#he hates mortals but stole a mortal body???

[risingsouls]

Watching your Vegeta yell at Goku Black, effectively calling him a Hypocrite for stealing a Saiyan's body despite not wanting to be affiliated as one was so entertaining to watch. That is 100% how I would of expected it to go down if they didn't fight.

" Tch...this is the least of what the imposter deserves. "

[exhaslo]

Okay hear me out… but like enemies-to-lovers Miguel that leads to hate/angry sex??!? 😳🫣 like with Brat!Reader omggg? They could prolly be competing in something and also fight for dominance in bed ><

Lol, I can totally see this! Especially if it's a Black Cat Reader variant.

Warning: Smut, Minors DNI, angry sex, cussing

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Once again, you were being a menace to society. As the official 2099 Black Cat, you took it upon yourself to do as much stealing as you can. You had a goal in mind and a person to annoy. A particular Spider to drive crazy.

You had been at it for months. At first it was harmless flirting, but when the big, fancy Spiderman refused to cave, you became a brat. You just existed to annoy him every given chance you got. He refused to see you as a woman, so you refused to see him as a man.

It got to the point where the two of you saw each other as mortal enemies. Always getting in each other's way and annoying the shit out of one another. Despite all of that, you still loved to bother the living shit out of Spiderman. You wanted to see him crack under pressure because of you.

"Awe, looks like the Spider came to play." You teased.

Your eyes glanced at his large back, furrowing your brows as he ignored you. You grunted lowly and approached him, whipping your hair in his face.

"What a beautiful night to commit a crime~"

"Can you just...not?" Oh, he sounded pissed off.

"What's wrong, Spidey? Cat's got your tongue?" You chuckled lowly.

"I'm not in the mood. Just behave and go home."

"Gee, who would do such a thing?"

"Why can't you just listen for once?" Spiderman said with a low groan. You raised a brow, inching closer to him, "Stop testing me."

"Fiiiine. I'll leave you alone, but I will go steal some jewels."

You said with a wide grin before dashing off. You swore you heard Spiderman cuss. Now that brought a smile to your face. You were making him crack. Although, you were slightly curious as to why he was so angry. You weren't the cause of it, but hopefully you could make it worse.

Landing right on your next target location, you let out a cheer. This was going to be a big score for you. All of these precious jewels were going to sell so nicely for you to get the things you actually wanted. Just the thought of the money in your hands sent shivers down your spine!

Clawing your way inside, you hummed happily as you easily stole your new jewels. Not a single alarm went off as usual. Stepping out of the building, you gasped as you felt yourself being pulled violently.

"Wha-"

"I thought I told you to go home." Spiderman hissed lowly. You could hear the venom in his tone,

"I just was! You didn't catch me in time so these are mine to keep!" You spat back.

Spiderman just gave you a glare as he snatched the jewels out of your hands and threw them inside the building. You gasped as the alarm went off. Hissing, you went to scratch Spiderman, but he caught your wrists.

"Stop being such a brat."

"Make me."

You never thought things would turn out this way. Right as you snapped towards Spiderman, he up and kissed you. You gripped his hands, kissing him back, still trying to free yourself. You felt your body being pressed against a wall as Spiderman held you in place.

"That made you shut up." He hissed lowly. You caught your breathe,

"Who wouldn't it?" You huffed and squirmed slightly, "Are you going to let me go?"

"Are you going to go home?"

"I will if you take me there."

There was that frustrating flirting again. Honestly, you thought you'd never do it again. Spiderman took you up on that offer and the two of you bickered and argued the whole way there. Once you were home, you went to cuss out Spiderman once more for throwing your jewels away, but he stopped you mid sentence with another forceful kiss.

You grumbled and dragged him inside your apartment, wanting to teach him a lesson. His hands were all over your and you were all over him. Clothes were thrown on the floor and your bodies were pressed up against each other. His mask was still on and so was yours, but your lips kept meeting each other.

"Going...to give...you a reason...to stop...being so...annoying." Spiderman said in between kisses.

"As if."

With a grunt, you watched as Spiderman took your panties off. His hand started to rub your clit and poke your cunt. You shivered, but refused to give in. Your hands trailed down his chest, reaching for his cock as he started to finger you.

"Still not...mhm...going to tell me your name, Spidey?"

"Maybe if you behave."

You flung your head back as he started to pump his fingers into you at a fast pace. You moaned loudly, surprised by how good he was. His fingers were so thick too, you could only imagine the size of his dick. Just the thought made you squeeze against his fingers.

"Now that's what I want to hear." Spiderman huffed.

You arched your back, moaning as you cam against his hand. Panting softly, you grumbled towards his satisfied look. Not wanting to be defeated, you pulled him onto the bed and crawled onto his lap. A smirk against your lips as you stroked his dick,

"Two can play at this game."

"Kitty wants to play?" Spiderman grumbled lowly as he tried to take control.

You huffed, trying to argue with him. He easily flipped you over, pressing your face against your bed sheets. He thrusted his dick inside you, causing you to moan loudly and squirm under him. He held your hips tightly, slapping himself into you.

"I told you to behave. Why do you always have to be so fucking annoying, huh? I'm always having to clean up your messes!"

"N-No one asked you...mhm~ too!" You whined, feeling his dick hit that sweet spot.

"I wonder if you'll fucking behave now?" He grunted lowly as your pussy squeezed his dick more, "Call me Miguel. I want to hear you cry my name out when you cum."

"M-Mig-" You gripped the bed sheets, not wanting to play his game.

You gasped as he slapped your ass and raised your hips slightly higher. His dick now pounding that sweet spot each time. Your body trembled as you came hard. His name rolling off your lips as he kept thrusting into you.

"For once you listen. Good girl," Miguel spat.

You whined as he pulled out and cummed against your folds. You weren't happy with this. Trying to use whatever strength you had left, you pushed Miguel onto the bed and sat on his dick. Another moan escaped your lips as you bounced against him, smirking slightly,

"A-As if...I'll let you...mhm~ w-win...t-this." You whimpered, feeling so full. Miguel held your hips as he helped you,

"What's wrong, (Y/N)? Can't handle my dick? I thought cats were flexible?"

You shivered as he said your name. The bastard knew this whole time?! You tried to complain, but your words were coming out as gibberish. Your mind was fogging up. All you could think about was him fucking you. He was so rough. His thrusts were so fast. If this was what angry sex felt like, you sure as shit wanted more of it.

"Is this all it takes to shut you up? I'll have to do this more often," Miguel groaned as you slowed down.

"S'much~ M-Mig..." You whimpered.

Miguel hummed as you cam against his dick once more. Right when he was going to chase his high, he huffed as you wrapped your legs around him. Your stubborn ass. Unable to stop, Miguel moaned lowly as he unloaded inside of you.

"There, happy?"

"Of course not!"

--------

"Yes! Yes!" You cried out as Miguel held your hips, fucking you against an alleyway.

You had gotten caught trying to steal yet again. Dear ol' Spiderman had to come around and teach you a lesson, again. You swore you weren't losing your touch. It was just...You liked these harsh lessons he always gave you.

Miguel always had to bully your cunt, making sure your pussy remembered the shape of his dick. He always made sure his marks were all over you. Miguel was possessive and so were you. The scratch marks on his back were proof of that.

"My kitty's getting sloppy. You didn't even argue this time when I caught you." Miguel whispered in your ear. You tighten around him,

"C-Can't argue when you don't listen."

"Oh, I don't listen?" Miguel fasten his pace, giving your rough and deep thrusts, "I thought I told you to wear those panties I like so much? Where are they?"

"In the wash! Ah~ You ruined the last ones, c-covering them in...in so much...mhm~"

"Tsk, tsk. Arguing again. I suppose I need to ruin this pair too." Miguel said with a soft sigh.

Your vison blurred as you cam against his dick. You tried to hold onto the wall, but you felt your limbs grow weak. Miguel was still pounding your abused cunt, filling it over and over again. You had forgotten when this small hatred turned into ongoing lust.

The only thing you did know was that both you and Miguel kept wanting each other. No matter how much you annoyed the shit out of him, Miguel was always there to shut you up. Sometimes you got lucky and were the one to shut him up.

Either way, you were going to steal again tomorrow. You had a lesson to learn after all.

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Hope you enjoyed!!

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Put Back Together | Cassian x Reader

Summary: After the recent attack on Velaris, you, a nurse, find yourself struggling with all the death surrounding you. However, Cassian is always there to put you back together.

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: A lot a bit of angst in the beginning, mentions of injuries and death.

A/N: Was really in my feels today and wanted to write, hope you enjoy this word vomit <3

Requests are open!

