#but resurrection has only been done once and the way it was done made it unclear if it was the magic or the deal with the matron

[captainsparklefingers]

Actually thinking about it a bit, and I admit that I did need to check the wiki because my memory is faulty, the only instance of resurrection magic being done was with Vex...and it was Kash who did it.

(we all know the reason it worked was because of Vax, but Kash started the ritual.)

Pike said at the time that she'd never done resurrection magic before.

Wouldn't it be...appropriate, or at the very least, interesting, if the first time she does it successfully is on the one person who's been shown to do it before?

Maybe I'm grasping at straws because I don't want Kash to be gone (because he gets a happy ending in stream and it feels so WEIRD, this particular change). But Pike has thrown away her holy symbol, has started to realize the power of her blood (whatever that may mean at this point, we still don't know), has successfully used her vestige through faith in herself.

Pike bringing back Kash as her first successful resurrection, setting in place that it can be done and that she can do it, could be a good way to set up bringing Percy back. Because we know he's not gonna stay dead, but resurrection magic isn't completely established in TLOVM the way it was in stream (thanks to dnd mechanics). Grog's death by sword soul swallowing was cut. Scanlan isn't dead (yet), he's not gonna be able to be used as a test subject here. Using resurrection magic on the many faceless and nameless dead won't have as much of a story impact.

But bringing Kash back could.

So maybe that's why he had to go down. To set up how Percy can come back, by bringing him back first.

[katerinadeannika]

Notes after watching the full Behind the Scenes of Agatha All Along posted on Nov 13th 2024:

There was no way they could have written an ending for Agatha that did not involve death.

I have been saying this to all the naysayers from the get-go, to all the people making posts about being done or fed up or angry about the ending, or how it makes no sense, or how they should have could have done something different and been fine story wise. The behind the scenes confirmed my point.

The main through line for the entire show was the theme of Death; of Agatha never being able to escape it. Where she both loves and hates death and Death, the concept and the woman. Where she's been running from Death for centuries, but Death came for her son and was always coming for her the second she slowed down.

Every completed trial meant someone would die. Billy created the road based off the rumors and witch lore. And the only rumors out in the witch world were that someone knew someone else's aunt/relative/friend who had undertaken the road and never returned. In reality, that was Agatha's doing. But to Billy, it meant that somehow, the Road took its toll on them. And when the coven traveled it, the Road exacted the same price that Billy expected it to. Death or near death at every trial.

The first trial killed Sharon. The second gave Alice her power back and then Billy almost died (and probably would have if Agatha hadn't pleaded with Rio on his behalf, if the coven hadn't worked together, and if Billy hadn't made the Road with his own powers. Some interesting combo of the all the above). The third trial killed Alice who was trying to save Agatha. And the fourth trial killed Lilia and the Salem Seven.

Jac said she intentionally wrote it where Death was a very real thing that everyone in the show had to come to terms with.

And for Jen Kale, her gift was already dead, and she was supposed to resurrect it and take her own power back. She escaped because after Agatha's trial, the fifth one, someone DID die.

And this time it was Agatha.

Agatha had avoided it every other time by either being saved, or having the rest of the coven as fodder for death.

But in the end, when she could have left once again, she must decide who has to pay the final price for her invention of the Road. The Road that she has used to kill and lure countless witches to their doom over the past few centuries.

She can save the boy she has come to love and mentor after the loss of her son. Or, she can leave once again. And so she makes the final moment of self sacrifice, and chooses the final victim of the Road: Herself

She has been running from Death for centuries.

For Agatha's story to have a thematic ending that wasn't cheap or manufactured, she had to stay true to that through-line. That's how writing works. You find your themes. You write about and explore them. And you have a final consequence that determines if it's a positive arc or a negative arc for your main character.

They chose for Agatha to have a positive arc. A moment of final growth. To end the show on her finally making the right decision, even at the cost of the life she's sustained through countless centuries and via countless deaths.

There was no way the show could have ended any other way.

PS: There is no excuse to hate on it. At all.

It doesn't meet any of the criteria for the 'Bury your gays' trope. It doesn't even end Agatha’s story. But it does provide expertly written, well thought out, thematically poignant endings for all the characters in a way that satisfies their personal journey—throughout the show and the centuries.

And I am so glad they made it, and that it ended how it did. I wouldn’t want it any other way. As a writer. As an editor. As a viewer. And as a lesbian.

Agatha All Along is a masterpiece in TV writing. And I can’t wait for more.

PSS: Watch the Behind the Scenes on youtube that Marvel just posted. It’s super good and includes all sorts of info to help with fic writing and just general understanding of the writing and show creation. Also lots of Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza in interviews!

TLDR: Quit complaining and griping about the ending. It was written beautifully. The reason you got so invested is because of all the heavy death elements throughout that made things mean something. Embrace it. Or find media where you were the target audience. Cause if you couldn’t handle something well written that ends like this, you weren’t the target audience. And that’s okay. But move on before you keep griping and causing issues with the community and the cast.

[burr-ell]

Something I just noticed and really enjoy about Campaign 1 is how often their story involves becoming incredibly powerful and accomplishing so much and yet still not being able to do what's truly important to them. It's not only the gutpunch of the final episode, it's a thematic underpinning throughout the campaign.

Way back in their prestream adventures, the party was strong enough to defeat the Dread Emperor and save all the kidnapped children from Tal'Dorei—except one, a child Keyleth killed by accident, an act which haunts her through at least much of the early campaign. The party defeats the Briarwoods and reclaims Whitestone, but Ripley still escapes and 19 still misses, and the Chroma Conclave raze half the continent. Percy has great intellect and access to a powerful magical amplifier and forced out a demon through sheer force of will, but his carelessness still killed Vex and he only rolls a 6 to try to save her. The party has slain a dragon and is armed with four Vestiges of Divergence, but they couldn't save Tiberius and can't even give him the proper burial they want to. They brutally slaughter Ripley, but not before she gets the revenge she wants; she kills Percy, sending him to Orthax, and spreads guns throughout Exandria. The Conclave is slain, the whole party made it out alive, but Scanlan is forever scarred by the experience and leaves, tearing the party down as he goes. Even Vilya, prior to the campaign's beginning, was at the very end of her Aramente, likely a level 16-17 druid like Keyleth was, and still failed the trial of the Water Plane and was gone for almost 40 years.

And of course, Vox Machina became some of the most powerful people in the world, slayers of a god, legends to be immortalized for centuries...and none of their power could save their brother.

Percy points out to Bell's Hells, thirty years later, that fate isn't always kind and not everyone gets a second chance, and to me that's underscored by what we don't see. Elaina is still dead. Juniper is still dead. Percy's parents and five siblings are all still dead.

I mean, if any or all of their bodies are intact, it wouldn't even require True Resurrection to bring them back—not that Keyleth or Percy are averse to a little heresy, but hey, conserve your resources. If there are bodies, all they'd need is 7th-level Resurrection; none of those people have been dead for over a century, and if they need to find the bodies, well, Vex has Locate Object and Pike gets a Divine Intervention freebie once a week, right? Even if they did need True Resurrection, it's a heftier cost but probably not something too difficult to pay over time for one of the wealthiest families in the world.

But none of them have ever done that, nor do we get an indication that they've pursued it. Vox Machina is, probably more than any other CR party, defined by grief—how individual PCs respond to their own profound losses; how they succeed and fail to shoulder each others' burdens; and at the end of their story, how they deal with one of the most painful losses imaginable, and how they move forward and find peace in spite of it. Campaign 1 is just as much about how to deal with what you couldn't do as it is about what you now can do.

[mooncrestedwaters]

Been thinking about Rafayel and how he shows his love (especially after his newest card trailer).

On the surface, Rafayel seems like he's an open book. He's witty, affectionate, chatty ect ect

But once you dig deeper you realise that he's that way...but only with the person he loves. He's actually quite reserved and doesn't enjoy being the center of attention, even going so far to say his job is a thing of self expression rather than something he actively strives to make money off of.

With the upcoming new 5* card of Rafayel's, I wasn't shocked that we didn't have a kiss or one where he tried to kiss us (and tbh his sweeter form of affection in wanting to cuddle us and snuggle into our neck made my tummy do flips and had me having a near breakdown from how much it made me gooey)

I feel like Rafayel is a yearner to his core, even his interviewer noted as much that he gave an air of 'romance' to him.

The best way I can describe it is; His love is like his profession and his EVOL.

Art takes time, it takes an observant eye and mind. I've grown up with artists my entire life and to make a painting is much more than slapping some acrylics onto a board and calling it a day. It takes tempering, to prepare the board, to build up layers upon the canvas to correct any mistakes without an eraser or undo button.

It's gentle, tending to the whims of the canvas to make a happy compromise of your own.

Onto his EVOL, Rafayel treats a relationship like a firepit. He wants it to have longevity, keeping himself and the fire alight. So instead of chucking a log onto the firepit he nourishes it with kindling, giving it a poke here and here to check on its status while being warmed by the flames.

Rafayel is also horrifically traumatised from previous encounters with love.

Think of it this way;

He was a Prince. Set to be throned as a King and live with his beloved forever.

He set out to find a devout follower to sacrifice their heart to him in turn found himself giving them his own heart and betraying everything because he wouldn't let a pre-destined prophecy rule himself or his beloved.

When he got his love back, in another timeline they were brainwashed and ended up killing him. The absolute agony you must go through, to be maliciously murdered and know that it's by the person you love but not their intention to do so and in your last breath you grant them mercy to die alongside you by singing them to death.

Moving onto Abysswalker Rafayel, the weight of being told you have to kill your love to resurrect your hometown, taking the love of your life on a wondrous journey to know you have to kill them in the end and instead erasing their memories of you permanently to protect them and keep them alive, rewriting a tome for their sake and thus dooming his beloved kingdom and people to be tormented for eternity of his peoples damned screams of death and agony.

Do you ever wonder if he has sat with himself and laminated over this horrifying fall from grace?

Yet he still does it, for them.

After ruminating over this; I wouldn't be as forward as the other LI either.

I think Rafayel is immaculately brave and loyal for even trying again, for still searching for his beloved over years and years.

He has his insecurities, they show when he gets bratty or needy. Quipping at his beloved for not having their sole attention on him, he's meant to be worshipped after all, doted on, praised for having put in so much effort.

Alas, his love doesn't remember, doesn't see the accumulation of sacrifices and things hes done for them.

So he hints, he prods and pokes gently and he starts having them warm up to him again. Braving a tender word here, a lovingly gentle touch there and moving up and forward until he can see that his beloved has fallen in love with him again.

Rafayel is a love that doesn't burn bright, it burns with stability, it burns with loyalty, it burns with truth and gentle care. He would never want to scorch his love.

Rafayel makes accommodations for them, weaving them into his life in any way, if that may be employing them to inviting them on little excursions. Even keeping a watchful eye over them, noticing when they're in need, hurt or just simply making his presence known as a comfortable 'You can come to me'.

He's a gentleman, a romantic...with a little edge (Rafayel audios I'm looking at you, hard)

Anyways, I should not drink copious amounts of caffeine within a short allotment of time. I hope my ramblings have been enjoyable 🤍🪽

[gaysindistress]

Limits of a Fae Heart - five

Pairings: Azriel x Reader Summary: With war looming over their heads, the Inner Circle is desperate for a solution. The one they found comes in the form of a resurrected female who’s fated to not only their Shadowsinger but once to their enemy as well. Word count: 3.4k Warnings: reader is AFAB, mentions of the female body/parts, cursing, sexual content (p in v), spitting but it's hot, choking, slight dom/sub vibes, I'm actually awful at tagging things but there's smut. for the love of all things holy, do not read if you are a minor. One | two | three | four | six

taglist: @dr4g0ngirl @isa1b2h3 @sidthedollface2

Cassian has made it known several times that the tension between Azriel and I is getting on his nerves. He’s not so casually told us to get a room many times since the morning he interrupted us. It’s truly only been a couple of days but with just the three of us to keep each other company, we’re all starting to go a little mad. 

Then again watching an abandoned camp for days on end because your high lord said so would do that to anyone.

By the fourth day of watching and edging closer to the camp with absolutely nothing to show for it, Cassian approaches me as I’m sitting by the fire, trying to warm my stiff body. He plops himself down next to me and lets out a dramatic sigh as he leans back on his hands. I don’t spare him a glance and he lets out another sigh. I look over at him to see him already giving me a playful but annoyed look. 

“Yesss?” I ask as I stick my hands closer to the flames.

“When are we going to be done with this boring stake out? The camp has been abandoned for close to a week now and unless I’m blind, there’s no reason for us to be here anymore.”

“If you’re asking to go home, just ask.”

“Fine, can I go home? You and Azzie boy can stay here and stare lustfully at each other all you want but I would like to go home and have a proper bath.”

Right on cue, Azzie Boy materializes out of a pocket of shadows and glances between the two of us. A hint of jealous shots down the bond as he takes in how close Cassian and I are. It quickly disappears as Cassian scoots over with a loud huff. 

“Well what’s your answer?” he demands lightheartedly and an arched brow.

Azriel narrows his eyes at his brother and sits across from us, the flames illuminating every inch of his sun kissed face. 

“I planned on going into the camp tomorrow and if I found nothing, then we could leave but I think Azriel and I can handle it ourselves,” I say looking from Cassian to Azriel, who’s already staring at me. He was probably wondering what Cassian was referring to but realization relaxes his face and he nods in agreement. 

Cassian claps his hands together, “Alright it’s settled then. Don’t kill each other and I’ll see you two tomorrow!”

It’s almost pitiful how excited he is to return to Velaris but it’s even more pathetic how quickly he’s on his feet and flying away. 

Azriel leans back against the fallen tree that lays behind him and props one leg up as his shadows drop an apple into his awaiting palm. He’s purposely staying silent; baiting me to initiate conversation and toying with me by pulling out his beloved Truth Teller and using it to carve the red fruit with impressive precision.

His shadows dance around me meanwhile a few brave and handsy ones find their way under my sweater and undershirt and nuzzle against my bare skin. I gasp at their snuggly behavior and go to shake them out when his voice stops me. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

“What does that mean?”

He chuckles as he eats a piece of apple off of the truth teller. “They don’t like when you push them away. Puts them on edge and then they don’t listen to anyone.”

I don’t heed his warning and shake them out anyways, causing them to let out a sound akin to a growl. They immediately find their way back under my clothes and practically mold themselves to my body so I can’t get rid of them so easily again. 

“Told you.”

“By the cauldron,” I groan as I attempt to swat them away, “tell them to leave me alone. They’re freezing.”

