#being immortal and wished for him to not die and then the next day he woke up as an alicorn

[soni-dragon]

cadence and shining armor, been doodling a lot of these guys the past few weeks :)

[solitary-traveler]

Hi hiii! I'm actually new here, and gosh i love your writing like since day 1 🛐🛐🛐

Would it be alright to request something like angst! Scaramouche where he's in an established relationship with y/n who decides to become immortal/ doll like so they can live for liek, an eternity with Scara? They could seek out Dottore. Their constitution would be more doll-like compared to Scara, with the visible ball joints and the creaking?? sounds when moving.

The thing would be, the reason Scaramouche fell inlove with them is because of their 'humanity'. You may end it however you wish to! ^^

The Price of Eternity

Loving Scaramouche was never easy He was immortal an you were not

Scaramouche x gn!reader

Notes: Hiiii thank you so much @whitesheeponthestreet, both for this and the compliment!! This was actually kinda fun to write! I like this prompt. In any case, here you go. Sorry it took so long 🙏 I kinda feel like my writing downgraded—

Art: shihatsu_0 on X

Warning: Just angst :) with a slight tinge of comfort?

Loving Scaramouche was never easy.

He was immortal, and you were not.

You sway with the grim reaper, and spin with the deities. Favored by the gods, you were gifted a heart that sang the most wonderful melodies—a song Scara cherished, worshipped, and loved.

Your entirety was a manifestation of those identified as "humans". Yet, it disgusts you.

Mortality means a limited lifespan. All beings die eventually, but human life is transient—a fleeting moment, a passing memory.

That frightens you.

You don't want to betray him.

Aware of the past tribulations carved into his being, you wanted to spare him more torment. He acts tough, but he's as fragile as glass—a precious, porcelain doll. He's barely holding on, and you don't want to shatter that.

You don't want to leave him alone.

Vanishing from his side—in any shape, way, or form—would be a betrayal. It's a pit you refuse to fall into.

That's what brought you here, to the presence of the Doctor.

"Are you sure about this decision? You know it would be irreversible," Dottore hums, hovering over you as you're strapped to a stained mattress. He feigns concern, his lips stretched into a wide smile.

"You can still say no if you'd like."

Despite his warning, he's already rummaging through the scattered tools on a nearby desk. His hands shake as he grabs a clipboard, reading a few lines before moving on to the next page. You simply shake your head in response.

"I know. But I want to do this. I have to."

The sinister smile never leaves Dottore's face. He taps the checklist and promptly snatches a syringe. He shakes the blue fluid inside before his gaze returns to you. Even with the mask, you know his eyes are sparkling with sadistic pleasure.

"Buckle up then, sweetheart. I'm not going to go easy on you."

You nod.

Not like it bothers you.

You love him too much to care about your humanity.

Loving you was never easy.

You were mortal, and he was not.

He wasn't indulged by any god, nor pampered by fate. He was merely created, tossed aside, and left to rot.

If only puppets could rot.

But none of that mattered anymore. His decisions and choices were his alone. No deity or destiny could interfere with the world he forged. The path he walked was stained with blood and lies, a passage he sculpted to scrub away every last trace of human emotion.

He wasn't born with a heart, so why bother with feelings?

Unfortunately, you—with your foolish and ardent self—managed to trespass the safe haven he struggled to create.

But that didn't stop him from loving you.

He was fascinated by your humanity.

How could something so delicate and insubstantial coexist with those that have higher utility?

It was all too intriguing. Compelling. Oh, how he loved it.

How he loved the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, your shifting temperatures that somehow warmed and cooled him down. But your heart... Oh, how he loved your heart.

The beating, the rhythm, everything. It was a constant reminder that you were alive. He liked that. He used to believe he solely existed for the sake of being. Yet your heart, the ever-present voice of reason, screamed, "You're alive too!"

After all these years, he finally felt like living.

Love was never easy.

You were now immortal, and so was he.

Yet, he doesn't feel as happy as he should. His chest feels empty. Hollow. As if something is missing—something more than a heart.

He holds you in his arms as you sleep peacefully. He raises his hand, slowly running his fingers over the ball sockets where your joints now connect. He recalls watching you stumble inside your shared apartment, your movements stiff as you clumsily made your way to him. He recalls your overjoyed smile as you hugged him, going on and on about how you now shared the same lifespan as him. Yet all he could think of was how smooth your skin was. Too smooth for his liking.

He thinks back to the sound of your joints creaking and grating with every move you make. It was horrible, the detestable screech irritating his ears. He looks back to that day, where he held your hand and pressed his lips against your forever cold skin. He remembers whispering, "I'd love you, no matter what you are."

But could he truly do so?

Scaramouche's thoughts spiral as he watches you, immobile and serene in his arms. He tries to convince himself that this new you, this immortal you, is what he always wanted. But the reality gnaws at him. Your once warm skin, a constant source of comfort, is now a cold, smooth surface that feels foreign against his touch. The rhythmic beating of your heart, which had been a soothing lullaby to his otherwise restless existence, is now a deafening silence that haunts him.

Every time he sees your stiff movements, hears the grating sounds of your joints, a pang of regret pierces through him. He had agreed to this transformation, thinking it was the solution to keep you by his side forever. But now, he questions whether it was the right choice. Was his love so fragile that it needed this drastic measure to endure?

He wrestles with his emotions, the conflict raging within him. He had always believed that love transcends physical form, that it is an unwavering force. But now, faced with this new reality, he feels the weight of his own hypocrisy. The physical changes have altered the very essence of what made you, you. The warmth, the breath, the heartbeat—gone.

As he looks at you, he feels a deep sense of loss. The vibrant, living being he fell in love with has been replaced by a lifeless replica. He wonders if he has been selfish, if his fear of losing you has led to this hollow existence. The guilt gnaws at him, amplifying his internal turmoil.

He was still going to love you forever.

But it will never be the same.

Loving you before had been like black coffee, strong and invigorating. This was like decaf—lacking the essence that made it real. He mourns the loss of the person you were, even as he clings to the shell that remains.

[ransprang]

Astarion x fem!reader (I feel you) - N/SFW

Cazador threw you before him, "why this one should do perfect." As your parents sold you off to the coven leader. Their debt was heavy and you could fulfill you duties of being a responsible child by being sold to Cazador. He walked around you inspecting you up and down. "Why this is a good human form, such a shame I wouldve loved to turn you into a spawn. But, somewhere in the middle should do." He strutted around you and cast a spell that had you tossing and turning on the floor withering in pain.

Astarion and his siblings stood around the hall, half interested, half scared of what was happening. As the spell cast was complete you laid there on the floor, eyes wide open. Cazador's laugh echoed through the walls, "human, immortal, can eat food, can drink blood, exceptional healing capabilities, my...new...slave!" he peaked his sharp teeth at the spawns before him.

"Stand up." You gritted your teeth at him, your rebellious nature had a habit of landing you into trouble. He got a bit irritated and pulled you up by your hair sending a jolt of pain. You closed your eyes, tears forming just hoping he would let go of your hair, "Let me go!" you screached. Cazador with an amused expression retorted "no one leaves me." He threw you onto the floor and set you on fire as you burnt before his eyes and screamed out in pain. Astarion and his siblings silently watching as Cazador laughed loudly. Once the fire was set out you instantly began healing, your dress burnt to char but still clung onto you.

Cazador walked upto Astarion "Shes yours. Kill her and you shall be punished. Bring her to me whenever I demand." Cazador waved him off with his hand as Astarion scampered towards you getting you up on your feet, you sobbed holding onto his arm, digging your nails into his arm "Let me go" you said angrily gritting your teeth, tears in your eyes. But the fire that was outside was now burning within you. Astarion gave you an angry look "Shut up before we all get fried again"

You kept trying to release yourself from his grip, as you reluctantly walked towards Astarion's place. He flung you onto the floor, "right where you belong." with an evil glint in his eye, you tried grabbing at his leg angrily but he swiftly moved away "Darling, calm down. This your life now, with me',

You retorted “I will never be like you, evil like Cazador”. Astarion rolled his eyes “I can only imagine being like Cazador but whatever you say”, he chuckled turning around “now what would you like to eat? Just so you know I’m off the menu”.

You stood up holding your head up high “nothing. I’ll rot, I’ll die”. Astarion smiled warily “oh how I wish it was so easy for us to just perish, that would be the simple way out. But seems so Cazador wants you healthy, maybe to cherish~ all that himself”, he said waving his hand outlining your body. You shot him a disgusting glint, as your eyes filled with tears and you marched to the next to room out of his sight, to sit alone in your presence.

2 days later you walk out, looking for Astarion. You wanted to speak to someone, see what was happening with Cazador, and maybe be free again. You couldn’t find him anywhere, you searched the place top down, and eventually heard knock, faint, low frequency but there was a sound. You walked in the directly and realised Cazador had locked him in a coffin in the basement . You instinctively began trying to get it open, but there was no point even trying Cazador would find out you had freed his spawn from his punishment and unleash his wrath. But, you couldn’t help it even if it was just to feed Astarion, this was too cruel.

You had to get him blood, you had to feed him. Unknowing of his animal diet you scurried to find the nearest knife. You cut yourself open, allowing your blood to drip into a cup you ran back as you lock picked his coffin. Astarion looked at you, pain in his eyes, hoping this meant his punishment was open. Before he could saying anything you said “here take the cup, drink it. I’ll have to lock you up again before he finds out." Astarions eyes widened, he quickly realised and reached out to take the cup back into darkness, as you shut the door locking him up again. The next day you came back at the same time with a fresh glass and repeated. This time as you closed the coffin you heard him say “was that a persons blood? Human blood?” You pursed your lips, yes, sorry I couldn’t kill like you do so I used my own. There was silence, as you walked away you heard “I’ve never had human blood. Thank you.” Your eyes widened at the realisation, Astarion who you thought to be as bad as Cazador was just a victim, he was in pain, longer than you had ever been, and he was all alone.