You were absolutely exhausted.

You knew that working at the local hospital in Velaris wouldn’t exactly be easy, especially not after the recent attack on the city, but it was starting to wear on you. In the many years you’d worked for the hospital, not much happened, as Velaris was a haven to its people and any sort of violence within the cozy streets and community was unheard of. Maybe you’d gotten too comfortable using your healing abilities only for little injuries and mishaps for the citizens, or maybe you hadn’t been exposed to enough of the horrors and gore that working in the medical department could provide.

The days didn’t go by quickly anymore. Any form of banter or playfulness with coworkers was gone, leaving a buzzing, sterile silence in its place.

The hospital was full, as were the local morgues and graveyards.

Your shifts were spent healing those that were salvageable until you were bone tired, or comforting those who couldn’t be saved. The supply of pain medicine was slowly running out, and couldn’t be spared on dying patients to ease them into the afterlife, and so after all your magic was spent, all you could do was go hold and comfort them, giving false reassurances and hopes until they slipped into cold unconsciousness, never to wake again.

Today was no different, but it had been worse. Not because there had been any increase, but because you could still remember the crying child you’d held in your arms. He had been doomed from the start, limbs shredded and rendered useless, lungs nearly collapsed, and shrapnel piercing his body in what seemed like nearly every spot.

“I don’t want to die, please don’t let me.”

Was what he had begged you, tears shining in his eyes. Death was worse for immortals, you supposed because it wasn’t a natural process like it was for mortals. Death was an abhorrent thief that stole what it shouldn’t be able to; the prospect of living for eternity.

You had reassured the boy, tried to comfort him, let him pray to the weak gods that wouldn’t save him, and hadn’t saved so many others before him. But he’d continued crying until his cold, stiffening body couldn’t cry anymore. The squeaking wheels of the mortuary trolley had replaced the sounds of his labored breathing, as his small body was taken away to the morgue.

You were so tired.

Tired of seeing death and hatred and injuries, tired of the blood that you could never seem to scrub off of your skin after the long shifts. And there was only one refuge you knew for you, one place where you could get a sense of relief.

“Missed you so much, you know? Can’t go a day without my darlin’ sweet girl.”

Cassian’s voice immediately met you as you opened the door to the House of Wind, walking in. His large, strong arms wrapped around you, like the strong, unwavering foundation they were for you.

You buried your head in his neck, hating yourself for the tears that welled up, the tears you tried to blink away. You couldn’t get the image of that child out of your mind. He must’ve noticed your feelings through the bond felt your tears through his shirt, or just noticed how you trembled slightly.

He separated just a few inches, his arms now on your shoulders, one hand sneaking up to cup your cheek. His expression softened instantly at seeing your tears, foolish, territorial anger shooting through him, the urge to rip whoever had made you so upset to shreds flooding his being. However, anger wouldn’t help put you back together. He knew that.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

He asked, before gently guiding you to sit on the couch next to him. You were fully crying at that point, hot, heavy tears slipping down your face, little sniffles coming from you. He listened patiently, his hand raking your hair out of your face as you blubbered an explanation, about the boy, the death, the way you hated all of it. When you finally managed to get the last of it out, his face was sympathetic, but firm.

“We’re gonna go take a nice, hot bath, ‘kay? Gonna get you all clean, then we can relax together, just you and me, no stress or patients, no nothing.”

He said, and before you could even open your mouth to protest, he scooped your lithe body up, carrying you to the large bathroom connected to your shared bedroom. Living in a sentient house had its uses, you realized, as it started a warm bath, just the temperature you liked, with your favorite oils and scents already mixed in. A warm, relaxing candlelight filled the bathroom, the House deciding that you needed a break from the harsh, buzzing lights of the hospital. Cassian gently pulled your clothes off with practiced ease, throwing the scrubs and undergarments to the floor. He then stripped himself of his own leathers and remaining clothes, before gently easing into the warm bath with you, a content sigh slipping from his lips as the water lapped at his muscled, tan skin, relaxing him.

After spending a few minutes lying on top of him on the water, head against his chest, eyes closed contentedly, you began reaching for the shampoo, eager to clean your dirty hair out.

Cassian’s hand grasped your wrist gently as he tutted.

“Ah, ah. No more work for my mate, I think I’ll be cleaning you up.”

He said, his tone warm and raspy, the lazy grin he usually had plastered on that big, idiotic, lovable face of his. You were too weary to bother arguing with him, knowing he was much too stubborn to relent.

He grabbed your favorite shampoo, the one that smelled heavenly and cleaned your hair even better, and squirted some of it on his hand before massaging it into your scalp. His big, scarred hands were surprisingly good at cleaning every inch of your roots, and you always were amazed at how clean your hair felt the next day.

He knew your entire haircare routine down to the littlest of details, and after carrying out the entire process to a tee, he washed both your and his body with your favorite body wash, the scent of it one that always managed to soothe you, no matter the day.

And before you knew it, you were lying on your stomach in your shared bed, Cassian massaging your tense back, his warm hands smearing cool lotion before rubbing all the knots and tension out. Your eyelids drooped as your head seemed to melt into the soft pillow below you, all your worries and struggles forgotten as you drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

You could handle one more day, you decided. For your mate, for your family, and for the lives you could save along the way.

[lostrgirl]

In God’s Hands

Aphrodite (God of love)!Huening Kai x Mortal Being!Fem Reader

Side character: Apollo! Soobin, Ares! Taehyun

Summary: As the god of love and beauty, Huening Kai the most beautiful creature that ever exist. He never met someone who are prettier then him. But one day he met a girl that is so beautiful and Kai think she's a threat for him.

He hates her, but later his hatred towards her become obsession.

Trigger Warning: Kai kind of misogynist, M@sturbate.

Other TW will be put on.

This is the story of a girl, named (your name),

And it starts with the forbidden fruit.

Chapter 1

As the god of love and beauty, Huening Kai is the most beautiful creature that ever exist. He never met someone who are prettier then him. And because of that he became arrogant and tend to underestimate other creature even other gods.

Also because of that too, he never fell in love to anyone nor has sexual desire. Because their ugly face (Kai’s opinion) make him lose his desire to have a sex. For the god of love and beauty, sexual activity is a mortal being’s thing to fill their emptiness because they can’t do the things that gods can.

Unlike the other gods who spent their time having fun in mortal realms, peeking through the woods watching the maidens take a bath or changing themselves into animals and rape them. For Kai that’s a disgusting thing to do, and it’s very disgraceful behavior.

If there's one thing that Kai likes and it's definitely better than sex or woman is Peach. He love that fruit, he even make a peach garden at mount olympus. And the peaches from his garden is the most sweet and juicy in the whole world, heaven, and hell. Other gods agreed that the peaches from his garden is the best.

One day his brother, Taehyun decided to play a trick on him. He told Kai that there's peach garden that produce peaches sweeter and bigger than his garden. Because of that Kai got curious and want to proof Taehyun's word, he doesn't like the fact that a peach that are plant by human are more tastier than his peach, than him, a God.

Little did Kai know, he got tricked by his brother. Of course Taehyun lie to him because Kai's peach is the sweetest thing he ever taste and there's no chance a land of human can grow a tree that produce a fruit sweet like a sugar. It's not peaches that Taehyun wants his brother to see but a girl.

Taehyun know how proud is Kai about his beauty and like to underestimate other. Says that no one ever compared to his beauty and no one can make him fall. Kai is so arrogant he even didn't wants to take a look at the mortal realm because he knows human can't beat god's beauty. But Taehyun know one girl who lived in the forest, her house located near to the river. She has a face that he so sure can defeated Kai's ego. Her name is-

"Y/N! Where are you? Can you help me with the dishes please"

"Yes mother! I will come, wait a minute" she replied.

You has no doubt that you heard a sound of a falling peach to the ground and want to check around because those naughty kids already stole peaches from your family garden three times this week! But before you can find those rackals your mother already called you. You took a deep breath before finally turn your body and leave the garden.

You didn't has any clue that someone was peeking behind the trees watching you in silent. Huening Kai watched you walked into the garden with your long silky hair, skin like porcelain, and face like heaven. He's too stunned with your beauty that he drop his peach (he took it from your garden earlier to check if this peach taste better than his) he just took one bite untill you came.

When he dropped the peach, you immediately look at surrounding, try to find the peach thieves. Indeed there's a peach thieves, but he's not a rascal kid nor a human, but God itself. After you get into the house, Kai fly away leaving that place fastest as he can. His heart go pit-a-pat, he never feel his heart beating this fast. He can't believe it that a mortal being can make him feel like this and he's to embarassed to admit that You, are beautiful.