He stops his carving and looks at me curiously, tilting his head to the side slightly as his hazel eyes rake over me. “And why would I do that? They’re perfectly fine where they’re at.”

I send him an annoyed glare before I climb to my feet and walk towards the tent for another night of restlessness.

“Where are you going, sweet girl?”

“What have I said about calling me that?”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with an intense gaze and an almost feral smirk.

“And where does it look like I’m going? To bed obviously,” I say in a clipped tone and gesture to the tent. 

“No you’re going to lay there and flop around until the crack of dawn. Come here.” The shadows imprinted onto me do their singer’s bidding and push me back towards him. 

“Excuse me!”

He cuts off what was inevitably going to be a tepid attempt at a lecture from me. “Enough of that. Come sit next to me.”

With the shadows wrapped tightly around me and pulling at me, I don’t exactly have a choice but follow their lead. They finally ease up when I’m sitting beside him, almost shoulder to shoulder and he offers me a slice of apple. 

“What’s that look for?” he asks when I look between him and the slice with a scrunched up expression.

“When did you become so commanding?”

“You have a problem with it?”

I roll my eyes at the way his plump lips are turned up in a smile and are parted to show off his perfect teeth. “I have a problem with males who think they can tell me what to do. You of all people should know that doesn’t go over well with me.”

“Maybe but I’m not just any other male now am I?”

“Yes you are.”

I go to take the slice but he pulls it away, clicking his tongue at me. “Open your mouth, pretty girl,” he murmurs to me and I know it’s a challenge designed to test my resolve.

The nickname and his low timbre sets something ablaze in me and I know I stand no chance in beating my him. His win comes in the form of my lips parting to allow the sticky sweet slice to greet my awaiting tongue. He tracks my every movement, intently watching as its juice wets my lips and my tongue cleans it up.

“It’s my job to anticipate people’s next move but you?” Azriel says with a shake of his head and goes back to carving pieces out of his half eaten apple. ���Just when I think I have you figured out, you do the exact opposite of what I expected. It should frustrate me but it doesn’t. Why do you think that is, sweet girl?”

“Maybe you’re bad at your job,” jumps out with my breathy voice and he blinks at me with an arched brow. “Perhaps it’s for the better if you find a new profession or stop treating me like one of your targets. You’ll stop disappointing yourself that way.”

“Now I never said that it was disappointing.” he chides and grabs my chin when I try to look away from his soul blazing gaze, “It keeps me on my toes, never really knowing what you’re going to do.” 

“You really are like every other male; needing to be challenged but not enough to make you feel lesser. You all have this need to control.” I whisper and let my gaze fall to his lips briefly, “I’ve already told you and quite frankly shown you that I’m not one to fall in line because a pretty face told me to.”

He searches my face for a hint of humor as he holds me in place. Testing me, he leans into me and when I think he’s going to kiss me, I let my eyes flutter closed only for him to draw back. From beneath my lashes, I see a feral smirk break across his face. 

“You think I have a pretty face?”

“That’s what you took from that?”

“Answer the question.”

“You’re infuriating beautiful and I hate looking at…”

Azriel silences me with a hungry kiss, our hands desperately searching for something to hold onto as our tongues collide against each other and drink in the other’s sweet taste. His lips are soft as they slide against my own while his hands feel jagged tangling into my hair. Cold metal presses into my scalp and I can’t say that I’m surprised he didn’t drop his beloved truth teller when he launched himself at me.

My hands find their place on his chest and the nape of his neck, slowly making their way into his mess of dark waves. The soft noises that rumble through his chest when I tug at his hair emboldened me and I sharply pull, forcing him to let me lead.

He does for a moment. That is until he is shadows that are still wound around me, something I forgot about, trace over the raised lines of my hidden wings. A whimper falls from me and Azriel hungrily laps it up using his shadows to drag me into his lap. My arms wind around his neck while letting out a surprised noise when I feel his confined cock against me. We break away and that’s when I realize my breathing is so heavy that I’m almost panting but Azriel is no better. He tilts his head up again to playful nip at my bottom lip, trapping it between his teeth before letting it go and kissing the red mark on it.

I hear myself whine at the loss of his lips and heated touch but I can’t find it in myself to care. I’m slipping into the abyss of lust that is between us and pulling tight at our bond and it feels absolutely amazing. 

He’s growing cockier by the minute much to my dismay. “If you’re this flushed after a few kisses, I can’t imagine how you’d look after I’m done with you.”

With a flash of silver in the fire light, the truth teller is safely tucked away again and both of his hands come to grip my hips. He dips his head to plant wet kisses across my jaw and whispers against the supple skin of my neck, “but tell me, pretty girl, do you want that?”

Words feel pointless, coiled in my throat and morph into something else while they come out in the form of broken whines. 

“Come on, beautiful, use your words.”

I quietly mumble “yes” and let out a high pitched whine when he sucks a bruise over my pulse. He mumbles something like “good girl” as his shadows engulf us and my back hits the cold mat of my bed roll with him slotted between my legs. 

Azriel continues his attack on my neck and I lean my head to the side to grant him more access but not without teasing him. “Couldn’t walk ten feet?”

He runs his tongue up the column of my neck. “Are you complaining?” he shots back with a bold flick of his tongue of my ear lobe before taking it between his lips, sucking and nibbling on it. 

“N..no,” I try to say as my body shudders when he starts to roll his hips into mine. 

I vaguely hear his voice but I’m too caught up in the feeling of his clothed cock pressing into my core. A forceful grip on my jaw drags my attention to the male above me; his wings are flared behind him while his shadows dance around the room and curl against the both of us. Those gorgeous dark waves fall around his sculptured face and he gazes down at me with those hooded hazel eyes. 

“Keep talking to me, sweet girl. I want to hear you no matter what, understand?

I barely nod and it’s not good enough for him. He squeezes my cheeks and doubles down on his original question, “I said ‘keep talking’. I need you to tell me that you understand. That you’ll stop me if it gets to be too much.”

“Yes! Gods, yes Azriel I understand!” I moan out, already running out of patience as I arch my back and roll my hips into his, matching his pace as best as I can. 

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers before continuing his trail of blazing kisses down my neck.

I go to drag my hands down his neck but his shadows are quick to grab them and pin them above my head. He chuckles at my frustration and feeble attempts to pull my hands free as he sits back on his hunches.

With only the fire light from outside to illuminate the tent, Azriel looks like a god above me. The power that radiates off of him commands the flames to perfectly bathe every inch of his taunt and towering body. His blue siphons shimmer in the dim light, reflecting my own pathetic state back at me. If I could I would’ve turned over so I wouldn’t have to see the satisfaction on his face as he gazes down at me completely at his mercy. He makes a disapproving sound as he gently takes a leg in his hand, caressing my thigh and calf before stopping at my boots.

“You’re not going shy on me now are you, beautiful?” He murmurs against my ankle, kissing each inch he reveals as he tugs off my boot.

“Fuck you,” I choke out when more shadows join in. They replace his warm touch when he’s moved on, kneading where his hands once were and licking at the places his kisses have grown cold. Being so thoroughly surrounded by him is intoxicating and I find myself going dumb before he’s even touched me.

“Already doing that, sweetheart.”

Gods this fucking male.

Azriel repeats his actions with my other leg and moves to my pants next. We watch each other with half lidded eyes as he takes his time unlacing them and deliberately brushes his long fingers against the bare skin at my waist. When he starts the painstakingly slow motion of pulling them down my thighs, the damned shadows crawl up my torso. They drag his sweater and my thin long sleeve up my body, helping me to pull it off before tugging my bra down to shamelessly play with my breasts, groping and kneading at the tender skin.

The Shadowsinger’s eyes are blown wide, leaving only black in the place of the golden hazel as he watches them play with me. A long sinful moan is pulled from me when the shadows tug at my nipples and it seems to snap him back to reality. He pulls my pants off completely and inhales sharply when he sees the rapidly growing wet spot on my underwear. His eyes flutter closed as the scent of my arousal invades his nostrils and when they open, a fire is blazing in them. He looks devastatingly handsome staring at that spot like it’s the first glimpse of water he’s seen after weeks in the desert. 

“Beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” he mumbles more to himself while he slides his hands up to my knees and lowers himself to lay on his stomach before me. Another pair of shadows wrap around my thighs, preventing them from closing when he lightly runs his fingers over my clothed core. I writhe and struggle against my restraints with a loud huff, halting the male between my legs. 

 “Talk to me, sweet girl,” he asks in an affectionate tone, searching my face as he rests his head against the inside of my thigh. The same soothing sensation strokes at our bond and my face flushes even more as I search for the words. “What do you want?”

Light kisses are littered on my thigh as I stutter, “more… I need more.”

“More what?” he asks, forcing me to say exactly what I want. As he speaks he les his warm and wet tongue drag across the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “More what?” he asks again with a mischievous smirk taunt on his bitten lips as he licks directly over my covered slit.

“Touch me more, Az please.” It feels terribly pathetic to beg him and I’d cover my face if the shadows weren’t tightening their hold on my wrists. 

My mate immediately drags his thick tongue over the thin fabric covering my core and mouthes at me through it. He circles my hole before flicking the tip of his tongue over my clit. Desperate please build in my chest while my brain turns to mush having him so close to where I need him but just out of reach. It’s beyond frustrating and he knows it, smirking and chuckling at me in my disheveled and starving state.

Whimpers and whines grow into loud pleas and sinfully wanton moans as he works his tongue over the soaked fabric. After about the fourth time he nearly touches my clit, I start to realize that my wordless begging isn’t going to spur him into removing the offending piece of clothing. He wants words but I won’t let myself beg again just yet.

So I try the bond, sending every ounce of lust and desire that I have down to him. His only reaction is a slight quiver of his wings and an airy chuckle against my core. 

“Nice try, sweetheart but that wasn’t what i told you to do. Remind me, what did I tell you?”

He’s completely stopped using his tongue and has moved to dragging his fingers up and down my slit.

I throw my head back with a growl at the loss of stimulation. My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing it to calm down so I can think straight. The shadows are quicker than me and stop any thinking I may have done with another harsh pinch to each nipple.

“Until you can tell me exactly what you need, I’m perfectly happy to keep bringing you to the edge over and over again.”

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath. “Fuck me with your tongue, fingers, I don’t care. Just fucking get on with it already, Az.” 

“Now was that so hard?”

I go to snap at him however I’m cut short by him kissing the juncture of my thigh before he pulls my underwear to the side and lightly laps at my soaked folds. He starts slow, kitten licking and teasing me to gauge my reactions. With the shadows around my thighs, I don’t have a lot of range but I’m able to move my hips against his face enough to get some relief.

Azriel takes pity on me and his tongue, wide and rough, finds my clit the moment he licks a decisive strip up my core. His mouth becomes glued to me as he brings me closer and closer to the edge. That feeling in my lower stomach grows tighter when he sucks on my clit and pulls back to blow on it. Throwing my head back, moans fall unhindered and my hips start to move wildly against his mouth.

More shadows find their way around me, caressing and kneading everywhere they can touch. Some tangle into my hair, pulling at the strands while others grope my ass only adding to the bliss that is Azriel’s expert tongue working me into oblivion. 

He brings a hand up to let his fingers circle my hole, collecting my wetness before plunging two fingers in. He smirks against me after my hips falter and he slips his free arm under me, holding my hips up so he can bury his face into me even further. I whine and mewl as Azriel circles my clit and flicks it in time to the come hither motion he’s making with his fingers inside me.

“Az…Az, oh gods, I’m gonna..gonna cum,” I cry out. His shadows double down on their groping and massaging while he doesn’t let up eating me out like a man starved. He watches my orgasm crash over me through half lidded eyes and I try as best as I can to keep eye contact however my own eyes feel heavier than ever before. 

Azriel whispers words of reassurances and praises against my heated skin as he kisses his way back up to me. The shadows around my thighs loosen and draw light circles where their bruising grip once was. The ones on my wrists relax and caress the sore muscles from being held above my head.

“You did so well, sweet girl. So good for me,” he mumbles between labored breaths that mirror mine. I nod in agreement, cupping his face and pulling him down for a much slower kiss than before.

“So perfect, made for me…taking everything I give you,” he mutters against my lips. His wings shake out above us and mine feel like they’re about to do the same when one of the shadows dances over where they’re melding into my body.

He lets his body settle against me, once again letting his hips press into mine but now it’s unbearable. Im still sensitive and the feeling of his leather covered cock against me drags broken sobs from my chest. Like the teasing male he is, Azriel shushes me against my lips as one of his hands finds my thigh and urges my leg over his hip. With my leg around his waist, he moves us at a pace that makes us both moan into our kiss. He drops his hand next to my head while the other comes to rest on my throat, tilting my head back when he pulls away and drags his thumb over my puffy bottom lip.

“Such a pretty mouth,” he growls, staring lustfully at the way that my tongue swirls around the tip of his thumb. I suck at it and he pushes between my lips, allowing me to work it with my tongue like I would his cock. His eyes darken when I release it with a pop and a string of saliva connects us.

A heavy weight constricts my chest and pushes all of the air out of breath thanks to the tsunami of burning desire that Azriel sends to me. “Open up, sweet girl.” 

With our hips grinding slowing down and moving into a lazy, occasional jolt of pleasure, I obey. Without being told, I rest my tongue on my bottom lip, a silent agreement to what he’s about to do.

Azriel’s cock twitches against me as he spits into my mouth and I swallow it with a satisfied smirk. He curses under his breath and his cock twitches again.

And this is when we find ourselves in a rather unfortunate situation; he’s fully clothed while I’m bare save for my bra that’s been pulled under my breasts.

My pawing at his chest gives him the hint and he leans back to quickly rid himself of his leathers while his shadows keep me entertained. They flick and pinch at my pebbled nipples while sneaking down to rub me through my underwear.

The moment his clothes are off, I push myself up and climb into his lap to wrap myself around him. I kiss him like he’s the air that I need and he matches me in pace and passion.

Droplets of sweat race down his broad tattooed chest and his hair is messy and tangled. His arms, perfect matches to his chest, broad, muscular and tattooed are wrapped around me, keeping me in place as he ruts into me. He rocks his aching cock against my barely covered puffy and oversensitive clit while we devour one and other. His breath hitches in his throat when I grind down on him and my nails scrap against the base of his wings. 

“Do…do that again,” he whimpers into our kiss and I happily oblige.

