#fallen-exalt

[bidoofdaily]

Transpride Bidoof?

[djtitus921]

Yet another AMAZING piece i had commissioned from Dashkaruna

Is it too much to ask Intelligent Systems for a battle royale between the Exalts and the Fallen Exalts

[apollo-cackling]

WAIT LOL I ground out all that brass and the option that requires 5k brass doesn't even progress HD?? every day exalted inches closer to a murder suicide

[randomkposts]

A reflection is only a variation of you that is paler. 

—

Chrom dies by Grima's magic. 

Chrom is brought back from death by Grima's magic. 

He is not brought back living, but risen. His skin is gray with the pallor of death, and his eyes are red now. He looks to Grima like he looked to Robin in life, with trust in his eyes. 

"We shouldn't be going to war alone, Chrom." Grima suggests softly through the human avatar. "We should bring our friends into this."

The Shepherd's fall to Chrom's blade, and are brought back by Grima's magic. Not all of them, not right away, some escape, some die to other causes, some have their corpses successfully burned.  But enough of them come back as risen to still count as the Shepherd army. 

The Shepherd Army is led by Chrom, and directed by Robin. That has not changed in death, save that Robin is Grima now. 

Grima places a crown upon Chrom's head. This one is different from what he wore in life, spiked and dark, belonging to Grima. 

In life they fought war after war, a perpetually never ending cycle. Warmonger Chrom, they called him,  a stark contrast to his sister, Peacekeeper Emmeryn. Chrom was a man who had wanted peace, but had no means to achieve it, the legacy left by his father swallowed the world his sister had tried to make better. Robin had left his father, and ended up on the other side of a war against his country. Robin followed Chrom into it, and into the wars that followed.

Life had been a series of wars, and death was all one big war against everything else. All the war has only honed their abilities to fight better, as they follow Chrom and Grimia into the fight against the living. 

In many ways, nothing has changed. Life is meaningless, death is meaningless, and yet the ties that bind them still hold true. 

Death can no longer break them apart, but unites them, stronger than ever. 

---

In honor of summoning him

[synced-love]

Placements I Wish I Had

Taurus Moon - So creative and has beautiful voices. Hanni and Joy have this and I love their voices so much. They are very grounded and know how to communicate their emotions. My mom could have waited a day or 2 for me to be a Taurus moon but NOOOO.

Libra moon - Same for Libra moons, Pretty voices, can mediate, and communicate very well.

Libra Venus - I would much rather have a domicile Venus than the fallen Venus I have. Libra Venuses just have the best and most pretty aesthetic. A bit thirsty sometimes but they really do want to be loved

Pisces moon - Even though the Pisces moons I know have a bit of family issues or mom that are a bit absent, their creativity just gets me. So good at art like it a just built into them. also can be very emotional, no matter the sun sign. I know a Cap sun Pisces moon and when she's upset, you can tell, but she's really good at drawing and writing.

Leo Mars - It might not be exalted or domicile but I think it's just right. It's not too intense like a sign ruled or exalted in Mars but it's still a fire sign which means it will still be a good placement. I know many Leo Mars and they are a bit impulsive but very motivated and always to get things done.

Pisces rising - THE EYES. Their eyes are so pretty and glossy. I heard someone say that Sabrina Carpenter might be one and I totally see it. If not then I definitely think she's a water or Venus rising. So pretty and has a really good style.

Libra/Taurus rising - How does it feel to be naturally beautiful. How does it feel to be able to just walk straight out of bed and still look better than someone who took the 3 hours to get ready? I feel like these risings give off Barbie energy. Like it reminds me of that one Barbie ep where Raquelle would wear something and nobody would like it but when Barbie wore it, everyone wanted to look like her.

[muzansfangs]

Il nome mio nessun saprà (no one will know my name).

Starring: The Salesman x f!reader; mention to Seong Gi-hun x f!reader (platonic relationship); mention to Cho Sang-woo;

Format: multi-chapter story;

Warnings: nsfw, panic attack, anxiety, fear of being stalked, mention to gagging and masturbation, dacryphilia, vaginal fingering, language, vaginal sex, hair pulling, slight degradation kink, manipulative behavior, loss and grieving, dom!salesman, sub!reader, lying to the partner, the salesman has told the reader to call him Gong Yoo;

Plot: Before you knew it, you were the prisoner of a castle made of lies he sugarcoated with his charm, dates and the fleeting feeling you had someone to count on. You were content with your life, grateful you had found yourself someone to grow attached to amidst the chaos. He taught you to play ddakji, only for you to end in his bed. How naive you were, how sad it was you did not know his job actually consisted in bamboozling people by playing the same game in the underground. Too bad those people did not find themselves undressed, if they lost the match.

masterlist | previous chapter | to the next chapter

[𝟎𝟎𝟐] 𝐇𝐢𝐦, 𝐚 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲.

The dull and insistent sound of an object repeatedly banging on a solid surface was your good morning kiss. Your heavy eyelids shot open and it took you a few seconds to rationalize you were not sleeping anymore. The sound continued, your eyebrows furrowing, as you pushed yourself up on your elbows. Was someone knocking on the door?

The door. Right. Your eyes darted on the entrance and your brain began to function. Why was the door tinted black? White. It should have been white. This was not your bedroom. Your eyes flickered across the room, so minimalistic and luxurious at the same time. Yes, it definitely was not your room.

Well, awesome! Apparently, you had fallen asleep in that man’s house then. When, though? How? You remembered the intimate interaction, then you recalled nothing but small fragments of a senseless conversation you had had. Your face heated up instantly, fingers uncomfortably tugging down the sheets draped over your body and, much to your horror, you ascertained you were wearing your dress but not your underwear. Instead of being secured to your hips, the flimsy item was laying on your side.

Your eyes grew round, bare feet touching the carpeted floor, before you padded towards the source of the irritating noise. With your heart pounding in your chest, hard enough to steal your breath, you rapidly tried to fix your hair and opened the door. There he was, the hot gentleman who had offered you an expensive vintage Chianti and faked a relationship with you not to cause your face to be printed on the newspapers under the dreadful word ‘missing’.

You stood before him, nervously pushing the skirt of your creased dress further down, wide-eyed and full of questions. It made him smile and your heart dropped in your stomach. He was already dressed up, hair neatly combed, head tilted to the side, as he stared down at you seemingly amusedly.

“I was starting to get worried. Are you feeling better?” he asked you, somehow not sounding that much concerned about your well-being. If any, his remark was unnecessarily overly sarcastic. Then again, you were still feeling kind of drowsy. Your perception of the surroundings was absolutely not reliable at the moment.

You rubbed the back of your neck “Uhm, yeah, I think I’m fine. — you replied, leaning against the doorframe to formulate the first of the million of questions bombarding your mind — What exactly happened yesterday night? I mean, how did I end up in the bedroom?”.

He quirked his dark eyebrows up, a small pout exalting his plumped lips as he then invited you to follow him with a wave of his hand. Why did he look so good, even when he was clearly pitying you and your poor state? It was not like you were experiencing an attack of amnesia. What troubled you was you had blurry fragments of conversations, or events playing on repeat in the back of your mind. Obviously, you needed help to put the pieces together.

Reluctantly, you followed him to what you assumed was the kitchen. Upon crossing the threshold, were you really that shocked to land your eyes on a set of splendid forniture? You almost felt bad for climbing on one of the stools but, after shooting an apologetic glance at him, you did. Once you had taken a seat at the immense island, the man reached his hand up to the cupboard to grab a small plate and cup.

“How much do you remember, dear?” he inquired, nimble fingers opening a sugar bowl and settling it on the kitchen island before your droopy and soft eyes.

Not much. You remembered you two had kissed, that he had fingered you until you had reached your climax, then you could recall him calling you by your name before you started sobbing in his chest, blinded by the fear of the stalker knowing details of you no one you actually knew had been informed of. You truly wished you had not insulted him, or maybe even jumped at his throat during your rampage. Something in his eyes made you think the opposite.

