#how to remove evil spirit

[astrologerkeshav]

Best Evil Spirit Removal Astrologer in New York - Keshav Ji

Astrologer Keshav is recognized as the Best Evil Spirit Removal Astrologer in New York, offering effective solutions for individuals facing unexplained challenges or disturbances in their lives. Many people encounter situations where negative energies or unseen forces seem to block their progress or bring misfortune. These experiences can often feel overwhelming, but Astrologer Keshav specializes in identifying and removing such negative influences, helping people regain peace and harmony in their lives.

Evil spirits and negative energies are believed to have the power to disrupt a person’s life, affecting their mental, emotional, and physical well-being. Astrologer Keshav uses his deep knowledge of Vedic astrology and spiritual healing practices to detect the presence of harmful energies that may be affecting his clients. As the Best Evil Spirit Removal Astrologer in New York, he provides expert analysis and remedies that not only remove these negative forces but also protect individuals from future disturbances.

Astrologer Keshav’s approach is both compassionate and holistic. He begins by conducting a thorough analysis of the client's astrological birth chart and examining the planetary positions that may be contributing to the presence of evil spirits. He believes that every person’s birth chart contains clues about the energies influencing their lives. By understanding the astrological factors at play, he can identify whether negative entities are causing spiritual disturbances or simply manifesting as personal challenges.

Once the source of the disturbance is identified, Astrologer Keshav uses powerful spiritual practices, including mantras, rituals, and remedies, to remove the evil spirits and negative energies. His methods are grounded in traditional astrology and spiritual healing, and he tailors them to the unique needs of each individual. He also offers protective rituals and recommendations, such as wearing specific gemstones or performing daily prayers, to shield his clients from future spiritual attacks.

Many people in New York have turned to Astrologer Keshav for his expertise in removing evil spirits and negative energies from their lives. His reputation as the Best Evil Spirit Removal Astrologer in New York has been built on years of successful interventions, helping people find relief from spiritual disturbances and lead peaceful, fulfilled lives once again.

If you feel that evil spirits or negative energies are affecting your well-being, Astrologer Keshav offers the solutions you need. His deep understanding of astrology and spiritual practices can help you overcome any spiritual obstacles, restore balance, and bring positivity back into your life.

[sbnkalny]

Revealing

[vardapilled]

Haint Blue and Indigo: The Colors of Annie and Smoke

This is by no means an extensive history of haint blue and indigo*, but I just wanted to dip a bit into how much is said just by looking at one layer of costuming for Sinners. In this case color—how it's able to convey just how deeply rooted Annie is to her heritage/history, and to me, how this case of colors shows so beautifully Smoke's connection to Annie and his love for her.

"There's that haint blue that Annie lives around as part of a spiritual color. So I took the haint blue and used it in her clothes. I wanted her to have these layers. You first meet her [...] She's a community person. She's a healer, a spiritual leader." - Ruth E. Carter, Costume Design for Sinners (emphasis mine)

Haint blue is a color seen painted on porches, doorways and windows in the American South. As the name suggests, it was believed (though the oral histories are difficult to come by beyond the 30s), to ward off evil spirits. Using haint blue, according to the Gullah-Geechee, tricked evil spirts into thinking they had come across water or sky, bodies they were unable to cross, therefore deterring them from crossing over the blue.

Annie's costume was infused with this color; the blue on her cotton blouse and her skirt belted with feathers and beads. When we're introduced to Annie, her home has a collection of blues: from the wooden panelling, scraps of fabric hanging in the background, and blue bottles strewn about. This infusion of haint blue in her home is also a deliberate choice as talked about by production designer Hannah Beachler.

*Corrections, whether through comments or reblogs, for this post are definitely welcome! I cite my sources at the end of this long post.

This type of blue is not a specific color but rather, it becomes Haint Blue when it is used for the purpose of warding off haints, a belief rooted in Gullah-Geechee beliefs. (Though for technicalites' sake, it is a range of blues -> blue greens). After the 1800s, this way of using blue trickled down from the Gullah-Geechees in South Carolina to places such Louisina where Annie is suggested to be from.

The Old Plantation (Slaves Dancing on a South Carolina Plantation), ca. 1785-1795. watercolor on paper, attributed to John Rose, Beaufort County, South Carolina

Blue has always had a fraught history with enslaved Native Americans and Africans. The production of indigo was a profitable commodity demanded by the British empire as early as the 18th century. This production of indigo however, while it oppressed, was also a way for Black and Native Americans to express their individuality, and for people such as the Gullah-Geechee, their spirituality. Annie continues to draw strength from her roots and it's incredible to see it so profusely in so many aspects of her character, including her clothes.

So here is where I deviate a bit from "canon" per se, or give some interpretation of Ruth E.'s and Coogler's "Smoke is blue." We talk a lot about how the movie does a great job of showing how, though Smoke wasn't completely "sold" on hoodoo, but that he did very much believe in Annie. And that trust between them goes beyond what Smoke's willing to communicate through words (he wears the mojo bag through the war, through Chicago, and removes it only when he's ready to die. How he let's her take the reigns when talking to Cornbread. How he follows through with his promise as painful as it was).

"Smoke is blue. Stack is red." - Ruth E. Carter explaining how Ryan Coogler first posed the characters to her as a jumping off point for costuming.

Whether or not it's a conscious knowledge, I like to think that he dresses in blue as an extension of that trust. That bond between Annie and Smoke and the protection that comes with it bleeds into something as "ordinary" as Smoke's choice of color. One can say that maybe the color reminds him of Annie, and I also think there's some argument to be made about the universe answering Annie's prayers of protection, wrapping Smoke in an extra layer, another ward against evil.

----

Sources:

Blue Roots by Robert Pickney

Red, White and Black Make Blue: Indigo in the Fabric of Colonial South Carolina Life by Andrea Freeser

Haint Blue, the Ghost-Tricking Color of Southern Homes and Gullah Folktales

What the Color ‘Haint Blue’ Means to the Descendants of Enslaved Africans

Interviews of Ruth E. Carter and Hannah Beachler linked in the pull quotes above.

[pixeld0ll]

Tear you apart

pt. 1 | pt.2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 (coming soon!)

tags: NSFW, MDNI, ryomen sukuna, sukuna x reader, sukuna smut, jujutsu kaisen smut, sukuna fanfiction, jujutsu kaisen x reader, dark content, dark romance, nsfw fanfic, possessive sukuna, masochistic reader, degradation kink, sadism and masochism, size kink, rough sex, aftercare, marking kink, carving kink, curse!sukuna, sukuna's domain, bratty reader, power dynamics, worship kink, dubcon elements, twisted romance, jujutsu kaisen fanfic, jjk x reader, sukuna x you, smut fic, yandere vibes, obsessed sukuna, cursed bond, forbidden love

an: HIIII this is my first fic in like 4 years so please bear with me!! huge huge shoutout to @cinnamorollcrybaby for inspiring me to start writing again, ur the bomb.com <3 i hope u all enjoy!!

words: 4.8k

It’s your third year at Jujutsu High, and the urge to summon Sukuna gnaws at you day and night. Ever since you first heard about the King of Curses, a part of you has been… intrigued by the four-armed, two-faced legend.

You still remember the day Maki told you about him, after teasing you for knowing so little about the world of curses. Your face flushed in embarrassment as you grabbed a strand of your hair, twisting it in your fingers—a nervous habit.

“Alright, newbie,” Maki had said, her face shifting to something more serious. “Ryomen Sukuna is known as ‘The King of Curses.’ According to dumbass Gojo, he looks mostly human—aside from having four arms, two faces, two sets of eyes. Fucking—seven feet tall or something like that.” She paused, picking up her cursed tool to sharpen it.