Taehyun asked Kai his opinion about those peach but Kai refused to answer and got mad. Those peach taste terrible blend, didn't have chance at all to compete his peach. Seeing Kai's reaction Taehyun hid his smile because he knows that his brother must be already met you.

As time pass by, Huening Kai drawn in madness. He can't help to go to your garden and see you from afar silently watching you picking the fruits. You didn't know that you are not alone and carelessly wearing thin fabric showing the curves and silhouette of your body. The cold breeze sweeping through your clothes and hair, making your nipple became hard and stiff stand out behind the fabric.

Kai feel something weird about himself when watched the scenery, he feel hot, and for the first time he saw his dick raised up and became so hard. Without any doubt he slowly caress his manhood up and down, he didn't know about this at all, his hand moved by its own and he start to fasting his movement and let out a little moan while his eyes watching you and his dick looking in turns.

He finally come and leave his cum trace on the tree.

After that he fell sit to the ground with mixed emotion. He felt relief, angry, disappointed, and embarassed. Then he fly go back to his place and make a promise to himself that he will never come to your garden again, he didn't want to see you again. To Strengthen his will, Kai start to denial and plant hatred towards you.

He think there's no way a human can have that beauty, is his father (Zeus) have other Illegitimate child that Kai didn't know and it could be you. A face combination from god?

Did that thing work? Did Kai really does stop coming to your garden? Absolutely not.

He can't help but continue to come to you and see you in silent, watched you doing your daily activity while he's masturbating behind the tree behind the bushes. He do it aggresively because he can't help to deny his feelings meanwhile his body say other words. But looking at you from afar is not enough, he want to see you closer, he wants to know you better so he can hate you even more.

So one day he decided to met you, he change himself to human, hides his wing.

He is so sly, he acted dumb playing with you. Suddenly approach you asking for direction so he can be closer with you. He saw your face clearly for the first time and he can’t hides his happiness by giving a wide smile and blushing.

You are in the middle of picking peaches when a yound handsome man came to you. You never see him before, and you are mesmerized by his beauty. You thought he always has that rosy cheeks while it only shows at you. Then he said his name is “Hyuka” what a lovely name.

.

.

.

Chapter 2 (Upcoming)

[monstersinthecosmos]

Vamptember Day 12 - Beautiful Boy

{tool - parabol}

Being caged in Marius’s arms makes Daniel think of the portico at the Villa of Mysteries. Arms like the steadfast ancient columns, his bones like stone. 

Feels nice, though.

Daniel shifts in Marius’s lap, his legs stretched out, ankles crossed on the arm of the couch. Marius cradles in him there, teeth hard in Daniel’s neck, thumb stroking the opposite artery as he takes swallow after swallow.

It’s so very like him, really, sort of gentlemanly, and yet fear needles through all the same. Perfunctory, until he rips the almost-healed wounds open again. Clinical, until Daniel hears the small grunt, or he gently tugs at Daniel’s earlobe, or he squeezes the inside of Daniel’s thigh. He thinks Marius must be full of shit, every time he lectures about how vampires lack carnality.

But he thinks of the Villa of Mysteries, for some reason. Caged in. If Marius decided not to let him go, Daniel wouldn’t be strong enough to fight him.

Doesn’t want to go anywhere, though. He sighs happily into the pain, shivering as Marius’s nails drag across the back of his neck. He’s as carnal as everyone else, at the end of the day, once there’s blood in his mouth. And Daniel knows he’s gotten ruthless when he hunts, even though he tries to hide it.

His eyes close and he thinks about that night. Marius must be able to see it, and Daniel doesn’t mind. He hopes, as he sinks into the memory, that the pictures might become even richer.

Armand, walking quietly, in and out of the moonlight as they pass through the portico, through the stripes of the shadows. Warm and lifelike in his stolen denim jacket, that still smelled like the human he stole it from. Cigarettes and sweat and cologne, like a normal mortal boy.

The house had been so hollow at night, and Daniel hadn’t been able to see the frescos very well in the dark. Armand had stared and stared, though, trying to read meaning in them, so very quiet. 

“I think he wondered about you,” Daniel mumbles, without meaning to. He closes his eyes and reaches to touch the back of Marius’s head, as if to hold him there. He doesn’t have the power to, of course, but Marius is pliant. Allows Daniel to stroke his hair. He remembers being on his knees, for the sacrament, like giving head. Remembers all the times he held the back of Armand’s head, just like this, while spilling into his mouth.

Marius bites hard, and tears at his skin, opening a larger gash. Large enough for the tip of his tongue, and the sensation of it, being touched on the inside where he shouldn’t, zings down to his elbows. 

Armand’s face had been so ruddy and human, his cheeks a little pink. Full cheeks, like he never quite grew out of his baby fat. It was easy not to see it sometimes, when he could be so cold and alien. And maybe that night in Pompeii was the first time Daniel really noticed. Something vulnerable about him, when he could go soft with curiosity. Looked like a child.

He’s seen Armand in Marius’s visions. Messy little thing. Always glowing warm in the firelight—Marius doesn’t have any memories of Armand in the sun, either. 

“That was the night he told me he loved me,” Daniel sighs. Dreamy sigh, because he doesn’t hate the memory. Because Marius’s tongue is in him, and the dizziness of blood loss is getting cozy. He sinks into the pain, the heat, his toes curling as he hears Marius swallow again. “He must have been thinking about you.”

Marius shudders. He grunts, and shifts Daniel in his lap. The ancient blood tingles in Daniel’s throat as Marius bites his tongue and heals the wound, and lingers there while it closes up. Licks over the healed skin in reverence.

“I didn’t know at the time,” Daniel mumbles. Sleepy now, as the pleasure rushes through. Coming down from the high, and the sun is coming. He cuddles against Marius’s body, rubs his face into Marius’s hair. “Didn’t know about you. It was just the next place I went. But he must have been thinking about you. Chased us both there.”

Daniel remembers Armand’s face, his eyes, as he stepped into the moonlight, as he searched the walls for clues. When he leans in to kiss Marius on the mouth, he tastes his own blood. 

He was looking for you. 

[pranabefall]

ノㅤA FOREIGNER'S GOD // zhongli x reader.

❝ she moved with shameless wonder / the perfect creature rarely seen / since some liar brought the thunder / when the land was godless and free / her eyes look sharp and steady / into the empty parts of me. ❞ — HOZIER.

synopsis. the gods lay within the earth, long forgotten and you seek one out in the aftermath of your consequences ( a funny story, really ). a dragon cloistered in the plains, his mind now a losing battalion, a war ; and between the annals of your contract with him, you take it onto yourself to uncover his true name. there was a curse placed upon him, shackling his claws, his mind, his body. a curse you must break. ( and fast. for he fragments. he is forgetting. he is forgotten ).

status. in progress // word count. 2k / 40k.

themes. canon divergence, alternate universe, beauty and the beast, spirited away, fairy tale-esque, immortal x mortal, angst, arranged marriage, eventual smut ( is also including : dragonfucking. yes. dragonfucking. ), hauntings, grave desecrations, curses, forgotten gods, unnecessary botany facts, cloud retainer indulging in assisted anarchy, zhongli is a victim to the assisted anarchy, past ! guili if you squint, violence and death, you'll probably hate me at the end of this fic i'm sorry beforehand, don't let the humor and sass fool you.

notes. minors do not interact. inspired by as gold as the gingko trees by localplaguenurse and the phoenix to his dragon by euniveve. a lot of thanks to eun and moth for listening to my mad ramblings!!! i'll try finishing a couple of chapters before posting!

links. ao3 mirror / playlist

CHAPTER LIST.

0. his garment is covered in dust. ( wc. 2.14k ノ pub. 27102024 )

01. from the poppy bole, for you i stole. ( wc. 500 ノ wip. )

[letmeliveinelfhame]

Jealous Intentions part 1

A Jude & Dain AU where Dain, who had never been murdered and is also unable to be crowned High King, is jealous of Jude and Cardan's chemistry because he lusts for Jude.

Fic requested by @imagaintionlover1234, I wrote this whilst severely sleep deprived and looking after my poorly bun. I hope I managed to write up your request to your liking!! Also, this is only my second ever fic, so if anyone has constructive criticism I would highly appreciate it!

Word count: 778

Rating: Mature, due to a couple of suggestive sentences

Will be crossposted to my AO3, LetMeLiveInElfhame

Fic below!!