I start with lightly dragging my nails against the base again before moving up the ridge of his wings. The barely there touch is enough to make him groan out and break our kiss to throw his head back in pleasure. I take my chance to assault his neck with my own kisses and bites when I repeat the motions to his wings. His hips stutter under me as my delicate touch combined with the hardness of his aching cock become too overwhelming.

Azriel groans out, frustrated that there’s still a layer of thin fabric separating us and seconds later, I feel the cold tip of the truth teller slice through my underwear. His shadows remove them from between us while he holds my hips in a bruising grip to rub my wetness against him. Back and forth, he drags the head of his cock through my folds, stealing desperate moans from my swollen lips. 

“Az,” I whine as I feel his thick tip catch against my clit, “please Az.”

He coos to me as if he’s being sweet as he continues to torture me. “Please what, sweet girl?”

“Fuck me Azriel,” comes out in broken sobs when he lines himself up and snaps his hips up, fully sheathing his thick cock in my warm heat. He waits for me to adjust to his size, only moving when I wiggle against him. He sets a brutal pace, fucking up into me in calculated and determined thrusts. The near painful hold he had on me is grounding as he pumps his dick into me and I cry out as pleasure starts to build into a second orgasm.

He pulls out only to guide me lay on my side to the bed roll and drags me against his chest, slipping in from behind. Wrapping one heavily tattooed muscular arm around my neck, he lets the other come to wrap around my middle and play with my puffy clit. The corded muscles are flexing as he holds me in place against him, ensuring that I have no choice but to take his thick cock. 

“I want everyone in Velaris to hear you,” he grunts against my ear as he sets a cruel pace from behind me. Downright sinful sounds fall from my permanently open mouth and his own beautiful sounds fill my ears when my core throbs and clenches around him.

“You can be louder, pretty girl,” he urges me while tightening his already unyielding grip around my neck. My hands sink into his arm, leaving red marks in their wake as I cry out, body trembling and writhing against him.

I tilt my head back to rest against his shoulder as we continue to move against each other. His cock drags against my walls in a painful way and my eyes flutter shut from the white hot pleasure it brings me. I’m pulsing around him and pleading with him to come with me. 

“Shush, pretty girl. Let me take care of you. Come for me, beautiful. I know you need to,” his breath feels like an inferno in my ear and I involuntarily moan at his praise. I know I can’t possibly be seen as anything other than a mess; tears streak my face and sweat collects in my hairline but none of that stops Azriel, my mate, from praising every inch of me. 

The last sharp thrust and caress of his tongue against my neck are what push me over the edge as my hands dig into his arm. His own release is almost upon him as his thrusts falter and he goes to pull out but my hand darts behind me and grips his hip.

“Come…with me.”

A dark chuckle rumbles through his chest, “you want me to come in you, pretty girl? You want me to mark you with my cum? Make it so every male who ever comes near you smells me? Is that what you want?”

“Yes, gods yes yes…please…come with me…please come in me.”

My begging sparks him to snap his hips even harder than before as he works us through our orgasms together. Both sweet and humiliating words continue to pour from his mouth between his kisses as he alternates between licking and biting at my lips. His arm loosens around my neck and shifts to cup my shoulder instead while the other grasps my hip.

“You did so well, sweet girl. So proud of you, took me so well,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face into my neck while our highs start to come down and our breathing slows. Finally our bond feels content; overjoyed that we are together and basking in the raw affection we have for each other.

I know that there is a part of it that won’t be satisfied until we accept it, until I accept him and offer him a meal that I made just for him. 

My heart skips a beat when that thought crosses my mind however this time it’s out of panic. What if’s and past traumas flash in my mind, no doubt flooding the bond with seemingly unwarranted anxiety. 

I try to pull away from Azriel but he holds me as he whispers softly from behind me, “Stay with me, my sweet girl. You’re crashing and you need affection right now. Let me help you through it.”

Panic sinks its talons into me even further, causing my heart to race, my breathing to grow too fast, the feeling of slipping into thick water without a way out to overcome. Tears spring from my eyes again and his voice sounds muffled even though it’s right next to me. 

“Breath with me.” His chest rises and falls against my back and my body falls into sync with it. The bond fills me with nothing but adoration and pure contentment, pushing away the crashing low I had begun to slip into.

“Good, just follow my breathing, just like that. You did so well, I’m so proud of you. Keep breathing with me and let me take care of you, beautiful. Let me give you the affection you need.”

For the first time ever in my life possibly, I feel safe. I feel safe in the arms of this mysterious Shadowsinger. I feel protected, cared for, and loved by Azriel, my mate.

[obey-me-disaster]

What do you think would happen if MC respawns at a different location after the lesson 16 death? Like purgatory hall then MC somehow convinces Simeon, Luke, Solomon, Diavolo and Barbatos to hide their resurrection from the brothers. MC stays at purgatory hall and takes online classes for the rest of the exchange program.

The whole time the brothers think MC is permanently dead but what if MC slips up and accidentally likes a selfie by Asmo on devilgram would that raise any suspicion? How would the brothers react to MC being alive the whole time?

Please, MC liking selfies while pretending to be dead is so fucking funny like: 'I need to keep a low profile...anyway let me appreciate one of Asmo's photos on devilgram, where all the demon bros could see'

Warning: mentions of death

Demon brothers x gn!MC headcanons

MC hides the fact that they are alive

They don't know exactly what happened after Belphegor got them. All they could remember was pain, a voice talking into their head and then complete darkness. When they woke up they were in the Purgatory Hall with Simeon, Solomon and Luke surrounding them.

While not being able to remember the last moments before blacking out, MC was smart enough to put two and two together and realize what happened. Belphegor killed them. After everything they have done for him, he took their life away without hesitating.

When Solomon and Simeon started to question them, MC decided to keep the truth away. They made up an excuse about needing to hide somewhere, and the two angels and the sorcerer were all to happy to let MC stay with them.

Their plan was to stay hidden until the exchange program would end, but of course old habits die hard, so without thinking too much they liked one of Asmo's posts. That's when all the demon brothers found out and all hell broke loose.

Lucifer

He would be furious at MC for hiding themself, tho he can't blame them, at the Purgatory trio, Diavolo and Barbatos for helping them keep the secret but most importantly, he would be upset with himself.

He would fly straight to the purgatory hall and demand some explanation. Why did they hide, why couldn't they talk with him. He keep thinking of the fact that if MC didn't slip and post that selfie, he would have never found out they were alive.

A part of himself greatly blames himself because if he would have put more effort in keeping them out of the attic, none of this would have happened, hell, if he was a good brother from the start everything would have been ok.

On the outside he seems angry but on the inside he is full of mixed emotions: happiness because they're alive, sadness because MC hid this from him, anger at the others for hiding this from him. He doesn't even want to think about the fact that if Asmo didn't see their like, that he would have never been reunited with them.

He will have a long talk with MC, whatever they want to or not.

Mammon

THIS MAN IS CRUSHED. He thought MC has died. He held their 'corpse' in his arms. He has been a shadow of who he was all of this time only to find out that MC has been chilling in the Purgatory Hall??

He might not visit them for a while. He is way too conflicted. He is in denial about the fact that they hid this secret away from him. He was their first man, you two weren't supposed to hold this kind of secrets from one another.

He would probably go on about: "I am not friends with any humans that would lie to me like that, I don't know anyone like that!" flashbacks to season 1 of the OG obey me

He has been blaming himself for not being able to protect them this whole time. He probably had nightmares about their death.

Once he sees them he will have to hold himself back from rushing to them and embracing them. He still wants to put up a front, but when the front finally cracks and hugs them, he will be all to relieved to feel them be alive once again in his arms.

Leviathan

His self hatred went through the roof. He would keep blaming himself for not doing anything. He didn't get to hold them in their dying moments, all he could do is watch. He felt like he truly lost the only person that could fully understand him.

When he found out they were alive he nearly rushed to the Purgatory Hall but stopped himself. If MC hid themself from him that means they don't want to see him right? They are disappointed in him for letting them die.

He spirals down so bad other brothers had to snap him out of it. He would probably send them messages or call them while crying. He didn't feel quite ready to face them yet.

He probably will watch anime/play games from a distance with them for a while. He wants to go see them so badly but fears they would be disappointed in him.

After a while he would probably hype himself with some 'The lord of shadows would never leave his Henry behind'.

Satan

He throws a little temper tantrum that destroys multiple rooms in the House of Lamentation. There are way too many emotions for him to deal with it at the same time to the point he feels like exploding.

He has felt useless ever since their 'death'. He could see the condition MC was in, he could see that they had no way to live, he could see all the injuries and knew how much they hurt but even with all of that, he could not think of a way to save them. All the learning and reading was for nothing in that moment.

He probably knew that MC had good reasons to remain 'dead' but it didn't mean he was not hurt. If it wasn't for them liking Asmo's post by accident they would have went back to the human world, never to be seen again.

Another one that waits a little bit, but that's because he wants to be as calm as possible, they had to deal with an angry demon, he is sure they don't want to deal with another.

Once he finally decides to see them, he takes them on a walk to talk things through. Only if they want to of course

During their walk he will insist of having a detailed talk about how both of them they were feeling, there was no more wrath he could feel at the moment

Asmodeus

The moment he saw MC liking his post he went wild. He probably started to text them like crazy. If they didn't respond he would call Solomon, Simeon, Barbatos, anyone he could think of.

He ran straight to his brothers to tell them about the fact that MC was alive and was probably one of the firsts that went to see them.

Once he found out they were alive it was like something awakened inside of him and he felt all the longing he held towards MC come back in full force.

After telling his brothers he is going to the Purgatory Hall to see MC and scream at Solomon for hiding something so big from him.

He 100% cries to MC about missing them and does not care his make up will be ruined.

Since his brothers need more time to calm down, he will take his sweet time catching up with MC and checking in on how they are doing if they will let him

Beelzebub

Another one with a lot of guilt. He couldn't protect Lilith from death, he couldn't protect Belphie from his hatred and he couldn't protect MC either.

He is hurt by the fact that they've decided to hide from everyone at the House of Lamentation but he can't hold it against them

One of the first to go see them. He wants to see with his own eyes that they are truly alive and well, or as well as they could be after dying

Would try to hug them but stops himself thinking it would be a bad idea. The last time a demon has offered MC a hug they got unalived. If MC does accept his hug, they will be carried around for a while since Beel would refuse to let them out of his grasp

He had been guilt-ridden since their 'death'. His eating habits have been all over the place. From not being able to eat to going on rampages due to painful emptiness in his stomach. Just seeing MC being alive made Beel's hunger go back to its normal self.

Belphegor

Because not only did the bros think MC was dead for good but because MC was not there to repair his relationship with his brothers, Belphegor is pretty much secluded from his brothers.

Barbatos probably still told him about the whole Lilith thing. He had to deal with the fact that not only was his hate misplaced for centuries but also with the fact that he killed someone he really got attached with, someone his brothers got attached with.

He had no one to blame but himself this time, had no one to help him manage all of these feelings, he pretty much is on his own. Sure, his brothers are still there but their relationship is strained as fuck.

When he finds out MC is actually alive he does see it as his chance to make it better but he doesn't go to see them. Not straight away at least. He is smart, he knows why they probably wanted to remain 'dead'. He is the reason for that.

He will give them time, he will let his brothers have their turn first, even if he doesn't like it, because he knows that's the least he could do for all of them. He only wishes he was not so blinded by anger and resentment, especially since it was so misplaced.

[thexxxthdoctor]

Gambler's Grip

****WARNING - Over 18s Only****

Summary: Sometime after X-Men 97, Gambit is back from death and by Rogue's side. Despite the Cajun's insistence that she has nothing to be sorry for, Rogue cannot shake her feelings of guilt. Written by commission.

Short story featuring Rogue and Gambit. Features BDSM, CNC, consensual sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, masturbation, cum play, spanking, punishment.

Long-fallen leaves crumpled under her boot as she breathed the deepest sigh her super-powered but exhausted body would allow her, and paused to rest against an ancient, oak tree, a short way into the forest she walked through.

The ordeal was over, Rogue allowed herself to accept. It was over, and he was back. The Cajun thief whose card-throwing skills and mastery of biokinetic energy had led him to a hero’s death in the fall of Genosha, after so-long and against such odds, was returned. Though their skin remained separated by the cruel necessity of unwanted materials, the intensity of their first embrace transcended the merely physical, as though their souls themselves entwined in celestial ecstasy. As much as he had suffered, so too had she, as she fought her unrelenting fight first for revenge, then justice and, finally, hope. Now, hope was fulfilled, and he was returned. Mutantkind had recovered the hero named Gambit, and she had recovered her love, a man named Remy LeBeau.

And yet…

Her love for her man, her Remy, burned with the ferocity of a thousand suns and the merest look from his beautiful, dark and red eyes was enough to show her the depth of his reciprocation. But though she had battled to bring him back to her side, so much within her refused to forgive herself for what had gone before. The knowledge that her beautiful love, who could have any woman or man he wished, but who chose to give his all to the one person he couldn’t touch, had gone to his death believing she did not love him back. The yearning she felt for physical connection had made the offer of Magneto too much to resist, if only for a moment, but it was a moment Remy never knew had ended, before he sacrificed himself to save thousands.

Now he was back, here, their love finally open and official for their friends to celebrate with them but the pain of what she had done gnawed at her incessantly, despite his reassurances that there was nothing to forgive, that he understood her need for touch, that he would have waited an infinity to be there for her, however she needed him to be, his love eternal and undiminished. In return, she had begged him to show anger, to release the pain her rejection of him had caused; to let it all out so they could purge it together and be free. And each time she had begged, he had refused, declaring he had no right to show anger, and no desire to show anything but love, despite whatever pain he had felt.

Just minutes earlier, she had pleaded again, but to no avail, and so, into the black Westchester night, she had stormed in frustration, determined to shout her anger at herself and at Gambit’s stoic martyrdom. Once her body was emptied of rage, she thought to herself, she would return and slip into the bed they now shared since his resurrection. She would, she began to plot to herself, gently wake him with a gloved hand stroking his chiselled, warm face, before moving it further down his body, fixing her eyes on his as she wrapped it around the perfect cock she imagined already stiffening beneath her touch.

Surrendering to her outdoor daydream, Rogue felt the same hand she planned to employ, reach downwards, brushing and pressing against her uniform-clad crotch, the unmistakeable sensation of her pussy dampening in anticipation thrilling her as so often it did. She began to press harder, but then…

Something wasn’t right. The softest of cushioned steps sounded from behind her. Perhaps, had she not been so engrossed in self-pleasure, she might have heard them before it was too late, but before she could even move her hand away from her pussy, the sensation of cold metal surrounded her neck, followed by the click of a clasp, locking into place.