“He ruled in the Heian era, like, a thousand years ago. He’s the definition of pure evil. Killed thousands—maybe millions. No one fully understands his technique. He could rival Gojo, honestly.”

Your eyes had gone wide. How had no one ever told you this?

“Eventually, they defeated him—or sealed him or whatever. The story gets fuzzy,” Maki continued, placing her blade down and removing her glasses to clean them with the hem of her shirt.

“His twenty fingers were cut off and scattered. Jujutsu High has a few. Some are used to attract cursed spirits, and of course, some are in the hands of curses themselves.”

You swallowed hard, trying to picture Sukuna in your mind. Would he be grotesque, like the curses you fought on missions? Or would his ‘human’ form make him... a little sexy?

You couldn't lie—seven feet tall made your ears perk.

What the hell? You shook your head. You can’t be thinking like that. A sorcerer shouldn’t wonder if a curse is hot. They’re curses. They must be exorcised.

“…Is it possible for him to come back?” you asked quietly, half-hoping the answer was yes.

“Oh yeah,” Maki said, and your eyes widened further. You weren’t expecting that. She chuckled at your expression. “You’re cute. Your first time fighting a special grade’s gonna be fun. But yeah—two ways Sukuna could come back. First, someone eats his fingers—becomes his vessel. The second? You don’t summon him exactly—you enter his domain. Not sure how that would work, or if it even can. I mean, who the hell would wanna find out?”

You laughed softly with her, opening your mouth to ask more—but were interrupted.

“Maki! Y/N!” Panda called from the top of the staircase. “Come inside! Gojo’s got a mission debrief!”

You and Maki exchanged a glance before standing and heading toward the large cursed corpse that awaited you. But your mind swirled with questions. You made a mental note to check the library after the mission—to learn more about him.

That obsession never left.

It grew. Festered. You tried to ignore it, to suppress the dirty impulses and morbid curiosity—but one day, it became too much. You gave in. Hours turned into weeks, scouring books, blogs, and old scrolls. Your room became a shrine of obsession—papers, texts, ancient diagrams… even a blog written by someone who claimed to have contacted Sukuna before. They said the summoning didn’t fully work, but symbols appeared, questions were answered, and something watched them.

And now… here you are.

Three years later.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of your dorm, surrounded by red candles and ancient Heian-era symbols scrawled in your own blood. It hurt to collect—but the pain was nothing compared to the hunger to see him. To know him.

It’s well past midnight—close to 2 a.m.—and you've cast a veil to prevent any sorcerers from detecting your energy. You take a shaky breath, reach for the wooden box, and slowly open it. Inside rests a talisman-wrapped finger—one of his.

You bite your lip as you begin unwrapping the paper, whispering the chant you painstakingly pieced together from hundreds of texts:

"I seek the gate carved in sinew and stone, Where curse-born kings reign from bloodied throne. Let flesh wither, let truth distort, I step where the living hold no court."

"With eyes unblinking and heart laid bare, I cross the threshold—if I dare. By tooth, by nail, by cursed design, I enter the Shrine where Sukuna lies."

"Ryomen Sukuna, let the veil be torn. May my soul walk where gods are shorn."

"Open the gate. I offer my name."

"And enter now your cursed domain."

You place the unwrapped finger into a circle of blood and whisper your name into the dark.

Nothing happens.

Minutes pass.

Your eyes flutter open, disappointment filling your chest. Of course it didn’t work.

“I can’t believe I thought this would—”

Suddenly, a wave of nausea slams into you. The room spins. You stumble forward—but instead of grabbing your bedpost, your hand meets something horrifying: a pile of skulls. A river of thick, dark-red liquid flows beneath you.

You scream and jump back, hands clamping over your mouth.

“You dare to enter my domain,” a deep voice growls behind you, “and shriek like a brat—nearly louder than the thousands I’ve sliced in three. Bow before me, insolent fool… or I’ll do the same to you.”

You freeze. Your heart races as you slowly turn, legs trembling.

A figure looms behind a towering column, hidden mostly in shadow.

Four arms. More than seven feet tall. Colossal.

It’s him.

Your breath catches.

You remember something from that blog: Sukuna enjoys disobedience. Your survival instincts scream to kneel, to beg. But a darker part of you whispers: Keep going.

“…And what if I don’t?” you call out.

He steps forward, slow and deliberate, letting the blood-red light reveal his face.

“If you refuse,” he says with a sinister grin, “I’ll break your limbs, tear you apart, and feast on what’s left of your pitiful little body.”

He stands over you now, red eyes gleaming, drinking you in. His voice is cruel—yet somehow intoxicating.

“Don’t even think about running, little human. You’re nothing. A bug. A speck waiting to be crushed.” He leans in, towering above you. “So tell me—will you obey your king?”

You scan his body—your question from three years ago answered in full. Is he sexy? Hell yes.

Towering, muscled, with four arms that could break you in two. His robe clings just enough to reveal the outline of his powerful chest and abs. Four crimson eyes burn into you with heat and hunger.

You suppress every rational thought.

“I never said I wanted to run,” you whisper, locking eyes with him.

His brow raises, amused. “Oh? You have guts, insolent little thing.”

He steps forward again—closer now. So close his heat radiates against your skin. He leans down, lips nearly brushing your ear.

“You’re not afraid of me, eh?”

You gulp, trying not to tremble. “What if… what if I said I am afraid?” You look up. “And what if I said… I like that I’m afraid?”

He freezes for a moment—then smirks. A devilish, dangerous grin.

“Oh really?” he murmurs, voice low and sinful. “You like being afraid of me?”

You bite your lip, breath hitching. His massive body makes your knees weak. You stumble slightly, grabbing his bicep to steady yourself.

He growls at the touch.

“So what if I do?” you breathe, looking up at him through long lashes.

You step onto your toes, rising to meet his face. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Sukuna lets out a low, guttural chuckle—one that vibrates through the stone walls of his domain and sends a tremor down your spine.

“What am I going to do?” he repeats mockingly, his voice silk and poison wrapped into one. “You come crawling into my domain, bleeding for me, begging for my attention... and now you ask me what I’m going to do?”

His four hands move at once—two clasp behind his back again, composed and regal, while the others reach out. One wraps around your chin, lifting your face to meet his eyes, while the second hand trails slowly down your side, ghosting over your waist as if memorizing the shape of you.

“I could tear your soul apart and scatter it across the cursed realm,” he purrs, leaning close enough that you can feel the chill of his breath. “Or—” his eyes flicker, pupils thinning like a predator’s, “—I could reward your... dedication.”

His thumb strokes your lower lip, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. His eyes scan your face like he's searching for the slightest twitch of fear, the tiniest crack in your bravado.

“You’ve been watching me. Studying me. Craving me.” His voice dips lower with each word. “Why?” It isn’t a request. It’s a command.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart thudding against your ribcage like a drum of war. You should lie. You should apologize. But the part of you that brought you here, that carved your own blood into summoning circles, speaks louder.

“I wanted to see if the stories were true,” you whisper, breathless. “If a curse could be beautiful. If danger could be divine.”

His smirk curves into something more dangerous, more unhinged.

“You think I’m beautiful?” he says with mock surprise. “How quaint. Humans and their need to romanticize their own destruction.”

Then, in one swift movement, he steps even closer. You’re practically caged now—his enormous frame casting a shadow over you, the air around him thick and humming with power.

“Let’s see if your devotion is more than words,” he growls. “Prove it.”