Dain Greenbriar had once admired the mortal girl's will to find her place amongst the fae. Unlike her peculiar twin, her mirror, her double, she did not want to marry to be accepted. No, she wanted to fight. Dain had given her an opportunity as a spy in his Court of Shadows, an opportunity to put her ability to lie to use. She was good at it, until she threw it in his face.

Jude. Jude Duarte, no, Greenbriar. Jude Greenbriar. She had gotten herself further in life than she had planned. Not only had she married his youngest brother Cardan, the prince who was weak, cruel, foolish and drunken, but she had also become High Queen. Dain still felt the humiliation of the Blood Crown rejecting him as High King, still felt the confusion of how it could be the weakest of Eldred's six children whom the land accepted as ruler. Cardan, who was prophecised to be the destruction of the crown and the ruination of the throne. Cardan, who stole Jude from him. How could he have possibly been the most suitable ruler? How could the Blood Crown have rejected Dain and his 4 other capable siblings, leaving a temporary burn where it had been placed on each brow, and yet choose the least capable child of Eldred? It should have been Dain.

He secretly watched as Cardan gently pressed Jude against a wall and kissed her. She deepened the kiss, until Cardan pulled away slightly to press kisses on her neck just below her rounded ear. The expression on Jude's face was one that Dain had imagined he would be the cause of. He had imagined many lustful things about Jude; his body pressed against hers, the fullness of her breasts in his hands, the way his name would sound as a whimper coming from her lips. And yet it was Cardan who gets to experience it all.

The rejected heir felt the spark of jealousy deep within. He could not understand what Jude saw in Cardan. He had done nothing but bully and torment her during their time at school, and yet when Cardan offered for her to marry him and become High Queen rather than just a servant, she accepted. It didn’t make any sense. Dain knew Cardan had some form of romantic interest in Jude, but he thought Jude had hated Cardan and would have done anything to be rid of him in her life. Unless it had all been a lie from her. Still, Dain had been the one to have given her an opportunity that clearly led her to great things. He had even been the one to have given her a form of protection against being glamoured by placing the geas on her. And despite not being a spy for him anymore, the geas was still in affect to help keep her safe. What more could she possibly want from him?

He wanted Jude. He still wants her, despite her being married to his brother. He isn't the only one who wants her either, he knows that. There were plenty of fae who wished to have her, to have a taste of such a sweet mortal body. The fact that she is married and the High Queen cannot stop lustful thoughts. Dain often wondered if he could do what he did with Liriope - he had got her into his bed despite her being his father's consort. The matter of her pregnancy and death induced by poison was a small thing; he would just make sure he didn't make the same mistake with Jude. After all, if something were to happen to Cardan then there would still be a chance for Dain to be accepted as ruler by the Blood Crown.

Nursing a bottle of his favourite wine, he started to formulate a plan on how to get Jude to be his lover. He wanted a share in those soft, unguarded smiles, her captivating lies, her breathy moans. And then it clicked. 'If something were to happen to Cardan'... He would just have Cardan killed to quell the jealousy within him, to take Jude as his own. Of course, he could not commit the murder himself, it would just lead to the Blood Crown rejecting him again, but he could get one of his spies to commit the murder for him. It wouldn't be the first time. And if that wouldn’t be enough to make Jude his, he could just use his power over the geas he placed on her to command her to be his. His lips curved into a malicious smile.

"Sweet, sweet Jude, you will be mine…”

[chocolatecoveredbrusselsprout]

Okay would LOVE to see some discourse/hear other people’s thoughts (respectfully plz no one be rude for no reason) cuz I HAVE SOME.

I have never liked the Raven Queen. The Matron of Ravens. I wanted to so badly! Her aesthetic? Iconic. The way she OUSTED the previous god of death? KILLED him? As a mortal? And she ascended to godhood? A total flex. Like damn fr. BUT

I can’t get over what she did to Vax. If she just hadn’t taken advantage of him, I could love her so much. But I can’t. My disdain has also grown the further into Campaign 3 we get and the more I read.

Some Reasons!

1. She took advantage of Vax when he was in a weak spot. He was struggling, depressed, and desperate at the sudden loss of his sister. She used this to make a deal with him.

2. She took Vax immediately after they defeated Vecna. Why could he not live out his life as her champion? (I do know that because of the Disintegrate spell, there was no body to revive him so this would kind of “go against” her rules?)

3. Why make Vax her champion? He wasn’t willing. Yes, he offered himself, but that was more so coercion. Consent should be enthusiastic! Vax’ildan was desperate and afraid to lose the ones he loved, so he made deals with a god previously unknown to him. We’ve seen that the Matron has MANY followers in Campaign 3. There were so many she could have chosen to be her champion. Who would have WANTED to be her champion. Why Vax? Are we to truly believe that in all of Exandria, no other follower of the RQ was fate-touched? (If that was her reason)

4. She also made him her *eternal* champion. (This is part especially where I’d love to hear others’ thoughts). Vax does not get to die. Not like most people. He is now stuck in that same limbo as the Raven Queen. Yes, he gets to shepherd souls to The Other Side. Purvan did. But Purvan GOT TO REST. He served his time, and then got to pass on. As of right now, Vax will never know rest, and I hate that she stole it from him. If Vax has died-died, eventually he would be reunited with his loved ones in the afterlife. Now, when they die, they’ll see him, but only briefly as he must go back to his ETERNAL DUTY. May I remind you that he did not ask for that position?

Also, doesn’t that kind of contradict her whole “death is a part of life” thing, having an eternal champion? Yes, Vax is now a celestial and he did “die,” but he never passes on to the afterlife. Some blurry lines there.

5. The Matron has punished Vax for visiting/“interfering” with his loved ones. In latest 4-sided dive, Matt clarified that the first attack on Zephrah/Keyleth, Vax showed up and saved her (that’s how Otohan knew he would come again). Matt continued that his actions were technically against the RQ’s commands, and that she punished him for it (we don’t know how). Now, Vax’ildan is stuck in a painful orb as a lens, and she has done nothing to help.

So that’s all I have at the moment. What do y’all think? Please share your thoughts or tag me in stuff cuz I want to read more on it. It continually bugs me that the Matron was lonely in her task (fair) and that she may have not realized that before ascending, but that does not mean that she should force Vax to the same fate/keep him to herself.

(Also, I think Gargo/Shithead may have been her animal companion? That will be another post though)

[ruiningsalads]

here it is: the culmination of my Solavellan brain rot. thank you to @kiastirling, @rosella-writes, @shouldaspunastory, @midmorninggrey, and @seigephoenix for enabling me.

and special thanks to @lasatfat for beta reading!

They all knew the danger of trying to free Solas, but every one of them accepted the risk. The ritual to break apart the prison was difficult enough -- between the four mages of their group, they just barely had enough power to pull it off -- and that was without the hordes of Ghilan’nain’s corrupted creations swarming them.

Lavellan’s voice shouted over the din of battle as their companions fended off the ravenous swarm. “Focus on the barrier!” she cried. “Let my will draw from you!” Rook felt a sense of nostalgia for the words, but the feeling wasn’t her own.

And so their combined magic surged against the prison’s barrier, unraveling it layer after layer. The feeling of her magic being drawn from her initially unsettled Rook, but the Inquisitor’s control was precise. She wasted no time, no energy, in her systematic dismantling of the arcane protection.

But the further they got, the harder it became as their magic steadily dried up. Neve was the first to pull back, sweat coursing down her brow. Emmrich, Rook's mentor and oldest friend, held out a bit longer; but he, too, withdrew with a shaky gasp. But they were so, so close.

A skeleton’s hand entered her field of view, pressing a vial to her lips. Rook guzzled the lyrium draft gratefully, her gaze never wavering from the unraveling prison. “Thanks, Manfred.” She heard his pleased chattering and smiled.

Lavellan’s whole body trembled with the effort of the ritual. Rook redoubled her focus, pouring her newly regenerated magic into the spell as the Inquisitor let out a choked, “Fen'Harel ar ghilana!”

The translation came unbidden: The Dread Wolf guides me. Normally, that would have been self-deprecating, if what Rook knew about the Dalish and their views on Fen’Harel were correct. But with Lavellan, it was a battle-cry she felt in the very marrow of her bones. And with a last push, the final layer of the prison cracked.

Ancient power surged from within, bursting from confinement and washing over them in a concussive wave that sent Rook sprawling. Ghilan’nain’s minions dissolved into the Fade, their bodies torn asunder by Solas’s sheer force of will. When Rook squinted through the swirling dust and magical debris, she found Lavellan wrapped in the arms of Solas, kissing him as if her life depended on it. They separated a hair’s breadth and whispered words Rook could not — did not want to — hear. Then, as if they couldn’t help it, they kissed again.