You came back close to the coffin placing one hand on the surface as if to feel him inside “I didn’t know, in sorry I said those words to you”, your heard him slightly chuckle “oh dear, please don’t pity me”. You smiled at how brave he had become, “I’m not pitying you, I’m simply returning your kindness, I’ll see you again tomorrow”. You walked away feeling a stir in your heart.

As you woke up the next morning you saw Dal at the doorstep, “master has called you”, fear took over your whole body, you had already begun suffering even though the torture hadn’t begun yet. You got up and followed Dal to Cazador's chambers where he stood ready with a whip and a brand. “Oh beautiful lady, welcome again, I knew you missed me”. Your eyes red with tears and pain as you pressed your lips together readying not to let out a single squeal to Cazador's lips. He tied you to the floor and began his cruel torture, “scream for me! Scream for me will you? My ears yearn for it”.

You had no idea how long he kept you there, but when he released you, your white gown now stained red, your wounds completely healed thought the sensation now quite gone yet. You walked slowly, dazed back as you suddenly realised Astarion was all alone, possibly hungry as you ran as fast as your feet could carry to his coffin. You didn’t have time to cut yourself, he was hungry for days. You opened Astarions coffin and as his hand reached out to grab a cup you held it and pushed yourself in closing the door behind. You stood there chest to chest in the darkness, as the side of your face touched his you breathed heavy from the adrenaline but time was less, Cazador could come by any moment.

“Bite me.” You said with conviction, Astarion could smell the blood on your gown, he knew you hadn’t had the best few days, neither did he. Instinctively, shocking himself he kept one hand on your lower back the other caressed your hair, softly as he held you from the back of your neck. He whispered “I’m sorry”, as he pierced your neck with his teeth and drank. You took a hitched breath as you felt a pain tingle through your body, you lurched forward deeper into his embrace as if for comfort but from the same man who was giving you the pain. Astarion held to your waist tighter, as he took his last few sips and released you.

You found balance again as you turned your head towards him in darkness “I have to go now, I promise I’ll bring you blood tomorrow again”. As you stepped out locking him again, you heard him “I’d rather you come here again, y/n it does get quite lonely you know”. A faint smile crawled upon your lips, as you ran out of the room.

You began returning to him everyday and letting him pierce your neck. Astarion felt drawn to you, he hadn’t felt such feelings ever since he was turned. It was a longing, even in the darkness of the coffin his heart would flutter waiting for that one moment of the day where he could feel your warm body against his.

Eventually when Cazador released Astarion from his punishment, he ran back to his living quarters to find you. You sat there staring out the window, lost within the deep twilight. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning around with a jolt, you saw him.

Astarion had a wet glint in his eye, but you could never be too sure if it was tears or just a sparkle. He quietly sat beside you, as you looked at his in wonder. Once fully aware you lunged into a hug into his arms as he tightly wrapped his around you. Staying in his embrace for a while, as twilight turned into deep blue. You both knew you had to look out for each other.

Astarion kissed your head as he your hands wandered his back through his shirt. He pulled you away from the embrace to look you in the eyes, but both your chests longed to close the gap between again. Astarion removed his shirt as you blushed, he looked at your red face “first time?” He smirked. You frowned, turning away didn’t say anything, you could hear a chuckle from Astarion, as you felt his icy cold touch running down the back, he slowly reached the rim of your dress unbuttoning the back. Your dress loosened causing you to quickly grab your chest to stop it from being exposed. Astarion hugged your bare back from behind, you could feel his chest breathing. He kissed the spot he had been feeding upon as he slowly ran his hands up your arms to your bare shoulders. You rolled your hand back, placing your head next to his. Astarion moved his hands to yours, firmly grasping them and making them let the dress fall loosely onto your lap. As he slowly held your breasts.

Astarion turned you to face him, your heart beating fast, wanting him to finally take you. He pushed you back onto the bad, climbing on top kissing you all the way from your belly, up to your neck, making his way to your lips. He explored every inch of your mouth, as you arched your back to be closer. Astarion removed his pants, as his cock spring out, tip pink, already sensitive, throbbing to be placed inside of you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, he positioned himself, as he said “don’t worry darling, I’ll take care of you, as you did for me.” You nodded your head trusting the process, you knew Astarion would be careful.

Astarion slowly pushed himself in, groaning with pleasure as your warm soft walls enveloped his tip, you rolled your eyes back in pleasure. He slowly began thrusting, pushing his shaft in. A little by little he was all the way in, he stayed like that to feel you. Astarion caressed your hair as he went in for a kiss, your toes curled as he began humping you. He was so gentle, you began to feel an unfamiliar feeling. A stir in your chest, as Astarion’s sweat beaded. You felt a warmth rise up, your vagina was about to explode. Astarion picked up your ecstasy and began pumping ever so fast, he was railing you. The back of the bed thudded against the wall as you moaned, loudly at your sweet release. Astarion animalisticly thrusted, gritting his teeth as he neared his orgasm, he could feel his entire groin go sensitive as he released his thick white liquid inside of you.

Astarion collapsed on top as you both panted, he turned to face you and gave you a kiss. As you wrapped your arms around the man laying on top of you, using one hand to play with his curls. You smiled to yourself as the room lit with the bright moonlight it was almost as if the sun had risen again, and Astarion was just basking in its light.

your prisoner,

admin sav

[yourlocaltreesimp]

I (beg) ask if you can write anything Fierce Deity related. I don't want anything else, just that you write for my boy. (Pls us FD simps are starving).

Ah believe me I know y’all are dehydrated beyond the word’s meaning. I know the struggle (I really do) So I hope I do your boy (man) ((celestial being?)) justice!

(fir post writing: wow this is a LOT of context y’all don’t want or need, but my hands hurt so… part 2?)

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Immortality is a lonely existence. There are few beings that obtain an average life expectancy to that of a god. There are even fewer again who have immortality. Proper immortality. Not the poor results of a fae deal or some curse to age and wither without death. No. Proper immortality, exempt of aging past maturity and death herself.

That made his current predicament worse. Much, much worse than being stuck in a wooden mask.

You see, Gods and the immortal beings alike are rather fickle beings. They do glorious things to entertain or punish the mortals to have their names etched into stone and uttered in myth through centuries. They only wish to exist in temples of incense and candlelight, where the people there would do anything for even the cast of an eye.

Fierce had always thought those gods were the worst. All temples would crack. All names would be forgotten. All clay tablets and pots would be broken, ironically even by their proclaimed heroes. But that’s getting ahead of us. He was worshipped only in the grounds he was made for. It didn’t matter the land, for blood soaks into soil the same no matter what. It didn’t matter the men, the corpses were plentiful and he hardly discriminates. It didn’t even matter who won, because there are no winners in war.

He was made to fight, and he was made to kill. And so he did. His name rang throughout time between soldiers and emperors alike. Both tried to gain his favour. Occasionally there would be a temple, occasionally there’d be some mortal claiming to bear his blood, occasionally he’d care.

Regardless, it all came to the same ending. The men would die, the temples would crack and his name would fade into obscurity again.

It was supposed to.

But it seemed the others didn’t like that he was beating them at a game he didn’t want to win.

‘Cruel’ they called him, ‘Violent’ ‘Inhumane’ ‘Rabid’ ‘Irate’ ‘Improper’

And so, they condemned him. And he was forever no more.

Eras passed.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years… And truly, he was nothing.

Just as they promised.

Some relic like their old tales, except he could not crack and wither.

He was lonely, perhaps just as much as before in hindsight. The fickle attention he did have was only worth something if he willed it.

At some point, He was awoken again. There were hands on his cheeks, shaky and blood covered. And there was light. The person who had called upon his spirit was not in good shape, blood spilling from their weak body as they were chased by odd looking men. A pack of wolves set on a lamb.

He’d learn throughout the next few months of hiding you and sharing your consciousness that the people of your village had thought you to be a witch. As such, you were beaten and chased.

You were a doctor, you’d told him.

You’d just tried to cure someone.

And such began his problem.

He’d never saw the purpose of mortals. They were future bodies, to him. They’d live to die. Sure, it’s better than the alternative of there only being gods, but they never held much worth to him.

Not until you.

You are good. In every way the short comings of language can express you are good. You’d devoted your life to a thankless existence and the nature of living had caught up to you. Good things didn’t deserve that. Good people didn’t deserve to live the life you led.

He was not so cruel as to condemn you to that fate.

And so, he began to help. Once gaining a physical form, (through much trial and error) He’d do the work you couldn’t manage. Hunting, building, sewing, cooking, he’d do as much as possible. He knew what it was like to be turned back upon by everyone. But you wouldn’t be able to grow past that. Not in your short life.

He held you as you shuddered and cried. He tended to your wounds and sickness. He did and would do whatever it took to see you happy again.

He did not, however, see the consequences.

It took him far too long for his comfort to realise that you were not simply accompaniment. You consumed his waking thoughts and filled his dreams. He lived around you, your wants and your needs. He began to eat because it made you comfortable, He slept because you liked to be near him, He humanised himself because it made you happy.

He would’ve renounced his title as a god to make your life perfect, or as close to as it could be.

But He could not.

He could not simply marry you and go about your lives knowing you had one another. He could not have you to hold forever. He could not always love you in sickness and health no matter how much he tried. Because at the end of the day, it’s until death do you part.

Or… do you?

(part 2? perhaps? maybe? perchance?)

[dramaturgydrakes]

of things i have little power over

odysseus has been on ogygia for a long, long time. hermes pays a visit.

words : 1,111

content warnings : very vaguely implied sa, odysseus being sad

notes : im not going to torture myself w mega fancy talk this is epic fanfiction.. also im very nervous about posting this and am aware that its kinda overly self-indulgent and not like. character-accurate. but wtv great grandpa hermes

the soft pat of feet connecting with sand behind him is different than usual.