Rogue gasped, half in shock, half in delight, as the owner of her collar stepped out from behind her, into view. Remy LeBeau. Gambit. But Gambit as she had never seen him before.

Although she had felt the touch of such restraints before and knew their power-dampening properties, she gave a perfunctory struggle, both to confirm she was, for now, powerless, and to indulge what the darkest part of her hoped was about to happen.

“What the hell d’ya think you’re playing at, Swamp Rat?”

Gambit’s stare was austere, strict and, Rogue thought, a little dangerous. Beneath his trench coat, the usual pinks and blues were gone, replaced by pitch black, which only added to the uncertainty of what was happening.

“I figured you weren’t gonna let ‘dis one go, chère.” His voice, though as intoxicating as ever, was bereft of the lightness she was accustomed to hearing in it, instead, each word was imbibed with an air of authority, of a type Remy LeBeau would typically scorn. “You know how much you’ve pressed at ‘dis, you know how hard you’ve tried to get me to let go, completely of every restraint I ever placed on myself, of every rule I ever made.”

Rogue could only nod. She knew only too well. From their fateful first kiss so long ago, they had known everything about each other, the good, the bad and the dark. And it was that side of himself she had begged him to explore in order to make her atone for the pain she caused, to pay the proper penance. Until now, he had always refused.

“You spent so damn long chipping away at ‘dis,” Gambit continued, his eyes never leaving hers. “So damn long trying to make me break, ‘den comin’ out her and playin’ wit’ ‘dat sweet pussy of yours when I wouldn’t crumble. You think Gambit a fool, chère?”

“Wh… what? No, Remy, ah don’t...”

The words wouldn’t come, whether through shock at the language her love used or the thought that his use of them meant she had finally broken through his armour, and he was about to truly let go.

“Gambit ain’t no fool.”

Rogue shook her head. Remy LeBeau was many things, some of which the nervousness inside her told her she was about to find out, but a fool he was not.

“I already told you chère, there ain’t nothin’ to forgive. But you still want the goddamn punishment, oui?”

She nodded, eagerly, taking herself by surprise at how badly she wanted it.

“Damn it Cajun, I need to be punished,” she exclaimed in earnest, “I deserve it!”

For the first time, a hint of his typical smile appeared at the corner of Gambit’s mouth, though etched with just a hint of cruelty.

“’Den come a little closer and stand in front of me, petit.”

Rogue hesitantly began to move, then more quickly as he ordered again, his voice harsh and domineering, displeased with even momentary delay. Her arrival before him was greeted with a thumb and forefinger under her chin, forcing her head up to look up, her eyes staring into his, wide in uncertainty.

With his other hand, Remy remove a long, shining pair of tailor’s scissors from his coat pocket, snipping the black handle in the air between them. Her eyes moved to the blades as he slowly, so, so slowly moved them down Rogue’s body to the hem of her uniform.

Snip.

Rogue began to object but a sharp, firm tap from Remy’s hand on her cheek told her that her protestations were useless. Another small, sharp slap reinforced the message before the hand returned to its position under her chin. Rogue gulped, beginning to wonder if it was really so wise to beg for so long for the Cajun thief to unleash his darker side.

Snip.

She gave no objection this time as the scissors reached the collar of her ruined uniform, which fell open to reveal her breasts, cupped in the red, lacy bra she had thought to tease him with again, and she saw for the first time how full of lust his eyes were. Lust for her. Lust which she knew damn well was about to be satisfied.

The scissors moved once more, the cold steel sending goosebumps through her as he slid them carefully, but wilfully behind the waistband of your green and yellow uniform bottoms.

Snip.

“Magneto not the only one good with metal, chère, no?”

A pang of dizziness shot through Rogue’s mind at Gambit’s pointed barb, and she gulped once more as he cut down the left leg of her uniform, down to the knee, then the same on the right.

Snip.

They fell away, hanging around her knees, leaving her red lace panties in full view. Panties which they both knew she had made herself cum in already that day, and which now, despite the tingle of anxiousness she had started to feel, were damp again.

Remy discarded the scissors, pulling the remnants of her uniform shirt from her shoulders and ordered her to rid herself of her shredded clothing. She hesitated again. Another error. The Cajun’s thumb and forefinger under her chin became an instant full clasp of her throat, pushing her backwards until Rogue felt the cold, rough bark on her exposed and vulnerable flesh. He gave his order one more time, and she scrambled to comply, standing before him again, awaiting instruction, her eyes wide.

“How much you play wit’ your pussy today, chère?” Gambit asked, his voice soft but commanding. Her voice uncharacteristically nervous, Rogue stated the number, only for his eyes to narrow in disapproval.

“’Dat’s not enough, chère,” he tutted. “No-damn-where near enough. On your knees, petit, put ‘dat hand of yours inside those panties for me.”

A wave of sudden embarrassment shot through Rogue, but Remy’s grip moved at lightening pace from her throat to the back of her head, clumping her hair and pulling it down, hard. She obeyed his command, dropping to her knees and slipping her into her panties, the intensity of the moment forcing her to comply and rub at her swollen, aching clit.

As she knelt before him, her eyes locked into his as she bucked and rubbed onto her hand, she felt him roughly pull the bra straps from her shoulders, freeing her breasts for his enjoyment, his hands greedily pulling and tugging at her hard nipples as her orgasm built inside her. Just as she began to feel the cusp of the crescendo, her lover’s hand clamped onto her arm and pulled her hand from her panties.

“No.”

Rogue looked up in frustrated pleading, unable to find the words to complain.

“You don’t have my permission to cum yet, petit,” Gambit said, his face set in enjoyment. “You have to earn it.”

Rogue’s eyes widened further still as Remy pulled the coat from his shoulders and the belt from his waist, her mouth salivating as he finally pulled the aching, hard dick from his pants and commanded her to open her mouth. At once eager and scared to take it in, Rogue leaned forward, tasting the tip as Gambit pushed it over her tongue until she felt it push against the back of her throat, spit filling her mouth as his hands pulled at her hair and he thrust into her face.

She had pleaded for him to punish her like this but now, in the moment, in the open air, exposed and powerless, the rush was unlike anything Rogue could have expected. Her eyes began to water at the intrusion in her mouth and her ears filled with the sound of herself sucking and gagging on her lover’s insistent cock, as his voice commanded her to thank him for the privilege. Trying her best to mumble a few words, Rogue jolted as a sharp slap connected with her ass cheeks.

“Elocute, chère,” she heard Gambit say as she looked up to see him brandishing the cane he had begun to punish her ass with, with the firm strokes of a strict disciplinarian. “Let Gambit hear you say it like you mean it.”

She struggled to shout thanks past his hard, relentless mouth fucking, a fresh cane spank on her ass for each failed attempt. The unfairness of it began to overwhelm her before the Cajun relented from his spanking and pulled his dick from her mouth, relishing her gasps as he granted momentary respite. Breathless, she asked if she had pleased him, and if she might be allowed to cum, expectantly making to return her hand to her panties. He pulled it away, binding her wrists together with cords pulled swiftly from a burlap bag behind him.

“’Dat pussy, chère,” he whispered as he secured her restraints, “belongs to me. Not you, not Erik, but me.”

Pulled up from the floor, Rogue felt herself pushed back against the tree as Gambit slid his own hand down the front of her panties, delighting in the wetness and sliding two fingers straight into her warm hole.

It relaxed to accept him at once, recognising its new Master as he pushed another finger inside, curling them back to find the spot they both knew would make her fold.

“Keep looking in my eyes,” he ordered, as his wrist movements quickened, her pussy responding in instant, orgasmic intensity. Rogue screamed profanities, the pleasure overtaking her senses but still Remy’s voice cut through, ordering her to keep her fucking eyes on his. Her legs turned to jelly, and her knees buckled, her body supported only by her lover’s grip on her throat and pussy.

Overcome, Rogue attempted to rest against the tree, but Remy warned you that she wasn’t finished yet. Punishment was what she had demanded, and it had only just begun. Pulling his lover away from the trunk, Gambit retrieved a thick, strong rope from the bag and hooked one end to Rogue’s helpless, bound wrists, throwing the other over the gnarled branch above her head and pulling it down until her arms stretched high above her.

Goosebumps broke out over every millimetre of the young mutant’s flesh, the intensity of the lust behind Gambit’s red eyes impossible for her body, mind or soul to deny. His fingers delicately teasing her bare arms, he pulled away the remnants of Rogue’s red, lace bra, pausing only to enjoy the wriggle she made as she tried to twist and turn in any way that might satisfy the calls of her throbbing clit. Toying with his captive still further, the Cajun ran his fingers down her exposed body to the edge of her soaked, ruined panties, inching them into place over her clit and pulling at them, allowing the friction to tease her.

As Rogue felt herself begin to surrender once more to the building ecstasy inside her, she felt a rough tug as Remy pulled her tattered and torn panties from her body and pushed the cum-soaked lace into her open mouth.

“You belong to me chère,” he said softly in her ear. “Now and forever, you belong to me.”

Swiftly, deliberately, the Cajun shed himself of his shirt. Her eyes followed him as he walked slowly around her, until the limited mobility he had granted her hid him from view.

She sensed him, at last, behind her, his fingertips brushing ever so delicately on the skin of her neck, moving down, over her armpits, tracing her ribs, taking in the curve of her hips, until his palm connected with her right ass cheek, and she gave a shout through her panties at the sting. The noise invited a second, harder spank as he stepped closer into her, his face by her ear, as he softly reminded her not to make a sound without his express permission.

Rogue nodded, helpless to do otherwise.

She felt his now naked body pressed against her own and his face nuzzling into her neck; the familiar warm sensation growing in the pussy which she knew would soon be claimed again. She supressed the moan she yearned to give as he bit down, just hard enough, on her shoulder, her neck, her ear… his left hand exploring her right breast, pinching and pulling at the stiff, still hardening nipple, while his right squeezed and spanked at her ass.

He asked, in that dreamlike Cajun accent, if she understood why this has to happen this way, and Rogue nodded before another harder slap connected with her pink, stinging ass cheek.

“Speak when your Master speaks to you,” he demanded.

“Yes Master.”

She shouted the words as loud as she could, through the ruined panties filling her mouth, and he pulled them from her mouth, discarding them on the floor. Her heart raced as he stepped back in front of her and she took in the full sight of his nakedness for the first time that night.

“You broke my heart, chère,” he said, softly.

Hearing him say the words flooded Rogue’s senses with the guilt that had taunted her thoughts for so long. But though she had yearned for him to admit the pain she had caused him, to blame her for it, the vocalised admission she had screamed at him to make was almost too much to bear, and she shook her head in sudden denial.

His fingers spanked sharply against her clit.

“Say it, chère,” he demanded softly, ignoring her recoil and spanking her pussy again. “Tell Gambit out loud what you did.”

“I…,” she faltered, another spank connecting with her clit in response. “I broke your heart.”

“Louder, chère,” he ordered. “Louder for the whole damn mansion to hear.” “I BROKE YOUR HEART!” “You broke WHO’S heart, chère?” “MY MASTER’S!”

“You spat in my face, petit,” Gambit recounted, slowly, the memory of the agony she had placed in his heart breaking through the shell he had crafted for the night. “You tore Gambit’s heart into pieces and spat in his face. So do it now.” The pleasure, the discomfort, the intensity of the beautiful torture he had trapped her in was intoxicating enough but the Cajun’s latest order overwhelmed her and, like a volcano of ecstatic rage, she finally, screamed her refusal, to the forest.

Gambit’s hand spanked once more onto her pussy, remaining there as though to hammer home his ownership of her, pushing two fingers once more inside his squirming, ecstatic, overwhelmed lover.

“I said,” he began, his voice cracking under the tumult of conflicting emotion, “spit in your Master’s face.”

The Vesuvian waves of shared emotion had long been heightened by the touching of their souls, and Rogue felt all the rage, regret, hurt, joy, wonder and love burning as one inside her. She spat it out at her lover’s face, her head dizzy once more at the splendour of seeing his handsome, charming, beautiful face, adorned with her own saliva. He grinned wide and took hold of her throat once more, spitting into her open mouth, forcing his own onto it as their tongues combined and they screamed their long-repressed pain into each other’s bodies.

Refusing to unclamp his mouth from hers as she moaned in tortuous pleasure, his fingers pushed deeper inside her, as her pussy widened to accommodate three, four, five… his whole, damn, fist.

The rage Rogue shouted into him turned to orgasmic chaos as she came again, her fluids squirting past Remy’s knuckles and onto the forest floor as he squeezed her throat tighter, restricting the air to her brain and making her surrender to the insanity of her punishment.

Finally, he pulled his mouth from hers and she heaved air into her lungs. Mascara stained her cheeks and sweat had matted her brown and white hair, but she knew she would be allowed little respite. The hand that seconds ago had been inside her was now by her face, as one by one, the fingers Gambit had used to get her off were pushed into her mouth; her tastebuds relishing the flavour of her own pussy.

“You know what you still don’t understand, chère?” Gambit asked, as she sucked and nibbled at his fingers. She shook her head.

“You ain’t even been punished for what you think Gambit punishing you for.”

Rogue looked into his eyes in silent, exhausted confusion as he began to softly caress her face.

“Gambit never hated you for breaking his heart,” the Cajun gently intoned. “I resented it, sure, I hated him for taking you. But you won me heart and soul a long time back, chère. You have me. You will always have me. You might think you’re in the Gambler’s Grip right now, but I been in yours forever. Your punishment ain’t for seeing if you could work something out wit’ a guy who could touch you. It’s for thinking you had something to be sorry for, and for not believing ‘dat there ain’t nothing you could do to make Gambit stop loving you.”

Reaching up, Remy unhooked his soulmate’s arms from the branch unbinding her wrists and freeing her aching limbs from their restraints, standing before her, as naked and vulnerable as she, with only the silence of pure love between them.

“Remy, I…” Rogue began, her voice faltering as the words refused to come.

“We equals, chère,” he said, picking up her sentence. “We both gon’ do stupid things, both ‘gon make mistakes. But we both always ‘gon be here for each other forever. Ain’t nothin’ or nobody can stop ‘dat. Not even death.”

Rogue blinked back the tear she felt forming in her eye and pulled her lover to her, clasping her arms around his neck and accepting the warmth of his body against hers, not wanting the moment to end.

“Ah love you, swamp rat,” she softly said, looking into his deep, loving eyes. Spying the Cajun’s discarded trench coat on the ground she crossed over and slowly knelt down upon it, casting a lustful glance over her shoulder at the man she loved.