You chewed on your lower lip, the sound of the percolator alluring you to dwell in distant memories of the Sunday mornings spent with your grandparents at their house. If you closed your eyes, you were still able to vividly evoke the scene unfolding in a familiar routine you loved. The sour aroma flinging all around the living room, when you sat on the sofa sipping on a cup of coffee with your grandmother, was one of your dearest memories. A core one, indeed. And, unfortunately, one of the things you missed and could not have back. Life did not really fight fair with you.

“If I said, or did something unpleasant to you, I’m deeply ashamed of it. I’m sorry. — you began then, watching the way he checked his wristwatch on his right wrist, eyes zeroing back on you in a split second — For an instant, when you called me by my name, I’ve assumed you were my stalker. I told you how I got the informations about Mr. Cho, right? I think someone is following me around, or messing with me, I don’t know. I think this is affecting me more than I like yo admit” you ranted, propping both of your elbows over the counter and palming your forehead in distress and an ounce of genuine remorse. You really had went bonkers yesterday night, had you not?

He did not answer immediately. Probably, he let a couple of minutes pass. Enough for your coffee to be ready.

“It is only natural to become a tad paranoid in such stressful situations. I have nothing to forgive you for” he crooned, flashing a tight smile at you, deftly turning off the boiling ring and grasping the percolator to pour the hot liquid in the cup.

Your eyes were transfixed on him, on the way he appeared to be so perfect he almost reminded you of a robot. He must have been hiding his flaws masterly. He could not be impeccable that early in the morning. It was frustrating. Yet, he was not kicking you out of his house. He was not offended in the slightest. Actually, he was making sure you ate breakfast and that you had fully recovered.

You missed someone doing that to you now that there was no one else in the world left to oh-so-annoyingly look after you.

“Tell me what I’ve said, please. You can’t act like it’s okay. I’ve been an awful guest and—”.

“You haven’t. What I saw, what you did, my dear, was nothing more than a girl having a meltdown. Now, stop apologizing and … — he pushed the cup towards you, his everlasting smirk greeting you once again — Drink up your coffee. You can serve yourself with the right amount of sugar”.

You stared at him dumbfounded, hesitantly grasping a small silver spoon to collect some sugar and drop it in the boiling coffee to sweeten its strong taste. You felt his piercing gaze on you all the time, almost studying each movement you made. The air was electric as you blew on the cup to cool it down. There was still so much you craved to know, so many questions you yearned to ask. Your eyes betrayed you for he tilted his head to the side and rested the opened palms of his hands on the smooth surface of the counter, leaning slightly forwards.

“Something’s clearly troubling you. Care to explain what?” he inquired smoothly, dark eyes capturing your gaze and breaking the unbearable silence asphyxiating you.

You took a sip of your coffee, holding the cup tightly between your hands “I was wondering if… — you began, but your words somehow failed you and you cleared your throat to encourage yourself to speak up — Why am I not wearing my underwear? Did we cross the line?”.

He shook his head, hand reaching out to draw a cowlick off of your face. The gesture seemed tender, albeit his eyes were sharp and cold as those of a shark “No, we did not. However, maybe I shall let you know the reason you are not wearing them resides in your will to continue what had started in the living room. I dissuaded you, though. I did not think you were in the right state of mind for it” he explained, not batting an eye when you choked on your coffee at the embarrassing revelation.

What the Hell did you do? Did you really freak out that much? Did you make a fool of yourself in front of the man you were attracted to?

You felt your cheeks heat up, head turning to avoid meeting his intense gaze. You somewhat had a feeling he was enjoying seeing you under pressure, but his behavior puzzled you. He was not pesting you. This man was downright direct, a smooth talker, oozing confidence and cockiness like an overflowing sink. Despite that, he did not take advantage of you. He was still treating you with due respect. You appreciated this, but you were now asking yourself how you were supposed to look him in the eye again after listening to what had happened a few hours ago.

The situation you were in had clearly taken a tool on you. It did not matter that you had stopped looking for your father. You were still tangled in a web of uncertainity, pain, loneliness and now fear. The fear of some psychopath playing with your fragilities, helping you out from the shadows, keeping an eye on you. Letting you know you were being watched and, just because he was not harming you, it did not mean he was not going to hurt you.

“Thanks” you murmured, eyes downcast, as you drank up the remaining coffee and hopped down from the stool, hell-bent on making your getaway from him as soon as humanly possible.

His hand latching around your wrist halted you. You shuddered, finally flicking your eyes up to meet his penetrating gaze. He was not smiling this time. He was too damn serious, as he stared you down the way a famished hawk pinned a mouse on the spot before pecking its skull and killing it in a instant. Were you supposed to he afraid? Was he merely trying to reassure you nothing detrimental had happened, when you were out of your mind? What game was he playing? What if he was going to hurt you, to kidnap you?

He held your gaze, circling the kitchen island before stopping in front of you, his grip on your wrist still firm but gentler now.

He was tall. Too tall for you not to crane your neck up to look at him “Hold on. — he said, thumb stroking your wrist soothingly —May I, at least, accompany you home?”.

You parted your lips, a small sigh of relief escaping your mouth as you realized he really did not mean any harm. He was the same gentleman who had protected you at the train station, the same man who had charmed you at the discotheque. Also, you felt safe, going out with him. A lift home would have not hurt you.

You smiled softly “Are you sure I am not ruining your plans for the day?”.

“You are my plan for the day, dear”.

Fuck. Here he was bewitching you again with his silver tongue. You could not help yourself, but chuckle “Really now? Are you hitting on me again?”.

He grinned, fingers finally releasing your wrist “Would you mind, if I were?”.

Your cheeks flushed up, head shaking imperceptibly, jumping into the unknown at the faintest taste of affection, of genuine attention and concern. You had sealed your fate and you had no idea of what awaited for you at the end of the road. Salty tears, the metallic taste of blood staining your teeth, tickling your tongue.

“I wouldn’t”.

You had forgotten the enthralling feeling of dolling up for someone, of dressing up to impress someone. Since he had made it an habit to drop by your dorm to pick you up for romantic dates in places you could have never afforded in your entire life, you had begun to put an unreasonable amount of effort to meet his expectations. Your were finally flourishing. A month of dating and he still had not gone beyond sneaky kisses and sensual make-out sessions in the back of his car. This man was unique, a mystery to uncover. You still knew too little about him to say you had learned enough about his life to trust him blindly. Gradually, though, he had even started to open up about himself.

And you treasured those small informations.

You had learned not to ask too many questions about his job, or private life, when he had told he worked undercover for the Government. At your silent pleading of knowing his name, he had begrudgingly given you one, but had also made it loud and clear it was not his real name. Gong Yoo. At least, you were now going to whisper that name when his lips nipped at your jugular, while he palmed your breasts through the fabric of your clothes.

You were not the type to change for a man. However, you were now far from the scared little girl who had taken a plane all those months ago and moved to South Korea with nothing but an immense sense of loneliness and the incapability to smile. You were not alone anymore and you cheerfully smiled in his company. Everyone you had grown attached to had noticed the transformation you were going through, asking you what had happened, if there was a man in your life, or if you had met your father.

All you did to quench their thirst was saying you were dating a man, nor details, neither hints about his persona left your mouth. This was the plan he had come up with to ‘protect you from potential enemies’. Your mutual agreement to keep your relationship top secret had been a wise choice. Gong Yoo seemed reserved and, on the other hand, you were not enthusiastic at the idea of people gossiping about your sentimental life. Not to mention he was right about the risks of a delinquent going after you for simply be associated with him.

He cared about you. Your safety was his top priority.

It was a Friday night, when he surprised you yet again. You were slow-dancing in his living room, one of his hand delicately resting on the small of your back, the other holding yours up, when he brought his mouth next to the shell of your ear. It was hard thinking straight, when he touched you like that.