“i thought i told you i needed some space,” he says anyway. they’re the only two people on the island, after all.

“i’ll stop by in another five years, then.”

he tenses. has he started to hallucinate again? but, no—

hermes crosses his legs on the white beach, seating himself next to odysseus and casting his head in the same direction—out towards the endless sea.

odysseus’s mind has cast many illusions upon him in the past years. a god’s presence, however—it is undeniable. ultimate. every part of him resonates with certainty.

hermes is here.

he doesn’t know where the god is really looking. little wings cover the upper half of his face; an obstacle meaningless to a divine entity whose true form is boundless energy. the immortal says it’s for the aesthetic, whatever that means.

“i haven’t seen you in forever,” is all odysseus can bring himself to say.

hermes makes a sound without certain definition. “and i see you every day,” he responds. somewhere in his voice, odysseus hears a mournful pain that he could never imagine a deity suffering.

he doesn’t know how to process that. he traces a finger through the sand. “why are you here?” his brow pinches with an upwards glance. “a message?”

one of the wings beneath hermes’ ears flicks, and he hums. “someday,” he says. it’s hopeful, almost. “i’ll see to it. but for now,” and he turns his head so it’s certain his eyes are on odysseus, wings guarding them or not, the smile he’d been wearing now less strained, “can’t i just visit my favorite great-grandson?”

the sound odysseus lets out is something bitter and utterly wrecked. he hasn’t the mind to call it a laugh.

“time really is fickle to the gods if you’re only here now,” he sighs, placing his chin on crossed arms that he’s left draped over his knees. hermes’ smile drops an inch or so.

“i’m sorry,” the god, the immortal, the deity, the all-powerful, who need not have regrets, tells him. “it wasn’t lack of care that kept me away, i…” he shakes his head, expression grim. “it’s unfair to burden you with my excuses.”

odysseus doesn’t want them. hermes doesn’t give them.

“i wish i could take the suffering from you.” odysseus flinches, and the words are quickly rectified. “i mean that… i wish my words meant more to my father. that you weren’t trapped here, if any place at all. that he wasn’t so cruel and inconsiderate to—”

he cuts in like scissors snipping apart a string, hermes’ voice falling away in time with his rising. “to leave me with her.” just the thought has him blinking away stray tears, stomach rolling. “i know. you’re not cruel, hermes. you have more kindness than most gods i’ve had the time to meet.”

hermes is silent.

odysseus once thought that a god was either filled with rage, or their emotions simply remained imperceivable.

it’s just their way, he had told himself, under the cold eye of athena, who never took less than perfection in his every thought and every step.

it’s just their way, he had told himself, when zeus stared him down and expected him to either end the short life of an infant or allow for his life to crumble away.

it’s just their way, he had told himself, as great, mountainous boulders crushed eleven of his ships, while poseidon watched and waited for the perfect moment to end his life.

it’s just their way, he had told himself, when he was again faced by zeus, and had his hand forced in choosing who was to live and who was to die.

but hermes’ guilt—his sorrow, his grief for one of his family’s pain… it feels as though odysseus could take it into his hands and hold it; turn it over and examine every facet, every scratch, every bump and nook, like a jewel not wholly refined.

it’s overwhelming in ways he can’t comprehend, perhaps just for his mortality. and, yet, at the same time, there’s what he could believe to be relief swelling inside him, knowing that there is someone who cares.

the edge of a wing from hermes’ lower back brushes over odysseus’s shoulder, the offer of an embrace hovering in the quiet air.

he relaxes as much as he can, and lets himself be pulled in. it’s the strangest thing, being pressed to the side of an immortal whom he had believed held no real care for him, half-wrapped in fluffy white feathers.

it stretches on, the silence. he isn’t sure if time really passes, or if it’s just the feeling of eternity—but the sun is beginning to set, so he supposes that it must.

“of the things i have little power over,” hermes says as the water is painted red, soft and near inaudible, “i think this is the one that hurts me the most.”

he shifts, and odysseus moves with him.

“but i do have plenty of power over this.”

for the first time in years, odysseus is hugged and held in arms that do not make him ill.

he did not think the gods to be affectionate. not even hermes. and, yet… maybe his pain is enough to take what he didn’t think he could be given, without question, just this once.

he finds tears running down his face when they part, and hermes smiles in a nervous, apologetic sort of way, gently patting his head. “i may try,” he says, “but i’m not that good at this. gods… gods were never really built to be parents. or great-grandparents.” odysseus sees milky golden eyes peek out from under small wings, but they’re quickly hidden away again as the god sighs heavily. “there are no words to describe how sorry i am. perhaps because gods are not built for apologies either.”

while hermes’ laugh is dry, odysseus feels a smile tug his lips. it’s surreal, how this whole evening has so deeply subverted his perception of his divine ancestor.

a god cares about him. a god cares about him without expecting perfection in return. a god cares.

a hand grasps his shoulder. “if you call to me,” hermes tells him, “i’ll come. for any reason that you need me. i will suffer every ounce of my father’s wrath if it means you are not left alone here.”

the wings lift away, and though his eyes are nothing but pure golden-white, odysseus still searches them.

and he still finds sincerity.

so, he tries his best to smile, weak and wobbly as it is.

“thank you, hermes.”

[hazymoonlinh]

Art.

Logos x Reader

(Reader can be doctor if you want)

Why am I cooking this at 2AM 💀🤟

…

___

“Who should you love?”

It was a title of a post that y/n saw one day. It was a boring night after all, so she didn’t scroll down, instead, she keeps reading it.

You should love a poet, a musician, a painter.

An artist.

Because when they love you, they will create masterpieces of you.

Y/n thinks this is something that only happened in stories, so she just let out a silent chuckle.

But oh now how wrong that is.

Unknowingly to her, she’s now the muse of one.

That man, that artist was Aefanyl.

And you too, are an artist of love.

___

Logos will not admit it to anyone, but you've become his muse. The way you talk, the way you laugh, the way you smile.

Everything about you is a masterpiece to him, one that he wants to commit to memory, to write poems, to immortalize it with words...

But most importantly, to hold you close to his chest, to feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his, the feel of your breathing, the sound of his name...

His name, on your lips.

He feels... inspired... to write. For the first time in a while, Logos feels the inspiration hit him. He knows what he wants to write. That spark of inspiration he hadn't felt in quite awhile.

His pen moved with new found vigor, his words flowing...

It's you.

Logos use a bone pen to elegantly cast incantation, a bone flute to let the banshee's music echo.

Being a Sarkaz means using even those things to fight, to accept the blood flowing in his veins, to fight for eternity without rest.

The talented young Banshee has known it since he has awareness of his surroundings.

But now,

He finds himself writing poems with that pen, instead of casting spells or incantation.

Or playing a tune for you to hear, this time the song doesn’t burn his blood anymore.

_____

You haven’t touch the brush for a very long time, it has become dusty under a pile of old documents. But now, you saw yourself painting him, the brushstrokes are a bit different.

He has the most beautiful appearance that you have ever seen. Even prettier than a lot of woman.

Delicate features as if crafted by the gods themselves, long eye lashes, soft lips, smooth skin.

His red iris-a red iris is truly mesmerizing, almost otherworldly in its intensity. Its vivid hue is captivating, exuding a sense of mystery and rare beauty.

The deep, rich color draws you in like a gemstone glowing with an inner fire, making it impossible to look away. It’s a bold and stunning feature that leaves a lasting impression, hinting at stories untold behind those eyes.

After finishing the painting, you feel a pride in your chest. But what do you do with it now? Whatever, let’s just hang it in your room.

You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

________

Logos once wish that his mother would sing him the elegy if he dies in the battlefield, that way he would be in the arms of his kind until the end.

But now, with you here, he wishes to live a bit longer, praying to himself.

“Please, let me stay with her until the very end.”

He wants you to also sing the elegy. Logos's mind is filled with the thought of you. That was his new wish, with the thought that if he's to die one day, he'll die at least knowing you'll be singing for him...

Love still bloom in this doomed world, like how he still finds his way back to you after every battle he faced. In your arms, he’s not the lord of the Banshee, nor Logos, just Aefanyl.

He loves all of it. The way you laugh, the way you smile, the way you hold him. He loves it all. He loves *you.*

The way you kiss him, the sounds you make, the way you hold him close, the way you wrap your legs around him. The way he gets to hold you close, to feel your breathing and your heart next to his.

He can't seem to get enough of it.

_____

He finishes writing, quietly setting his pen and paper aside before gently holding you close against his chest, his lips pressing gently against your forehead.

(It’s 3:30 now bye 💀)

[teecupangel]

Inspired by the Patron Desmond sends his ancestors to earlier points in time and fucks over half a dozen timelines: Desmond wishes all his ancestors had someone to support them through their worst suffering without - you know, getting betrayed by them or watching them die.

So Bayek wakes up in the prime of his life in Altair's time and adopts this child who just watched his father die. When Altair dies, he and Bayek suddenly appear, both in the primes of their lives, in time to see the Auditore get arrested. Bayek, Altair, and Ezio are there when Edward's protecting the Assassins of Tulum and take the piss out of him. The crew plus Edward are there when Ratonhnhake:ton's village burns. They all sail to France on a whim and end up recruiting Arno. All of them appear in London to help out the Frye twins. And when Desmond gets kidnapped... the Assassins have an entire historical legion show up out of nowhere to help bust him out of Abstergo's clutches.

Kassandra keeps showing up, nobody's certain if she's with them all or not, but just... all of the main ancestors glomming together as one hugely dysfunctional murder family forged across time and space who all have the biggest soft spot for Desmond.

Desmond as their Patron has no power over this. This is happening solely based on his wish and he has no control who gets transported and gifted with immortality so even he does not know if Kassandra is also part of his immortality gang.

