and your eyes still squinted into little crescents when you laughed with your whole chest.

Yoongi was frozen to the spot, sticking out like a sore thumb with his black clothing against the colored buildings- you looked at him, right at him- it was as if time stopped and everything slowed down to this single moment.

Yoongi took a deep breath and forced his feet to move forward- he crossed the street like an idiot nearly hit by a speeding scooter- his gaze never left yours though. Once he had made it a foot or two from you he stopped- not speaking a single word just staring.

You weren't sick, you weren't pale as death itself- you were here smiling and full of life laughing with your friends- looking at him for the first time in centuries.

"Do we know each other?"

Oh hell your voice was even the same- if his heart was still beating it would've stopped for the second time in his life- he swallowed the lump in his throat and his gaze broke from yours when one of your friends coughed to clear their throats.

He felt small- nearly picked apart by their eyes like he had been with your mother all those years ago- he felt like the same lovesick fool he was when he was alive. His pale cheeks dusted in a light shade of pink as he kicked an imaginary rock- then he looked back to you.

"I'm terribly sorry- you just remind me of someone I used to know."

A/N: I decided to write differently for this one, it's giving Blood Sweat and Tears meets Bridgerton. (?) At least that's how I hope it came across in the very least.

I was also inspired by another vampire fic that I cannot seem to find fucking anywhere, like it fell off the fucking planet- I love that for me.

Please leave your comments or asks for me I really do love hearing from you guys!

ALL 133 OF YOU CRAZIES!!! <3

Also let me know if you'd like a part two or an epilogue to this because if so I'll definitely write it, all you have to ask me honest!

Love you lots, Aly

[seasirengirl]

EVERYTHING YOU SEE IS A PART OF YOUR IMAGINATION, EVERYTHING YOU SEE IS A LIE.

pairing: jason grace x f!neptune!reader

warning: jason is kinda a bop in this, reader is referred to as a blonde

a/n: wrote this at 4am so it’s probably really stupid, but i was thinking of writing hcs for a part 2? idk would y’all read that?

growing up at camp jupiter meant being a soldier, a warrior with no life outside of their duties, a disciplined demigod with no mistakes ever made. this mindset messed up a lot of the kids’ mind, awarding them with different mental illnesses that they wouldn’t be experiencing if their lives were just, normal.

normal could mean a lot of things, but jason grace lost the touch of it a long time ago.

what was normal? being a mortal in high school or spending his everyday life in camp jupiter?

none of these options were available to him, because in the middle of his quest to save the queen of the heavens, he felt more confused than ever, his memories slowly coming back, but in little snippets, unnecessary things were being brought back to him, such as a certain scent that reminded him of… he didn’t remember who. he was surely going crazy.

and the blurred face of a girl he saw every time he ever got the chance to fall into hypnos’ domain certainly did not help the situation. maybe he did something so terrible in the past that he didn’t even get the chance of sleeping undisturbed, but what did he do? he didn’t even remember.

the question that bore into the mind of a mere reader would’ve been, 'what did he even remember?’ an oblivion, absolute nothingness.

and his two apparent friends, leo and piper.

while piper seemed to not be much of a friend, she still kept her patience.

jason, being the selfless soul he was, always managed to put everyone else before himself, he was worried that he was breaking piper’s heart by his amnesia, which, by the way, was not his fault either, but who else was there to blame? truthfully, no one.

while the quest was ongoing, he managed to get used to being apart of the trio, managing to fall more and more in love with the mystery that was piper mclean, or so he thought.

piper was absolutely gorgeous, in her own unique way, she was something to be looked at, to be admired and treated with care and love, but the world that they got exposed into, certainly was not up to the standard jason wanted piper to be put at.

she was also a total knockout, pretty, smart and really unique, what more could a guy want?

right?

then why did the ocean breeze randomly flow through his nostrils when jason was not anywhere near an ocean? what about the blonde soft wavy hair he always saw in his dreams, or the laugh he heard during one of those dreams. something about the girl in his dreams made jason’s life way more complicated, he could not get her out of his head, but how could he? it’s like the gods above truly did not want anything to be remotely normal in his life.

was it all just a set-up, was he cursed? or was he simply going insane over a woman he had never met? it had to end.

apparently the blonde from his dreams did not even exist, he described her to a lot of people, but not one person in camp half-blood knew anything, so he gave up.

the argo II had to be built and they had to fight mother earth, gaea, along with quite a lot of giants, girl problems could wait.