“Do you like playing games?”.

His question left you stunned for a few seconds, your lips curving into a smile, but you refused to lift your head up and look at him. Your cheek was stubbornly glued to his chest, eyes closing as Riccardo Cocciante’s voice lulled you in a heartbreaking song your mother used to love. Distant summertime memories of car rides with you two singing along with the singer flashed before your eyes. Somehow, thinking about her, about your past life, when you were in his company, did not hurt as much as it did when you were alone. He was a placebo coursing through your veins.

“What kind of games?” you whispered, his lips slithering up and grazing the top of your head affectionately.

“Games. Did you play games, when you were a kid?”.

You chortled “Well, I did, of course. — you replied, craning your neck to inspect his face — Why are you asking me that?” you queried, a knot forming between your eyebrows as he smiled down at you charmingly, large hands leaving your body to cradle your face.

His thumbs stroked your cheekbones, his jovial smile pulling the strings of your heart with such an expertise you thought you were a puppet in his hands “Because I do. — he chimed, watching your eyes light up in curiosity — And I may or may not have come up with a way to spice things up tonight” he drawled, tilting his head to the side to assess the way you seemed to glow in glee and trepidation. Admittedly, you had been dying to bring your relationship to the next level. To be completely honest, you had been taken aback by his old-fashioned way of courting you. Albeit, you obviously did not mind it.

He did not seem to be in a hurry. He savoured each and every encounter you had had up until now. When you seemed to be particularly ecstatic about the outcome of your dates, he indulged into inappropriate steamy activities, even publicly. But he never crossed the line of burying himself deep into you, of nestling himself in your warmth. He mostly focused on your pleasure, rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, shoving three digits into you, asking you to dry-hump his thigh until you orgasmed on his slacks.

You did not really mind taking things slow. It was a breath of fresh air, it was therapeutic.

Still, you knew he had a freaky side. You had caught glimpses of it, when he seemed to be on the verge of gripping your hair and force his throbbing cock in your mouth, while he was on the brink of reaching his climax. You had witnessed to the way he struggled to last, whilst touching himself, at the sight of you wearing a gag and pretending to beg for your life to feed his fantasy. You played along in his wicked, perverted scenarios. After all, it was nothing too extreme and you had to admit a certain curiosity tickled your ego.

“Oh, I see. Then show me” you stated, his dark eyes flitting towards the couch as he gestured for you to take a seat and proceeded in disappearing behind the door leading to the bedrooms.

In a matter of seconds, he was back, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he stopped in front of you. Raising his hands, he showed two paper squares at you. What was that supposed to mean? Did you have to pick a color?

“Uhm, what… I mean, besides choosing a color, what do I have to do with that?” you voiced your thoughts, instinctively reaching your hand out to snatch the red tile from his hand. He sighed, lowering his gaze thoughtfully, as if reality was dawning on him all of a sudden.

“I beg your pardon, I have forgotten you are not familiar with Korean games. This is called ‘ddakji’, a popular game among kids. — he explained, straightening his back and motioning for you to stand up — The rules are pretty simple: you settle your tile on the floor and the opponent has to flip it with his one. Before we get serious, I will show you how it is done” he offered, crouching down to put his blue tile on the parquet and retriving the red one you had picked from your hand.

You made space for him, watching intently the way he took aim and hastily, precisely, almost like a sniper, he hurled the red tile to the floor. The blue tile was flipped around, the smack of the impact echoed in the living room, catching you off guard for a second. He made it look so easy. If only you had had the chance to practice before, your chances to win would have increased.

You hummed, nodding your head, as you bent down to pick up the red tile “I got it. I think we can start, but that’s a tad unfair. — you pinpointed, shooting a side-eye at him, as he repositioned his blue tile on the floor — I have never played ddakji before. I will keep on failing miserably and you are going to gloat about your victory for days. You play dirty!”.

He smirked, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks “Playing dirty, huh? You have no idea how dirty this is going to get”.

You faltered, lips parting, as you connected the dots. Oh, this was what he meant by ‘spicing things up’, was it not? Nevertheless, you refused to play until he explained exactly what he had in mind.

You clicked your tongue, cocking your head to the side “Oh really? Interesting. What is on stake? What rules have you come up with?”.

Gong Yoo quirked his eyebrows up, leaning down towards you just enough for his hot breath to waft over your face “You may not know ddakji, but you surely know a thing or two about ‘strip poker’, am I right? — he tested the waters, his gaze trailing down your body shamelessly — What if we apply the same scheme to ddakji? You lose, you take something off. The one who gets naked first will sadly lose” he offered, watching you regret every single decision you had made until now.

You were not against the idea of letting him pounce at you. You ached to finally feel him inside of you, to hear him animalistically grunt as he ruined you for anyone else coming later in your life. To say you were bittered by your lack of choice, though, was an understatement. You were not a sore loser. This one was just not a fair fight. You were destined to lose, to succumb, to yield to him like you were not capable of defending yourself. Impotent, yet cunning, you eventually nodded your head and prepared to play the first round.

Four rounds. If you lost four rounds, you were done for. You should have not worn a simple sundress. How were you supposed to know he was going to scam you into a round of strip ddakji, though?

“I’m in” you agreed, before you took a sharp intake of air and transfixed your gaze on the blue square at your feet. You could do it. You just had to concentrate, put the right amount of force into it and flip that thing around.

Without thinking too much about it, you did it. You smashed your tile against it and, much to your surprise, it flipped the other successfully. If it was not for the music playing in the background, a still silence blanketed the room. You stood there in shock, he stared at the tiles on the floor as if you had just robbed him of his dignity. He looked almost offended, his eyes meeting yourself as he shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders made you feel like you should have apologized for what you had just done. You did not, though. You had earned your victory. Maybe it was just luck, maybe you were going to lose the following four rounds and he was going to win. It really did not matter, did it? You had won and you were not going to belittle your skills to console him.

“Congratulations, ma’am” he told you, clearing his throat and busying himself with repositioning the tiles optimally to play the second round. His voice sounded mechanical, almost as if he was used to praise people who won. How absurd it was.

The smack of your tile being flipped made you flinch and you felt your mouth going dry, as you slipped off your shoes, instead of your dress. A loss is a loss, right? But you had to choice to decide which item was going to be removed first. Why not claiming your rights?

“Wise choice” he observed pointedly, eyes raking over your form. The atmosphere was gradually shifting, the tension thick and the hunger burning in his eyes enveloping you like an incendio. He was eager to defeat you, but so were you to prove him he was not in total control. You were playing a game you had not even heard about before and, apparently, you were not even too bad at it.

You had a feeling it was going to be a wild ride.

You swept your tongue out of your mouth, tasting your cherry chopstick in the process of moistening your bottom lip. After a couple of dates with him, you had given up on the feminine urge to paint your lips properly with your favorite lipstick. You had literally walked around the dormitory with a smudged lipstick making you look like you were cosplaying the Joker.

“You sound disappointed” you teased him, glancing at him briefly, arm raising above your head to calibrate your aim. You had won once, why not doing it twice?

“Actually, I am glad you have decided to start from the shoes. If you had removed your dress right away, I would have been tempted to break the rules and I am not the type to do that” he promptly replied, your grip around the edges of the square in your hand tightening significantly. Did he really have such an high self-esteem and inflexible moral code imposing him not to deflect from rules and principles?

You took a deeper breath, squinting, before slamming your tile against the blue one. You won. Again.

A joyful smile crossed your face “Woah, I think you ought me a ‘thank you’ for having won again, then. I am preservating your morals” you replied, a smirk curving his own lips as he reached his hands up and unknotted the necktie with ease, discading it carelessly at his feet.

As he grasped his blue tile, he shot you an immodest look, sending shivers down your spine you even failed to camouflage “Probably, but I will obviously stick to the rules, dear. Correct me if I’m wrong. It really doesn’t matter, if I’m going to lose this game. — he paused, eyes darting down on your red tile, before he furiously flipped it around, making it clatter ominously on the parquet — It’s irrelevant who ends up stripping naked first. In the end, you are going to let me screw you anyway”.