It’s Bayek who believes Desmond is a god and their patron, giving them this power to protect the world. Of course, there are times when he misses Aya and he wonders if this immortality is a curse. But then he hears the laughter of Darim and Sef before they run after him, grabbing his robes and asking him to tell them another story, grandfather tells the best stories! And Bayek’s lips curved into a smile. Perhaps the immortality is a curse but seeing the people he cares for and loves grow up and take the future for themselves will always be a joy that makes this curse worth it.

Altaïr would be the one to try and understand this immortality that they had. Would be the one to realize that they do die after their life runs its course but they will always be awaken in the same place together, back in their prime, with the memories up to their death. His first business would be to find his Apple and, after the long road he had to take to find the seals to open his library, he decided to set it up so that the next time he needed to find his Apple, it would be in the most convoluted way possible that only he would understand. It’s because of the Apple that they got to Firenze just as the Auditores were being arrested (they saved the day but it was a close call). Then Ezio’s Apple was placed on the vault and Altaïr felt a bit annoyed of how easy his Apple was secured so… he just plopped the Apple there as well.

It is Ezio who first thought of naming the glowing god that appears before them before they are resurrected once more Desmond. There’s something about the god with no discernible features other that his entire body glowing that made Ezio think of Desmond for some reason. Altaïr is the one who tries to search for this Desmond using both his and Ezio’s Apples.

Edward was the one man out. He wasn’t an Assassin yet but he had the makings of one. So they trained him. Bayek had done this three times already, he knows Edward Kenway is the key. Perhaps the next brother that will be given the curse of immortality. They stayed with him until he started to settle down in London, focusing on his family. They visited from time to time but they were not there to save Edward.

When they are resurrected once more, decades have passed and they could only try and save as many people as they could as the fires had already started. Including the mother of a young child by the name of Ratonhnhaké:ton. They stayed in the village for a few days, with the boy’s mother talking to Edward Kenway for a long time, ending with Edward learning of his son’s fate. So they leave the village to find him, to confront him. When Ratonhnhaké:ton was 13, he followed his mother out of the village and they meet once more. Haytham remains elusive and they suggested that they stay with the mother and son for a bit to ‘relax’, only for this to end with them teaching Ratonhnhaké:ton (and sometimes even giving tips to Kaniehtí:io.

And after everything was done, they sailed to France to support Ratonhnhaké:ton who received a letter requesting for aid from Lafayette. There, they met Arno Dorian and took him under their wings, helping him with his missions but only three of them at a time, for they have their own agenda for going to France. (And if this ends with Altaïr taking a Sword of Eden, well… that’s not really surprising).

Helping out the Frye twins had been second nature. Arno and Jacob met by accident when Arno had been buying one of the pubs in London (a financial focused habit he and Ezio had developed through the years) and Bayek thought they needed support (and guidance, so much guidance). By the end of it, they were sure that the twins would become like them as well. (And if this ends with Altaïr taking the Shroud of Eden… at this point, everyone already expects him to take custody over POEs)

It all ends with them moving into the modern day where they used their knowledge and experience to have a partnership with a group called Erudito. From there, it became easier to find the Assassins but their focus shifted when they heard of Desmond Miles.

And Ezio just knows… that this was the Desmond they were all searching for.

[roznnreads]

Chosen not Fated Chapter 1

Eris x Fem!Reader

Tags: marriage of convenience, rhysand slander, depression, suicidal ideation

Summary: Tired of a life in the shadow among the inner circle, Rhysand’s younger sister decides to take her life into her own hands and makes a desperate grab for power.

Chapter Summary: After the battle is won the depression hits

a/n: writing this instead of uni coursework

last part, next part

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Inner Circle keeps to themselves. They are a reclusive group that rarely allows new people into their lives, let alone into their hearts. 

But even within the Inner Circle I felt separate, They found companionship with each other. My Brother, Azriel, Cassian and Amern, They could rely on each other,  yet here I am sitting at the dinner table in silence eating my food, surrounded by the loud illyrians. My mate, although brought into the circle through me, was suited to them better than I ever was. 

The war was won, the humans were pushed back to their land and a barrier was created, keeping the faerie and human races separate forever. Treaties forged and signed, a promise for peace that should last centuries

I should be celebrating, I should be happy. I am empty. My soul has been torn in two. We were to be married after the War was won, we were waiting for peace, for a chance to breathe, to make our love a celebration of being alive, of seeing another day. If he was here I would have someone to talk to at dinner, to make it seem like I am just like them.

“Do you think the treaty will last?” said Amren piercing through the noise

“I hope so, If anything it will last through many human lives so they won’t have the same knowledge as they do now, for us anything is possible.” replied Rhysand

“So we are never going to be done with war,” I say quietly, my throat hurts from the crying. 

“We are immortal, war comes with the the price of life”, Rhys sighed “I can’t know what you are going through, but I am truly sorry, but there is nothing that can be done”

My chair scraped against the floor, I stood abruptly.

“Excuse me”, I state, leaving the dinner hall. I walk slowly out of the room with careful consideration, once out of sight of the circle I run down the hall, to my chambers.

The large room full of ornate furniture and sweeping bookshelves was situated high above the city of Velaris, a darling view. All I can see is memories of my love, from the books he had gifted me, to his side of the bed that was left unmade. 

I can’t bare to sleep in the bed without him, to smell him and know that he will never lie his head on the pillow and hold me as I fall asleep. 

I wish I could fly, to gasp the cool fresh air, to feel nothing around me. To get away from it all.I walk towards the balcony’s edge grasping the fence. If I jumped from the balcony right now I would not feel the air pick me up, only the hard ground would find me. Maybe that would be the better outcome, to join him.

No. 

If I am to join him it shall be by another's hand, just like he was. In battle would be nice, then for certain I could be with him in whatever afterlife awaits us, me. 

Perhaps we don’t have an afterlife, what would be another eternity, would it be like our lives now, maybe this is the afterlife, where one lives forever and to die in battle grants you a new one. 

I lie in our… my bed. I clutch the bedsheets that would hold him, they’ve gone cold from disuse. I can’t cry, I have no more tears left in me. 

I need a purpose, I need something to spend my days, a distraction. It would feel wrong to find a lover to occupy my days, knowing my one love is gone. Maybe a friend perhaps, to share thoughts and opinions, to visit - on occasion.

A friend. I need someone not of this court. Someone who cannot be bought out or manipulated by the circle, someone who could not be persuaded to report back to Rhysand about our dalliances, someone powerful. 

[saiintofawe]

after reading the sun and the star my semi-dormant pjo obsession has risen and is infesting my brain side by side with bsd. so.

bsd percy jackson au: a series of self indulgent hcs

skk is the percabeth of the situation. iconic duo. unstoppable. EVERYBODY has heard about them. literal legends among the demigods baby

dazai is a child of athena, chuuya a child of ares

dazai's team beat chuuya's during capture the flag once and chuuya went aight bet. and kicked dazai's ass during the next capture the flag. his team still lost but at least he got an excuse to fight that annoying know-it-all bandaged and beautiful son of athena

the rest is history

the akutagawa sibilings are children of hades. goth mfs

now imagine them having the same storyline as the di angelo sibilings... now in this au you can see why akutagawa talks like he belongs to another age

gin would consider joining the hunters of artemis, but in the end they end up refusing to not leave their brother alone. plus, being immortal would mean seeing him and all of their loved ones die, and gin has had enough of her loved ones dying

if skk is percabeth, shinskk is solangelo

does atsushi fit the standards for a child of apollo? idk but i can't think of another godly parent for him so be it!

unlike will solace, healing is not atsushi's strongest task but he still spends a lot of time helping in the infirmary

and that's where he meets ryūnosuke

unlike solangelo the initial hostility is NOT one sided. ryū behaves like a bitch? atsushi gets bitchy right back.

cue to atsushi looking extremely pissed while bandaging ryū's arm and them muttering insults at each other

ryūnosuke swears he hates that fucking failed doctor and atsushi would almost believe him if it wasn't for the amount of times ryūnosuke has tried sacrificing himself to save him during their quests

also in this au rashomon is a hellhound like mrs. o'learly. she's a sweet doggo that devours space and souls

or she's one of ryū's cocoa puffs? (does this count as a tsats spoiler taken out of context?)

you know that one scene in tsats where nico kisses the back of will's neck and says "i'm proud of you"? now picture that as atsushi to ryūnosuke. yeah.

also atsushi has plague powers bc i say so

yosano is the real will here: overworked healers who feel extremely guilty for every patient that died under their watch to the point of considering themselves murderers

she runs that infirmary like it's the navy

she's also a hell of a fighter, both with bows and arrows and with her own fists

bff with ranpo, who's the oracle!

they gossip abt apollo (boyfail) and complain abt their respective fundamental but hella hard roles at chb

also besties w/ chuuya

also hear me out on kousano in this au... yosano falls helplessly in love with hunter of artemis!kouyou. kouyou tries to convince herself that she's not falling for that bossy and selfless and brave doctor because she has an oath to keep and she couldn't let love knock at her door again. so everytime the hunters come to chb kouyou keeps yosano company and it's all longing looks and painful yearning. yosano wishes she could convince the redhead to break the oath and stay.

but she won't. i <3 kousano angst

moving onto happier lesbians. gin loves wandering by themselves in the forest or by the lake. people know them as the demigod who just fucks off to take a stroll in the woods and disappear there for an indefinite amount of time

and that's how she meets an awkward, stubborn but lovely dryad: you guessed it, it's higuchi!