Your lips part, the words stuck in your throat. “How—”

“You summoned me,” he interrupts. “Now submit.”

One of his hands lifts, tracing a symbol in the air that glows briefly before disappearing. You feel your knees weaken again—not from fear this time, but from the raw, oppressive aura that crashes over you like a wave. It's overwhelming, like gravity has tripled in an instant. You nearly collapse again, but his hand steadies you by your hip.

He leans in, his voice a whisper against your skin:

“Worship your king.”

He watches you tremble, your breath shallow, your thighs pressed tight. Your silence only fuels the hunger in his eyes.

Then he angles down, lips grazing the shell of your ear, voice low, guttural, and cruelly sweet:

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic.”

You inhale sharply, body going still.

“Transporting yourself into my domain just to be used,” he growls. “You wanted this. Came crawling into the lion’s den just to be ruined, didn’t you?”

One of his hands snakes behind your neck, yanking you closer until your chest presses against his rock-solid torso. His other hand slides slowly, deliberately down your body—past your waist, to your hip, fingers flexing possessively.

“You want me to destroy you from the inside out. You want to be wrecked so badly that no other man will ever satisfy you again.”

His voice dips darker, each word dripping with venomous promise.

“You want to be fucked so hard you forget your name—but not mine. No. The only name you’ll ever remember is mine.”

He yanks your head back slightly to make you meet his eyes. All four of them burn with sadistic glee.

“Ryomen Sukuna. Say it.”

You do. Weakly. Breathless.

He chuckles.

“You want me to defile you—mark you so deeply you bleed my name. I’ll give it to you. I’ll ruin you.”

He leans in until your lips almost touch, his breath hot against your skin.

“I’ll fuck you until your voice breaks, until you’re sobbing, a drooling, trembling mess who can’t even beg properly. I’ll make you scream. I’ll make you bleed. I’ll own you.”

His hand tightens at your throat—not choking, but enough to make your head spin deliciously.

“When I’m done with you,” he snarls, “you’ll be nothing but flesh. A whimpering, broken toy that exists to please me. You’ll crave my touch like a curse.”

His thumb presses against your bottom lip, forcing it down.

“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nod, barely able to breathe. Every part of you burns—fear, desire, the overwhelming thrill of submission.

“Yeah,” he hisses, grinning like the devil himself. “You would. You dirty, desperate little slut.”

He tilts his head, mock sympathy in his voice.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s worth it. You’ll forget everything you were. Everything you wanted. The only word you’ll know...”

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours—barely.

“...is my name.”

Your breath stutters as his thumb slides down your chin, dragging it open until your lips part with a soft gasp. Sukuna hums, a low, vibrating sound in his throat that’s equal parts cruel and amused.

“So easy to break,” he murmurs, eyes devouring your expression. “And you want it. You want to be reduced to a whimpering little pet in my grasp. Filthy.”

His hand leaves your throat—just long enough to trail down your side, the weight of it scorching through your clothes like a brand. Four hands. Four points of contact. You barely register where he’s touching anymore, only that you're utterly surrounded by him. Caged.

“You’re trembling.” His voice is soft now. Dangerous. A hiss laced with anticipation. “Not from fear. Not entirely.”

You try to speak, but no words come. Sukuna notices. He always notices.

“Look at you,” he grins. “On the edge of reason. You’ve thought about this, haven’t you? For years. Dreamed of what I’d do to you. What it would feel like when I finally touched you.”

One hand grabs your jaw again, forcing you to meet his gaze. All four eyes bore into yours—two mocking, two ravenous.

“Thats right, I was aware every time you thought about me. I saw those dirty little fantasies late at night. Now you’re here. And I’m real. And I promise you this—when I’m done, you won’t want to go back.”

Your knees threaten to give out. His body is so close. Heat rolls off of him like steam from a fresh kill. You can smell the iron in the air, the faintest metallic tang of blood soaked into the stones beneath you. His domain is alive, pulsing—watching.

He steps closer still, and his lips hover a breath away from yours.

“You summoned me,” he whispers darkly. “You walked willingly into the lion’s jaws.”

He leans down, mouth brushing the corner of yours, just enough to make your head spin.

“Now beg,” he growls. “Beg to be devoured.”

And just as his mouth descends toward yours in a twisted parody of a kiss, the world around you goes darker—red lightning crackling through the shadows like veins, the temple stone beneath your feet pulsing with cursed energy. The air thickens, pressing against your skin like a second body. The veil between power and pleasure snaps taut.

Everything is trembling on the edge.

The moment before the storm.

The exact place you’d wanted to be.

You kiss him back with equal ferocity, matching his hunger beat for beat. His lower hands make quick work of your oversized t-shirt, claws slicing through the fabric like it’s nothing more than paper. The sudden tear and the rush of cool air against your bare skin draw a gasp from your lips—but he doesn’t waste the opportunity. His tongue slips into your mouth, skilled and unrelenting, claiming every inch as if he owns it. Which, in this moment, he does.

A helpless whimper escapes you, and the sound earns a guttural, possessive growl from deep in his chest. His upper hands find your breasts, easily engulfing them—his fingers rough, greedy, squeezing with a pressure that borders on painful. You arch into his touch even as you flinch, the sensation overwhelming in the most intoxicating way.

He breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth down the column of your throat, licking and biting with the same cruel precision he likely used to kill a thousand men. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot, you moan, voice hitching—and the smirk that spreads across his lips against your skin is unmistakable. He’s found your weakness, and now he plans to exploit it.

Without warning, sharp pain rips through your neck as his fangs sink into your flesh. Your eyes roll back, the coppery tang of your blood mixing with the heat of his breath. You cry out, instinctively reaching for him, fingers tangling in his hair in a desperate attempt to pull him away.

But Sukuna is far from done.

He growls again, grabbing both your wrists in one hand and forcing them behind your back with humiliating ease. The other hand holds you in place by the waist, and he laps at the blood trailing from your wound, his tongue slow and deliberate. Worshipful, in a twisted, terrifying way.

He doesn’t stop. He dives back in, sucking, biting, marking you over and over until your neck blossoms in deep reds and violent purples. A crown of bruises worn only by the damned.

You’re trembling now, not from fear—but from the unbearable rush of it all.

And Sukuna? He’s only just begun.

He reaches one of his lower hands between your thighs, brushing aside your pajama shorts with an effortless motion. With a flick of his wrist, he hooks a finger into the waistband of both your shorts and panties, tearing them apart like wet paper. The sound of fabric ripping echoes in the chamber, followed by the soft whisper of cloth hitting bone as your clothing falls to the ground in tatters.

With his other lower arm, he lifts you like you're weightless, hands gripping your waist with practiced strength—rough, yet with a frightening kind of care. Like a predator who doesn’t want to break the prey until the right moment. As he ascends the pile of skulls, you instinctively avoid looking down, unwilling to think about who they once were. You focus instead on him—on the sensation of his body pressed to yours, on the terrifying comfort of his grip.

His lips never leave your neck. His fangs, already stained with your blood, drag against your skin in a cruel promise. Your neck, once smooth, now blooms with dark marks—bruises, welts, cuts—a living canvas of his possession.

A sudden wave of shame crashes over you as the reality of what you’re doing sinks in. What would your fellow Jujutsu sorcerers think if they saw you like this? Marked by a curse—the curse. You feel the weight of your choices bearing down.

He feels it too.

Without a word, he hurls you onto his throne—a towering, jagged seat of bone and twisted steel, as brutal and imposing as its master. You hit the seat with a thud, breath stolen from your lungs, your body trembling with a mix of fear, guilt, and something darker.