You fingers twitched at your sides, brain registering his words in slow motion. He had won, you had to remove an item. But he was undeniably speaking facts. This game meant nothing. It was just another way to spend time, before you spread your legs for him. Finally, you dared to think as he stared at you expectantly. Your dress. You should have logically removed your dress first. This was what everyone at your place would have done, what he expected you to do. Imagine how surprised he was, when you instead showed him you still had the upper hand. Your cheeks were on fire, heart thrumming against your ribacage violently, when you shamelessly locked eyes with him.

Your hands slipped underneath the skirt of your dress, fingers hooking around the waistband, pulling at it until the underwear rested around your thighs. Then you began to kick them off, not granting him a glimpse of yourself to him. Not yet. Were you really going to make him work for it? Of course, you were.

“You are so arrogant” you whispered, arching your eyebrows as you stepped out of the poor excuse of underwear you had chosen for the night.

His jaw tensed and, considering the prominent tent in his slacks, you had aroused him enough to cause a strong physical reaction from him. You felt victorious in that very instant. Especially, when he pulled his gaze away from you forcefully, battling with the beast inside of him howling for you.

“Stai giocando con il fuoco ¹” he muttered.

“Who doesn’t like to get burned?”.

And you did get burned. You won again, you watched him unbutton his shirt, you basked into the celestial sight of his sculpted body, of his rock hard abs and board shoulders. But he won too. And, dear God, how much it costed you unhooking your bra from underneath the dress and remove it in that ‘magical way only women knew’. It angered him. You were purposefully starving him.

So much that his intense gaze made you falter and you lost the fourth round. His tile mocked you, his dark eyes devouring your curves now clouding over, as he stepped closer to you, deliberately leaving no room between you two. You held your breath, your hands reaching for the hem of your dress to pull it over your head, but he stopped you.

“Let me unwrap my prize” he chided you, timbre dropping a few octaves and prompting you to press your thighs together. The ache between your legs, you could feel it perfectly, and you were going insane. You needed relief, you need him to touch you.

You raised your arms up, above your head, eyes fluttering closed and focusing only on what you felt. On the way his fingers had already gripped the skirt of your dress, slowly dragging the fabric up your body, exposing your upper thighs, your intimacy, your hipbones. You shuddered, when his knuckles grazed over your ribs, your mounds, the hardened nipples. You refused to meet his gaze, not until you felt the rustle of the dress landing somewhere in the room.

It was only them, when you lowered your arms, that he grasped your chin and commanded you to open your eyes “Look at me”.

It sounded like a plain order, devoid of any emotion, but his words rang in your head like a love confession. You obeyed, eyelids lifting and focalizing him. Your head was spinning, the world a blurry, multicolored landscape around him. He had become the center of your gravity.

His thumb pressed onto your bottom lip, playing with it, toying with you like a cat would with the small animal weeping between its claws. What was the difference between you and the meal of a stray cat? You had willingly chosen your fate. You had a choice to flee, but you did not want to.

“Would you believe me, If I told you I want to fuck you in so many places I don’t know where to start from?” he said, towering over you as he glided his hands down your back, encircling your hipbones to pull your body closer to his. Your breath hitched, eloquence abandoning you when his lips were bruising yours. When had he begun to kiss you? You could not tell. You really could not and it was maddening how you only came back on Earth when he had you straddling his waist on the couch, just like the night it all started.

He cussed under his breath, when the pads of his fingers glided down your slippery folds, earning small whines from you. The stretch of his fingers into your warm channel was ever so pleasant. He was a fiend, a devil who knew the seven deadly sins and had made lust his favorite one. His other hand slided behind your neck, tongue swiping over your lips to taste you.

“Tell me, have you ever been with a man before?”.

“You should know by now I’m not a virgin” you breathed out, hands sliding over his pectorals the moment he curled his fingers into you. You squeled out in bliss, toes curling, pelvis rocking back and forth to seek your orgasm.

He chuckled, a rare sight “I’m talking about the age of your partners. — he clarified, depriving you of your climax and reaching his hands down to unbuckle his belt and unzip his slacks — I think you just mingled with boys your age. But it is fine, I like to think you are still convinced twenty seconds is all it takes for someone to cum” he mockingly commented, squeezing your hips to prompt you to cling onto him, which you did without hesitation.

His unhinged words made you bury your face in the crook of his neck, shielding your face from his lascivious gaze. He was smirking, your lack of silence speaking volumes as he stood up, hooking his hands benath your thighs to hold you up against him. His slacks were hanging loosely around his hips, the sound of his unfastened belt clinking with each step he took sounding both gloomy and promising for the incoming event. Up in the sky, parading to the adamantine gates of Heaveb, or swimming into the scorching, boiling lava of Hell. Which was the path you were going to take?

Your back hit the soft mattress, his hand splayed over your midriff to keep you in place. You saw him tucking his free hand in the pocket of his slacks, drawing out his watter.

“Don’t move” he warned you, before his hand left your stomach, fingers trailing down towards your belly to keep you on your toes.

You were not really suprised he kept some condoms in his wallet. A few years ago, you had been warned most of the men who do this are huge red flags. He was not an exception, you knew it. However, you did what he said. You did not run away, you did not shift your position, you watched him rip the package open with his teeth and remove his pants, all the while feeling your mouth salivate like that of a starving dog.

“Tell me, dear, do you want me to fuck you?” he asked you, sitting on the edge of the bed, at your side.

“Is that even a question?”.

You did not anticipate his hand grabbing a fist full of your hair, forcing you to bend towards his lap. His other hand held the condom between his fingers, pressing it against your mouth. You shot him an inquisitive gaze, evidently demanding an explanation to what he was doing.

“Then use your juicy mouth to roll this down my cock” he instructed you impassibly, a glint of unbridled lust twinkling in his dark hues.

You felt almost degraded. Your mouth opening to protest, but you bit your tongue and took it as a personal challenge. You could do it, right? It was just a game. It was sex, nothing you could not deal with. You had even put a gag in your mouth to let him jerk off at the sight of your saliva dribbling down your chin.

“I’m not doing this just to please you. Take it as my way to… Show my gratitude for that night at the station” you said, softly taking the ring between your lips and pinching the tip of the condom to ensure there was no air in it. He stiffened, an inaudible groan erupting from somewhere deep in his chest, when you tugged the condom down his shaft. His grip on your hair intensified, a wince ripping from your throat, but you refused to pull away until you reached the base. Only then, he abruptly pulled you off of him.

“Oh really? You want to show me how grateful you are to me? Alright, ride me then. — he rasped out, lips lingering over yours, as you sucked in a sharp intake of breath — Fuck yourself on me”.

There it was. His most pervert side gleaming in the dimly illuminated bedroom, flickering in destructive lapilli shot from a volcano. In that moment, you felt like a helpless slave, witnessing to the fatal event cascading over the city of Pompeii. You had no where to go, no one to look for. You accepted your end, fiery eyes glinting in pride, heart pounding against your chest so hard you struggled to concentrate. You straddled him, your hand lining the bulbous tip of his cock to your sappy entrance. He held you close to him, hands firmly planted on your hips, fingernails biting your skin to hurt you.

You choked out a strained moan, when you gained enough courage to lower yourself down on him. The burning sensation made you utter out inchorent words he failed to understand.

“Cazzo²— O my Gosh…” you whimpered out, pausing to let your gummy walls adjust to his girth. It had been a while since you last let someone humour you among the bedsheets. To be frank, you did not recall anyone be that big. You felt it all, stretching you open inch by inch. Sweat began to bead your forehead and you cried out in a strangled moan that was sloppily swallowed by his mouth.