gin was having a bad day and kicked a tree because they were just so angry— anger turned to guilt when the tree fucking yelped

gin immediately apologized and higuchi asked them what was bothering them. gin never loved to talk, so they were very surprised by themselves when they started rambling about their problems to a dryad they just accidentally hurt

from that day gin began spending even more time in the forest

sometimes they bring higuchi to camp

it isn't unusual for dryads to wander around camp, but higuchi usually kept on her own before meeting gin

higuchi helps gin to open up about their emotions and lower their walls, gin helps higuchi to make friends and to value and love herself

chuuya's fatal flaw is loyalty, dazai's is pride, ryūnosuke's is holding grudges, atushi's is holding too tight onto the past, gin's is also loyalty, yosano's is guilt

tachihara is a child of hermes. parallels between two regretful traitors el oh el

except that luke fucking sucks while tachihara has my heart

OKAY NOW OPEN YOUR EARS. STORMBRINGER ENJOYERS RISE. RIMLAINE AS SILENA AND CLARISSE..... CAN YOU SEE WHAT IS SEE........

lucy is deffff a child of aphrodite but she's so lovely she doesn't even need to use charmspeak to get what she wants. whatever you say beloved princess

idk why but i can picture her throwing an hairbrush at an ancient titant like rachel... her and rachel are acc pretty similiar imo but i will not elaborate

poe is an athena kid! the biggest loser in cabin 6!

lucy and yosano tease him on his crush on ranpo

ranpo is there like damn. is this guy gonna confess or do i have to tell him we are going to date via prophecy

poe is a surprisingly good archer, the apollo kids are almost jealous

nikolai is an hecate kid. a little trickster. a silly magician. he will steal your nose but like in the literal sense and he might not give it back

his best friend is sigma from the aphrodite cabin. sigma cannot fucking stand him

nikolai is actually the reason why sigma has split colored hair. it used to be fully white but one day nikolai went heyyy girlie look at this new hair trick my sibiling taught me :] and sigma ended up actually loving the look? so they kept it

the dryads love sigma and he spends a lot of time with them. they braid flowers in each other's hair and chill

nikolai on the other hand somehow befriended the arpies

fyodor is a child of nemesis. edgelord

jouno is a child of hermes, the eldest in the cabin

half of the camp wants him, the other half wants him gone

teruko is a child of hebe, the goddess of youth!!!!

she's ones of the oldest campers along with jouno, but she prefers to keep her child form for unknown reasons

also i can see her joining the hunters tbh

that's it for now folks i hope someone appreciates my brainrot xoxo

[yowyowyaoi]

Hidan's Daily Texts from the Akatsuki, Part Two

From Konan

Why would it gross you out? You basically deal with blood for a living!

Flattery might get you a hug but it won't get you out of your share of the food bill.

In all seriousness that's ridiculous.

Just pretend he’s Kakuzu. Problem solved.

You guys need to keep it down. I need my beauty sleep!

Sasori has a variety of things he could give you to ease the pain. But be warned he’ll likely give you a three hour lecture on “proper dental hygiene”.

I'm sure he just meant it as a joke. No need to eviscerate him.

I need that like I need a hole in my head.

Love is not about looks, it's about feelings and personality. He's the kindest, most gentle man I've ever known in my life.

If you're that curious, just transform into one and feel them yourself!

He doesn't take betrayal very well. I'd strongly reconsider if I were you.

Being immortal is a hell of a thing to have in common, isn't it?

I wish you and Dei would leave him be. Just because he *chooses* not to fight back doesn't mean he can't, or won't at some point. And I think that will be a scary day for the two of you.

Ladies don't curse but if you heard even half of what I was thinking it'd blow your mind, Hidan.

From Itachi

Looks mean very little to me.

If you're that interested in seeing them, then just ask him to pull down his pants for you the next time you see him. See what he says.

A compliment coming from you sounds very, very odd.

I would not just leave something like that to chance and never, ever to the two of you.

We're close. That's all you need to know.

I'll admit, the honey and ants in my bed was a clever, if sadistic, touch.

You've got ten minutes to return it to my door or I promise your eternity will be one long inescapable nightmare.

No.

The last time I went with you guys you ate $1000 worth of food and then tried to stick me with the bill!

If you'd just admit it I'd be willing to go easy on you.

Of course he's an attractive man but I couldn't deal with that personality on a daily basis.

In that way I'm better than you, aren't I? You clearly fear death. I don't.

If my opinion counts for anything: hold on to Kakuzu. I don't believe there's a single other soul in this universe that would care for you the way he does.

I suppose not all the time. He does brush my hair out for me a lot. Very gentle.

From Tobi

If it isn't something that could work, why would it be the plot to SO MANY homoerotic stories??

You left it sitting there for three days! If I didn't eat it, it would have spoiled!

Just woke up not in the mood for your shit rn

If he thinks you're like a brother than one day me and you can be in-laws!

You didn't even spell "delusional" right.

Are you the one who left the jar of crickets on my bed?

Actually your hair would probably look good longer.

You're not going to lecture ME on something like that!

I think of him like a little cousin. So STOP messing with him!

If you think Kakuzu looks "sexy" without his mask you couldn't handle ME, man.

Come with us, the water should be fine by now.

The Hidden Leaf? Nope. Never heard of it.

Sharingan?? LOL

Be warned, Hidan. I'm not as stupid as you think I am.

Do YOU want to see my FIST? Okay then.

So is "Jashin" just looking the other way while you love Kakuzu, then?

From Nagato

I think of you all as my children. Some more problematic than others.

Yes it works! And even if it didn't, she wouldn't leave me!

I almost teamed you up with Deidara but I don't think I could have afforded that sort of damage.

Ultimately that would be Kakuzu's decision.

Tell your God to meet up with me and we'll see who's more "real", brat.

What. Did. You. DO?!

If I hear that you "accidentally" walked in while she was changing again, you'll wish to the heavens that you WERE able to die.

Yes but a mostly vegetarian diet is easier for my body to handle.

I did not form these teams with the intention of being a matchmaker.

I wish you would put as much effort and planning into your missions as you do to harassing your fellow Akatsuki teammates.

From Deidara

Yes I blew him up but I didn't rob him. Standards, man.

Me and Kisame going fishing, you in?

Come see me we gotta get our stories straight before Leader questions us.

He stepped on a beehive. Spent all day pulling stingers from his arms and legs. STILL wouldn't take off his mask.

I knoooooow. God you sound like Sasori.

I did but I don't think they can prove that it was me ...

You can't just sculp some little mouse and then call yourself an artist! It doesn't work like that!

I think the chicken was bad I can't stop puking and my ass is literally on fire!

If you won't listen to me talk about my REAL art, what makes you think I'm gonna listen to you talk about your FAKE God??

Me and you and Itachi. Yes he'll go if we drag him out.

Yeah but she's sooooooo pretty how can I help it?!

Why are you bragging? That just means you'll be old and ugly before me!

Honestly I just bring him a body and some tools and he stays distracted for like a week. Lets me do whatever without even questioning it lmao

He likes to carry me. Don't ask questions, I just enjoy not having to walk for a few hours.

I really, REALLY don't need to know what "gets you off". Pervert.

From Kisame

I have no idea how to answer something like that.

I don't know what's going on with you and Kakuzu but please stop "accidentally" sending me pics like that or I'm blocking you.

I'd die for him but all I really want is for him to live for me.

I think we're the only two who like it ultra-rare and dripping blood. Well, maybe Zetsu.

Yeah I have my suspicions as well but it's like that thing is glued to his face or something. Deidara is the only one who could get close enough to him to try it but he seems scared for some reason.

You can join us but no screaming in the water this time or you'll scare them all off.

I've got at least 11 years up on you so yes, you ARE a brat to me.

I don't think there are any decent shortcuts, we just have to walk straight through. Ask Kakuzu to lend you his tall boots.

There's doing our job and then there's crossing the line. Guess which one you did.

Yes it's warm but that doesn't mean we wish to see you sitting out there in the nude.

Itachi's not feeling well so I need a replacement weight for my other arm. Deidara is already helping, now I need you too.

In the old days they used leeches as a cure for everything. A few aren't gonna kill ya, kid. Don't be a baby.

He's literally perfect. And he's MINE. So onsen or not the next time I catch you looking like that I'll snatch your eyes out and eat them like grapes :)

From Sasori

Come see me before the infection spreads.

Mint, rosemary, and a tiny bit of thyme.

Unless you’re looking to get bent over, brat, how it works is none of your goddamned business.

You would likely be a terrible one.

No, he’s it for me. I’ll either marry him or kill him, haven’t decided yet.

I can imitate eating to fool enemies but the food will just stay in my throat until I manually remove it.

You kill humans nearly every day, you can handle a spider.

It would break my metaphorical heart.

I’m not “betting” you anything. I KNOW it won’t kill you. But the poison is both expensive and time-consuming to make and I’m not wasting it on you.

18 and 34.

Leave the ones that I’ve marked alone. They’re perfect specimens and I won’t have you ruin them with that heathen ritual of yours.

Yes but I’m slowly coming to accept that sexuality is a spectrum and nothing is black or white.

You and Tobi will be coming with. Pack extra food and warm clothes. No whining that you’re hungry or cold later on.

It won’t be as amusing when I nail your skull to the wall.

From Zetsu

He tasted so good. My many thanks.

I haven’t any idea why the others seem so perturbed by it, considering their *own* “atrocities".

Too loud. Sensitive ears.

Aren't you having relations with him? Surely you could convince him.

Unfortunately we need them alive and well, so please, none of your antics.

Couldn't hurt. But I doubt it would help, either.

Out of everyone here, you and your blood-scented skin smell the best.

I'm beginning to think your obsession with penises is more than a passing curiosity and an indication for serious concern.

Deidara is correct, everything is ephemeral. This world is temporary.

I wouldn't know the first thing about manipulating anyone. I'm just a plant.

From Kakuzu

Try me and see. I DARE you, brat.

Either help me or stay home and shut up about it.

You stimulate me, but not in all good ways.

If I wasn't "obsessed with money" this entire organization would be nothing, we'd be homeless and everyone would be starving.

Just wait until I get you alone.

Next time I suggest you think before you act.

Deidara will face Sasori but YOU will have to deal with ME. Consider that.

It's your turn to pay for dinner. I could go for either seafood or steak.