A strong hand seizes your chin, tilting your face upward. You look into four burning eyes, full of scorn and amusement.

“Tch. Look at you,” he mutters. “Trembling like a leaf, after crawling into my domain on your own. I don’t let just anyone in here, you know.” His other hand cracks against your cheek with a sharp slap, the sting blooming instantly across your skin. “Well you're in luck. I've always wanted to defile a jujutsu sorcerer. Its just my luck a fucked up pretty little whore dropped in my lap.”

Tears spring to your eyes, not just from pain, but from the shame curling deep in your stomach.

“You really are pathetic, aren’t you?” he growls, voice low and dangerous. “Three years you spent digging into my legacy. Feeding your obsession. And here you are—just another filthy human slut desperate to be touched by something monstrous.”

He cages you in, all four arms braced on either side of you, his massive form casting you in shadow. You feel like prey. Trapped. Hunted. Your heart races.

“I can smell it, you know—the guilt,” he sneers. “But I can also smell the truth underneath it.”

He leans in close, his lips brushing your ear.

“You want them to know. All those little sorcerers you call friends—you want them to see the marks I leave on you. You want them to know who you belong to now. Don’t you, little whore?”

You freeze. The thought had crossed your mind once. Maybe more than once. But hearing it said aloud—so crudely, so accurately—makes your throat tighten.

“I asked you a question, whore.” His voice sharpens. “When your king speaks, you answer.”

You gulp, nodding.

He growls softly. “Ah, no. Not enough. I want words, not whimpers. So mouthy before, and now you cant even get a coherent sentence out. I havent even fucked you yet, how pathetic.

You look up into his eyes—terrified and trembling, but unable to lie to yourself anymore.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Yes… I want them to know I’m yours.”

He smiles—a twisted, triumphant expression that sends a chill down your spine.

“Good girl,” he says, lips curling back to bare his fangs. “Because from this moment on, you are.”

Suddenly, his grip tightens, and before you can process what’s happening, you feel a rush of pressure between your thighs — not one, not two, but three of his massive fingers drive into you without warning. The sudden stretch steals the breath from your lungs.

“You want it, do you?” His voice is a low growl, vibrating through your chest like thunder. “Then beg, pet. Beg for your king.”

Your words crumble into gasped half-sentences, muffled moans, and desperate little pleas as your body writhes helplessly in his hold, trying to match his rhythm. Every curl of his fingers makes your vision blur, the relentless pace driving you higher, faster.

“Oh, you can do better than that.” His voice darkens, almost mocking. “Beg for your king like the filthy little whore you are. Say it. Show me.”

His thumb finds your clit, pressing in tight circles that send shocks up your spine. Your back arches against him, mouth falling open with a sobbing moan.

“F-Fuck, please,” you choke out, barely coherent. “Please—please, I need it—need you—Sukuna, please—”

The moment his name falls from your lips, everything changes. He lets out a feral noise that’s somewhere between a snarl and a groan, and before you can even mourn the loss of his fingers, he buries his dick deep inside you with a savage thrust.

You cry out, not just from the stretch, but from the overwhelming sensation that follows — the heat, the fullness, the way your body clenches around him like it was made for this. Made for him.

His breath stutters against your skin. “Tight little thing,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You feel that, don’t you? How you fit around me so perfectly. It’s like you were always meant to be mine. God, you can fucking see my dick in your stomach.” he groans out. Its been so long since hed taken anyone like this; and though he’d never admit it to you, you’re the best pussy he’s ever had. 

You don’t even have time to answer. Your body moves on instinct, spasming around him as your climax hits you in a sudden, overwhelming wave. He holds you steady, one arm wrapping around your waist like a steel band, the other gripping your thigh as he starts to move — deep, slow, brutal.

“Already?” He chuckles darkly. “You must be a virgin Cumming so quickly… How precious.”

He leans forward, forcing you to meet his eyes — those four blazing orbs searing into your soul. “Look at you. Wrecked, ruined, and I’ve barely even started.”

One of his hands slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat — squeezing slightly to constrict your breathing slightly. “You’re mine now,” he says, tone calm but laced with threat. “Every breath you take. Every sound you make. Every time someone even thinks of touching you, they’ll see me in your eyes.”

You can barely think, barely speak, every nerve set alight as he starts to move again — unrelenting and commanding. All that’s left is the sound of your whimpers, the heat of his breath on your skin, and the terrifying, intoxicating truth:

You don’t want to be anywhere else.

“Mmf- s-sukuna-” you moan out, knees falling open as you completely submit, showing just how much he can use you. “Mm… let you do anything..” 

He stops his momentum immediately, making you actually tear up, missing his dick pressing against your cervix, hitting the right spots every time. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” his eyes flash, sadistic smirk forming across his face. One of his hands grips your chin harshly, and he spits, spits, in your face. “Say. that. Again.” 

You gasp, his saliva trailing down your cheek. You gulp before responding quietly. “I’d let you do anything you want to me.” your voice is slurred with pleasure slightly, and you swear his eyes glow red when the words leave your lips. 

He drops your chin and shoves you down, hooking your legs around his waist. 

“You innocent, little thing. You have no idea what you’ve done.” he purrs in your ear. 

“I’m going to fucking tear you apart.” 

Suddenly his mouth is on your breasts, biting and sucking, and he resumes his cruel thrusting pace, making you scream out in surprise. He grabs a nipple into his mouth, biting down on the taut bud just enough to send jolts of pain and pleasure through your body. His hand grips your other breast, rolling your the nipple between his large fingers and pinching. 

He looks up at you, mouth still moving on your breasts, and he actually has to close his eyes to keep himself from cumming. 

Your head is lolled to the side, eyes dazed and rolled back. You’re flushed and sweaty, hair sticking to your forehead, mouth open as actual drool dribbles out. 

His marks completely cover your body, and he absolutely knows there is no way of covering them up. You look like you're in pure ecstasy, and he engranes the image in his mind to use at a later date. 

Another orgasm pours over you, and Sukuna lets out an animalistic growl as you squeeze around his dick. 

“Fuck- tightest little cunt- god, I can’t wait to fucking fill you up.” 

You moan at his words, and he continues fucking into you roughly, finally releasing your neck as finger-shaped bruises begin to form. He holds your hips down, bringing another hand to your clit, flicking at rubbing it harshly.  

A third orgasm crashes over you, catching even you off guard. Sukuna barks out a yell, sinking his teeth back into your neck as he makes four deep thrusts, your constricting walls finally breaking him. He growls and falls against you, spurting load after load of hot, sticky cum deep in your cunt. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, feeling him fill you to the brim. 

For a moment, the only sound that lingers in the heavy air is the ragged rise and fall of your breathing, tangled with his own. Sukuna releases your wrists, and to your surprise, his movements shift — not harsh, not greedy. He pulls out of you with an almost reverent slowness, your body still trembling from the aftermath.

You whimper instinctively, still aching, still stretched far beyond your limits. His deep, throaty chuckle rumbles through the chamber as he watches you tighten around the emptiness he left behind.

“There, there, little girl,” he murmurs, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek with unexpected tenderness. His clawed fingers trail your jaw, soft for the first time. “You got what you wished for.”

Through your half-lidded eyes, you catch the faintest hint of something new tugging at the corners of his mouth. Not smugness. Not triumph. Something quieter. Older.

A single, large hand cups your cheek, his thumb swiping gently beneath your eye. “Sleep now, pet,” he says, voice low and velvety. “Perhaps I’ll grant you another visit.”