He was far way more controlled than you were, but not totally unaffected. His jaw clenched, before his hands squeezed your ass roughly, hips bucking up to impale you fully on his shaft. You whined, eyes growing round in a soppy sight that made him hum in amusement.

“What is it? What are you trying to babble out? Are those compliments to my size?”.

“Kind of, those were cusses”.

He grinned, squishing your cheeks together and planting a kiss on the tip of your nose “Really? Let’s make a bet. I am going to fuck you so good that, by the time I am done with you, you will forget your mother language. Oh, the Hell with that… You won’t be able to speak anymore” he crooned, making you roll your eyes.

“Let’s see”.

Gradually, you raised yourself, shuddering at the feeling of his length rubbing against your warm walls. It felt overwhelming. He was overwhelming. Was this what it meant to be with an older man? Feeling safe, but on a precipice? Was it not an addictive but destructive feeling? It was too late to retaliate. You needed him and you needed him badly, until your bones broke, until you were a writhing mass of sweat laying on his bed.

You lowered yourself back on him again, a breathy moan echoing around you. Soon enough you set a good tempo, steady and passionate. Your hands cupped his cheeks, your forehead pressed against his.

“Fuck! Just like that! There it is. — he encouraged you, breath uneven, hair disheveled, as he thrusted up to meet your movements — Let it out, darling! Let your anger out, your pain too. I can take it, I can handle it for you”.

No. No. This was bad.

He should have not said that. Flashes of your adventures in the search of your father, of your talk with Mr. Cho, of the day you saw your mother close her eyes for the last time ran through your head. Your nails scraped down his back, scratching, clawing like an animal, your teeth gritting as your pace got faster, but more desperate. He knew what he was doing.

“Don’t do that” you admonished him, whining when he bit down on your jugular.

“Doing what?”.

“Making me believe I can count on you”.

“But you can count on me. I’m here for you”.

You could not tell if he was lying, or not. You clenched around him, inner and velvet walls squeezing him up to the point he grunted out in pleasure. You lost the track of time, the moment he shoved your face down on the pillow and made your spine arch for him. Your eyes closed, lower lip wobbling as he thrusted back into you.

Unlike yours, his pace was brutal, punishing, but you loved it. You enjoyed the way he had his hand enclosed on the back of your neck to pin you down. You reeled at the feeling of his cock hitting your sweet spot hard enough to prevent you from talking anymore. You climaxed a few seconds before he did, your body aching and your mascara ruined. You heard him groan, stilling his movements and he was done. Your body ached and you were too tired to talk. All you heard was him taunting you one last time before he collapsed next to you.

“I told you I would have deprived you of your voice”.

Recruiting people was monotonuosly easy. Tracking them down, finding out informations about their lives that would have messed with their heads was even easier. It had been so long since he had enjoyed recruiting someone. Let alone slapping them.

But this was a whole different story. This fucking man, that bastard, had triggered something into him.

He failed, he smacked him harder than he had ever hit anyone in his entire life. The moment he had decided to be an asshole with the wrong person was the moment he had decided this bastard did not deserve redemption. He did not deserve jail, but death. Presumptuous and a felon. How could he deem himself in the position to mistreat a person in need?

Smack.

The sound of the glasses clattering on the concrete was music to his ears.

“Again” Cho Sang-woo declared, composing himself quickly, ignoring the curious passerby who was horrified by the scene unfolding in a public area. He was more than glad to comply to his request.

Welcome to the games, Cho Sang-woo, player 218.

Author note.

Hello there! Thank you for the attention you have reserved to the first chapter of this story. I wanted to publish the second part sooner but life got in the way! I love to read your comments and impressions, therefore do not refrain from expressing your opinions! You could say things are going up (but the reader doesn’t know they are actually going down, poor little star). Anyway, I hope you don’t mind I have decided to give the Salesman his actor’s name. I came up with the escamotage of ‘he gave you one but warned you it is not his real name’. Deal with me! Also, if you wish to be tagged in the next parts, please I need to read in your bio your age! ✨

P.S.: the song they were listening to was “Era già tutto previsto” by Riccardo Cocciante. For a better experience, here it is:

Thank you again,

Luce.

VOCABULARY.

1. Stai giocando con il fuoco: you are playing with fire;

2. Cazzo: in this specific context, ‘fuck’.

CREDITS FOR THE DIVIDERS: @cafekitsune

TAGS: @axesfordays @apookalypse @trentknd

[lulzyrobot]

Some design exploration for Sabine in DnD. Being an aasimar comes with its perks and curses. Her are her exalted form and fallen form respectively.

So far in-game she's only appeared like this in dream sequences but I'm excited to see where it goes. Poor thing has no idea what's going on.

[starsworldd]

🩷 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝔂 𝓸𝓫𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 🩷

long post and giant paragraphs!

readings are open! ‼️‼️

BIG credits to 0degreestaurus and ellie witchy astrologer both on tiktok for the information on this post. PLEASE go check out their info if you have enjoyed today's post.

=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=

mars in 11th - you don’t fit in anywhere because you are born to lead

5th house - this house is more than just fun and one-night stands…sure it can represent simple pleasures and such but we forget that venus rejoices here which is the planet of love. therefore, this is a house of love and how we want to love, how we want to express our lust for life … it’s more of a passionate/meaningful house than people think. how do we become the best version of ourselves? the 5th house can address this too since venus also represents potential! (venus exalts in pisces, a zodiac that deals a lot with potential/possibility)

✤ i think that there’s often a very one dimensional look when it comes to placements in their exaltation/fall/detriment/domicile… let’s take taurus mars as an example. although taurus mars may fail to do what mars wants to do naturally—conquer, speed, efficient, etc..— this placement is known for their laid back and sensual/indulgent nature which is something that maybe aries mars—a domicile zodiac for mars—may lack. taurus mars CAN be active like aries mars. but taurus being ruled by venus wants/needs to feel pleasured and creative in the process. activities such as dance or even house-cleaning are things that could be in a taurus mars' wheelhouse. the only part where taurus fails to execute mars' true qualities is that taurus does not deal with challenge, pain, upheaval, etc... as well as aries/scorpio/capricorn does because venus is about enjoying life and gratitude and mars represents rebellion and change. but taurus mars' still have the same ambition as say a cap mars does. taurus mars is in a sign of its triplicity after all. which transitions to our next topic pretty nicely...

✤ TRIPLICITY IS IMPORTANT YALL!! for those of you who don’t know, triplicity is when a planet isn’t in their sign of exaltation/domicile (including a sign of its detriment/fall) but in the same element as their exalted/domicile ruler is in. triplicity especially helps out lessen the effects of detriment/fallen planets. lets take a look at a few examples:

- moon in scorpio: the moon is in domicile in cancer. the reason why the moon doesn't like scorpio is because scorpio is ruled by mars and mars wants to fight, conquer, and break cycles. it seeks to go down below and bring our issues into the light. scorpio wants to end darkness. but the moon does not function in this manner. the moon represents manifestation and fulfillment through the journeys we have been through in life (jupiter exalted in cancer) and connecting it back to our own soul, memories, and life mindset. the moon, just like how it passes through new and full moons (light and dark) phases in real life, always circles back to previous phases, it doesn't mind fluctuating between light and dark unlike scorpio. another way to think about this is that cancer/moon goes out into the world to gather its info/experiences (positive or negative) and then processes it internally. scorpio works in the exact opposite. scorpio gathers its info/experiences in an internal manner, and processes these things externally (bringing problems into the light and therefore ending the darkness that came with burying these qualities/problems). BUT scorpio and cancer, are both protective and healers. we can think about this is in their symbolism and element. scorpio and cancer are both represented by animals who have exoskeletons (cancer - crab, scorpio - scorpion) which demonstrates their instinct to protect. the astrology community has long knew cancer's ability to protect, but scorpio? scorpio being protective? scorpio is protective in the sense that it breaks cycles and protects justice (mars is all about finding justice). it's also important to note that scorpio also protects through its fixed quality. fixed signs maintain things and keep it consistent hence why they're fixed signs, they bring things back to tradition and order. though it may hurt and scorpio's protective qualities may manifest in an unusual manner to others (think about the scorpion's stinger), scorpio's motto would be that "the best defense is a good offense". the moon can still heal, process, in scorpio which is why it has tripilicity. BUT scorpio makes the moon do this function in a reversal order. placements that have tripilicity often represent much creative and reflective power—hence why so many artists have scorpio moons (lady gaga, miley cyrus, ice spice, etc…).