Call it gay if you wish but you won't change my mind.

I'm not sure if your body could handle multiple hearts, immortal or not.

Endurance training. My room. Ten minutes. Hydrate yourself beforehand.

You're going to eat something green if I have to pry open your mouth and shove it down your throat.

Because I CARE, asshole.

Why should I have to fight them off because you can't keep your hands to yourself??

I happen to like Itachi so watch your manners, if any exist.

Can't "believe" in someone I've never met. Which is why I don't understand why YOU do.

If I ever went, I'm taking you out with me. "'Til death" is inaccurate.

Sure, sure. While you're at it pray for money to drop out of the sky and into my lap.

Handcuffs aren't doing it for me anymore. Bring some rope and maybe some honey this time.

Get back here and clean this shit up before I come kill you.

Love you. <3. Delete this text immediately.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Wouldn't it be hilarious if stone monkeys actually can give birth or lay stone eggs naturally? Like... if they have a partner it'll be a regular old birth the same as how MK and the twins came into the world... but say a stone monkey didn't have a partner. Stone Monkey are a rare and critically endangered species afterall (even if they don't have the protections of an endangered species).

So what if, as a biological advantage, a stone monkey actually can lay a stone egg and give birth to a little baby stone monkey the same way as how Wukong and Macaque were born. But it's risky since creating life without a partner is beyond dangerous and most don't survive to even see the egg hatch, so most can only have one at a time and have to REALLY want a kid since, well, they'd basically be trading their life for the kids'. A kid that probably wouldn't even be hatched until long after their parent is dead.

I think with Wukong, it'd be a bit different because, well, 7 times over immortal monkey. But he'd still experience the negative effects and basically be completely vulnerable for a long time afterwards if he ever did it.

Just a little headcanon I thought up that I thought you'd be interested in.

Oh like parthenogenesis! Like some reptiles do when theres no available mates. I figure in a similar sense, the baby Stone Monkey would be a near-genetic clone of the parent; with the environment the "womb" is in adding life energy/qi/dao and affecting the appearance/abilities of the developing monkey within. Wukong likely popped out the way he did cus his egg was at the top of a mountain - his egg absorbing the violent life energy of what was once an active volcano over thousands of years.

Considering a certain few lines in Jttw, it's suggested that Wukong and Macaque are the last of their kind (with Six Eared being a variant/subspecies) - or they're just the only ones in that hemisphere. Like ancient human relatives the great Stone Monkeys became lost to time or were drowned in the Great Flood, or in the case of the Gibbon and Baboon; left Earth entirely.

The idea of a Stone Monkey deciding one day "I want a baby" and their body taking from there if there wasn't a viable mating option is really interesting. Their body's becoming like golems, weathered down into boulders if damage comes to them. And also very sad cus they know that theres a really good chance that they will never meet their baby. :(

Though imagine what the potiential "trigger" for it could be...

Guanyin: "The Monkey King is currently held beneath the Five Point Mountain. It will act as his prison for the next five centuries." Gold Star: "Ah. Make sure he's watered frequently and has plenty of oxygen." Guanyin: "But of course, it is only humane. However, doesn't he possess many forms of immortality?" Gold Star: *is so old that he witnessed the first Stone Monkeys, some even developing on his planet* Gold Star: "Not unless you want him to make another of himself." Guanyin: "Pardon?" Gold Star: "In my observations; when a Stone Monkey without a mate wished to reproduce, they would bury themselves and abstain from all biological needs until their bodies returned to the stone from whence they came. A new stone egg formed within their body as if it were a womb. The process is very taxing, and many died if another was not present to "wake" them afterwards. Though even in the case of parental death; the egg within the body would live on to hatch forth an infant to be raised by the familial troop." Guanyin, panicking: "I... I will be back in a moment." Wukong, beneath the mountain: "...why am I thinking about having kids?" Guanyin: *busts in holding molten copper and iron cus it was the only thing next to her at the time*

Of course it is unlikely for Wukong to actually *die* if his body decided to Copy/Paste him into an egg. But the possible way it could occur to him accidentally in any universe would be scary.

Like say... being trapped in a (newly) air-tightened Furnace by spiteful past enemy...

Lets just say I thought of another way that Luzhen is created >:)

Macaque: *pops open the lid to the airless Furnace* "Oh thank Buddha! You're intact. Drink some water dummy." Wukong, "awakened" by the fresh air and water: "...I think I'm pregnant." Macaque: "Uh... congrats?" Wukong: "No, like. Being cooked in there with no air made me pregnant." Macaque, only vaguely familar with their species: "...we should really ask Gold Star about this."

Luzhen in the TMKATI au would be celebrated as an adored, if not odd, new member to the family. His egg pops out after a long time of just sitting in SWK's body like his swallowed a rock. Luzhen "hatched" in a way that triggered something akin to labor. After all, Wukong's egg split open his Rock-mother (possibly the body of his parent) when it was his time to hatch. Wukong decides it is the worst pain he's ever felt in all his immortal life. Luzhen blinks slowly when his shell finally cracked all the way, confused on where he was.

The bit of dao Luzhen absorbed from his enviroment allowed him to develop just a tiny difference to his father; a pair of moon-silver eyes. Macaque smugly declares Luzhen's beautiful eyes are clearly a trait he inherited from him - and likely *did* depending on if any part of Macaque ended up in the Furnace with Wukong too. Like lets say the bones from an arm grapsing deperately before the lid of the Furnace slammed shut...

Hilariously, if Sun Wukong couldn't breath and/or wasn't able to crawl towards the Wind Trigram his first time cooking in the Furnace; there was a good chance that Lao Tzu would have opened the Furnance to a statue-like Monkey King with an egg inside of it. Wukong finally reawakening 500 years later with a heavy stomach and *many* questions.

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

The Divine Feminine II - Welcome to Hell (Sneak Peek)

Guuuuuys I was supposed to post this for Halloween but could not finish it since I had a busy weekend and then a busy workday today! However, here is a sneak peek! Hopefully I can finish writing it in the next few days and post it all!

Read: The Divine Feminine** - Amidst his sadness after his wife leaves the Underworld, Hades (Harry) encounters a human woman who brings him to his knees.

No warnings for the sneak peek:)

WC: 1.1k

“You’re everything.” He mumbled against her ear and she tangled their fingers together, “Wish you could be with me forever.” He sighed.

This made her smile. Y/N had never really felt like she had a place in the world. She had always struggled to fit in, to find a place in it where she felt like belonged completely, maybe she wasn’t meant for this earth? But she had no idea what Harry’s world was like. She was curious, but she also realized that in order to be down there she’d have to die and she didn’t want to die. Not yet at least. There were so many things that she still wanted to do and experience…like tornado chase, travel to Europe, or see her favorite band live at least once. As much as she had grown to love him, he was Hades. He transcended time, he was the god of the underworld. He was the ruler of the afterlife, the highest judge in the universe, at the end of their life every single being answered to him for the way they’d spent their time. He was justice. He was vengeance. He was a god. It baffled her that a being as simple and fragile as her could even catch his eye.

“You shouldn’t think so highly of me, love.” He spoke quietly and she smiled.

“And why not?” She inquired.

“You’ll make me too arrogant.” 

“As if you needed any help with that.” She quipped with a grin and he swatted the side of her thigh quickly and she giggled. "You should stop hearing my thoughts." she reminded him.

“I want to show you my world. Everything that I can offer you whenever you’re ready to join me.” He said, completely ignoring her little reminder because of course he was going to continue reading her thoughts.

“What if I’m old and gray by then?” She questioned and he squeezed her tighter.

“I can become old and gray too or restore you to whatever age you desire to be.” He said and she hummed.

“That’s fascinating.”

“It is.” He agreed, “You know, there’s…a spell that can grant you temporary immortality. I could learn more about it and perform it on you, that way you can see everything there is to see.”

“Hmmm… a vacation to hell? Sounds nice.” She said teasingly and he chuckled and kissed her bare shoulder.

“S’paradise too, you know?” He said.

“I thought that was Olympus.”

“No, that’s where most of the other deities live.” He explained and she hummed in understanding.

“Is it dangerous? The spell?” She asked.

“I don’t know, I’ll have to consult Hecate, she’s one of the goddesses that also dwells in the underworld. That’s her area. We can weigh out the pros and cons together.”

“Alright, it’s worth looking into I think.” She decided, “And what about your wife? The first day of Autumn is just two days away.” She pointed out and he hummed.

“I’ll talk to her. Tell her about you. I think she’ll be glad that I’ve found someone other than her to keep me happy.” 

***********

Every time Persephone made her descent back to the realm of the Underworld Hades would throw a bash for her. It was an absolute lavish feast and everyone was a huge part of it, Admittedly, Hades had been very distracted with his favorite, little human so he only had two days to plan this feast whereas before he encountered Y/N, he’d begin planning at least a month in advance.  As soon as Hades arrived back in his realm one of his fellow deities conjured themselves.

“Are we having the feast or not?” Thanatos asked.

“Yes. I know I’ve been gone a lot-”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it. The dead remain dead, all is in order.” He assured his friend and Hades smiled.

“Thank you.”

“You deserve this. You never have your fun.” He said and Hades chuckled.

“Let’s ummm, make this feast more intimate, yeah?”

“Alright.”

“And ummm, let’s search through Elysium and the Meadows for some musicians. Just the better ones.” Hades said and Thanatos nodded.

“Nyx and Erebos did start setting up the great hall in their home a few days ago.”

“And your brother?”

“Wandering about the world. After you were gone more than a week he also took a leave. We shouldn’t count on him for any of this.” Thanatos said of Hypnos.

“Alright, fair enough.” Hades chuckled.

“I must tell you, Persephone is a bit…unsettled.” Thanatos warned. 

“Why?”