They should have expected the goddess’s arrival, but they were caught unprepared. Her voice-that-was-not-a-voice thundered through the Fade, her words conveyed in a wave of rage and hate that stole Rook’s breath.

Dread Wolf, I shall rip out your heart myself.

Solas answered her threat by running — not away, but toward her looming presence. As he ran, his stride lengthened, his body rippling and shifting and growing until he sprinted on four massive paws. Scales covered much of his lupine form, save for a tuft of fur that spanned the length of his spine. His muzzle was as much a dragon’s as it was a wolf’s, his six eyes glowing red over top his snarling maw.

A battle between gods was no place for mortals, Rook quickly realized. She tried to grab Lavellan’s arm, tried to pull her back to safety, but the elf was determined to help Solas, somehow.

“The best way you can help him is to stay out of his way!” Rook shouted over the deafening shrieks of Ghilan’nain. “Inquisitor, please, heed some sense!”

“I can’t let him face this alone!” She fought Rook’s grip, her lone hand scrabbling against Rook’s two. “Fenedhis, let me go!”

“You’re tired and your magic is spent,” Rook panted. “What could you possibly do to help him?”

The elf stilled in her grasp, but Rook didn’t let go, wary of a trick. Lavellan turned to look back and up at Rook, tears in her eyes. “I don’t want him to be alone.”

“Then don’t die here. Get to safety, and when he’s done, you can let him not be alone then.”

The Inquisitor closed her eyes and let out a shuddering sob. But she nodded.

Together, they raced away from the embattled gods as the Fade felt like it was falling down all around them. A powerful yelp, like that of a giant wolf, stopped them in their tracks.

“Solas,” Lavellan breathed, turning back to look.

“Inquisitor,” Rook warned, but the elf suddenly grabbed her and dragged her out of the way of a falling chunk of rock that would have seriously injured her. “Thanks,” she gasped, clutching at the Inquisitor’s robes.

“Where is he?” Her voice was tense, strained. “Rook, I don’t see him.”

Indeed, Rook couldn’t see him either, but Ghilan’nain saw them. The goddess was like a storm in the sky, an unstoppable power that surged forward and swept everything into chaos. And she was aimed right for the two mages.

Her progress was halted when the giant wolf leapt onto her from behind, his teeth tearing into her shoulder as she shrieked.

“Inquisitor, we have to leave now,” Rook insisted, tugging on the elf’s arm. Lavellan stared at the battle a moment longer, before turning to flee.

They found their path blocked by a mass of sickly grey, fleshy tentacles that writhed and reached for them blindly. Rook cursed and quickly backed away from them, but they crawled toward the two women with murderous intent.

Rook drank down another lyrium draft — the last one on her person — and tossed aside the vial as her power regrew within her. Her magic erupted from the ground as skeletal hands that reached for the fleshy appendages, dragging them down and holding them inert. It wouldn’t last, but it would let Rook and Lavellan put some distance between them and the strangling tendrils.

The tentacles were tied to Ghilan’nain, Rook knew. The goddess’s death would purge them, but until then, they would spread like the Blight, destroying all in their path.

They would have to fight her.

“Do you have any strength left, Inquisitor?” she asked, steeling herself.

“Not much,” the elf admitted.

“Then save it to protect yourself. I’m going to try to help him.”

Lavellan swore. “Of all the times to run out of lyrium—“

“Watch our backs, Inquisitor,” Rook urged, then she reached deep into her power. The spell was one she knew only in theory, taught by Emmrich and demonstrated by him only once before. She prayed to the Maker and Andraste that it would work, and surged her magic into the Fade.

The torso of a giant skeleton erupted from the stone behind Ghilan’nain, its massive arms wrapping around the goddess and pinning her many arms in place. It felt like a clumsy marionette, its movements slower than Rook would have liked; but its strength held up to the goddess’s wrath. Her dark, depthless eyes found Rook, sending a chill down her spine that promised death.

The Inquisitor’s warning shout had her dropping low to the ground reflexively, her focus intent on her spell, keeping Ghilan’nain open to Solas’s attacks. It wasn’t until she felt warm liquid dripping down on her that her focus wavered and she glanced back —

Panic clawed at her heart as she took in the sight. Surely this was a nightmare, and she would wake up in a few moments and everything would be fine. Surely the Inquisitor wasn’t actually standing over her protectively with a jagged spike of rock embedded in her chest and emerging from her back.

Surely not.

The horrified cry that tore from her throat was real. Her spell forgotten, she reached out and caught Lavellan as the elf’s legs gave out from under her, collapsing her against her human companion.

Rook clutched at her desperately, sensing the life ebbing from her. “No, no, no,” she begged, hand hovering over the deadly projectile uselessly. “Don’t do this, Inquisitor!”

Lavellan’s face was so pale, her eyes glassy, but one corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile. “Perhaps later, Rook,” she breathed. Her gaze flicked to the ongoing battle, the skeleton having disappeared the moment Rook’s focus was broken. A single tear fell from the elf’s eyes. “In another world.”

---

In the end, the goddess fled. Exhausted, Solas let her go, his attention returning to the huddled figures of Rook and Lavellan as he fell back into his elf form. Something wasn’t right, he realized, and broke into a run.

Lavellan’s eyes stared blankly at where the battle had been, her pale face unmoving as he approached. Rook reached with shaking fingers and lowered her eyelids. But that would mean…would mean…

“No.” It was a flat refusal to believe the truth of his eyes.

A broken sob shook Rook’s body. “She protected me.”

Rage surged through him then, burning away his weariness with searing claws. “How could you let this happen?” he demanded, reaching for Lavellan, but pulling away at the last moment. If he touched her and felt her stillness, it would make this real. It couldn’t be real.

“She chose, Solas,” Rook spat through tears. “Don’t you think I would have protected her if I could?”

“Release her,” he ordered with deadly softness. Rook looked up at him incredulously, then carefully lowered the Inquisitor onto the bloody stone beneath her. As soon as she was free, Solas waved a hand and sent Rook back to her allies outside of the Fade, where they awaited their leader.

He fell to his knees. Shaking hands gripped the spike that had killed Lavellan, pulled it from her flesh, and tossed it aside. Carefully, gently, he lifted her into his arms and cradled her motionless form against his chest. She was still warm, but no breath stirred. No heartbeat carried a lovely blush to her cheeks, no indomitable spirit dwelt behind inquisitive eyes that always, always, wanted to know more.

He supposed Ghilan’nain accomplished her threat after all. Here was his heart, broken and limp in his arms.

She had been determined until the very end, he knew. Even from his confinement, he could see her dreams from afar. In them, they were a happy family, the two of them and — the thought burned like acid within him now — their children. How happy they had been, living quietly and full of love. His favorite had been the dream where she rested her head on his shoulder, their children snuggled up against them both as he read stories of ancient Arlathan aloud.

Lavellan believed with all her heart that somehow, they would be able to make that dream a reality. Somehow, somewhere down the line, Solas had begun to hope, too. What a fool he had been.

If only he had been stronger, had turned her away the first time she kissed him, perhaps she would still be alive, happy somewhere else, with someone else. But how could he resist her? She was strong, brilliant, endlessly curious, and—and dead. She was dead, and he could do nothing.

Once again, he failed that which he loved most. His ritual was supposed to fix everything, but that human had to go and interrupt. Because of her, Ellana lay dead in his arms, along with any hope for their future. This prison was far worse than the one he just escaped.

Sometime later — perhaps it was an hour, a day, or an age, he wasn’t sure — he stood and emerged from the Fade in a flash of green light. Exhaustion and grief lay over the once-vibrant Veilguard like a suffocating shroud. Rook sat slumped on a rock, elbows braced on her knees, and stared down at her hands, at the drying blood coating her fingers. He kept his face carefully blank as her attention snapped to him.

“Solas.” Rook’s voice came out hoarse and scratchy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“Spare me your platitudes.” His response was flat, unyielding. “Do not forget that you caused all of this.”

“Bullshit!” Now she glared at him, any hint of sympathy gone. “You started this chain of events long before I was ever unfortunate enough to cross your path! Her blood is on your hands, Dread Wolf.”

He saw the regret on her face as soon as the last syllable fell from her lips, but it didn’t matter. Not when he bore the body of his lost love in his arms.

Ellana Lavellan, former Inquisitor and advisor to the Veilguard, looked peaceful in death. No longer was her face pinched with exhaustion, nor her lips pressed into a thin line as it was whenever she considered their impossible position. She bore no expression at all.

Solas turned and walked away without another word.