- venus in virgo: venus in virgo has tripilicity because venus is in domicile in taurus, which is another earth sign like virgo. but venus is in fall in virgo. why? and why does it have triplicity beyond just being in an earth sign like its taurus counterpart? lets start off by defining venus' qualities. venus is about pleasure, enjoyment, and ease. arguably, without venus there really is no purpose to live. why do we work? because we want money. why do we want money? because money gives us nice things. why do we want nice things? because through having nice things, we can discover our identity, our likes and dislikes, and experience all that life has to offer us. and this is really our end goal is it not? to express and do what we love so that we can enjoy life and bring VALUE and MEANINGFULNESS into our life. value + meaningfulness is a very venusian quality. venus goes beyond money, marriage, or sex at its most basic forms. venus wants the ultimate satisfaction and meaning that can be possible in our lives (even more evidence as to why venus likes pisces, venus is the POTENTIAL of our what lives could be). but virgo is ruled by mercury. where mercury is about chaos and the processing mind, venus works in the realm of feeling and pleasure. mercury is planet that helps us process the world around us, to categorize, and to put things in their place. mercury is able to tell the difference between what is real and what is illusion (which is why mercury is often noted for being the comic trickster, especially if you connect to roman/greek mythology where mercury/hermes was the messenger of the gods and notoriously known for tricking other gods too). but venus doesn’t care what is real or what is fake because either way, venus considers both the non-physical aspects and the physical aspects of life to be valid (think about how libra, ruled by venus, is symbolized by the scales in this manner). but mercury/virgo wants to change and transform the impossible into something possible. in this manner, virgo disrupts venus' peace and ability to ground us to our lives, and it may be that people with this placement often find themselves getting stuck in an everlasting cycle for having to adopt/adjust and having to separate their non-physical and physical worlds (even though venus wants them to be together). HOWEVER. we still have to talk about how, regardless of virgo's pitfalls in virgo, it does have some dignity here. but how? as previously mentioned, virgo is an earth sign just like taurus, a sign ruled by venus. i like to correlate the earth signs to the energy of the pentacles suit in tarot (not to be confused, pentacles and earth signs both have their differences still!). a lot of the cards in the pentacles suit deal with being comfortable in one's own energy, resources, sense of satisfaction/achievement, and rhythm of life. doesn't this sound very similar to the venusian energy described above? and because virgo is also an earth sign it does share some of this same energy. it shares similar energy by wanting to establish new patterns, rhythms, systems, etc… virgo has a better idea of how life could look like. (venus is about potential! venus is also about improvement, ease, efficiency...all things that virgo works towards) it just gets stuck in the chaos that comes with making new systems...after all it is much harder to make magic happen on the physical plane! (virgo is an earth sign, earth signs work in the physical plan). because it's harder to make magic happen on the physical plane this is why venus has an easier time in pisces because pisces works in the mind/feelings/imagination.

✤ speaking about water signs, i would argue that pisces is also just as transformational as scorpio but isn’t denoted for its transformational qualities because it isn’t considered to be as intense as scorpio (even though it is intense, just in a different way). pisces is a sign of redemeption, it’s where we tie loose ends and where we want to forgive others and ourselves for the wrong doings we have done. it’s about potential within ourselves, potential to be something amazing (hence why the two most benefic planets in astrology, jupiter and venus, LOVE pisces). once we have set ourselves free and found our potential we can achieve great things (which makes sense because what comes after pisces? ARIES. aries is ruled by mars and he’s going to achieve EVERYTHING).

✤ but i want to make this distinction between pisces -> aries vs. scorpio -> sagittarius. both of these water signs lead to jupiter ruled signs so it often implicates some sort of healing is done once we have transitioned from one sign to the next. pisces to aries speaks of redemption as we talked about previously. but transitioning from scorpio to sagittarius represents freedom. although this may seem like a similar concept to redemption we need to clarify that pisces and aries are much more internal and self-related signs than scorpio and sagittarius. pisces deals with our own sources of creativity, inspiration, and how we find healing within ourselves (jupiter represents healing). everyone finds redemption in their own unique way right? and although pisces is a personal sign it is also the sign that teaches us how to open our hearts to the world again. through opening our hearts, we offer our own wisdom/ideals to others through the JOURNEYS (jupiter = journeys) we have been through in our PERSONAL way because think about it, pisces is the last zodiac right? each zodiac represents a story or facet of life. it is unrealistic that we as a society have experienced the exact same facets of aries-aquarius. it is in pisces where we sum up all of the previous energies/facets of the previous zodiacs (both positive and negative energies) and through experiencing different facets of each zodiac, it is in pisces where we find a different life/way/mindset from having experienced these facets in order to create a new start for ourselves (and for the rest of society too, jupiter likes to collectivize). pisces makes us reflect (water sign y'all) where we need to begin anew again. then aries is where we actually plant this seed and begin to grow into these new ideals, traits, mindsets, etc... going from scorpio to sagittarius represents freedom because scorpio unburies what was "dead" then sagittarius explores this new "world" that scorpio has opened up and begins to gain more knowledge, experience, and greater connection to other places beyond the home.

✤ venus in the 7th house, no matter what sign it's in, i think is a karmic placement. @hot-astrology made a post about how venus represents mirrors (go check out the post very insightful) and i couldn’t agree more. the 7th house represents ALL encounters + relationships (positive or negative) in our lives. when venus is in this house as previously mentioned, it can act like a mirror in our relationships. the relationships we have (or don't have) with others can guide the native into the best version of themselves by noticing and observing what qualities are mirrored back to the native, making the native think "do i want to maintain these qualities? do i want to change or stay the same?". because of this, i've noticed people with this placement are also very reflective and observant of their surroundings. people always mention how charming or persuasive these natives can be but sometimes they fail to mention how certain natives with this placement (very dependent on house, sign, aspects, ruler of venus/7th house, etc...) are acting in this manner because they seek to find different facets of themselves through their encounters with others. this can lean into poor self-esteem, lack of boundaries, or an extreme need for external validation if not monitored carefully, but if these negatives are kept in place, this can be quite an adventurous and even fairytale-like placement.

hope you enjoyed!

[aurelion-solar]

An Update on Hextech Chests

In the dev update released today, Riot Meddler & Pabro confirmed that Hextech Chests will NOT be returning despite the backlash from players.

"When we initially added them, we wanted to offer additional reward for time spent using something we knew many of you really cared about earning: skins. Over time, though, free chests unintentionally became the primary way to unlock skins and an increasing number of players ended up with substantial skin collections for free. This meant that purchasing skins directly didn't make sense anymore to a lot of players, because they were happy just waiting to get something eventually. That did lead to a great player experience, but it was not sustainable for League in the long term."

This is just insane to me. "Not sustainable"? Hextech chests have been in the game since March 2016 - you'd think Riot would've flagged this sooner, rather than taking almost 9 years to figure out it wasn't sustainable.

They're acting as if it's now a ridiculous concept that players are earning free skins for spending hundreds of hours playing their game. "They were happy just waiting to get something eventually" - you mean they were just playing the game normally as a free-to-play player and not buying skins? Skin shards are completely random, and there are over 1700 skins in the game, so the chances that you actually get the skin you want, or a skin for a champion you play, might not even be that high. Like I definitely wasn't planning on buying Mad Hatter Shaco but that's what I got by rerolling skin shards so it's not like they were losing out on that purchase?