“Hecate overheard Eros bragging about “striking the ruler of the underworld with his arrow to fall in love with a human”. Boastful little prick…” he huffed and Hades sighed, “Ever eager to gossip, Hecate mentioned this to Persephone, or so I’ve been told by Hermes.” Thanatos explained.

“Unbelievable.”

“I told them it was just Eros being a prick. We all know how bitter he still is over Persephone’s rejection all those millennia ago…” 

“Can I be honest?” Hades said and Thanatos nodded.

“Of course.”

“He’s not just being a boastful prick…I think he succeeded.” Thanatos was shocked to hear this. 

Anyone who knew the pair knew that the one with an unwavering and undying devotion in this marriage was Hades. He never even thought to gaze upon another being. And anyone who knew Persephone knew that despite her mostly pleasant and benevolent manner, she had inherited the jealously and wrath of her father, Zeus. She could be cold and senseless in her wrath. Hades knew this and it worried him for Y/N.

“If what you say is true then your human is in danger.” Thanatos said solemnly.

**********

Hades had been unsettled after his conversation with Thanatos. He had mentioned to Y/N that he would be rather busy until Persephone’s return and she fully understood this, but he needed someone to protect her from any possible attacks that his wife might hurl at the unsuspecting and fragile human who had his heart. 

Typically he would call on his own wife or Hecate when something or something required the utmost protection, but these two were the ones who’d been consorting all summer long and likely had turned against him to some extent. Persephone was reasonable, maybe he could convince her to not harm Y/N. But what worried him was that she was all alone on earth without anyone there to guard her. Hades wasn’t all that excellent in his practice of spells, but he did find himself at his altar, performing a spell for Soteria - the spirit of deliverance and protection - for Y/N. Being Hades, the spirit realm was always more susceptible to his wishes. And it gave him peace to know that his offering was accepted. 

[sincerely-sofie]

What do you think Ark's gonna do when Twig eventually dies, considering he's immortal and stuff.

Have a fic inspired by this question and this prompt by @oblonger. Be warned. It's a heavy one.

(Celebi ultimately barely appears in this, sorry. I got caught up in the Ark Angst Train ride :< )

She'd left him the house in her will. She'd left him the home they had spent their days in, that they had wept and laughed and held each other in, and he could barely stand to spend a second within its walls. Take care of it, she'd said in writing messy from the tremors in her hands rather than any lack of familiarity with the script she wrote in. The shutters still squeak and I never got around to fixing that. Sorry to leave you with chores to do. He knew she said it as a joke, but he couldn't bear the thought of her feeling any sort of guilt as she penned these pages in secret while her body broke down around her. 

Fire-types were prone to dying of disease rather than age. He was aware of this, and had hoped she'd be the exception. An infection of the lungs was nothing to fear when a Legend with the power to cure ailments owed a mortal what amounted to a life debt, so he was the one to call on his counterpart when Twig's coughing fits began to yield bloodied kerchiefs. It was a simple thing to mend lungs when one had no shortage of power when it came to vanishing disease—

— Yet Cresselia couldn't heal her. 

She tried again, clasped Twig's shaking hand tighter and murmured her command for the universe around them to abide her instructions and leave his hero unaffected by disease. 

It failed once more. 

Cresselia gave him a sorrowful glance, and he knew. He knew it was because of him. He'd tried so long to forget the curse, and now it had reared its head in the worst way possible. The infection rejected almost all mortal treatments. Now it remained untouched in the face of Legendary ones— and it was because of him. 

Twig had pulled her hand away, flexed her fingers, and laughed tiredly. “Yeah.” She smiled, and he knew it was despite her knowledge of what the two Legends were sitting in quiet terror from. “That might as well happen. Well, I had a good run, right?”

He wanted to scream when he saw her wipe away the tears in her eyes before they fell. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her, to tell her to Stop trying to be brave about this. But he didn't do anything. He just sat there, numb and silent. 

***

It wasn't even a month afterward that she passed, and he wasn't there when it happened. 

(She'd told him when he'd asked, once, that she had seen a final dimensional scream after being brought back from death by Dialga. Her ability had been dormant ever since she was seized from the afterlife, but it returned for this singular vision before vanishing entirely. He asked her what she'd seen, and she told him she'd seen how she would die. It was fuzzy and vague, but she thought she'd recognize the moment when it came. He was horrified by this. She laughed and told him she was joking, that she just saw what she was going to eat the next morning, and that it wasn't anything to worry about. 

(Looking back, he wished he had paid more attention to how she backpedaled on what her vision contained only when he started to panic. She was lying. She was lying for his sake, and as he reflected on this memory, he could only recall how Kip had mentioned her hiding the fate awaiting her at the end of their mission until she was fading away from existence on their return from Temporal Tower.)

“Hey, Ark? Would you mind running over to the Future Trio’s place and asking them if they'd mind coming over sometime?” 

She sounded so tired. He spent most days at her bedside now, offering what comfort he could as her illness progressed. He looked her over, wary. “I could ask Celebi through our link. There's no need for me to leave to do so.”

“Well, yeah, but I don't want to use her as the middle man on this. You know how she only hears what she wants to hear, right? It'd be better to just go and ask them all in person so we can get an accurate answer.” She frowned up at him from her sickbed. “I know it's a bit silly, but it'd mean a lot to me, Ark.” 

“… You're certain you'll be well enough while I'm gone?” 

“Sure as sure can be.” Her smile was thin at the edges. He wondered if she was in much pain. “I'll holler for Gardevoir if I need anything. You know she'd come running if I did.” 

“Very well. I'll make haste.”

“Nah, take your time. I'm going to be okay.” 

He set off, and he would forever regret leaving her alone that afternoon. 

***

It was Dusknoir who alerted him to her passing. Ark had gone to her friends’ home as she asked, relaying her request for their company, when the man suddenly went rigid where he sat in the corner of the room. 

Grovyle asked him what was the matter, but Ark himself froze as understanding settled over him with a damning weight. 

Ghost-types could sense the life-force of those they spent much time with, which meant they could tell when that life-force was slipping away from this plane. Dusknoir looked up with tears in his eye, and Ark snapped into the shadows outside their home to hasten to Twig. 

She was already gone by the time he reached her— lying limp in her bed, curled up cozily, the flame of her tail gone out. Her journal was open to a message she'd written before passing, her pen laid across the pages to prop it open— Love you. Keep up the good work. 

She'd known. She'd known it was her time, and she had sent him away to die alone. 

It wasn't fair. 

But when had the world ever shown him kindness?

***

Years passed after Twig left his side for good. Kip was aging happily despite his grief, and had retired from his archaeology team after earning an injury that jeopardized his career— though he spent his time writing books that swiftly became cornerstone texts for those studying archaeology. Grovyle himself passed soon after Twig did. Celebi murmured something about him dying of a broken heart through her tears when Ark tried to comfort her afterward, and how he still had so much life left in him despite his demise. 

On days like this, where it rained slow and weak as if the world mourned alongside him, he couldn't help his bitterness. 

It wasn't fair. 

Twig had so much left to give the world, and so much left of it to see, and yet she'd been cut down before her time. He knew it wouldn't last forever, that she couldn't remain with him as long as he would walk the wastelands of this wretched world, but it wasn't fair. And the skies had the gall to weep like they cared. 

It was his fault, he knew. She couldn't be saved because of a curse he'd dealt himself, and that was why she couldn't be healed. But surely as much as the universe scorned him, as much as his existence was formed on grudges and terror, the universe wouldn't turn its wrath for him against those he loved. 

She'd shown him so many things. She'd changed him. She'd made him see a point to life. And she was gone.

She was gone, and it was his fault. 

He paced an empty home with his head in his hands and wailed. 

It wasn't fair.

[misstycloud]

Yandere Riddle, Clark, Sano Yamada, Omega with a reader who loves them more than life itself always being affectionate and smothering them with love and getting all gooey when she's around them, always complimenting them when anyone asks about them and saying that one day will marry them.

Riddle

He would be so happy all the time. If a meteorite crashed on earth on burned down an entire city, it’s no problem for riddle. He’s just happy his wife loves him so much! Riddle would defiantly show his love back whenever he could, which is like always. He’d take out the trash, cook(even when it doesn’t turn out so well) and do the laundry. Readers affection is like a drug to him. Setting him off on a hundred things and keeping his mood up constantly. Almost nothing could make him mad. All his thought are filled with reader and he’d giggle at the though of her adoration. Pride would also come forward within him. Riddle would look at others in the grocery store and think ‘ha! What losers, they wish they could have someone as wonderful and beautiful as my wife. But that’s it, she’s mine! And I’m her husband!’ Reader would have to be careful so the compliments don’t go to his head. Riddle is the kind of person that would think he’s immortal if his wife told him he was. ‘Haha, I’m indestructible!’

Sano

Sano would be over the moon if reader loved him that much. Being someone who’s not considered ‘the same level’ as reader made thing harder for him. If he could be popular, he would. But no one seemed to like him no matter what he did. He was always polite, and helped people when he could, so why did no one like him? This did nothing to his confidence. Having more of a loner personality would make him shy to his darlings affections. Eventually though, as time goes by, Sano would come out of his shell and openly accept his love’s touches more. At first, giving him compliments woudnt seem like a bright idea since he’d refuse them and say they’re not true. But if you continue to build his confidence he’ll gladly accept flattery. If reader started saying she’ll marry him and such, he’d be very susceptible to those ideas. After graduation of course! Despite how much he loves you and being a yandere, Sano is actually agaisnt getting married early. He has seen many shows and heard stories of people getting married young and ended badly. He didn’t want that to happen to his relationship. So he’d be content in just simply being together for a couple years until you’re both mature and ready to take the next step.