The world goes dark not with fear, but with surrender.

Sunlight filters through the narrow cracks in your curtains, speckling your room in faint gold. You blink against the light, breath catching as memories rush in—vivid, violent, visceral.

You jolt upright and immediately regret it, pain flaring through every muscle. So it was real...

Gingerly, you swing your legs off the bed, feeling your thighs protest every movement. Every step toward your vanity is a struggle—your body marked, exhausted, claimed.

And when you catch your reflection, you freeze.

Your neck and chest are a canvas of bruises, deep purples blooming across pale skin like morbid blossoms. Small bandages pepper your body—tucked neatly over teeth marks, scratches, and raw places only he could’ve reached. You stare, wide-eyed, as a blush rises to your cheeks.

Did the King of Curses… bandage you?

Your hand comes up to touch one of them, and something twists in your chest. Not fear. Not shame.

Possession.

A flicker in the mirror draws your attention. For a brief second—too fast to be certain—you swear you see four crimson eyes watching from the shadows behind you. A whisper of heat coils at the base of your spine.

Then it’s gone.

But you know better now.

This isn’t over.

You had opened a door. And Sukuna… would never lets his plaything close it again.

[robin-evry]

Heyy how are you doing? Anyways when l read the kiana reader post. I feel like nahida o

I'm good thank you for showing concern

𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 🌿🧠

Lesser Lord Kusanali dwells deep in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, and has never really been in the limelight, nor has she even been mentioned much. Her burden is heavy, but though she may experience loneliness, and though darkness is all she sees before her, she will not stop moving forward.

The new guardian of the tree of life, the reader is not part of any pantheon the gods would consider them as an outer god basically a god that wasn't mentioned in any mythology in Earth's history.

The Tree of Life is an ancient, primordial entity that predates even the gods. It is the source of all life, dreams, and wisdom, existing beyond the cycle of creation and destruction. While many gods claim dominion over life, they only shape what the Tree of Life allows to exist. it records every action, choice, and consequence of the universe holding the secrets of the universe even the gods aren't aware of.

Reader is a divine being who predates many of the gods in Valhalla, existing since the dawn of creation. The Tree of Life, which they are bound to, is said to be the source of wisdom and vitality in the universe.

The original guardian sacrificed themselves and from the branch of the tree gave birth towards the reader, the reader is the avatar of the tree and works as its guardian protecting it as well as nurturing it making sure knowledge would be spread around.

During their free time they would visit the dreams of humans and spend time with them, as well protecting them from nightmares and giving blessings towards them, most people who receive their blessing are granted with wealth and become scholars.

They are neither fully aligned with the gods nor humans, but rather with the balance of life itself. To them, Ragnarok is an unnatural disruption of the cycle, but they do not interfere unless necessary.

They view the gods to be overly arrogant, they are convinced themselves they are invisible meanwhile nahida! reader fully knows the truth that they themselves cannot escape fate and soon believe another species would take control of the heavens. Similar to the cycle of titans and gods.

Their presence nurtures life—wherever they go, flowers bloom, and dying trees regain their vitality. Some gods mistake this for a harmless trait, unaware of the immense power it signifies.

Often found in a garden-like domain outside of Valhalla, where reality shifts between dream and waking. The place serves as a sanctuary for them and the aranaras.

The Aranara are small, plant-like spirits born from the dreams of nature itself, residing within Reader’s sacred domain in Valhalla. They are fragments of the Tree of Life’s will, acting as its protectors and messengers. Each one represents different aspects of the natural cycle—growth, decay, renewal, and dreams.

In some ways the aranaras are the leafs meanwhile the reader is the branch and roots of the tree of life.

The tree of life holds knowledge about everything of the universe living beings, humans, primordial gods it holds records since the start and before the rule of the gods. And the reader is able to bend this knowledge meaning they have the capability to remove the authority of the gods as well erasing their existence.

By this knowledge most of Valhalla are weary of them even fear them being afraid that if they manage to anger them the reader would remove the authority of them stripping them from their title.

Even the most powerful gods fully know they are nothing compared towards their authority instead they respect the reader as well as having a political alliance with them, the reader would still be considered a neutral side they are only loyal towards duty not evil or good.

[thespectralcottage]

Witchcraft 101:

Cleansing vs Uncrossing vs Banishing

Alright witches. Lets dive into some witchy basics and discuss the differences between cleansing, uncrossing and banishing. This will hopefully help you differentiate between them. But.. lets be honestly if you do something like call a spell an uncrossing when "technically" doing a banishing, who cares its all in good spirit. The reason i think its good to have a difference in mind between these falls into how you handle a spell. If I'm doing an uncrossing vs a banishing i would choose different spell ingredients, maybe work with different gods, or choose a different element to work with.

Cleansing: I consider cleansings as the foundation and most basic of these. Its almost an umbrella term the other two fall under. All banishings are cleansings, but not all cleansings are a banishing. Cleansings are when you're trying clear something away. Most often people will use this term in day to day workings and general upkeep to make sure nothing has stuck to them. This would include more casual things like smoke cleansing, showering and asking the water to cleanse you, sound cleansing, etc. Its not a full spellworking or ritual, but still done with energy and intention. Sometimes you may do a cleansing and realize whatever is there, is stuck deeper then you expected. So you take the next steps and do a more "intense" cleansing like an uncrossing or banishing.

Uncrossing Spells: Uncrossing specifically refers to removing unwanted energy. Usually when discussing what is an uncrossing, I sperate it from just a cleansing by describing it as a very intense cleansing where you're trying to strip away intense and specific energy. These are more work and a step up from an everyday cleansing for more intense scenarios. This is very spirit focused; think of it as taking out the bad and putting in the good. Some types of spells I would consider an uncrossing are: removing hexes/jinx/curses, removing the evil eye, spiritual detoxes, road openers, removing any stubborn energy, removing feelings, etc. I associate uncrossings with water: it's soaking in and getting that energy out. I would choose herbs/spell ingredients that are uplifting and purifying. Think salt, rosemary, rue, and lemons.

Banishing Spells: Banishing spells remove unwanted entities, spirits or people. You can use it to get rid of very deep rooted things like habits or insecurities. Banishings are quite a strong forms of spellwork. You're really kicking something out and away from you when you do a banishing. Its connected to more deep rooted things that you're trying to remove from your life. Some types of spells I could consider a banishing: cord cutting, exorcisms, banishing a spirit attached to you, getting rid of insecurities, freezers, etc. I associate banishings with fire. Burn and gtfo. I would choose herbs that have more of a kick to them and are defensive. Think nettle, blackberry leaves, cloves, even pepper in some cases.

Please note this doesn't have to be something strict. Like i said at the beginning this is just a guide that will help you differentiate so you can tackle the spellwork as effectively as possible.

✨Stay Spooky ✨

[paishowhitelotus]

Rewatched book 1 after watching the live action and here is a list of everything that wasn’t in the live action that I think should have been :

Sokkas war paint

Saying the words “hair loopies”

Barely seeing the boomerang

Katara being able to calm down aang during the avatar state

The comet

Importance of mastering all 4 elements

Sokka dressing in kyoshi warrior clothing and learning the strength of women (removing and growing from his sexist beliefs)

Zukos honor /destiny (think it’s mentioned once?)

Mouthfoaming guy

Aang water bending

Roku manifesting and telling jeong jeong to teach aang firebending

Aang trying fire bending too soon and burning katara which leads to him being hesitant on learning firebending in book 3

Katara finding out about her healing abilities

Aang being selfish by keeping location of Sokka and kataras father from them

Aangs crush on katara

Aang doing everything he Can to heal his friends in the swamp

"Miyuki, did you get in trouble with Fire Nation again?”