It's just crazy that they admit that it was a great player experience that they have now taken away. Just like the Amazon Prime loot capsules (update: it was actually Amazon who chose not to renew this promotion from March 2024), the League Partner Program skin and chroma giveaways, and the free event pass tokens that you could spend on an event orb, skin border or chroma. Riot didn't mention this aspect, but I suppose with the new Battle Pass, most skins will not be getting an icon, border, and event chroma now. For example, Mythmaker Jhin received an icon and border, possibly because it was a legendary, but Nami and Jarvan IV did not. In the past, all skins in the event skinline would've gotten one.

Not to mention that this vastly reduces the availability of Mythic Essence, as there was a small chance to get it from chests. Now it's only possible to obtain it through their gacha system, meaning all the content in the recently revamped Mythic Shop is even more difficult to get. I thought this was strange because I thought Riot wanted to introduce the gacha system because mythic and prestige skins were becoming more common, so the gacha system would be for ultra-exclusive content. But then they've just made it harder for the average player to obtain mythic/prestige skins, and also the standard tiers of skins.

I could go on and talk about how legendaries have fallen off in quality, possibly to make the more expensive skins seem better in comparison, how the Battle Pass skins are mostly not even 1350 RP skin quality, and how exalted skins are just ultimate skins for ten times the price, and how Sett's exalted skin doesn't fulfil any kind of unique champion fantasy. But I'm too frustrated right now lol

TL;DR - Riot Games' monetisation sucks and they're causing a worse player experience for the average player

[decayedsword]

Short drabble of Reader x Ronin in second POV! Self-indulgent,,, hehe..

Tags: References to Religion, possible killer chat spoilers

For five months, he breathes color into your life. He blesses it with his voice that speaks poems and reeks of sarcasm and rasp. His eyes grace you with admiration and amusement, snake-like and divine, even when observed through his web camera.

Late night talks, you two often have. He easily beats you in close combat and lifts you through the hardship of multiplayer games. When you start to sing of hymns, he indulges you, bringing out his guitar and releasing such a melodic noise.

Praise him, you shall. He himself is perfect, perfect for you in all his entirety. The butterflies in your garden go awry and flutter towards him, settling on the palms of his hands, mistaking him for lilies.

Alas, he is omniscient, all-knowing of your secrets. The facade you have put up is a mere dandelion for him to shower with compliments to unravel. His omnipotence, you often forget, has already sent others to burn in hell upon reaching purgatory. Hear ye, hear ye, the omnipresence he exalts ensures you are watched every passing moment of your life. He awaits you on the day of judgement.

For the sixth month, he haunts you. His breathy whispers always make themselves heard in your ears, yet you turn around and he isn't there, at least not physically. The endless pitch-black void of his eyes present themselves in your best nightmares and are highlighted with the crux. You wonder if the asterism would disappear if you crucify him.

Curse him, my child, and feel his hands slice you open, reaching into your guts to twist your large intestine around your stomach. If he reaches through your ribcage to gnaw at your heart, consider it blasphemous to deny him.

You let him. After washing your feet, he has left you on the floor to rot. Your body garners flies and is taken apart by crows.

In Purgatory, you two meet again. One look from him and your heart beats loudly in your chest despite being lost in his guts.

God, god, he is your deity to love and to lose. He holds your life by a thread and threatens to burn it.

He asks of you to choose between him or Him. There is no angel nor devil on your shoulder, just the voice of the man before you, sacrosanct and immaculate.

One option leads to heaven, the other to hell. Shall you praise him or curse him? Before him, will you kneel or watch him get crucified?

You are thrown out of heaven the moment you made a decision. Corrupted, corrupted you are, child. The voice of Lucifer has rung in your ears and taken your heart. Because of that, you shalt no longer love.

The man falls with you, his white wings turn apple-red and you say he's beautiful.

Fallen angels, falling, falling; the two of you fall. The Garden of Eden has excommunicated you for tasting the fruit.

He whispers to you. You whisper back.

[apollo-cackling]

[ID: screenshot of Fallen London of 127 First City Coins. their description reads:

One side bears what might be a cedar tree. You've never met anyone who can read the script on the other side.

/end ID]

I love nepotism

[swanmaids]

for @polutrope. happy new year!

SCENE. Darkness has fallen and FINWË  is dead. FËANÁRO and his SONS prepare to leave the shores of Aman forever. They have come to NERDANEL’s house for one final confrontation. 

SCENE. The entrance way of NERDANEL’s home. NERDANEL stands at the threshold, before FËANÁRO and their surrounding SONS. 

NERDANEL: I beg you. 

FËANÁRO:   You are no begging woman. 

NERDANEL: Please, Fëanáro. Grant me at least the twins.

                      If only for the love you once bore me. 

FËANÁRO:   For love?

NERDANEL: Leave me at least with the youngest.

                      With Ambarassa. At least Umbarto – 

UMBARTO:  Enough! Mother, enough! 

FËANÁRO:  You see, he speaks. 

                      He will not thank you. 

NERDANEL: What are thanks? I care

                      Not at all for such. I am his mother. 

UMBARTO:  You would be my jailer! 

NERDANEL: And your father

                      Would be your doom. Yet I would see you live. 

UMBARTO:   What a life! I would sicken in your cage. 

                       You want me safe? You want me yours. 

NERDANEL: Not so!

                       You know not what awaits you outside of

                       These lands. 

FËANÁRO:  Your famous visions. Tell me, who

                      But yourself has seen such a fate? You name

                      Him fated, but I call him exalted. 

                      You want no glory for him, only to 

                      Cleave him to your breast. In this you are no

                      Different to Aulë whom you bow to. 

NERDANEL: If you take my son you will break my heart.

FËANÁRO:   You break your own. Now no faithful wife can

                       You call yourself. 

NERDANEL: Go then! But know one thing – 

                      None but your faithless wife sought to pull your

                      Youngest child from the flames. 

FËANÁRO:   We’ve heard enough. 

UMBARTO:   Come, father. It is past time we took our

                       Leave. 

FËANÁRO and SONS begin to walk away from the house. Exit FËANÁRO and SONS. Exit NERDANEL, retreating back inside the house and closing the door behind her. 

[thegnomelord]

POV: Demon Simon Ghost Riley who becomes your 'husband' through some shoddy occult shenanigans.

Simon is a fallen angel turned wrath demon. Once God's exalted blade, he is now one of the fiercest barons in Hell and second to none in the gladiatorial pits. Some ancient tales amongst the angels say his wings and hands had been dyed red with sinner blood long before he fell.

Go on, take the poor sinner's hand (it's not like you have a choice — death will not part you after all~)

No one touches the hunter (You) but Him

[oflosechesters]

–––  Our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exalting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;                         But O heart! My heart!                            O the bleeding drops of red,                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,                                  Fallen cold and dead.

[synced-love]

Signs and Placements That are Actually Dangerous

I'm not gonna include the random signs people say are dangerous because they'll fight or something like that. I'm talking about the thinkers, the masterminds, and people who don't need to be on the front lines to win a battle. They can sit back, relax, and ruin your life.

Libra sun - Being someone who can just switch between personalities depending on where they are or who they are talking to. the sun hates being in Libra because the sun is all about me me me and Libra is about we we we. Libras pay attention to things and can make people like them. Really good at lying but usually they don't lie to harm. They usually don't get angry but if they are, they can beat Aries. Libras also really hold grudges. They may forgive but don't forget.

Scorpio Mercury - I know I said Scorpios aren't as mysterious and dangerous as people let them believe but when a sign like Scorpio is a truth seeker and lives in darkness is in mercury which has to do with thinking and communicating, it can be very interesting. They move in silence and they are very smart and analytical. Just like Libra, they hold grudges.