while keeping himself busy, he found his sweet escape to be piper, maybe what was between them was real, it wasn’t just venus having “fun” for a bit and making him insane? he still got dreams from time to time, but they didn’t corrupt his whole time.

but a few months passed, his and piper’s relationship was going well, they were just days away from going to camp jupiter, while going there to find the rest of the eight demigods from the great prophecy was the goal, maybe he could find her there?

and just like that, thoughts and dreams about the mysterious ocean girl slowly came back.

until the day they finally landed in camp jupiter. pieces of jason’s memory came back to him, but not all of it, but everything seemed to click the second he got the chance to actually look around the (not-so) familiar territory.

his hand intertwined with piper’s, he entered camp jupiter, he noticed annabeth running off to a black haired boy, who he assumed to be percy jackson, since that was the guy everyone seemed to be looking for ever since his arrival.

but right next to percy, stood a girl, but not just any pretty girl, her.

the girl from his imagination.

she quickly noticed jason, running over to him and pulling him into a hug, he noticed slight tears in her eyes that weren’t willing to spill.

jason was stunned, his hand was still holding piper’s, until it wasn’t, he felt it let go.

but jason had your arms around him, which felt better than anyone elses.

“i missed you, jase.” you said quietly, in a tone barely above a whisper.

“i-i’m sorry, i don’t remember.”

“percy told me it was a possibility, i just never thought you’d forget me, after all that we’ve been through. he remembered things about annabeth, did you really forget all about me?” a single stray tear managed to escape your eyes, raised in camp jupiter, crying was not something you were used to, but given the circumstances, what else were you supposed to do? sit around and smile like nothing happened, like you didn’t just realise that the love of your life forgot about you? “no, i’m sorry, it’s not your fault, i can’t blame that on you.” you quickly added, noticing how much pressure you put on the boy you loved.

“jason, what’s going on?” that was the voice of the girl jason came back with, sweet as honey. did he find a replacement? have you commited a sin so unforgivable that the gods had to punish you this way? he held her hand, they came in happily, you weren’t needed.

“i don’t know, look, let’s just go and find annabeth, she’ll know what to do.” jason simply shrugged away from your uncounter, living the girl of his dreams in tears, standing there, empty.

and it certainly did not help that jason and his newfound girlfriend were on the ship too, so you couldn’t really be miserable all the time.

you had to put in the effort.

that same night, as you were about to go to bed in your cabin, percy came in to check on you and you suddenly got the urge to tell him about all of your emotions and thoughts, since he was a great listener and also probably the only person who could cheer you up.

so you told him, if you couldn’t trust your brother, who could you trust? you told him some details he didn’t already know about your and jason’s complicated relationship and about him and his new girlfriend.

jason’s cabin was the one opposing yours, so he got a bit confused and almost opened the door to your cabin, but he heard your voice, and his name a few times too, so he did something absolutely irresistible, eavesdropping.

“it was complicated for so many years, and when we finally confessed, 3 months later he just disappeared one morning, i count every minute he was a way, and he came back with a new girlfriend, what did i do to venus so horrible? she gave me a hair comb once after a quest, she doesn’t like hate me or something, right? or does that mean my hair is really messy?” you kept on rambling.

“shh, i don’t know about jason, but if he’s willing to break your heart like that, i’m not gonna be okay with it, goodnight, y/n.” percy kissed your forehead.

“night, perce.”

just as percy walked out of the cabin, he saw jason standing by the door.

“hope you heard all that, buddy.” he mumbled.

if jason thought he was going insane months ago, he for sure knows he’s insane by now.

around a week has passed since that night, jason admired you from far away, getting reminded of why he fell in love with you all those years ago.

it was a quiet evening, some calm and peace, the typical calm before the storm vibes were around.

and it sure ended up being a storm that night for jason grace. he had been thinking about ending things with piper, since remembering things were making him all confused, all of the fake memories were faded too, so their relationship was hanging by a thread, which piper tore that night.

“we need to talk.” piper exclaimed, her tone sounded serious, not the usual cheery and soft.

“is everything okay?” jason asked, knowing that in fact nothing was okay, but he could only use a filler sentence, he didn’t have much of a heart to say anything else.

“what’s going on with you and y/n? i know you two dated, but i see the way you act around each other, you’re not over it, neither of you, and whatever this is going on with us is simply not satisfying neither me or you, so, are you cool with staying friends?” piper stated casually, without much worry on her face.