Clark

This teddy bear wouldn’t be able to handle all the affection. You really want to be his mate? Really!? He knew having a human mate would most likely make things a little more difficult, so he never imagined it going this smoothly. It was such a relief that you weren’t scared of him like others were, instead you accepted and loved him for him. Gosh he was so happy he could die! Now you two could start a life together and live in the domestic bliss he always longed for. Hybrids don’t have marriage in the same sense as humans do. Yes, there is ‘mating’ itself, and it is basically marrige to them. But it’s more of a ‘I found you and really love you so let’s keep on living together forever!’.

So there’s no actual ritual you go through. However, since hybrids are now allowed to be with their human counterparts legally and in the open, they have begun taking part in the so-called ‘human-traditions’ for the sake of their mates. All in the order to make them happy. While a paper and a piece of metal around their finger might not be significant to the hybrids, they’d gladly go through with it for their mate. And that stays the same with Clark, he would do anything for you! That’s why when you started rambling about wishing to get married, the giant was about to instantly rush down to the courthouse and get your licence, carrying you in his arms.

Omega

Haha… it had worked. It had WORKED!! Now you were finally his, and only his. He wouldn’t share your other any other lowlife omega that didn’t possess even a quarter of his looks. And all that wealth you had, that was his as well. Not that he wanted to be with you soley because of your money, no, he did love you. The money was just a bonus. And if you happened to go bankrupt, he’d stay with you anyways. He would even sell his stuff to help you out. But, there’s no harm in treating yourself, right? The omega didn’t grow up with the best conditions so it was nice to get to actually have some things now.

And he’d absolutely float in the affection you give. The omega would play shy and pretend he didn’t enjoy your blatant flirting. (Secret; he does)

Of corse he’ll marry you! Why wouldn’t he? It would be a fabulous wedding there no doubt about it. All his former coworkers would be invited to gawk at all the beautiful things they’d never acquire. Oh yes, your former fiancée could come if they want. That would make the whole thing all the more satisfying. They can cry and beg as much as they desire, but you were his and he belonged to you. Heartbreak is sad, isn’t it?

[blenselche]

wanted to sketch this scene from Oneirogenic Coalescence out

“Shoko?”

She stares back at him, only a few inches away and inspecting his face with narrowed eyes.

“I’m stuck being your guide again,” she surmises. “Subtractional. We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” She blows a sigh out, pushing a hand through her hair. “I should have stayed in the deadworlds.”

Finn snorts, elbowing her. “Well, for what it’s worth I’m glad you didn’t. Is it actually you this time, or- or is this just part of the hallucination?”

“I’ve been dragged out of your subconscious. I’m still with you, after all, as you’ve aged you’ve grown closer to me. You remember my life,” she turns, and they’re back at the gang’s open bathhouse, overgrowth creeping backwards. “Why is that?”

The Plant Teacher metamorphoses into a bath boy, poking at its hair rollers. “Your future is debating removing you from the cycle of reincarnation.”

Shoko looks over her shoulder, quirking a critical brow at him.

“I—“ his hands raise in defense of himself. “Maybe. It was just a stupid thought,” he muffles into his palm as he stares at their feet, uncomfortable and edgy. “Fern is immortal, he doesn’t have to die unless I do, and- and if I don’t die, then…”

“You’re afraid you won’t be able to find yourself in the next life,” she guesses, and he lifts a finger gun to the air without looking up. “You found the Princess, Finn, and we were barely friends. You found our closure, what makes you think you wouldn’t be able to find it again?”

“Maybe I’m tired of finding myself! Maybe- maybe I’m tired of going through painful junk and learning the same lessons just to find something good under it all,” his hands raise and slap back down to his sides as he walks in a circle on the concrete platform. “I’ve never been in love in any of my lives, and I finally have that. Why can’t I get off the ride if I have the chance? What if I want us to stay like we are?”

Shoko stops him, dragging him to sit on a cracked step as her life bustles around them in blurry, fluid dreamscapes. Finn watches with tired, drooping eyes as she releases the Ice King from a group of old witch women.

“That’s what life is, Finn. Sometimes we have our arm cut off by our father, sometimes we lose it trying to cling to him. It’s just how the cycle works. You can’t stop it.”

“I want to,” he murmurs, muscle of his jaw jumping. “I’ve finally got some stability.”

“Life is change,” the entity reminds him, lifting a slice of cucumber over its eye. “You cannot cross the stream without getting wet. You are not prone to give yourself to indolence, child, you are always moving, always changing. Do not falter to the soul erosion of a middling existence in vampirism, it is counterintuitive to your purpose.”

Finn groans, chest deflating. “I hate that determinism gunk. I’m not made for anything. I don’t believe in destiny.”

“No, I know you don’t. That does not stop it from being true.” It settles lower in the water, watching him. “You are a very purposeful being, Finn. You, a cosmic force trapped within a man cannot remove yourself from the cycle even if you wish it. You have yet to find your final method of being.”

“Not this comet crap again,” he whines, face tipping to the sky and eyes screwing up tight.

“Yes this comet crap again.” It snaps its fingers and they’re hung in the vast nothingness of space, Shoko scrambles to grab onto him, terrified.

“Finn!?” she screeches. “What’s it talking about?”

He curls an arm around her waist and hefts her higher. “We were put here to commit acts of ‘great good’,” Finn says, tense, “Davey stopped Orgalorg, you released Simon, I defeated the Lich, Penny blasts the cosmic elementals…” he pauses, brain skipping on the realization that he remembers her, “and some day we’ll ascend to the fourth dimension. I refused last time.” He nods with a rigid jerk to the comet, to Martin and the moth. “We’re… some godlike entity. But we forgot.” He swallows dry, throat constricting. “I don’t think about it. It makes me feel like- like my skin is on too tight.”

“You may reject predeterminism, but that does not stop it from affecting you,” the Teacher announces, loud enough to rattle his bones. “I can only help you if you’re open to it. Will you open yourself? Or will you pursue this dead ended, disillusioned passivity borne from the fear of your truth?”

He feels Shoko tremble in his arm, smells the sweet spices they used to use in her hair and sighs out a dejected “okay.” His feet hit the hardwood of the tree house’s kitchen, and he lets Shoko dismount his side, knees shaking and wobbly as she falls back into the dingy cushions of the wrap around sofa.

“That was terrifying,” she chokes with an airy laugh, forehead thunking to the table.

“… our bones are like, six feet away,” he thinks out loud and she shoots him a freaked out glance. “Sorry. Nerves.”

“Are you ready to face yourself, little hero?” It hangs from the ceiling, having taken on Marceline’s form.

A smarmy, weak grin stretches across his expression. “I already am, technically.”

“Don’t be tiresome, the other half of your soul gives me enough trouble.”

Finn snickers unevenly in the face of this unknowable tutelar, at the sensation of bantering with some infinite providence when he’s such a tiny animal.

He nods, and the strings of his being unravel as Shoko keeps hold on the red piece of yarn that connects them, steadying the knot at his center.

[kayakoto-enterprises]

Why do you look at me like that?

Total disappearance from this world. Another minific.

Despite having so much of everything, Julianne consistently wears one peculiar accessory. On her chest is a heart shaped shell. It opens to reveal the bear's blurred reflection, framed by a heart ouline one is supposed to slip a photo into. Sam carefully clicks the locket close and lets it slip off her hand to not wake the sleeping feline.

Should she be mad that she wasn't in it? Was Julianne going to put a photo of someone, something else? Well of course Julianne is still going to find a way to put her likeliness in it. But of course you just had to outright reject the offer to be immortalized in a meaningful way.

When Samantha dies, so will her family and their legacy. The grip of fear the Strong family held ob the town slowly thawed out in each passing generation. People began to forget what it was they did or if they could ever be trusted. Some people held on to their prejudices and for this reason, a muzzle was put on every family member to contain them- behave them to prevent any more scrutiny. But it wasn't just muzzles. There were whips. Chains. Collars. Cages. That obsession to transition into prey held power in her already lost mind. She broke the unspoken pact of being good and now that she did: there was no other option left than to die herself. To avoid getting caught or remembered, she employed a no photos rule. Minimal photographs. No press images. Not even more than the necessary IDs. One day these will crinkle and degrade and her existence might just be a footnote in the town's expansive history.

Other than that, the thought of being looked at sickened her. Number two reason for having a no photos rule? Nigel fucking Albright. He had everything. Every moment she had alone. Every sight of skin and fur, every moment of peace all in the palm of his hand. She imagines what he might have done looking at them then wishes she could shoot him in the face again. Again abd again.

No one should be able to look at her that way. With adoration and obsession.

Though it'd be unfair to call what Julianne has in her heart obsession. Julianne barely makes eye contact. She has difficulty looking at people in the eyes. She wanders and only focuses on a person when they aren't looking her way. Sam had caught her staring at her longingly before and after they had gotten together. At first she swore she was going to firmly tell her to not do that. But she forgets the first few times, and then she just accepts it. It was a different flavor of staring, perhaps. It was laced with adoration and longing.

What could you be longing for?

Her head is tilted when she stares. Sometimes she slowly blinks and looks away momentarily. Suddenly it feels as if it were fine if someone was to look at her that way. Closing your eyes to forget for a second her existence, closing her eyes to forget what she looked like only to open and remember.

Whatever it was, Julianne looked at her and asked if she could have a small photo of her. An ID photo, maybe.

"No. I don't really feel comfortable having my photos taken. I don't want anything about me circulated around."

Julianne frowned.

The next day, Julianne wore a silver heart locket reminiscent of the one from Annie. There was nothing inside it. Sam figured that she might ask again for a photo but this time, she just said she'll be looking for photos of Roy G. Biv the magician to go along with it.

Something about that made her weirdly jealous.

Thinking of how the photo would lay in Julianne's hands, it's a lot more sincere...the photo is kept in a locket. It is closed for majority of the time its worn. But secretly when no one is looking, she'll open the locket and stare. Stare with the same adoration and longing.

Pure. It sounded so pure. Maybe she was mythifying her, but Julianne had proven to just be so..careful. She wouldn't do the same sins, right?

But it's too late to take back the offer.