Virgo Mercury - Mercury absolutely loves Virgo. I mean what other sign is at home and exalted. acknowledging that they can be highly analytical and picky. they notice the smallest details and remember minute things that people would just brush off. Also like libras and Scorpios, they hold grudges and don't forget about wrongdoings easily

Mutable placements (Gemini, Virgo, Sag, Pisces) - Someone who is so adaptable and can be here and there all at once can be dangerous. And is it a coincidence that most serial killers have mutable placements? Like the 3 most famous serial killers are a Sag, Pisces, and a Gemini. I don't really want to write their names because I don't need that much of that energy here but if you want to look it up, you can.

Cancer Mars 8th house - It's already fallen but put in the 8th house? that just intensifies it. It's better for them to feel no way for you than hate you. Because if they hate you and they see you a little too much. They might want to do something not so nice. Cancers are the hardest to make mad and not because they just don't feel it, it's because it's being buried down. But naturally, it will all come back. A small question like, why didn't you take out the trash could tick them off and now they are unloading all of the things they couldn't say to the people they should have. Angry cancer mar is unstable and unsafe.

Cancer Moon - similar to Cancer Mars but it's at home I the moon. Cancer Moons could be a little emotionally manipulative because they understand emotions so well. It could be a good thing they understand them so well or a bad thing.

[procyonloser]

"Father, I-" Adam started, but the look he was sent had his lips sealing shut. This wasn't the time for doubt, this wasn't the time for second guessing. Right now, he was to be exalting the glory of the kingdom to come, he was supposed to be bathing in the holy spirit.

But, Adam was afraid.

He'd been a dutiful son, he'd followed every commandment. He'd protested against sin and sinners, and spread the message of heaven, the true Heaven. The one not gone to by faith and good deeds alone, but sacrifice.

He was Adam - the Adam, the 930rd Adam to be sent back to heaven, to meet his heavenly Eve in the spirit realm, to bring about the second patriarch, Seth.

Adam never doubted his father's gospel, or the faith of his family. They knew the truth, all other supposed believers, be they Christian, Jewish, Muslim, none of them understood like his family understood. His sacrifice would not be a death, no - it was the beginning of a new age, and a new world. Only by moving into the next period, would God save humanity.

But, Adam was afraid.

He was dressed in white, but his clothes were to be stripped from him, to return his body to the state of unknowning. It was all he wanted, growing up. To be given his deserved kingdom, his wife, his children. They were owed to him, this was the pact of Adam's. He was better than the rest of humanity, because they weren't him, they couldn't do what he would do.

"Remember, my son, this is not death. You're going on to live a new life. You'll be overjoyed to open your eyes and see a virgin world, and a virgin wife." His father whispered, noticing the hesitation in his features. "Lay down, son. My lamb, and be reborn a lion."

Fires were lit around the forest, and distant members of his family and faith had gathered to watch his rebirth. They wore similar robes, and stayed silent, tears streaming down their face as was customary - overwhelmed in grief that they wouldn't be given a world like he would be gifted.

An altar had been built and hand carved hundreds of years ago, out of white marble, that was long since stained. Adam swallowed hard looking upon it, always wondering how it would feel upon his back as he took his last slumber in this world.

Hands began to pull at his robes, torn off him as he walked, by members of his faith, until he was bare. His father gestured for him to lay down upon the stone, and Adam knew now that it was only cold.

"With this, my son, our Adam, we are sacrificing ourselves for his betterment - for the world, and the kingdom of God. While we will be lost here, stuck in this realm, Adam will know glory and beauty we never will. Our souls will rot in the earth until the phases of creation are finished, and all the patriarchs have returned to Heaven, and only then will we join him." Adam's father spoke, voice strong, but laden with pain. With that, he pulled forth the reaping blade from the centuries old wrappings, brought from their village in the old world, stained with the blood of hundreds of Adam's before him. "Dust to dust."

But Adam didn't want to die. All the comments he'd heard from non-believers over his life time began to go through his mind, every jeer, every comment about him being in a cult. He didn't believe them, didn't want to believe them - they were just scared of the truth.

Adam was scared.

He wanted anyone, anything, to stop this. He would call upon the devil himself to keep that blade from slicing open his throat.

Adam closed his eyes, fingers digging into the marble below, as the knife above him was raised, and then sharply lowered.

There was no deep pain, no cutting sensation, he didn't feel warm or suddenly cold. Adam felt nothing, except the strange sensation that a shadow had fallen over him. Then, came the gasps, the exclamations.

Adam heard fear.

He opened his eyes to find a strange small man sitting beside him on the altar, dressed in white and red, with a large hat. He'd caught the reaping blade in one gloved hand, bending it to the side. His face and features were oddly flat, with little nose to speak of, but he boasted and wide and sharp smile.

Adam's father jerked back in terror, eyes going wide. "Demon," he breathed out, before seemingly finding his bravery. "I won't let you stop what is to come, I won't let you take Adam! He will take his place in-"

The figure sighed, flicking his wrist, and Adam's father was flung into the group of others. "Demon? No, no, no. I'm an angel." The figure said, lips tilting upwards, but it sounded like there was humor in his voice. Red eyes on a sea of gold glanced down at Adam, finally meeting his gaze. "You though, you are Adam. I've been looking for your soul, after the whole stabby thing at the hotel. I had no idea they'd stick you back into some boring human again. I couldn't find you until you reached out to me."

Adam blinked, breaths coming in shallow swallows, confused and unknowing what to say.

He was Adam? Truly?

"My...my father was right? My faith? We were right, all along?" Adam breathed out, and the group grew silent, waiting for the reply.

The so called angel blinked, then laughed, reaching down to pinch Adam's cheek. "I forgot how cute you could be when you don't know anything! Oh, Adam, no. These people are all insane! Apart from you being Adam, of course, but even a broken clock, etc etc - you get the picture. No, this is totally ridiculous! You believe, what, each age of the Bible is saying how many versions of each individual there will be? That there's different worlds and all that nonsense?" The angel pulled his feet up, sitting cross-legged next to Adam on the altar. "No, see, God is actually an all seeing but silent entity that created angels, who created humanity - you and Lilith, our ex wife, then you got Eve yanked out of you like a kidney stone! Then I gave you all the apple, and-"

"Satan!" Adam's father screamed from the group that was supporting him to get back to his feet. His face was curled into fury, red and plummy, a vein protruding on his forehead. He spat as he spoke, saliva clinging to his peppered beard. "You're Satan! Stay away from my boy!"

"Bzzzzt, wrong!" The angel said, and Adam began to remember the stories he'd heard. There was only one angel that could be connected to the fall of man.

"... Lucifer?" Adam asked, and the name felt more familiar on his tongue than the would have thought.

Lucifer grinned, eyes swapping colors, and gold pierced into his soul.

"Bingo. And you're coming home with me, young man. You're not meant to be here, after everything you did... Well, you don't belong on earth or heaven." A cold sweat broke out across Adam's body. What did he do? Why was he being blamed for it?

"You're welcome, by the way, if he'd have stabbed you, you would have just ended up reincarnated into another person, instead of going to your true afterlife like you were meant to." Lucifer said easily, before noticing Adam was panicking. "Oh, I see. I know you don't remember, this must be scary for you. Don't worry, it's time for round two!" Lucifer exclaimed happily, before leaning down, tilting Adam's chin up, and meeting his lips in a deep kiss; one that tasted sweet.

But sweetness only lasted so long, before a flood of memories broke through his mind, thousands of years worth.

When Adam opened his eyes, they are gold too.

And he was angry.

He shoved a laughing Lucifer away from him, spitting onto the ground, sitting up naked in the woods on an altar meant for his death. Him.

He was fucking Adam, and they wanted to sacrifice him? How fucking dare they?

"Son!" His father cried out, reaching for him, but Adam grabbed for the reaping blade.

"Are you going to stop me?" Adam asked Lucifer, eying the cultists ringing him in the woods. Lucifer just made himself comfortable on the altar, crossing his legs.

"You're going to Hell either way. Might as well break some eggs."

No, Adam thought to himself.

They were sinners.