“i’m sorry pipes, it wasn’t fair to you.” jason tried apologising, but got interrupted.

“it’s fine, but she loves you, i can tell, go talk to her before it’s too late.” that was it, the awakening point, jason immediately stormed into her cabin.

“i fucked up, i’m really in love with you.” he exclaimed, and boy, did that sentence change everything.

it did.

[taki-yaki]

Prompt: Astarion x Tav where Tav is a dhampir

A Dhampir and a Vampire spawn would be an interesting dynamic, especially considering that in most cases they become trained vampire killers/hunters.

Dhampir Tav Headcanons

Your Dhampir lineage was a result of your birth mother being bitten by a vampire before you were even born.

Setting your fate to be a dhampir before you were even born, as a result, You were never able to find a home throughout your life, any kind of vampires would shun you as a dreaded daywalker, whilst any mortals would call you a dreaded bloodsucker. 

In retaliation against the ones who cursed you to this fate, you dedicate your life to hunting the undead creatures in an act of vengeance. 

When you first meet Astarion, you both nearly devolve into a knife fight on the floor, before the tadpole stops you from continuing any further.

During your first night together in camp, the two of you are tense after your first meeting. He attempts to shake the feeling off by hand waving due to the tadpoles. 

But to you, it feels strange, most of the vampire spawn you’ve met were mainly hostile, hissing, claws ready to tear your throat out, but Astarion seemed to be different from the others, more humane in an unusual way. 

This doesn’t deter you from keeping your guard down, after all in your experience, vampire spawn are always one thirsty night away from betraying everyone.

The very next night, you feel the hunger pains within you, to feast upon blood, despite your distaste for blood, you occasionally need to consume it, or else it will weaken your body and state of mind, but never kill you.

After a quick sneak into the nearby forest, you return victorious with rabbit’s blood to feast upon, to keep you sain for the next few weeks, however, your victory is short-lived as Astarion spots you caught quite literary red-handed with the rabbit still in your hands.

He immediately suspects you of being one of his old masters' spawn lackeys sent to take him back to his tormentor, “Your pale skin, the urge to drink blood, I knew you were one of his pests, well I’m not going back”. 

You quickly try to rebuttal in defence that you’re nothing of the sort, and you’ve never heard of this master before, he saw you eat Gale’s cooking the other night, vampire spawn can’t eat normal food. He backs off from you a little after that remark, before speaking yet again “So what are you exactly?”. 

That’s never been the easiest question for you to answer, but you attempt to explain to him how you’re a Dhampir a half-human vampire, a monster to everyone you seemly meet. 

He looks at you as if you have grown three heads, it soon transpires that he’s never heard of your kind before, seemly interested in what a half-breed like you would have to offer against the local vampire lord population.

The two of you soon create a strange bond, that which is built upon your shared hatred towards the very beings who cursed you. You teach him some of your expert undead killing ways upon hearing the torment Cazador put him through, in return you tell him tales of the lesser vampire lords you’ve slain by your hands, giving him the safety of having you by his side.

In return he starts to see you as less of a monster, instead seeing you as just you. Complimenting on the combination of your colourful hair in contrast to your pale skin, to the smaller set of fangs that you have.

When it comes to blood, he never feasts upon your own, saying how it smells weird as if it has a strange underlying danger to it so he’s better off not taking the chance.

Upon your arrival at Baldur’s Gate, the two of you decide to stride straight towards the Szarr palace to kill the vampire lord once and for all, but you warn Astarion that if he ever ascends, you will have to kill him, as he’ll be no better than the dozen other vampire lords you’ve told countless tale about.

Once his Cazador was finally slain, the fate of the spawn was left in the hands of you both, your past self would have decided to kill them, stating that they are no better than the ones who made them, but upon seeing them in the cells, they remind you of when you met Astarion, an undead who still seemly had a soul to call his own, a radiant hope for those cursed to walk in the shadows.

With a deep breath, you tell him to set them free, as they are only victims like him, and curiously they feel like a dark blood kin to you. The spawn are grateful for your generosity, especially knowing that most of you kind would kill without a second thought, whoever you do warn them that if they ever lose control, you will not hesitate to kill them.

After the defeat of the nether brain, the two of you decide to do what you do best, acting as a deadly pair of night-stalker vampire hunters vowing to save those who have fallen into the hands of tyrannical vampire masters. Travelling across faerun to see what the world has to offer both of you.