Rokus dragon

Aang dealing with the guilt of leaving the southern air temple and all his people getting killed and not accepting his role as avatar

Sokkas intuition for recognizing Jets deceit

Sokka being a natural inventor (it’s barely even touched in the live action) Sokka is smart and creative

Katara’s dedication to learning water bending by stealing the scroll

Katara’s jealousy of aang being able to bend and learn faster than her

Kataras fierce determination and her take no shit personality

The cruelty of the fire nation by imprisoning earth benders into work camps (this is just one example)

Katara’s selflessness and bravery by getting herself imprisoned in the war camp and saving all the prisoners shows how much empathy Katara feels for people and always wanting to help those who can’t help themselves

Showing how master jeong jeong and others left the fire nations army because of its cruelty (fire nation people can be good and recognize the evil in their own ranks)

How aang feels upset about the disrespect and condition of the northern air temple/legacy of his people but accepts it in the end knowing they need this temple as their home

Using the fallen war balloon to create a fleet of airships in the final battle with Ozai

Appa being a badass and also fighting to protect aang multiple times

Iroh and his white lotus tile (this is important foreshadowing for later seasons)

The healer in the northern water tribe recognizing the betrothal necklace and realizing it belonged to her friend and kataras grandmother, kanna, who was engaged to master pakku of the northern tribe but left to live in the South Pole

Katara confronting pakku and telling him “I’ll be outside if you’re man enough to fight me” ( the challenge is off screen in live action, dumb choice tbh just glad we got to see the physical fight at least)

Pakku finding the betrothal necklace and talking about kanna and katara saying her gran left because “she wouldn’t let your stupid tribes customs control her life” which in turn makes pakku reconsider and start teaching katara waterbending

Pakku complementing kataras skill saying she’s has advanced faster than any other student he has trained (this shows how great and powerful of a water bender she truly is)

How strong the water benders are at night especially during the full moon

How the moon was the first water bender

Zuko kidnapping aangs body while he is in the spirit world

“You rise with the moon, I rise with the sun”

Not showing emotion to koh cause he’ll steal your face

Zuko talking to unconscious aang telling him how everything always came easy to his sister, she’s a firebending prodigy. Ozai telling Zuko that azula was “born lucky while Zuko was lucky to be born” (another instance of ozai’s cruelty as a father)

Talking about how iroh has been to the Spirit world

Zuko trying to challenge katara during a FULL MOON” “Here for a rematch?” “Trust me Zuko it’s not going to be much of a match” and then her kicking his ass in 5 seconds

Aang showing compassion to Zuko by saving him again despite Zuko kidnapping his body

Iroh staying with katara Sokka and yue after the moon spirit is killed (this shows his heart)

Yues body disappearing and her spirit kissing Sokka and her saying “I’ll always be with you”

The ocean spirit grabbing zhao and dragging him into the sea

Pakku wanting to help rebuild the southern water tribe

Pakku Calling her Master katara and saying she’ll train aang from now on

Azula appearing at the end and Ozai sending her on a task because Zuko is a failure and iroh is a traitor

[raymurata]

Bellara's main choice and DAV's implicit (or accidental) stance on book burning

Okay, so. Prefacing this with -- I enjoyed the game. I'd even play it again. That being said, one of its biggest flaws is trying to deliver something so morally sanitized it shies away from giving its characters (aside from Solas) and plotlines (aside from Solas's) real nuance. And in the same breath, they end up sending messages that I doubt they intended to send.

Bellara's main decision is particularly annoying to me.

First, I find her arc to be lacking -- She starts the game grieving her brother and blaming herself for his death despite not being responsible for it, then she finds Cyrian again only to grieve him again, so she's back to the start, only this time she has had the guilt removed from her because Cyrian tells her what she needs to hear, and the blame is placed on a big bad evil. Fair, fine.

But I don't like the cinematography of that scene at all. There was plenty of time for Rook and Bellara to react between Anaris grabbing Cyrian's foot and throwing him at the wall. People in Thedas have survived way worse injuries, too, and Bellara literally has healing at her disposal. Why doesn't she even try? His death is clearly plot-driven but it doesn't take her arc forward all that much? But again, that's fine. Not too bad.

But then the choice I have to make for her is whether or not to keep the archive, why? At no point in the game (please correct me if I'm wrong and missed canon information that contradicts me. That would make me way less angry!!!) do they tell us that it was Bellara using the Archive that summoned Anaris, or that it could summon him at will. As far as my interpretation goes, the Archive is, as its name says, the equivalent to a library curated by a comically self-aggrandizing jerk. At no point do we hear it share any actually dangerous lore either, do we? No blueprints for nuclear weapons...

So why does the game choose this wording:

Now, unless the Archive has powers we are unaware of, what this is saying is basically "burn the ancient elven library (it will be safe)" or "don't burn the ancient elven library (it will be dangerous)" and, for a game that is so irritatingly set on giving you only 2024-morality-board-approved goodTM and unproblematic companions and allies... Why does it tell me that burning books is the safe option, ESPECIALLY given that these books are priceless historical artefacts from a marginalized and subjugated ethinic group who have long lost their history to genocide? Like, wut?? Even if the Archive were in fact a dangerous weapon, the game shows us through the Veil Jumpers' vault that they have trained capable scholars and developed (or are developing, with Bellara spearheading it) safe tools to study and keep these artefacts. How condescending is it to tell them that they won't be able to safekeep this one? How pointless? (and her cutest armor AND best skill are locked behind that choice? outrageous lmao.)

And what pisses me off is that they had everything set up already, they just had to deliver it differently. If they told us explicitly that the archive is Anaris' phylactery and that keeping it would mean allowing Anaris to eventually come back? THEN we'd have a real danger. NOW there is a non-fascist risk to maintaining knowledge.

Or what if the only reason Cyrian is back is because Anaris brought him back? What if Cyrian's life is therefore tied to Anaris', and you had to choose between letting Anaris live (perhaps that results in him getting imprisoned in the Archive, tampering with the information in it and destroying its historical value forever, plus Anaris might one day figure out a way out) or killing Anaris for good even knowing that Cyrian will also die again if you do (but then the Dalish get to keep the archive and all the knowledge in it, and Cyrian's sacrifice is not in vain)? Or maybe... The Archive is a spirit, isn't it? Drive home the fact that being tied to that device was a cruel thing Anaris did to it, and keeping it there is just as cruel, even if it would mean giving the elves access to information. Make the wording "free the archive" really mean something here, and the player really think that the knowledge will be lost. Then maybe have it that, if she frees it, it gives her information freely and with its own interpretation of that knowledge, and THEN it leaves (so it's not forever but there is a reward for being compassionate). And if she keeps the spirit in the device, then it is always rude and it gives her information curated by Anaris' point of view, but it is available to all upcoming generations. It'd be real nice and nuanced to pit her compassion against her drive for knowledge. If this were DAO or DA2, you wouldn't make the choice FOR HER. You'd make the choice yourself because you are the leader, and if you chose to keep the spirit, you'd garner lots of negative points with Bellara (and with Emmrich) because, let's be honest, she is written as inherently more compassionate than driven, and she'd resent you making an oppressing choice even if it is well-meaning and good for her people (just like Alistair resents you killing Isolde even if he understands it was a difficult choice).

I just... So many ways it could have been an actually weighted choice, or that it could have affected your relationship with Bellara (and other companions) as Bioware RPGs were wont to do. They had a good set up, but the landing was absolutely bonkers.