“Ah suppose,” she began, her customary mischievousness returned to her voice, “we should make use of what time we have before this old collar needs to come off. What d’ya say, Cajun?”

It was Gambit’s turn to be lost for words, before the opportunity presenting itself made him realise that on this occasion, actions would speak louder.

Her face down on the stretched-out coat, Rogue felt him kneeling behind her, his hot breath on her most intimate places, before the first sensation of his tongue reached her labia, gleefully lapping up the cum she had already spent, then moving to her clit, seeking to generate more. She moaned uncontrollably as Remy expertly sucked, licked, nibbled and played with the pussy she had surrendered to him, until she felt herself building to cum again.

As she shook on all fours, recovering from her latest orgasm, Remy LeBeau assured her of his eternal love for her. She reciprocated with a gasp as she felt his hands squeeze and spread her ass cheeks apart and felt the sensation of his tongue exploring each, sweet inch of it. Pushing two fingers back inside her pussy, Gambit pressed his thumb into Rogue’s tightest, most private hole and she moaned in profane delight as he complimented his anal assault by tugging her hair back, hard. Another, still louder moan accompanied the all-consuming joy of Remy’s achingly hard dick being pushed, slowly inside her pussy, as his fingers continued to explore her asshole, the combination of penetrations making her body shudder and jerk.

Satisfied with you latest pulsing climax and the loosening of her asshole, Gambit waited for the throes of her ecstasy to subside before easing his cock from its home and pressing its tip against her ass, marvelling at how readily it gave way to him.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck…” Rogue panted her expletives as Gambit sunk his full, impressive length deep, deep inside her asshole.

“You like ‘dat, chère?” he asked her, his voice cracking with pleasure.

“Ah fuck, ah love it, sugah,” she answered in surprised and absolute honesty. “Ah love you, Remy, an’ ah love you fucking my ass.”

The pace of the assfucking increased, and Rogue knew her man was nearing his limit as he pulled out of her ass and pressed her cheeks apart, sensing him staring in adoration at her gaping hole. She grew desperate for the sight, feel and taste of his cum and scrambled forward, turning to face him on her knees as he clamped his hand tight around his dick.

“Give it to me, Remy,” she ordered as his hand moved rapidly up and down his long, thick shaft. “Give all of it to me, and nobody else. No-one else, ever.”

She knelt, mouth open wide and tongue out waiting for him to deliver as ordered, her heart bursting with love, lust and devotion. His face twisted into orgasmic contortions and a stream of thick, white cum spring from the tip of his dick, landing hot and sweet on her face and tongue, dripping down onto the power-dampening collar that had made their night possible.

As his knees buckled and the stroke of his hand grew slower, the remaining droplets of cum leaking from his slowly softening dick, Rogue gently pulled him down onto the coat with her, embracing her man and being embraced by him. Their lips met in a passionate, loving kiss, as they tasted and shared each other’s essence, becoming ever more entwined together.

These two had been through everything this world and the next could throw at them. They were joined for eternity, body, heart, soul and mind. And they each knew as they lay together, embracing on the forest floor, that whatever challenges, whatever pains the future might hold, they would face them as partners, lovers, and, one day soon, spouses. They would face them together. Gambit and Rogue.

[bazaarwords]

thank you @why-does-it-matterr​! i think i got a little carried away, but i hope you enjoy!

cw: descriptions of injuries

-

There was a place she used to go to after the Order had days like these. Bad days. Ones that left her numb.

Historically, the place is both tangible and not—a lonely tower at the Cat’s Cradle, and once there, a few long moments of contemplation. But her old home is a long way away, and so Beatrice finds the part of her mind that needs this kind of treatment and sends it elsewhere. As for her body, she deigns to get to work instead of separating herself. The OCS may not be her world anymore, but there are wounded. People she cares for.

In the wreckage of their makeshift hideout, Beatrice wonders if maybe it’s never been the events of the day that seep the feeling from her. Maybe it’s always been this—this thing she must do to herself in order to succeed. Months of wandering have not divested her of the need to perform. The months have, however, been a reminder of all she’s lost.

She sets her feelings aside. There are things to do.

The first order of business: Camila’s shoulder is out of socket, and for all their collective expertise, Beatrice remains the best candidate to set it. Years ago, before the Order had swept her away, she’d spent a long summer volunteering in a hospital. It’s not the medical training she’d received afterwards, but the exposure was, at the very least, an advantage.

“Ready?” She asks, although she knows that Camila is always ready.

Camila, in the kind way she does all things, just smiles as if Beatrice is the one that needs the reassurance. She nods. “Go for it.”

Camila doesn’t flinch. She lets out a long, measured breath and she says, “ow” and she laughs at herself. Beatrice would like to take the time to laugh with her, but her joy is locked up in that faraway place. She squeezes Camila’s other shoulder, helps her into a sling made of a torn shirt, and moves on to the next.

Sister Dora has twisted her wrist. It’s discolored and swollen, but her bones are, thankfully, intact.

“A tarask,” she explains, “I thought it’d… well, I thought it’d kill me but…”

But she came back, Beatrice thinks to herself, searching the wreckage for wood to make a splint. She saved you.

She blinks that away—she has to. Sister Dora must notice her reticence. She doesn’t complete her thought. So Beatrice secures Sister Dora’s arm, and she moves on.

Yasmine has taken a glancing blow to the head, and Mother Superion has opted to stay up with her in the wake of the fight to monitor the damage.

“I’m okay,” Yasmine says when Beatrice comes by, holding up a placating hand. “I mean—I remember my name, so. So that’s good, right?”

Superion offers the smallest of smirks. It’s fond, not hard-won. “Yes, Yasmine,” she says, and rises up on unsteady footing. It’s not the new, halo-resurrected Superion.

“What happened?” Beatrice asks, firmer than she’d meant to. Emotions are nebulous when she settles into this way.

Superion shakes her head. “Nothing that should concern you. A few bruises.” She gives Beatrice a meaningful look—one she’s not present enough to catalogue. “There’s a cot in the back. Rest. We’re fine here.”

It sounds like an order, and even though she’s put the church behind her, she still respects Mother Superion. She can still recognize that she’s done all she can for the group, within reason. So she makes her way to the back room, feeling nothing. She sits on the edge of the cot, feeling nothing. She shrugs off her outer layers, feeling nothing.

Her mind has been in that faraway place, however, and as she returns to herself, everything sinks in.

While information comes in in pieces, on thing is for certain—there’s pain, everywhere. It would make the most sense to take stock of the worst places, the ones that need her immediate attention, but when feeling rushes back into her, the only thing she can think is that she needs to get out of this room and to wherever she’s gone—

There’s a jolt, razor sharp in the already excruciating throb of her abdomen. It’s quite obviously from when she’d been launched across a courtyard. The intensity winds her halfway to standing and her hip smarts as soon as she’s fallen back to the cot. She tells herself several times that she needs to get herself back in that empty place, that world where she feels nothing. Above all things, she needs to be there because she needs to find Ava.

A week prior, there had been a desperate call for help, a train from the small Finnish town she’d wandered into the month before, and Beatrice had found herself right back in the fray. Seeing the faces of her friends again after all their time apart had been bittersweet. When the fight had come to them, she’d remembered the last words Lilith had said to her. A holy war.

Despite her best efforts, she’s in the middle of it.

“Fuck,” she says, because she curses now. Because she knows that her knee is going to give out if she tries to stand. Because she’s effectively trapped herself in this room.

Frustration wells up in her like a lit fuse.

Assess the damage, she thinks, because what the hell else can she do?

The buttons of her shirt are slow work, her hands are weak from gripping her machine gun, her knives, the side of a building as she hoisted herself and Yasmine back to safety.

God is lost to her now, but it is a miracle that none of her injuries have drawn blood. A massive swath of skin along her side is purple and yellow but unbroken—it is the very worst of things. It hurts to draw breath, and hurts even more to bend and pull her pant leg up past her knee, to find the skin there in much the same condition. Upon further inspection, her hip, too, is a wild mess of bruises.

She’s a wreck, and what do they have to show for it? A few inches of ground? A few battered nuns, scrounging up whatever tools they can find?

Ava.

They have Ava. She just… doesn’t know where.

Beatrice had seen it happen as if in a dream.

The blinding light from above, the shockwave that had sent the tarasks flying in all directions, but hadn’t so much as nudged the sisters. When she’d looked, it was Ava’s form in the center of the light—Beatrice would know it anywhere, in any world—flickering in and out. She remembers shouting, desperate, stumbling through the wreckage. The details from there are hard to recollect. It’s when she’d been grabbed and thrown, it’s when the fight had resumed and she’d lost sight of Ava.

But she had seen her. That she’s certain of.

She closes her eyes, wincing as she tilts her head to the ceiling. The breath she tries to take is shallow and does nothing to steady herself.

“Beatrice?”

The pain of movement is forgotten, the voice like a ribbon of gold around her heart.

There’s Ava. There’s Ava.

The breath is gone in a rush, and Beatrice forgets the rest of the pain and she tries desperately to stand, to run, to move. Her leg gives out and Ava’s on her in a second, easing her back down.

“Ava,” she says, voice breaking, throat tight, “Ava.”

Ava kneels in front of her and she takes Ava’s face in her hands and she can’t look away. Suddenly, that place she goes—the one that is empty and lonely is filled with life. Filled with Ava. And she’s here, she’s real and alive and breathtaking in all the ways that Beatrice has loved. Loves. She feels nothing but it, looking at Ava.

“Bea,” Ava says, fingers wrapped around Beatrice’s wrists like they’ve been fused there. “Bea, you—you’re hurt.”

“You’re here,” Beatrice responds—nothing else matters. “Ava, you’re—“ She doesn’t have other words.

It should hurt to speak. It should hurt to lean forward, but then her lips are on Ava’s and nothing hurts, everything aches. Ava makes a small noise that lets loose something in Beatrice’s chest, and she wants to draw Ava closer, but her body betrays her, her whole side lighting up as if on fire. As if to remind her that respite is fleeting. But she doesn’t care, nothing else matters—

Ava notices her wince and pulls away. It hurts to try to pull her back, but still Beatrice tries. “Fuck,” Ava says, voice shaky, “Bea—hold on. You need—“

“I need you to not leave. I’m fine, I promise.”

“I’m not—you’re not fine, your—oh, God, Bea your side—“

Another Beatrice might have taken modesty into consideration. Her shirt is wide open, her trousers undone, and Ava is knelt before her, a hand on her bare knee. She just—she just wants so keenly that the constant, painful reminders of her body’s journey through battle feel like they’re killing her. She wants to pull Ava up and on to her lap, she wants Ava’s mouth on hers again, she wants, she wants, she wants. And maybe it’s her pilgrimage and her seperation from the church that’s allowing her this clear revelation, or maybe it’s just the relief to be in the same room as the girl she loves. Maybe that’s all it’s ever been.

“Let me… shit, I don’t know how good I am at this yet.” Ava focuses down on Beatrice’s splotchy, wounded knee, and the dark room is slowly illuminated by the glow of the Halo.

It feels… itchy, at first. It’s not a scab, but the injury takes on the properties of one—Beatrice tamps down the overwhelming need to scratch or pat at it, but then—as soon as it began—it’s gone. Ava pulls her hand away and the skin is as normal as it’s ever been. An oblong scar where bone is closest to skin from one too many skinned knees, but other than that? Nothing.

“How did you…” Beatrice trails off, swinging her leg back and forth easily.

“I’d… you know, I’d really like to explain it, but, uh. I have no fucking idea.”

Beatrice can’t help it, she laughs, a little hysterical. And then she wants to throw up.

“Don’t—no laughing. Stop it,” Ava says with a worried smile. She sets the tips of her fingers at the massive bruise on Beatrice’s side, and Beatrice can’t tamp down the shiver that rockets through her at the feeling. “Sorry. Sorry, I just need to...” Ava says, her voice thick, “just let me…”

The Halo does its work again, scrubbing her pain from her, raw and red until it’s not anymore. Beatrice takes a breath, and there is no pain.

“Good?” Ava asks.

“Good,” Beatrice responds. She wants that to be the end of it, but when she tries to move in again—“I think there’s another…”

Herein lies the problem. Her hip.

Ava looks down, and they’re in the middle of a war, but Beatrice wonders if she closes her eyes for just a moment, maybe they’ll be back in the Alps. Maybe there, this touch is necessary for another reason. Maybe Ava is looking up at her like this and maybe nothing has ever been wrong.

But they’re in the blown-out remains of a church, and there are demons everywhere, and in her darkest moments she’d worried that this—her and Ava—was lost for good.

Ava hovers over her bruise, and Beatrice nods. Ava is delicate, fingers light over her hipbone. This is not the time to wish for another life, but still she does. And for the first time in months, the wish has legs. It climbs out of that place she goes and it smiles at her, and Ava smiles at her too, proud of her work.

Beatrice draws her in, and the war rages on, but there are no more lonely places.

She has Ava. It’s enough.

[snowywolf1005]

ONE PIECE X CHIMERA READER

-Tittle-

"The truth"

In the battle of Onigashima. You transform the original chimera form, and then the evil scientist(Dr. Howl) gets your blood in the bottle and drink.

Dr. Howl transforms a gaint original chimera with red eyes, skin of black, a head of male lion. You attacked him and fell to the hole that law made while battling with big mom.

Dr. Howl fell to the lava, and you survived when kaido was defeated. The people started looking for you, even the Luffy crew, law crew, kidd crew, and (C/N).

Until they found your chimera form laying on the ground, not breathing. But your human body is inside the chimera body like Attack on Titan where people transform into titan and their body is inside.

Zoro grabbed his sword and cut your stomach, but medium. (C/N) decided to go in and find an organs that might be your body inside once she took it out, zoro cuts the organ.

But nothing, then (C/N), realize something, something that is terrible, and it's her worst nightmare. She went inside your body again and grabbed another organs.

She asked zoro to cut, and he did.

"What is this?!" Said Nami, then (C/N)

Then, a huge clump of hair bones, "did (Y/N) ate somebody?" Said Law with surprise look. "Animals that swallow their prey in whole spits out the indigestible parts at once. However, (Y/N) use it to fuel for her fire breath instead," said (C/N).

Then (C/N) found something surprisely, she put her hand inside the clump, everyone was gross out. (C/N) pull a hair, "a strand of hair! could it be..." Said yamato.

"Let's sort through it. We might find human bones." Said (C/N), everyone got some buckets and cleaned the bloody bones. Then Robin saw bloody pictures that reminded her something.