“Wait!” He heard Rook's uneven gait as she limped after him. “Where are you going? We still need your help.”

He paused, but didn’t turn to look at her. “I must find a worthy resting place. Somewhere she will not be disturbed.”

“But you’ll come back?”

“Yes.” His tone was flat, emotionless.

After a pause, her voice was uncharacteristically tentative. “I could let you speak to her again, for a moment. To say goodbye.” He was silent for so long that she added, “It’s more than most folk get.”

The ancient elf gazed down at his love, considering the human’s words. Rook took the opportunity to step closer and reached for the flask on her belt. Under his suspicious watch, she wet a clean spot on her cloak with water and gently washed the grime of battle from the Inquisitor’s face. It was a small thing — one of many courtesies she offered the dead in the Grand Necropolis — but it brought her own heart a small measure of peace to see Lavellan look more like herself than a battered corpse.

Once, Lavellan had been alive. When life flowed through her veins, she offered wise counsel to Rook on several occasions. She never complained when things got difficult, never lashed out in anger when Rook’s patience ran thin and her tongue sharpened like a stiletto. Instead, she would smile and say, “Perhaps we should come back to this later, Rook.”

And she never lost faith in Solas. Despite their years apart and what she saw as his determinedness to torture himself, she remained a staunch defender of the dreamer she fell in love with so long ago. It was because of that love that he now walked free — and she lay still in the cradle of his arms. What would he say? Could he say anything that would be worth drawing her out of her much-earned rest?

“No,” he said simply. Rook let him pass as he bore the burden of his failure away.

He would return to help them fight, as he promised. He would not dishonor the Inquisitor’s memory by going back on that agreement, but a new heaviness weighed on him at the prospect of more fighting. There would be more death, more destruction, and for what?

As far as he was concerned, the dawn would not come.

[sifya]

Reaction to Penelope who sides with Titans.

I like to write a fic one day, but these are some reaction that doesn't follow an order. For example Mel is some it is more compassionate other would kill penelope if she got possibiliy.

First meeting between Penelope and Mel is dream reality, where Penelope is using fates loom to unwearing destinity. She went with name of nobody.

Mel: Nodoby, did you do something to Circe?

Nobody: Who, me? I just reveal her true colours.

Mel: You turned her in donkey.

Nodoby: Ah.

Penelope/ Deception weaver. After some fighting after Mel has figured out Nobody’s identity.

Penelope: Revenge? In part you are right young lady ,but it isn’t only reason.

We, mortals are able to hurt ourselves but also to fight back our abusers.

But this isn't possible with Gods.

Helene,Clytemnestra , Picus, Medusa, Scylla, Pandora, all Troy ... my husband... we cannot defend ourselves from scheme and petty reasons of immortals.

And there are people like me who can only watch our beloveds getting destroyed.

Being a mere watcher, as peril close in on those he hold dear. The despair and terror of being helpless. Compared to slaying the gods is more agonising.

Penelope: I knew your brother, such kind man, I had the honour to be her friend and making first offer to him as God.

Melinoe: I thought you hate all gods.

Penelope: He was different; caring but determined as life itself … he was god of mortals, he would have a great leader…

Melinoe: Leader? What are you talking?

Penelope: Chronos hasn’t freed himself, and satyrs aren’t so smart. Do you wonder how hecate all hades house wasn’t prepared by Chronos’ evasion despite this kingdom is prison for titans.

There is traitor, a special one who take benefit of fall of house.

Keep your friends and family closer and traitors would show up.

Penelope: When I see you it hurts, because I don’t see the god would care of mortal but prideful Olympic.

Your brother would be ashamed of you.

Medea: So the new witch who turns Circe in fearful donkey is queen Penelope. I like her style and how she defends what is her.

Aren't you talking of Odysseus? They have split up! He told himself; he cheated on her and they are amicable.

Medea: No witch with self-respect would spare a cheater. She is not like begging for him back and shaming the evil temptress.

She revenged her husband.

Melinoe: But...

Medea, sadly: They both fought with blood and sweat for their marriage, no like me who was the only trying to save a falling ship.

Nemesis: I don't get why you are so angry for Circe. Queen Penelope has just make retribution.

Melinoe: First she deceived her by faking friendship for learning her magic arts who Hecate bans to share to outside.

Nemesis: That’s Circe's problem.

Melinoe, more annoyed: Then Penelope turned Circe in a donkey and making her been chased by dogs.

Nemesis: It is something witches usually do. The queen of Ithaca is a witch now, why is she not allowed?

Melinoe: First she stole our arts, second she used against a fellow witch.

Nemesis: I don't believe witches has never been fighting each other. You are angry because she gives a perfect retribution.

Mel: Why did you think that fake witch has given just retribution.

Nemesis: Circe has abused of her power for years turning rivals in monsters, people who reject her in animals, and unlucky sailors in cattle. They have to feel helpless, trapped in cage that was their new bodies.

The weaver by making Circe a prey that was chased by predators was only way she could understand her actions.

Mel: Despite Circe came back in her truth form she is still so scared and anxious ...

Nemesis: Like people she hurt. That is retribution.

Mel: I have some question on Penelope, why nobody mentions it a capable warrior. I hate to admit but she is giving me problems when we face in dream reality.

Odysseus: She is a Spartan princess, here women learn to use weapons. Her favourite weapon is dagger.

Mel looks Odysseus ‘ dagger in his hard but decided to leave for moment.

Melinoe: So why didn't she kill her suitors, it would be easy than her weaving trick.

Od: Despite her capacity she didn't have an army, I brought it with me to Troy, second she wasn't allowed

to act that way I was. So she had to keep everyone calm or it would end in bloodbath for everybody.

Melinoe: But she was queen!

Odysseus: Mortal world isn't nice with women, goddess.

Scylla: Oh my you are here. We are preparing for our next song:

Deception weaver! For beautiful, amazing and talented commander of Chronos.

Scylla brushing: Penelope who has given taste of her medicine to Circe. And she loves our songs.

After defending Scylla or losing to her: I don't know if sharing to Od, him and Penelope has same taste in music, or the fact Scylla has crush on her.

After some fighting with Prometheus and Penelope.

Od: So, can I ask you a favour, goddess.

Mel: Yes tell me.

Od: Based on my report and gossips

Mel, confused: Gossips?

Od: the most trusted commanders, Prometheus and Deception weaver look very close. Is there something romantic going on?

Mel: OD?! Are you asking for strategy or...

OD giving a nervous laugh: No! No! Me jealous?! I mean we aren’t together anymore.

Mel: I have said nothing.

Od more nervous not listening: Or course she has moved on and she can have someone better, but competing with hero of humanity...

Mel decided to leave: I think they just really respect each other, I would ask them next time, if they aren't too busy to kill me.

Mel: are you and titan close.

Penelope: I don't think I have to answer this question.

Penelope under her breath: That idiot!

Mel: Penelope has bow, that resembled the one described by poem.

Od: Yes it is.

Mel: Well, I always think you haven't just lost your bow like you told me when I was child, so how it happened.

Od: The day when she asked me to join the Titans... the day I lost her she left one of her dagger, she asked to give it back, face to face if i change my mind, so I gave my bow with the same meaning.

MeL: But no ones of you can give up your stand.

Od: Yeah, I lost the count of years of that day.

"Being a mere watcher, as peril close in on those he hold dear. The despair and terror of being helpless. Compared to slaying the gods is more agonising."

this sentence is from mango one within the vilainess read it!

[saltoftheearth5x2]

Did Jesus really Die and Raise from the Grave?

In my previous post, I wrote about the legitimacy of Jesus's time here on earth [see here], and now I'd like to address the proof of his resurrection. I will probably spend a couple weeks on this, so there will be a few parts. However, nothing is set in stone yet.

...

Could the resurrection have been faked?

Those who have read the Bible know that the resurrection was real due to the countless prophecies and predictions (from Jesus himself) of his ascension. Not to mention the other miracles - like Lazarus' resurrection- that were hints to Jesus's capabilities.

But let's entertain the idea that Jesus wasn't able to raise from the dead. We've already established that he did exist in my previous post, so his death for sure happened.

If Jesus was just a mortal man, how come so many people believed he rose from the dead?

His death must have been faked.

But is that really possible? Let's think about this for a minute.

The story is: Jesus died and was buried in a tomb, which was then sealed. The tomb was guarded by soldiers to make sure nobody stole the body. Three days later, women found the tomb empty.

That's a bit watered down, but you get the idea.

So in order to fake the resurrection, the disciples would need to have the body, right? That means they'd need to steal it.