[thewordfortheday]

Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails. 1 CORINTHIANS 13:4-8

Lord, I am incapable of loving anyone with this kind of love. There's nothing good in me apart from You. I pray that You would pour Your amazing love into my heart.  Help me to love others the way You love me. I know I don’t have it in me to do that on my own, but I also know Your Holy Spirit can fill me with Your love, and out of that abundant overflow, I can love those around me. Lord, You know what I am made of and how imperfect I am. Please work in and through me, remove bitterness, unforgiveness and hatred from my heart. I ask for a continual flow of Your presence and love in my life today and every day. Help me to have the kind of love for others that pleases You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen

[serpentface]

I'm artblocked so Here's character sleeping positions + lore

(blankets omitted from the drawing where irrelevant. Assume characters use them unless otherwise specified)

Palo

Habitually sleeps on his back with his hands clasped.

Overheats easily and likes cooler temperatures, his blanket/cloak will often end up completely removed from his body over the course of the night.

Mild insomniac and a very light sleeper. Occasionally sleepwalks.

Smokes hideje (plant with mild sedative properties) as a sleep aid when he can get his hands on it

This seems to have a side effect of strange, disorienting dreams and occasional sleep paralysis.

Tigran:

Sleeps on his side

Needs to be entirely burritoed into his cloak/blanket regardless of the temperature, leaving a little gap near his face so he can breathe.

If it's hot he sticks his feet out for thermoregulatory purposes.

Sleeps soundly but tosses and turns constantly.

Has very frequent nightmares.

Hibrides:

Sleeps on her side

Needs to be hugging a pillow to feel comfortable.

Almost always ends up curled in a shrimp position in the middle of her bed.

Strongly dislikes sleeping (and generally Being) naked, wears old dresses as pajamas.

Likes when Hippeti (dog) sleeps near her bed, at least until he wakes up to loudly lick himself.

Snores.

Couya

Sleeps on her back.

Takes Odonii standard perpetual armament very seriously and keeps any weapons she is actively carrying next to her while sleeping.

Has very lengthy, vivid dreams.

Sleeps on a grass mat by choice even though she can absolutely afford a fabric bed. Doesn't like soft beds and kind of thinks people who do are pussies.

Has frequent back pain (especially in the mornings), which is surely unrelated.

Janeys

Sleeps on his back or side.

Would benefit tremendously from a weighted blanket. An arm works too.

Has a specific phallus amulet reserved specifically for sleeping (for protection against threats like nightmares, nocturnal emission, or other harm from evil spirits).

It apparently works because he doesn't get nightmares a lot and instead gets really, really weird stress dreams.

Frequently talks/yells in his sleep.

Will wither away and die if deprived of pillows or a down mat.

Brakul

Almost exclusively sleeps on his stomach.

Will be splayed out like a starfish if not physically restricted by the presence of another body.

Falls asleep easily and barely moves over the course of a night. Could sleep through an earthquake.

Rarely remembers his dreams.

(Both get cold easily and this scene would be hidden under a notably massive blanket with only their heads exposed in all but the hottest conditions)

FAIZA:

Falls asleep on her back but can end up in startlingly contorted poses.

Keeps the Odonii standard perpetual armament restricted to having her dagger nearby while asleep.

Doesn't really use pillows, considers a down bed more than enough.

Tosses and turns in her sleep, very frequently wakes up lying on the floor.

Sleepwalks on a fairly regular basis. One time she woke up going through the physical motions of giving a blessing (to a wall) and really didn't know how to feel about that.

Etsushir

Not only capable of sleeping like this, but actively prefers it. (This isn't an elowey-typical thing, it's distinctly unusual)

Quite adept in general at falling asleep in intensely uncomfortable looking positions and circumstances. He's just used to it.

Grinds his teeth in his sleep.

Doesn't usually use a blanket (fur provides enough warmth for most seasons anyway) but likes the physical comfort of sleeping in a cloak.

[awakenedevildays]

Omg that not alot just forever fic literally changed the trajectory of my life ive been giggling kicking my feet sliding down the wall in slomo twirling my hair I LOVE UR WRITING STYLE😓🫶🫶🫶

What about a Halloween / autumn inspired fic I'd love that!!

Ur amazing mlll xx

The compliments literally made my week! Thank you for them and for requesting, hope you'll enjoy it 🩷

「Halloween」 Stiles Stilinski x F!reader

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

"A friend of mine is having a Halloween party this weekend, do you want to come with me?" you ask breathlessly after breaking the make out session you two are having in an empty classroom. He grunts in annoyance at the interruption but doesn't let it discourage him as he keeps kissing you even after. "Mh- Stiles?" 

"Yeah," Stiles replies distractedly between kisses. "Yeah that sounds cool." His index fingers hook into your belt loops and pulls you closer to him from where you're sat on the teacher's desk, him comfortably snuggled between your thighs.

"Did you even hear a word I just said?" you ask with a chuckle before pushing his face away from yours, your hand squishes his cheeks until his lips pucker up in a funny way.

"Of course I did! halloween party this week end, got it" He says and removes your fingers from his face to kiss your swollen lips again, and again. 

"Great! We could- do- a couple costume- let me talk!" Your hands push his chest away from you enough to catch his attention. "Hellooo? You with me?" 

"I heard every word" The boy grins widely and places his hands on your waist, gently holding you. "I was just trying to stock up on enough kisses that will last me until the end of the school day." The fake sappiness in his tone makes you roll your eyes.

"boo loser!" You answer and fist his shirt with your fingers to bring him back closer to you, you peck him again.

He chuckles at your reaction and allows you to pull him back, his hands moves from your waist  into the back pocket of your jeans and leans a bit over you to speak next to your ear. "What do you think about skipping the rest of our classes?" Stiles mumbles as he leaves kisses on your cheek and jaw.

"we really shouldn't" you answer and, sadly, put and end to your make out session by getting down from the desk, despite Stiles whines and attempts to keep you there.

"I can think of a million reasons of why we should," he protests as you get off the desk. "We have no work due in any classes, the teachers have been pretty boring today and now we have economy with the Coach. You want me to go on or have I made my point?" Stiles says as you grab your purse, and his wrist, to leave the classroom and begin to walk down the empty hallway together.

"Stop being a baby and focus on the costumes. I was thinking of the usuals: angel and devil?" you chose to ignore his complaints.

Stiles intertwines his fingers with yours and follows you easily, keeping up with your pace. "And I guess I would be the devil." He says throwing a wink at you and you snort as response.

"You? please! I would be the devil."

"You? No way. You're too cute to be the devil." 

"And you're too innocent." you bite back.

He lets out an offended gasp. "Excuse me? do you remember I was possessed by an evil spirit like- a year ago? You can't stand a chance!"

"You can't alway bring that up as a way to win Stiles!" 

"Yes I can! I was literally the perfect vessel for something evil. You can't beat that!"

"Oh my god okay. Let's just change the costumes, what about...Sexy nurse and patient?" 

It was his turn to smirk this time. "Shouldn't you find it sexist?"

"Shouldn't you find it hot?" you bite back. 

"That depends' would I be the sexy nurse? in that case ye-"

"Put your sarcasm away for a second, Stilinski." 

"You act like you don't know me," He giggles to himself, "but seriously, how about something more original. We can't just go with clichés come on."

"What did you have in mind?" you ask as you stop in front of your locker just when the bell rings and signals the start of the next lesson. 

He shrugs. "I don't really have anything specific. I just don't want something too cliché like a nurse and a patient..." He trails off, "...what about princess Leia and Han Solo?" he asks with fidgety fingers and red cheeks and you immediately catch what he's implying. 