Then it hits her, "Hey, isn't that..." Robin held the picture in front of everyone. Luffy remembers the picture, and he snatches the picture. "Hey! (C/N) Look! This picture!" When luffy was about to say something.

Everyone stomach dropped when (C/N) held a skull and said something that made everyone jolt. "(Y... (Y/N)"

"No.." said momo, "(Y/N)" saying that name makes everyone just drop. Some people cried, some people looked away, and some people didn't want to look away.

But (C/N) has a plan. She got something out of her bag, a book (like thistle book from delicious in dungeon). "(C/N), what are you doing?" Ask Law, "I know a spell that brings (Y/N) back to life." She said.

Everyone looks at (C/N) has she flip the page. "What are you talking about?" Said jinbe.

"The greater the damage one's flesh, the more likely their soul is to depart. The main reason some resurrection fails is the soul's departure or the incomplete restoration of the body." She says.

"So, what do we do?"

"Bring a revivifer and resurrect her right here. But it requires twice the calories of the damaged parts to restore her. They'll need to bring a substantial amount of fresh blood and flesh along."

"But they'll rot on their way here..." But Kidd was cut off by (C/N), "I done this before, so I'll do it again." She said, "(C/N), what do you mean?" Luffy asks.

"I'll explain later, but we have an abundance of fresh blood and flesh right here." (C/N) points the chimera corps. Everyone understands now what she is about to do.

"Are you going to resurrect her? Using chimera flesh?" Chopper asks, "I've been silent about it because I didn't want to alarm you. But I specialize in the study of ancient magic that's forbidden now."

"I think using that is the only way we can bring her back." Robin wide eye realizing of what (C/N) is talking about. "Black magic? (C/N), you said that magic is dangerous if the government knows about this. Who knows what gonna happen!" Said Robin

"I know, but it way to bring my cousin back." She said, "Okay." Everyone look at luffy, "bring (Y/N) back, " he said. (C/N) nodded. She grabbed a knife and cut her hand.

(C/N) grabbed her staff and drew a mark on the ground, drew a circle of (Y/N) skeleton and the chimera corps. (She also stacks (Y/N) body skeleton to place)

After she had done, she placed her staff and said the black magic spell. "O Pillitsham. O Villaru. Casuzameo Rotokt Artumcuks."

Then everyone started to hear some whisper, making them creepy out about it.

"O Kunquikeo. Eoktum Kome. Tumao Elm Finktow Kenesfo. Aoewauk Aentujon. Tumao Elm Finktow Kenesfo."

The chimera corps blood observe (Y/N) bones and begins to form her body. "Aoewauk Aentujon..." Then (C/N) faint, "(C/N)!" Said Franky, chopper came up to (C/N) and check on her. "Don't worry, she just fainted," he said.

Law look at (Y/N) body that cover of blood, "did it work?" He said, luffy came up to (Y/N), kneel down. "(Y/N)?" Then (Y/N) eyes open, then cough, "(Y/N)!" Luffy screamed.

"Her air passage is blocked with blood." Said Chooper, "try to stay calm and spit it out." He said. (Y/N) throws up with blood, giving her a chance to breathe.

(Y/N) look at luffy and everyone else, "Guys..." She said, luffy hug her so as everyone else. Nami cried so as the others.

"Wow, you have feet now!" Luffy shouts, it's seems you know a human body, but still you can transform a chimera but half body.

Later...

"Okay, (C/N). Tells us what happened." Said Law, with luffy, kidd, and the other crews. (C/N) let out of the sigh. "Okay, I'll tell you what happens."

It was a long time ago, when (C/N) and (Y/N) was little, they love magic. (Y/N) want to be the best wizards of all. They're at the library of (C/N) store.

They're playing hide and seek. Later, when (C/N) was hiding, a book hit her on the head.

(C/N) see a book with one eye with feathers on it. She doesn't know what it is, so she took it to show (Y/N) the book. Then, (C/N) and (Y/N) were at the forest, looking for items to make spells to study.

They want to learn spell, so they can go on an adventure, but a chimera appears out of nowhere and started to attack them.

(Y/N) push (C/N) away before the chimera eats her, but chimera caught (Y/N) and ate her alive. (C/N) was horror and frustrated that he grabbed the book that she had just found.

And use the spell, then kill the chimera. Then (C/N) passed out, and when she woke up. Then she realized what had just happened. She ran up to chimera belly and cuts open with the small knife.

(C/N) search (Y/N), then found her but realized she was already dead. (C/N) flip the page of the book, searching any spell to bring her back.

Then (C/N) found the spell to bring (Y/N) to normal, she cas the spell, she read very close so she won't mess up.

Finally, (C/N) cast the spell by using chimera corps as (Y/N) corps body. When she finished it, something went wrong.

(Y/N) has the chimera lower body. When everyone realizes what just happened, the news spreads, and the government wanna lay hand on chimera (Y/N) and the black magic book.

They ordered the marine to capture them and bring to them, they did. But (C/N) use the spell to teleport her and (Y/N) somewhere else.

And started their own journey.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Can I ask if this hasn’t already been asked how Lestat and Daniel get on in the books? Daniel is Louis friend and Lestat knows that but do their personalities challenge each other and do they bicker or are they friends? How do you think it’ll go in the show? I don’t believe Lestat will hate Daniel in the show or anything extreme he might be frustrated at times but I don’t think Daniel would care much about that to be frank haha and would even feel bad at times because possibly Lestat gets triggered remembering his past or sad about Claudia in a different way than Louis gets sad about Claudia (more emotional, possibly lashes out or ruins their interview schedule because of how sad he is deep down, shows up late, etc.). Overall I think they’ll manage okay and by the end have some shared understanding of each other and possibly respect from both sides. I’m expecting comedic moments of Lestat refusing to give a straight answer and Daniel challenging him and Lestat challenging Daniel for doing that but in a funny way. And when Daniel asks about Louis and their time together from lestat’s POV im curious how Lestat remembers that time and how Louis will be seen from his eyes and how Daniel interprets that vs how he interpreted Lestat from Louis and Armand’s POV

Hey!

So as a note: Louis and Daniel aren't friends in the books. That's a show thing. A good thing! But it's not from the books, not really.

Lestat and Daniel... Lestat and Daniel like each other:

"Khayman sat in the downstairs study talking with Daniel now, Daniel who liked to let the hunger build, Daniel who wanted to know all about what it had been like in ancient Miletus, and Athens, and Troy. Oh, don't forget Troy. I myself was vaguely intrigued by the idea of Troy. I liked Daniel. Daniel who might go with me later if I asked him; if I could bring myself to leave this island, which I have done only once since I arrived. Daniel who still laughed at the path the moon made over the water, or the warm spray in his face. For Daniel, all of it-her death even-had been spectacle. But he cannot be blamed for that."

I think Lestat and Daniel might, especially if Daniel is already a vampire for the documentary, a vampire turned (supposedly) "out of spite" by Armand. Daniel, who freed Louis.

I think Lestat and Daniel will get along like a house on fire, actually. Oh, with sparring matches, and challenges, and biting comebacks. But Lestat likes that - and Daniel does, too. I think the more emotional breakdowns (that we saw (maybe exaggerated) hints of) might come through the story itself... and if it is true what Sam hinted at? Then maybe Claudia, there, haunting Lestat.

Because she does, in the books. She haunts Rue Royale, she haunts Lestat, she haunts Louis. She haunts the narrative.

I cannot wait to see what Daniel will drag out of him, actually. I hope it will be a bit sharper and edgier than Daniel in season 2... I had actually expected more of him there, tbh.

But I think Daniel and Lestat will be their own dynamic. Because Daniel likes Lestat, canonically. And I think in the show, he does, too, because he saw beyond the tale that was spun. He called the bullshit. And he knows he has to get to the source.

We know Daniel was already at the concert, so here's a snippet of Daniel at the concert from the books :)

And Lestat was Christ on the cathedral cross. How describe his overwhelming and irrational authority? His face would have been cruel if it hadn't been for the childlike rapture and exuberance. Pumping his fist into the air, he bawled, pleaded, roared at the powers that be as he sang of his downfall-Lelio, the boulevard actor turned into a creature of night against his will! His soaring tenor seemed to leave his body utterly as he recounted his defeats, his resurrections, the thirst inside him which no measure of blood could ever quench. "Am I not the devil in you all!" he cried, not to the moonflower monsters in the crowd but to the mortals who adored him. And even Daniel was screaming, bellowing, leaping off his feet as he cried in agreement, though the words meant nothing finally; it was merely the raw force of Lestat's defiance. Lestat cursed heaven on behalf of all who had ever been outcasts, all who had ever known violation, and then turned, in guilt and malice, on their own kind. It seemed to Daniel at the highest moments as though it were an omen that he should find immortality on the eve of this great Mass. The Vampire Lestal was God; or the nearest thing he had ever known to it. The giant on the video screen gave his benediction to all that Daniel had ever desired.

... I think theirs will be a very fun, and very interesting dynamic^^ Because Daniel has something Lestat wants, to make him open up (namely knowledge about Louis)... and then... 😈

[rottenpumpkin13]

Queen’s Blood And How Its Lore Reflects/Possibly Affects The Plot

Warning: This contains spoilers for Final Fantasy VII Rebirth.

“My name is Lidrehl Balmon…and I am the creator of the game Queen’s Blood. Which means that…this nightmare is of my own making. I didn’t know. How could I? You hear her too? Time’s running out. She’s made me her prisoner. Her accursed card my shackle. The end is nigh. Or perhaps…this is only the beginning. The Shadowblood Queen is…”

• After Cloud experiences this strange vision, the NPC who he was playing against accounts how skilled players have been experiencing visions lately. To quote: “Visions in which one is visited by the ghost of the game’s creator, who speaks of portentous events. To add another wrinkle…some of the world’s very best have recently met with unnaturally violent deaths. People are calling this the Curse of Lidrehl.”

• Another strange recount from an NPC:

“After he started selling cards, he spoke of hearing a strange voice. He then withdrew from the public eye and became a recluse. No one saw him until after his death. There’s no shortage of people who’ve had their lives turned upside down by the cards. Just goes to show what a deep and captivating game it is.”

• According to Lidrehl Balmon himself, the lore behind Queen’s Blood is as follows:

“Once, there lived a queen of peerless beauty and compassion. She loved her people, and they in turn loved her. But one day, a change came over the queen. In the blink of an eye, her love turned to hate—her compassion to cruelty. Fair and beauteous though she remained, her heart became black as pitch. Conquest was now her cause, her subjects mere fodder to feed her boundless ambition. And so her kingdom grew as her people perished.

Until, that is, a ray of hope appeared—a sorceress who would be their salvation. The Emerald Witch they called her. And with her arcane powers, she led the people in rebellion, captured the queen, and put her to death. Yet from the tyrant’s body spilled blood as dark as shadow. And from this wicked ichor, the myriad fiends of the world were born.

And that... is the story of the Shadowblood Queen. Some call it a parable. A myth. A fairy tale. And I wish it were! But she is as real as you and I! And she is coming. Her resurrection is nigh. You know what must be done. She cannot be allowed to return. She must not reclaim her throne! I pray you will succeed…where I so miserably failed. You are our last hope…Cloud.”

• It’s easy to dismiss this as a story to give the card game depth, but according to Lidrehl, who’s been essentially cursed because of QB, this story is very real to the game’s world and he feels major guilt over what he’s created, blaming himself for bringing about this curse to the world.

• We later find out that this curse is very real and it turns out that Regina the QB champion has actually been possessed by the Shadowblood Queen card, but we’ll get to that later.

• When you look at the lore you can interpret it in two ways to fit both the alleged “affecting the real world” —their world, what’s happening in the game’s world—and VII’s plot.

We’ll look at the first interpretation: That the Story of the battle between the Shadowblood Queen and the Emerald Witch is referencing Jenova vs. The Cetra.

“Once, there lived a queen of peerless beauty and compassion. She loved her people, and in turn they loved her. But one day, a change came over the queen. In the blink of an eye, her love turned to hate—her compassion to cruelty. Fair and beauteous though she remained, her heart became black as pitch. Conquest was now her cause, her subjects mere fodder to feed her boundless ambition. And so her kingdom grew as her subjects perished.”

We can discern that the Shadowblood Queen was the unnamed Cetra girl who Jenova took as a host. Not to say that this character was a high-ranking person, but definitely someone who was loved and led a normal life until Jenova took over her body and began her “conquest” so to speak.

“Until that is, a ray of hope appeared—a sorceress who would be their salvation. The Emerald Witch they called her. And with her arcane powers, she led the people into rebellion, captured the queen, and put her to death.”

The Emerald Witch here would be The Cetra as a whole who sealed Jenova in the crater. There’s also a possibility that The Shadowblood Queen/The Emerald Witch could be The Planet/Jenova, but since The Cetra were the ones to defeat Jenova and The Panet’s weapons weren’t used then, we’re gonna go with The Cetra.

“Yet from the tyrant’s body spilled blood as dark as shadow. And from this wicked ichor, the myriad fiends of the world were born.”

This is likely talking about The Jenova Project that gave birth to the “fiends of the world” meaning Sephiroth (and Angeal and Genesis) which is how Jenova later comes back to nuke the planet again.

The second interpretation is that the Shadowblood Queen and The Emerald Witch are parallels to Sephiroth and Cloud.

“Once, there lived a queen of peerless beauty and compassion. She loved her people, and in turn they loved her. But one day, a change came over the queen. In a blink of an eye, her love turned to hate—her compassion to cruelty.”

This is talking about Sephiroth, who went from hero to villain, good to evil, compassion to cruelty, after the events of Nibelheim.

“Fair and beauteous though she remained, her heart became black as pitch. Conquest was now her cause, her subjects mere fodder to feed her boundless ambition. And so her kingdom grew as her subjects perished.”

This alludes to Sephiroth’s goals, to become a god, the reunion of worlds and the multiverse mindfuck he’s cooking now in the trilogy.

“Until that is, a ray of hope appeared—a sorceress who would be their salvation. The Emerald Witch they called her. And with her arcane powers, she led the people into rebellion, captured the queen, and put her to death.”

The Emerald Witch in this case is Cloud/ Cloud + the rest of the gang.

“Yet from the tyrant’s body spilled blood as dark as shadow. And from this wicked ichor, the myriad fiends of the world were born.”

Since the trilogy is leading to the events of Advent Children, this could be talking about the remnants and geostigma, basically other ways Jenova manifests as a pain in the ass.