Why couldn't they just bribe the guards? You may ask.

The disciples were not rich nor bold at the time of Jesus's death. They certainly couldn't afford to pay off the guards - not that the guards would be persuaded anyway.

So the body would have to be stolen. But in order for that to happen, it would require that:

Profesional soldiers feel asleep on the job.

The disciples- who fled from Jesus after his death - would courageously come back to the tomb.

The disciples would have to be strong enough to roll away the stone - not to mention that it's sealed and there are guards sleeping nearby.

The disciples would then take the body stealthily.

The disciples would somehow hide the body so no one ever found it.

The disciples then would lie about his resurrection.

If that still seems plausible, let me take this further.

The disciples were not skilled undercover spies (minus Simon the Zealot perhaps). They were quite literally everyday men. And I'm not trying to be disrespectful here, but the disciples would not have what it takes to steal a body. Not to mention that they were still shaken from Jesus's brutal death. They hid from the outside world, in fear of being taken and killed due to their relations to Jesus.

Even if they did go and try to steal the body, they'd have to be strong enough to roll the stone away without waking the guards. And you'd think that profesional guards would sleep lightly.

If you don't see what I mean, think of it this way:

Here's the part that's the most funny. When the women discovered the empty tomb, they saw Jesus's wrappings folded nicely where he used to lay. So the disciples would reach the body and stop, then take the time to unwrap him, then fold the wrappings, and then leave. That's ridiculous!

A couple people wanted to steal a pizza from a delivery driver while he's distracted. So they first carefully unzip the bag and open the box, then they see that there are olives and peppers on the pizza - and they hate olives and peppers on their pizza. So they take the time and pick off every single piece of olive, then every single piece of pepper, and place them in a neat row in the corner of the box. Then finally, they take the slices of pizza and run - all while the driver is distracted. Why couldn't you just take the pizza and pick off the toppings later?

But thats not even the craziest part.

After successfully taking the body, disposing of it, and deceiving the community, the disciples then go around preaching about Jesus's resurrection. For those who don't know, all of the disciples had suffered, been persecuted or imprisoned, and all but one died because of their faith [John was exiled and was able to live out his life].

So you're telling me that these men suffered and died for something that they know is a lie? They gave up everything for a myth? Some people take pranks seriously, but never that far.

So which is more likely? The disciples stole the body, or Jesus was resurrected from the dead?

If you have any questions regarding the Christian faith, please ask me in my ask box. I am not a perfect person, but I will try and answer your questions as best as I can. We all have much more to learn, myself included. So please, do not be shy.

...

There may or may not eventually be a part 2 for this. If there is, I can link it to this post.

...

[silyabeeodess]

DB Analysis: Thoughts on the "Sympathetic" Zamasu

I'm going to be honest: I'm not quite sure how to start this analysis. I'm doing it solely to get my thoughts down on the character somewhere, because something always comes up in discussions about Zamasu that has always bothered me since I first learned about him, getting back into Dragon Ball about two years ago: A lot of people have a habit of labeling Zamasu as not only being a sympathetic villain, but go so far as to say he was never truly evil in the first place.

Personally, however, I have never once seen Zamasu as being traditionally sympathetic. If anything, when it comes to this character, I feel nothing but absolute disgust--even when compared to the uncontested evil of characters like Frieza. At least watching Frieza is entertaining, because we know the good-hearted Goku will always win in the end. When people both in and out of the story make excuses for Zamasu's behavior, however... It's sick, and I'm going to do a full breakdown why.

Let's start this analysis by recapping on Zamasu's feelings toward mortals and all of the crimes he's committed. Zamasu views mortals as impure beings forever marred by sin, completely irredeemable, and that it is more of a mercy to kill them rather than to allow them to continue on in that sin. He stole Goku's body; murdered his own teacher, Gowasu; and committed mass genocide, declaring himself supreme over all as "the wisdom, the law, and the power of the universe" and "the sun that lights this world" to quote Fighterz. His actions are egregious, and they aren't really any different than any of the other villains we see in Dragon Ball. Why do people excuse them?

"He meant well." "His teacher didn't do enough." "He's sympathetic."

Unlike other sympathetic villains, it's not like any evil was done to him personally. He doesn't have some typical, tragic backstory. So, why is he considered sympathetic? Well, it comes from a single thought we've all shared at some point: The world is a terrible place.

Zamasu is someone who only focuses on the negative in the world and in people (specifically mortals). Yes, we can point to Gowasu's failed attempt at showing their good side; however, it's clear that Zamasu doesn't want to really see any differently than what he already believes either. When he met Goku, arguably one of the purist mortals in the entire multiverse, he was too offended by the so-called lack of respect Goku showed to even register that he was, while careless, ultimately a good person.

Moreover, what makes Zamasu any better than the mortals he bashes? Yes, he is a god, but what are the distinguishing factors between a god and a mortal in the Dragon Ball universe? They're not omnipotent, as we've seen countless times throughout the series. They're not all-powerful, as the likes of Goku, Vegeta, and Jiren have shown overpowering different deities. (Even before acquiring god-ki, Goku was stronger than Shin.) Many of them used to be mortals, as we see shown through the hakaishin's passing-of-the-torch. We can even argue that they're still technically mortals, because many of them have been killed or erased and Zamasu literally had to wish for immortality.

Making a real-world comparison, this isn't an Abrahamic godhood: A case of a pure, all-knowing being who can see into the hearts of every person and leads the world with patience and unlimited wisdom. Instead, Dragon Ball shows us gods who have limited knowledge, constantly make mistakes, are insanely impulsive, and tend not to ever bother questioning themselves. And out of all of them, Zamasu is basically a rookie, a supreme kai in-training. Why do we still give him a pass?

Again, because he believes what we believe: People suck. It's such a broad, undirected hatred that we rarely stop of think of what we actually mean by that. Do we hate the evil actions that humanity commits, or do we hate humanity itself? If you hate evil, you look to uproot it, including when it appears in yourself. If you hate humanity, then you never see the good in others and never self-reflect.

All that being said, let's give Zamasu a comparison to another villain: Frollo from Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame. Frollo "saw corruption everywhere except within," viewing himself as a man of the Church and a righteous judge. He was always coming up with excuses for his own sins, even going so far as to blame the very God he claimed to serve. Zamasu acts much the same way, except he doesn't even entertain the idea of a figure of morality being over him: The only god Zamasu "worships" is himself. He's an absolute megalomaniac, a fact we see visualized through his interactions with his partner in-crime, Goku Black, who is literally just himself in another timeline.

Gowasu serves as the prime example to this mindset. Despite being another kai, the person that mentored him, someone who always strove to see the good in others... Zamasu murdered him without a second thought. Why? Because he dared to disagree with him. This is-turn would've also killed Rumshhi, the GoD of their universe. Even Zeno is not an exception even though he fears him, as shown in his team-up with Hearts in Super Heroes. Despite Zamasu's view of "gods good, mortals bad," he will slaughter anyone that doesn't march in lock-step with his ideals.

Not only does he kill other gods and commit all of the same sins he accuses mortals of--even going so far as to revel in the deaths of others--but he had to rely on Goku's mortal body for his Zero Mortal Plan to work in the first place. Shown in the Xenoverse games, if the player joins Zamazu, he's shown to have no issue accepting their help either even though he promises he'll still kill them later. Zamasu is a hypocrite, another trait he shares with Frollo.

Still for some reason, we never call Frollo sympathetic. Well, not all of us have burned down a city, tried to purge an entire race, and lusted after someone not even half our age.

But we all desire justice. We all want to make the world a better place, don't we?

We feel sympathy for Zamasu because he represents the evil we stare in the face every single day. He represents the demon whispering in our ears that any atrocity we can commit is excusable so long as we have a "good reason." Because we're better people. We're smarter people. We're good people... right?

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Mind where you walk.

[bahnloopi]

Your Broly Black ideas inspired me, so here's some random thoughts I had about them:

Broly Black (Z):

Zamasu wished to "Swap bodies with the mortal that hates Son Goku the most", and either just took Broly's body from that world OR Z Broly hated him so much that the Super Dragon Balls pulled him and his body through the multiverse.

Spear for a weapon, perhaps becoming a Trident as he powers up (connotations of Royalty that Zamasu would surely enjoy + the mental image of Black stabbing Trunks with a Trident with an evil grin is powerful)

Would get the most affected by this body's personality, leading to a very spiteful and downright malicious Saiyan that would take more and more joy from his actions as he goes on.

Worst relationship with Immortal Zamasu as the two slowly become different people, maybe culminating in them outright refusing to fuse.