• And NOW let’s talk about the part where Cloud defeats the actual Shadowblood Queen because I think that’s all but a confirmation that Queen’s Blood mirrors real life.

Lidrehl: “Through the card, she feeds on the wielder’s life force, claiming their strength, that she may one day be reborn. Countless players have succumbed to this vile curse. And now one more death is all she requires to return. Cloud…find the sorceress. She who rallied the people, she who deposed the queen—The Emerald Witch. Her card sleeps in Nibelheim, with a monster of chaos.”

• When Cloud meets a weakened Regina [the Queen’s Blood champion] again, it’s revealed that the cards really do possess the players, and that Regina is possessed by none other than the Shadowblood Queen herself who’s been sealed in the card. Regina alleges that the card’s been speaking to her and urging her to give herself to it [the card].

• While she explains this to Cloud, The Shadowblood Queen takes over Regina’s body, and her dialogue reeks of Jenova:

“I remember well this land, for it was once mine. Until that witch rallied the unwashed and put me to the sword. Well, little puppet. What do you say? A match against your queen. For you, human, have a blood debt to pay in full.”

• After Cloud defeats her in a QB match, the Emerald Witch card in Cloud’s possession flies at and stabs The Shadowblood Queen. And then The Queen almost manages to defeat Cloud and uses some more Jenova/Sephiroth-coded dialogue— “Be still, little puppet. You belong to me now!” (seriously, what is it with people trying to possess Cloud??)

• But then Vincent shows up to help and they manage to seal the queen back in the card, setting Regina free.

• I can’t help but notice how similar Regina being possessed by the card is to Cloud being controlled by Sephiroth—I mean even the queen called him a puppet. This could be another tiny hint at how the Queen’s Blood story and the story happening in the game’s plot are either connected—albeit in a smaller, subplot scale—or Lidrehl Balmon was right on the mark when he alluded to the game reflecting real life.

This isn’t a theory so much as it’s another really cool detail about Rebirth that I hope more people talk about. The use of Queen’s Blood as a parallel to Sephiroth/Cloud (and/Or Jenova/ The Cetra) is interesting since we see Cloud defeat the real Shadowblood Queen, which means Sephiroth is going to have his ass handed to him in part three lmao.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Phantom Grin

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Bruce Wayne visits his son's grave on the night of his resurrection. Will it change Jason's fate, or is it all simply inevitable?

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd is Disabled, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Resurrected Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Get Along

Chapter One: Moonlight Promise

It'd been nearly ten months since the night Jason dug himself out of his own grave. Bruce sat by Jason's bedside, reading to him. Most days, Bruce read to him. When some of Jason's broken bones healed up, Bruce would hold his hand. He tried not to think too hard about the night it happened. The thought of Jason's broken body reaching out to him from the grave made his stomach turn. "I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way," Bruce read in a soft voice. Bruce listened carefully to the rhythm of the machines, making sure Jason's vitals were in order. Jason's heart rate often slowed depending on what Bruce read to him. He could tell that Jason loved poetry, or at least he thought Jason did.

Bruce squeezed Jason's hand gently. "Jason, I have to go earlier today," Bruce whispered, "But we'll finish The Highwayman when I come back. And I'll tell you about Clark's visit... Maybe when I come back, you can—." Bruce's phone rang, and he sighed. "Jason, I promise I'll make things up to you." He stood up and rested a gentle hand on Jason's forehead.

His phone continued to ring, and Jason opened his eyes. Bruce froze. "Jason?" he asked. Jason kept his eyes open for a few breaths before closing them once more. Bruce sat back down and brushed a knuckle against Jason's cheek. "Attaboy," Bruce whispered gently.

Bruce's phone rang again. "I'm not going anywhere... I'm just gonna answer this," Bruce whispered.

He answered the phone, and Dick immediately started apologizing. "I know you asked me not to call—."

"He opened his eyes... Just for a second," Bruce interrupted.

Dick didn't reply immediately. Instead, he made a soft noise. "Do you-. Did it seem like—?" Dick couldn't find the words.

Bruce sat with the phone between his ear and his shoulder. He squeezed Jason's hand. "He's never done it before. He opened his eyes and—. It was like he was trying to wake up," Bruce whispered, "Do you want to speak to him?"

Dick took a deep breath. "Put me on speaker," Dick whispered.

"Jason, I'm putting Dick on speaker," Bruce whispered. He let go of Jason's hand and set the phone on Jason's bedside.

"Good morning, Jason," Dick whispered, "I'm gonna come and see you pretty soon. I might get you something new to listen to. I know your birthday's coming up in August." Jason lay there, his eyes closed, and Bruce moved Jason's bangs out of his face. He didn't want to cut Jason's hair, not yet. In the months since Jason's resurrection, his height and hair were the only things that changed. It was the only way he could cope with the thought of Jason's condition.

Bruce stayed for an hour more and left in time for sundown. He'd be back later that night, but not as Bruce Wayne. Bruce always came at night in the middle of his patrol to make sure Jason didn't suddenly awaken in the night. He even hid motion sensors around Jason's hospital bed so that he'd know the comings and goings of the nurses. Leaving Jason was always hard. In the days following the incident where Jason first opened his eyes, Bruce started to see more and more movement in Jason. Sometimes Jason would open his eyes, other times, Jason would involuntarily grin when Bruce would touch his face. By the end of the year, Jason started responding to simple commands.

One afternoon, Bruce sat in the manor, eating dinner and talking to Dick. "He's gonna wake up any day now," Bruce whispered.

"And what are you gonna do about Tim?" Dick asked.

"Tim can have whatever he wants. He can be whatever he wants... Once Jason's able to come home," Bruce paused for a moment, "Jason'll need my full attention." He picked over his dinner.

Dick looked at him and furrowed his brows. "Gotham needs Batman—."

"And Jason needs me," Bruce raised his voice, "Had I been Bruce more often with Jason, maybe he wouldn't have died in the first place. I need to be there for him. I need to take care of—."

"And I'm not saying you're wrong, but from what I'm hearing in your voice, it sounds like you're calling it quits," Dick interrupted.

"Not permanently. I'm just prioritizing Jason for once," Bruce whispered, "Don't you think he deserves to be put first for once?"

Dick froze. He knew Bruce loved Jason, but he never thought that Bruce would ever set aside his priorities for anything or anyone. "I'm not judging you. I know you love Jason. I love Jason too... I just-. You don't have to do this alone. We're a family, and we're all willing to help in whatever way we can," Dick reassured him, "Maybe it's time you stop thinking you can do all this alone. Don't you think?"

"I can't let him down this time. I can't," Bruce whispered as he took a sip of water. "I should go check on him again soon."

"How many hours would you say you spend at the hospital?" Dick asked.

"Well, since he's gone from comatose to being in a vegetative state... Three hours in the daytime, on and off for two hours at night," Bruce replied. Dick tapped his fingertips on the table. "Yes, I'm thinking about going right now. You should think about coming with me."

Dick nodded. "I'll come along tomorrow before I leave," Dick replied, "No use in asking if you're staying for dessert, huh?" Bruce got up and took his plate to the kitchen.

Bruce's phone beeped, and he checked his phone. "I gotta go to the hospital—."

"What's wrong?" Dick asked.

"He's awake," Bruce replied as he rushed past Dick to the car. Dick followed closely behind.

"Is he okay?" Dick asked. Bruce handed Dick his phone, and when Dick saw what was going on, he pushed his hair back in distress. "Okay, I'm sorry for saying you were crazy for installing the motion sensor cameras."

[leothetraveler]

Once Upon a Midnight Stroll

Forneus x Narinder ship fic

[quick context: in my AU, Forneus was made immortal in one of Narinder's resurrection experiments. Narinder also unknowingly fathered the twins just before his imprisonment, only learning the truth recently.]

Narinder walked the outskirts of the cult grounds, enjoying the quiet that night brought with it. The lamb’s followers were always a bother to him. Pestering him with questions or making comments when they think they are out of hearing range. At least they were allowed to wander alone freely. Though tonight, their mind was anything but quiet. The immortal priestess, Forneus, had seen fit to mention the time the two laid together. It was a lifetime ago, a footnote in the story of his godhood, but enough to embarrass him in front of his usurper. The indignity of her to speak of the night so casually.

“Enjoying your evening walk, my lord?” Narinder looked up to find they had come across Forneus’ cart, with her sitting beside it. They had stopped by the cult grounds for one of lamb’s ridiculous holy days. Why they had not left yet was beyond them. “I was. But now, I would like to return to isolation.” Narinder turned around to leave, not wanting to speak with his former follower.

“Do you hate me?” Narinder stopped, looking back at Forneus as she pawed the grass at her lap. “I’m sure you consider me a traitor, being so friendly to the lamb. But while they may have stolen your crown, they have given me so much to be grateful for.” She stopped and looked over her shoulder at the cart, where Baal and Aym no doubt slept. “My kits have returned to me, and I have had the blessing of your presence again. All thanks to them.”

Narinder stared at the cart for a second. They had never considered Forneus a true traitor, but just simple minded. Or maybe insane. That instead of turning their back on him, their loyalty had simply transferred with the crown. That they cared not who was the lord of death, only that there was one. “…it matters little. The crown is outside of my reach anyways. Even if you were willing to help. So, you abandoning your loyalty to me is of no consequence.”

Forneus looked hurt at his words. “Abandon you? You misunderstand.” Forneus got to her feet and walked to her lord, stopping inches from him, causing Narinder to step back. “My lord, I could never turn on you. While I am grateful to the lamb for all they have done to me, my heart will always belong to you.” Forneus pulled his paw out between her own. “I love you, my dear Nari. Always have. Always will.”

Narinder stared, his mind spinning in circles. She was just a priestess. Never even earned the rank of disciple. Yet she was the only one he allowed to butcher his name in such a way. She was nothing. Just a mortal. And yet…he can still remember every detail of that night. Why? Why that of all things? He cannot remember his last ritual with his siblings, or what Heket’s favorite food was.

But he can still feel the gentleness of Forneus’ paw on his nose as they rested in each other’s arms. Hear the love in her voice when she first called him by that pet name. The same love she speaks with now.

Narinder realizes he has been staring for some time and yanks back his paw. He turned his back on Forneus, partly to hide his embarrassment. His ability to hide emotion has gotten rusty. “We had but one night together. One of little importance. I am surprised you even bothered to remember, given you likely have had more…experienced partners since then.”

Forneus giggled heartily. “Ah, yes. Looking back, it is obvious we were both new to such an experience…but how could I forget such an important night? Why, I remember it every time I look at our kits.” Narinder straightened up, his fur on end. Surely, he had simply misheard the woman. He turned, intending to ask a repeat of her words. Before he could speak, a paw cupped his face. Forneus smiled, eyes tearing up. “I meant to tell you all those centuries ago, but I never got the chance. I am just happy you three got to know and spend time with each other. Even if it meant I had to wait so long to see the boys again.”

Narinder pulled away from her. He could not believe it. Baal and Aym? His children? No. Demigods should not be possible. It isn’t possible. “No… it’s not possible. How could a mortal- How could I-…Shamura said-”

“Shamura was also the first to figure it out.” Forneus spoke up, their tone reassuring to try and calm the panicked god. “That's why they sent them to you. You always were their favorite. Even mortals could tell. If any of your other siblings had gotten to us first…” She trailed off, her face falling as she imagined the worst. “…the rest found out eventually. Heket sent troops to bring me in. Demanded the children. They didn’t believe me at first, when I said Shamura had already taken them. Tried to force the answer she wanted out of me.” Forneus held herself tightly, trying and failing to hold back tears. Even with time, not all memories had faded. And not all that stuck around were pleasant. Narinder tried to think of something to say to comfort her but failed to find the words. Instead, he simply pulled her into his embrace, letting her cry on his shoulder.

Eventually she pulled herself off him, wiping her remaining tears away. “A-apologies, my lord. I-” Narinder raised a hand to quiet her. “There is no need to apologize. I know how ruthless my sister can be. It is not surprising she would not believe you.” If anything, Heket should be the one to apologize, Narinder thought. He will have to bring this up with his sister later.

Forneus managed to calm herself somewhat, but still avoided meeting her beloved’s gaze. “It’s not just that. I should have told you about the boys. About our sons…but I feared you would react poorly. By the time I decided you should know…it was too late to get an audience.” Forneus returned to sitting by her cart, patting the ground for Narinder to join her. He considered walking away, but figured the lamb would scold him if he didn’t. So, he sat next to her, leaving a space between them for his own comfort and to not get roped into a hug before he could escape.

Forneus looked off across the grounds, eyes unfocused, lost in thought. “Do you remember that age, my lord? Back when I was mortal, and you were divine?” she smiled, looking towards Narinder for a response. His ear twitched with mild annoyance, unsure why he was still humoring her. “I remember little of that time. I know you were zealous in your worship. Climbed the ranks of the priesthood quickly. But little else.” Forneus smiled at her god’s recognition. She reached out for his paw but stopped when Narinder shifted away.

“Twas never simply zeal, my lord. I wished to be by your side. If not as a consort, then as a disciple. The closer, the better.” She chuckled, “And somehow, I got what I wanted. And more. Two little kittens. My sun and moon...” Forneus reached up with her paw, placing the back of it to the cart. She looked over at Narinder with a smile. A smile that faded when she saw Narinder standing. “I think I shall be returning to bed. Goodnight, Forneus.”  Narinder attempted to leave, the conversation having stirred a cocktail of emotions in him. Guilt and hatred. Remorse and pain. Nostalgia and regret. He needed to distance himself for the outgoing mother. From these painful memories he would rather not remember.

“My lord?” Narinder grumbled to himself and looked over his shoulder at the approaching cat. She wrung her fingers as she spoke. “If I may…well, I…” She looked back at the cart, then back to him. “Well, it’s rather cramped in my cart with the boys around and it would be a shame to wake them... Would you mind if I spent the night in your hut? I would be no trouble, honest.” Narinder may not be able to read minds, but the cat's intent was clear. Despite the thousand years apart, her desire to be beside him remained. His mind fought itself trying to decide. His emotions drowning his reason. He did not want to remember the past…but like her, he could never fully forget that night. He had never slept better, before or since.

Narinder turned his head, his back to Forneus. “…very well. But my hut is not built for two. I will not apologize if it is still cramped.” With that, he made his way back to his hut by the temple, hearing the familiar purrs of his lover behind him.

As they enter the residential area, he gave a silent prayer that his siblings don’t learn of what he is doing. Leshy would tease him endlessly over it, despite clearly favoring another cat in the cult. Heket would be disappointed in him being won over so easily by a traitor, but at least she would be easy to ignore with the loss of her voice. Kallamar, ever the romantic, would probably try to give him dating advice. Not that he ever went on a proper date. All his mates were sworn high priests before they even got their chance to impress him. And Shamura-

“Brother, you are being followed.” Narinder stopped in his tracks, fear putting his hairs on end as he recognized the voice off to his side. Seems his prayer was ignored. Narinder took a breath to compose himself before addressing his sibling. “I am aware of Forneus, Shamura. They are no treat. What are you doing up so late?” Shamura stepped out from their shared hut’s doorway. “You are not the only one who prefers the quiet of twilight.” Shamura faced Forneus and bowed slightly. “Lady Forneus, a pleasure as always.” Forneus chuckled. “Please, Shamura, no need to be so formal!” Shamura smiled slightly, looking from one cat to another. “I assume I am interrupting something then. I shall leave you two be. take good care of Narinder for me, Miss Forneus.” Shamura turned to re enter their hut.

“I- Come now, Shamura, do not misunderstand this. She simply didn’t want me wandering alone is all. I couldn’t convince her otherwise.” Narinder tried to recover the situation, knowing full well the others would find out if he didn’t. Shamura looked over their shoulder with a smile, their eyes barely visible in the shadows. “Come now, Brother. I know this isn’t the first time you two have been together…I’m happy you found someone.” Shamura disappeared inside without another word. Narinder stared, growly softly as their eyes burned a hole in Shamura’s hut. He didn’t notice Forneus until she wrapped her arms around his. “My lord, am I really that unworthy, even now, that you would deny me?” Her words were heavy, but her tone was light and teasing. “Should I just…leave?” Narinder sighed in defeat, his humiliation by his family inevitable. He pulled his paw out from her grasp and returned both of his to his sleeves. Forneus looked hurt for a moment, before she felt Narinder’s tail intertwine with hers. “…I’d prefer not to have you hanging off me, if you don’t mind. Now, let us head for bed. It will be morning soon.” Narinder waited for Forneus to nod in acknowledgement before continuing the walk to his hut.

As they walked, Narinder silently daydreamed of his time as a bishop. To be walking through the corridors of his grand palace, with Forneus at his side as a disciple. Followers bowing as they pass. The twins growing up in luxury instead of the gateway.

He couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

[running-with-the-feels]

okay, just had a thought but like

nothing Kuai Liang has ever done has actually been his choice prior to like, maybe, the second half of MKX.

I mean, think about it, he's kidnapped by assassins as a child and tortured and brainwashed into becoming a weapon. He's told that he can't leave or he'll be killed and even if he could he has no one to turn to in the outside world bc they killed everyone else and his knowledge of it is limited by the fact that he's not been in it since he was a child and is only allowed out for missions. If he doesn't do what he's told, they will kill either him or his brother, that is the very definition of Under Duress.

And then he's cyberized and Literally has his autonomy taken away, along with his body which is Horrifying, and when he gets his autonomy back, he's in the middle of a war and has no real choice but to fight for his life no matter what he wants.

Then he dies, and becomes a revenant and while its unclear exactly how much control Quan Chi had over them, it's pretty heavily implied that it was a lot, kinda like a semi-autonomous puppet situation, and is again made to fight and kill for someone else.

Then he's resurrected, and almost immediately possessed by Havik who canonically took full control of Kuai Liang and made him kill a bunch more people.

Even once he's freed, going after the cyber initiative might count as his first choice, but they are also hunting him and constantly trying to kill him so idk if that counts and then he's just sitting in his temple, minding his own business, when Raiden sends him a bunch of people to train and we have no indication that Kuai Liang intended to reform his clan at all until this happened, Raiden made that choice for him.

the man has never had any true freedom to choose in his life.

Meanwhile,

Everything Hanzo has ever done has been fully his decision.

We know that Quan Chi lied to him about who killed his family, and I will give him a pass bc nobody would be thinking rationally in that situation, but also, why on Earth would you trust the fucking necromancer? why would you not try to ask literally anyone else if he's telling the truth EVERYONE KNOWS THAT QUAN CHI IS A LIAR. but hey, maybe Hanzo doesn't know that, so we'll give him a pass.

But then, he still choses to serve Quan Chi rather than seek Bi-Han out on his own, he still kills Bi-Han even when he has a Massive incentive (the elder gods bringing his family and clan back) to leave him alive, and he chooses to keep serving Quan Chi after getting his revenge.

He even admits in the MKX comics that he was never controlled, though we know he was manipulated and he's probs not taking that into account, so at the very least the majority of the blame for his choices is on his own shoulders.

He also chooses to try and kill Kuai Liang in those same comics even as the cryomancer is kinda begging for his life and pleading his innocence. And he kills Quan Chi even knowing that it will damn the rest of the revenants to staying in hell forever.

Like, I'm not saying Hanzo is evil, I find all of his choices Very easy to understand even if they're the wrong ones, its clear why he does what he does, but he still makes a lot of bad choices that hurt the people around him.

And it's just like, do you think they ever talk about that? Does that affect the way they see and understand each other? Do they bring it up in fights and then regret it immediately?

Idk, I just think it's a really interesting parallel between their two characters.

[cheese-water]

I can’t believe the Qsmp is at this point now where I don’t want Slimecicle to login. Selfish, I know, but I have my reasons why I don’t want him to appear. For him to see the ruin the server has fallen into while he has been gone. For him to realize why there’s so much destruction. Why the people he once called his friends, family even, are unrecognizable. Why there’s a cloud of grief looming over every inch of the island, not just his house anymore. But worst of all, I don’t want him to find the solution to all his problems.

The Pills.

An easy way to regain your happiness after life has fucked you over again and again and again? A painless procedure to get rid of the apathy lodged in your fucking chest, slowly consuming you whole? A one-way ticket to forget all that shit that was bothering you in the first place? A chance to see Flippa again? It’s a dream come true! This is what Slime wants—not to heal, not to move on, not to deal with therapy and the feelings and paperwork that comes with it. He wants to be happy again. And the Federation’s treatment is quite literally his perfect medicine!

Almost too perfect...

What if the Federation had originally created the medicine Slime and it consequently worked on the other islanders? But wait, no, that doesn’t make sense. If the pills were made specifically for Slime, then why wasn’t he prescribed them? I mean, there would be no reason not to; the Feds were never particularly fond of Gegg given the rampant threats of arson. So why are we seeing them now? Or, a better question: why did the Federation create them in the first place? How were they able to have the pills on hand in case of mass hysteria and the destruction of the island?

It’s almost as if the Federation had the perfect control for their experiment. Someone who initially grieved not with tears or deals or a shoulder to lean on, all of which would come later, but with a wrath so volatile it could tear the server in half. Someone who’s parental rage could only be quelled through resurrection, a feat never to be taken lightly. Someone who would be their worst-case scenario if their ire were ever directed towards them.

It seems as if the Federation was prepared for the worst-case scenario. The antidote to an islander’s worst qualities; best taken when vulnerable. And it’s all thanks to Slimecicle! Without him, who knows what the Federation would have done with our favorite melodramatic president? Everyone is a cog in the machine, whether they know it or not! :)

If Slimecicle realizes this, I’m not sure whether he’ll survive the weight of the guilt on top of what he already forces himself to carry. Therefore, what you don’t know can’t hurt you.

[my-pjo-stuff]

What would Kronos' victory look like if the Golden Fleece plan in the SOM had worked out?

UHHHH this is a TRICKY ONE. However, I am not one to back down from a challenge so here we go :

So from what I remember from that book was that the Golden Fleece was supposed to speed up Kronos' regeneration around 10x (?) and NOT immediately revive him. With that in mind, how do I think would it have played out? For simplicity's sake, I'm going to largely skip the exact details of HOW Luke got that fleece. Base assumption is that the rough plot of SOM still happened, but Luke managed to locate our group somewhere between getting the fleece and Clarisse flying back home. As mentioned above it wasn't going to immediately revive Kronos, instead just speeding up his recovery immensely. Now I'm not quite sure how exactly it would work. Like would the Fleece have to be near Kronos for the effects to work? Would it be enough to be there briefly like how it was with Thalia? For this, I'll be going with the Fleece only needing to be with Kronos for a relatively short amount of time. I'm going with this because that way, we can also bring Thalia back in. I do genuinly believe that Luke was going to give the Fleece to camp once he had been done with it. Kronos wouldn't have had much of a problem with it. ESPECIALLY after he got the fleece to speed up his recovery. The prophecy would still be a think, so waking Thalia up would still be in their interest. Luke having succeded in getting Kronos the Fleece would secure his position as the head of the Titan Army. He'd also most likely secure Kronos' favor (to some degree atleast). Thus he wouldn't have been replaced with Atlas, thus the plot of TTC probably wouldn't even have happened like that. In canon Kronos comes back at the end of BotL. Since in this his recovery is sped up significantly I'm going to say that Kronos will be coming back at the end of what would have been TTC instead. Now here is where it takes a BIG turn in the story because I also think that Luke would have been the one to wake up Thalia. He probably would have just gone to Camp Halfblood, used the Fleece on the tree and then taken the newly freed Thalia back with him to the Princess Andromeda.

There I do thing that Luke genuinly would have managed to get Thalia on his side, sooner or later. I do think that Thalia's hatred for Luke in canon came from a mix of A) the way that Luke has been presented to her by the adults/gods/Chiron and B) lacking his P.O.V But since she's ´with Luke now after waking up she wouldn't have had those biased views and had gotten to see Luke's point of view. So yeah, Thalia's joined up with Luke now. Kronos probably would have promised Thalia that he'd protect her from her assured death in the prophecy too. Since at that point people all though that the Hero would die. Since Luke didn't fail to get the fleece and had Thalia join him, he wouldn't have been made Kronos' host. He'd also stand in high favour with him and be well respected within the army. Since Kronos had the fleece in this, I think that he'd probably have been able to immediately manifest in his true titan form. I already mentioned it above, but I think that Kronos would be coming back at the end of TTC. More specifically, on the day of Thalia's 16th birthday. This lays with my opinion that prophecies are highly stretchable in terms of content and nothing is truly set in stone besides the prophecy coming true. The decision the prophecy talks about would have been Luke deciding to remain loyal to Kronos and pulling through with it aswell as Thalia pledging her allegiance on her 16th birthday. Giving Kronos the final push to be revived.

The part about the cursed blade is what I'm going to put off for later, dw you will see soon enough. We basically end up with the following situation : -Kronos is fully resurrected in his full titan form from the start at the end of TTC -Thalia's on Luke's side -Luke's alive and heavily in Kronos' favor -Neither the gods nor camp would have had any time to really prepare themselves, as they likely would have been largely unaware of what exactly has been going down. .....................Yeah the gods are SCREWED. From here on the procedure is pretty obvious. Kronos takes his army, leads it on Olympus and just destroys the entire thing. And most likely the entirety of Manhatten too in the fight. I do think that Kronos would have kept his promise of a golden age for demigods to some degree. In the way that he would want a solid army of them for himself to do his bidding. Luke and Thalia both would probably have ended up very high ranking the grand schemes of things. Kronos ate his kids to avoid prophecy, he may be cruel but not stupid. Demigods are valuable assets, and so far Luke and Thalia have been serving Kronos extremely well. I do think he'd have rewarded the demigods of his army. Especially Luke and Thalia. Probably with riches and power. Now ngl, not sure what would have happened to Camp. There is a chance that Kronos would have decided to just... kill them all. But I do think that Luke probably wouldn't have let that happen without a fight. He'd probably reason with Kronos to let them join him. And I do think Kronos would have allowed it. Simply for the fact that the demigods just wouldn't really have been a threat to him at that point and Luke is held in high regard here.

Chiron is dead for sure though. The situation would basically be "do or die" for camp. Either join Kronos, or die. Most would have taken Kronos. The only one I can see putting up a reasonable fight would be Percy and maybe Clarisse. But in both cases I think they'd be persuaded by their friends to still take the deal,even if against their will. Probably with the reasoning that they could still attempt to build a resistance against Kronos from within. Now let's be for real here. There's only one real option for the guy who'd be taking charge of camp in this version once Mr. D and Chiron are gone. Jup, all say it with me. Luke Castellan and Thalia Grace.

Basically Luke's the lone ruler of CHB now. Kronos probably wouldn't really wanna deal with some "lowly demigods" since there are just so many other things to do. So I think Luke and Thalia would have pretty much free reign. The only requirement being that Camp's supposed to be run loyal to Kronos. And honestly? I think they'd do a pretty good job with Camp. I mean Luke's already been running the Hermes cabin for YEARS.Running Camp wouldn't have been too much of a change. At first there are of course... problems. Lots of distrust and hostility towards the "traitors". But they most likely led to nothing, since Luke and Thalia simply would have been too powerful. I also think that the demigods from the Titan's Army probably would have rejoined CHB again now that it's under Luke and Thalia. That means that Camp is now FLOODED with people loyal to Luke. Frankly said, stuff like resistance wouldn't have had a real chance. There would be lots of improvements though. Like more cabins for example. And better recognition even for the minor demigods. And honestly? After a while of all this I genuinly do think camp would settle down. Most Demigods would just....... settle. They might not LOVE the situation, but it is what it is. Luke certainly would switch back to his more relaxed and friendly personality. Annabeth most certainly would have broken sooner or later with both Luke and Thalia on Kronos' side. Things would have been looking up for a while until............ we all know Kronos and the gods are the same. Sooner or later Kronos would have started using the demigods just the same way as the gods did. And with that I mean as canon fodder for stupid quests. And as soon as Luke sees that? Yeah, he sees red. Because at the end of the day Luke never cared for Kronos. To him Kronos was as much a means to and end as Luke was to him. The things Luke cared about were his friends and family. The other demigods.

As soon as he realizes Kronos get's them killed too? Yeah he's starting revolt Nr.2. Again with Thalia's support, and most likely with that of the demigods too. The minor gods who joined Kronos probably also would realize sooner or later that Kronos ain't all that much better than the OG gods which means they possibly also joined. From then on.... I'm not sure. Probably another war could have happened, there are many ways this could go. Would Luke win? Would Luke lose? Idk. But you know what I do think? Luke would, sooner or later, get killed by Kronos during that second revolt.

Remember when I said that we'd return to the part of the prophecy about the cursed blade? Yeah, in this world I think that that WOULD actually refer to Kronos' scythe. And Luke's (The Hero's) soul would have been reaped by it, due to Luke having died in battle against Kronos during his Second Revolt.