If they did, then Merged Zamasu would end up being so much worse, his body breaking down quicker with cracks breaking into his immortal side aswell. In addition, the immortal body having a way higher capacity alongside way less stability means Merged Zamasu would end up being a bomb when he dies, his overflowing ki risking the whole galaxy.

Rose Legendary would likely fuse into a single aura and form, enhancing all his worst traits as he continues to enhance it. I'd imagine it'd start more lean, slowly growing more Buff until he rips his shirt (reflecting how Zamasu loses himself to his Saiyan side as he connects to the body).

Broly Black (Super):

Zamasu decided to think his wish through more and used the Time Ring to go back in time to watch Gokus major battles, trying to figure out what he had to let him get so far.

And he notices a few things, like Goku using godly techniques (if he would go on to force the knowledge of both techniques from that pitiful "King" Kai, then he would never tell) and Goku beating someone that stole his body already (darn it Ginyu) but, above all else...

He can adapt. He may lose, but he comes back stronger each time. And Zamasu needed to find a way around that.

And so, he wished on Super Shenron to "Swap bodies with the Saiyan with the highest latent potential", giving him the body of Broly.

... shame he has no clue who Broly is, and he won't find Vampa for... a while.

Most affected by the bodies rage, him losing himself into it until he doesn't even care (the whole way he says he has control over it)

His weapon would be something more blunt and martial, such as something simmilar to knuckle dusters or boxing gloves.

Legendary Rose wouldn't be one Merged form as it is too far away from Zamasu's personality to blend easily. Instead, it would be a clash between the two, the Divine simplicity and mortal emotion clashing like trying to hold magnets together.

Gets on well with Immortal Zamasu until he snaps and transforms, fooling only himself when he says that he has control over this brutal form.

Merged Zamasu flat out wouldn't happen, with Zamasu refusing to merge with a berserk Saiyan out of control and instead teaming up with the heroes temporarily to stop Black

Kale Black:

Gonna be honest, can't think of a reason for this one beyond maybe "Zamasu waits a bit, sees the U6 expo / ToP and notices how strong Kale was"

The Most nothing of the Black Beserkers ngl.

Weapon would 10000% be two Great Axes, one over each shoulder.

Could maybe tie the U6 saiyan biology being different into the form, with God Ki manifesting differently in them (alongside Zenkais, with the U6 saiyans likely not needing them as much as our U7 folk and maybe having weaker ones as a result.)

Let me be the one to tell you these are all f i r e headcanons and a great chunk of them are ideas I had myself and I love these. This was what I wanted when I challenged the fandom to write his lore. So good

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

When Riddle's eyes opened, he found himself in a room with Royal Crimson Decor; it wasn't Heartslabyul, so where was he? The sound of voices forced him to pick his tired body out of the soft bed and head down the stairs to see Roxas speaking the Cheshire Cat & March Hare, only this time, Roxas was wearing a muscle shirt, showing the deep scars that would end up claiming his mortal life - scars he caused. Before guilt could claim Riddle's mind again, the conversation made him listen.

March Hare: As you have requested, the Students of Heartslabyul have agreed to forgive and forget what happened the previous day in regards to Housewarden Rosehearts in exchange for him gaining counseling and hi easing up on the more random rules.

Roxas folds his arms: I'll take care of his counseling. I don't need anyone yelling at him or reporting back to that horrible woman. He needs healing, not a lecture.

Cheshire Cat: You are rather insistent on his well-being, My Prince~ Even when he stole your mortal life~

Roxas: I won't hold that over his head. We can never have back what we once had, but that doesn't mean we can't create something anew.

March Hate exhales while shaking his head: Selfless as ever, My Prince.

Roxas: Geez, thanks, March. I need to get started on breakfast. Please, check on and aid Trey Clover with Heartslabyul for a while.

With nods, March Hare and Cheshire Cat leave Ramshackle while Roxas heads into the kitchen singing to himself.

Roxas: Pancakes~ Pancakes~ Can't go wrong with pancakes~

♥-Anon

Riddle quietly shuffles into the kitchen, eying his brother's back as he struggled to think of what to say.

"I'm... I'm sorry." He speaks, voice quiet. "I-i was a kid who didn't want to face another punishment. Roxas, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

[nomsthecat]

Can there be heartache if there is no heart to break?

a small Drabble of Narinder and The lamb. (Lamb x Narinder basically!!)

I got the idea from a friend<3! prompt; “I could have KILLED you, you know. I showed you mercy.” and it spiraled from there

angst below

"It wouldn't kill you to be nice, you know. It wouldn't kill you to be nice to me, too." The Lamb chastises, turning their back on him to leave him there.

Narinder's ichor-dripping claws curl into his own mortal palms.

"I hate you."

And the Lamb stops. This merciful coward that kept him alive. This False Idol. A corrupt deity that cursed his gospel and stole his crown.

Yet the air runs cold. The fur covering Narinder's body prickles with a sudden urge to cower. The lamb turns their head back around, and in their eyes is a sudden cold-hearted gaze. Dulled with anger. A reminder to who the god-killer was here.

"I could have killed you, you know. I showed you mercy because I loved you."

The lamb lifts up their right hand, a ring on their middle to pose as a connection. A bond.

Maybe it wasn't the kind of 'Bond' the lamb was hoping for. Narinder never really changed, did he?

And here Narinder is, his form frozen stiff with three eyes still gazing forward in a confused, shocked daze. To say he didn't expect such a thing from this happy-go-lucky lamb was an understatement. ..And then the lamb leaves. Without another word, the false idol goes back to caring for their followers.

…Love?

…

..

.

[rinwellisathing]

I kind of wanted to do a post about Sentry's trauma like in depth because actually why I started writing him and returned to fanfiction in general was my therapist telling me that storification is a healthy, safe way to explore trauma. CSA, sexual abuse, rape, misgendering, etc. All under the cut so beware!

Sentry Ojeda was given to a Bhaalist couple to raise when he was born, they named him Vereena Mortis and as Bhaal's own flesh, his parents were assured he was prime breeding stock within the cult. At an early age 'Vereena' did not consider himself female despite what his 'family' insisted based on his body. He was expected to breed with male cultists, particularly those of high rank or existing Bhaalspawn from Bhaal's past unions with mortal women. This technically began when he was still too young to have children because his adoptive parents wanted him to be ready when the time came.

The final straw in the abuse was when Sarevok came to breed with Vereena, leaving the then twelve year old battered, bruised, and bloodied. Sentry felt a dark rage inside of him and this was the first time his urge took over. He killed his adoptive parents as well as the next breeding partner that came to use him. He stole the herbs he needed to make sure he didn't get pregnant, and he ran away, surviving for a week on the streets.

After that week was over, Evagria Ojeda, a paladin of Ilmater and trainer of young paladins found him and brought him home, nursing him back to health. Unlike his birth parents, she acknowledged Sentry as male and used her surgical skills and healing magic to help him get a bit closer to the body he wanted. While she and her old friend Father Lorgan loved Sentry as a son and treated him well, his fellow trainees hated him, predominantly because he was a tiefling, but it was possible they sensed he was also a Bhaalspawn.

When Evagria and Lorgan were away, Sentry's peers would often abuse, humiliated, and bully him including sexual assault, but he never told or fought back, afraid he might tear them apart like he did in his first home. When Evagria died of illness four years after adopting him, however, his tormentors tried to murder him at the grave and again, he snapped and murdered them, turning them into the first art piece he can remember making (he doesn't remember how he made the one out of his first parents). Sceleritas Fel then introduced himself to Sentry and brought him back to the Bhaal cult.

Most of his fellow cultists treated him well and his fellow favored Bhaalspawn (Tomi, Gabraela, and Orin) loved him as a brother and were very much like a real family towards him, but his older 'brother'Jackal initially took any opportunity he could to beat Sentry into submission and molest or assault him, at least until he found himself on the receiving end of one of Sentry's murderous blackouts just before Sentry was named Bhaal's chosen before the rest of the cult.

This is why Sentry has such a long standing and unbreakable attachment to Enver Gortash. He was the first person Sentry didn't have to pay (Wysp and Ffionn were kind to him and were friends of his, but he understood they were doing their jobs) who actually cared about his autonomy and his consent. While at first he jokingly thought to himself it was pretty sad that a tyrant was the first person to wait for consent, it actually did mean a lot to him. In Sentry's very traumatized mind, this means his relationship with Enver is the end all, be all no matter what other aspects of it may have been toxic or unhealthy.

This also does allow him the relate more easily, however to Halsin and Astarion's traumas when he has relationships with them and go on a healing journey within those relationships.