"mhh I wonder why..." you trail off as you close your locker with books in hands.

He lets out a nervous chuckle and rubs the back of his neck. "No reason!" He tries his best to keep his expression as neutral as possible, but the red ears and agitated fingers betray him.

"what a coincidence though... just a few days after watching Return of the Jedi you conveniently get the idea to dress up like in that movie." You rest your shoulder against the lockers and gaze up at him with a smirk.

He stutters a little. "What? it's a pretty cool movie, and- uhh... I thought the outfits were iconic and stuff...yeah... " he says, the excuse sounding less and less believable with each word.

You put the books in your purse. "Which outfit did you find iconic then? say it." Your arms are immediately crossed in front of your chest with a winning expression on your face.

He groans annoyed, "What?! Is it a crime to think you would look hot in Leia's slave costume?" He asks mildly offended.

"ha! I knew it!" you point an accusatory finger at him that he gently swats away.

He lets out a flustered laugh and blushes even more, running a hand through his messy hair under your amused eyes. "Okay, okay. You got me. But can you blame me? You would look so hot."

Your thumb raises to his face to wipe off the lipgloss you accidentally left on his lips. "Thank you baby, but I'm afraid I would freeze my ass off in that costume, what about Morticia and Gomez?"

His eyes light up at the suggestion. "Fuck yes, I'm in!" He sighs almost dreamily at the thought and you can't help but think he would be a great Gomez, considering how he behaves daily with you.

You giggle with your hands now in his hair to fix the messy state they're in (absolutely not your doing). "I'll buy our costumes tomorrow, kay?" 

He hums in agreement and basks into the feeling of your fingers in his now... 'presentable' hair, at last you tried. "Goodbye Y/N in the Leia's slave costume, you were brighter than the whole sky." he sighs 

You laugh out loud and slap his shoulder lightly, "shut up!" 

He chuckles in response, not even trying to defend himself or avoid the playful slap. "I am allowed to have dreams!" your boyfriend playfully pulls grabs your cheeks to look at your face better. "Is someone getting flustered?" 

"haha. Before acting so cocky you should see if you would be able to handle the sight." you sass back to try regain your confidence. 

"oh trust me, I would be able to handle the sight." Stiles replies with a hint of cockiness before pecking your lips. "In fact, I wouldn't mind if it was an every day sight."

Even if Stiles doesn't notice, you take it as a challenge and you chose to not reply at that, only shake your head at his antics. "Come on, let's go to class, maybe the coach will shut you up for good."

He groans at the comment but follows you in the correct classroom. "If we had stayed in that class you could have silenced me in another way, that's too bad." He says in "fake" disappointment as you both enter the classroom.

"Oh my god what is wrong with you today?!" 

The night of the party you're in the bathroom when you hear your front door slam shut, "babe I'm here! Where are you?" you hear his footsteps approach your bedroom and you shake your head at the way he enters in your house undisturbed without even knocking.

"In the bathroom! And for the record, I let you get a copy of my keys for emergencies only." You shout from behind the closed door and you hear your boyfriend huff as he walks into your bedroom, the bathroom's door is the only thing between you two now.

"You should define what is an emergency for you." He replies. "And I never asked for a copy of the key, I just did it"

"... is that suppose to make it better or...?" You ask as you look at yourself in the mirror on last time, the costume is.. something: your chest is covered by a golden bra with multiple metal-like rings that goes around your chest and back, paired with loincloth-style, red skirt supported by the gold waistband with the same decorations as the top and around your neck sits a collar with a small chain that dangles between your breasts. Well... this is humiliating and... hot? Fuck, Stiles turned you into a nerd and you hate it.

"Just a clarification... Are you done in there Morticia?" he jokes from outside and you brush your hair one last time, you love him but there is no way you would have bought the wig too. 

"In a sec!" you breathe out, you're kind of nervous about his reaction.

"Okay! Hurry up I'm excited to see! Do you remember that yesterday's was coach's birthday, right?" He says from his laying position on the bed and you take a deep breath before opening the door of the bathroom slowly.

"We threw eggs at his house yesterday nigh, you should have seen his face when he opened th-" He snaps his head up to meet your gaze and his jaw drops at the sight.

You suddenly feel shy in front of him and you fidget with your hands as you wait for him to say something. "Do you... like it?" you ask with anticipation.

It seems like the entire word was stolen from his mouth, his brain was not functioning anymore at the sight of you. "I-" is as all Stiles is able to say as he sits up on the edge of the bed to get a closer look at you and his eyes roaming all over your body.

"Please say something I feel really stupid right now," you giggle nervously and your boyfriend's mouth opens and closes repeatedly like a fish. 

"I-uh...I think my brain stopped working." He swallows and gulps loudly, the words, the numerous compliments he wants to throw at you are all stuck are stuck in his throat and it's difficult for him to speak right now.  You grin proudly and do a slow twirl around to make him see everything, careful not to flash him considering the fact you're not wearing anything underneath the skirt... it's not like you're actually planning on making you or Stiles leave this room tonight so why bother ruining the fit. "Fuck." He stands up from the edge of the bed and walks towards you with long strides.

He stops just a few inches away from you and gazes down at your figure. "You look so gorgeous" he breathes out and a hand goes to hold one of your hips, the sudden need to touch you is making his fingers itch uncomfortably as his eyes stay fixed on the golden rings around your chest.

You let out a genuine laugh and take him in too, he's clad in the iconic striped suit Gomez wears, with a cute bow tied around his neck and hair slicked back neatly. "You look really good," you compliment him with a smirk and you receive a bewildered look as response.

"Me? I look good!? Look at you! I'm pretty sure I'm hallucinating right now this can't be real." He scoffs and takes a step back to admire you all over again, "fucking hell, you look unreal." 

"Where did the cocky Stiles of a few days ago go?" you ask sarcastically as you walk towards him again, your hands on his chest to push him back until the back of his legs hits the mattress. 

He lets out a huff as he's shoved backwards onto the bed, he bounces on it a couple of times and then looks up at you as you stand in front of him. "Gone. Gone, forever. He won't ever utter a word againohmygod" He almost promises in a groan when you straddle his lap.

You nod satisfied in a thought-so manner and adjust your position on his thighs. "Now, do you want me to change into the Morticia costume and go to the party or-" 

"The second option. Whatever that is I don't care, we're staying here tonight." he answers firmly and his hands immediately go to your hips under the skirt. 

You nod in amusement, "that sounds perfect," you lean in to kiss his lips but he sadly interrupts you, gesturing to your costume with timid eyes.

"... is there any chance you could keep this on?"

"Well I bought it for a reason, didn't I?" You ask as you untie the bow at his neck and he literally moans.

"Just when I thought you couldn't be anymore perfect." 

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Hope you enjoyed, recommendations, suggestions and requests are always welcome and open! <3

Do not copy or repost.

[imakemywings]

Varric: Me, take down the Dread Wolf? I'm flattered. Varric: No, I just came to ask you a question. So, you rebelled against the other gods, and it was a disaster. Varric: Then you imprisoned them and created the Veil, and that was a disaster. Varric: So how is this time gonna work out any better? Can you tell me that? Solas: I understand your hesitance, but what I do now must be done, despite it being past your comprehension. Varric: I'm not saying you're evil. But if you really believed in what you were doing, you'd be able to give me a straight answer. Solas: You would rather cast aspersions than admit that this is mine to solve. Varric: No mistake is worth killing innocent people over. Solas: The question is what lives, and how. My ritual will heal the world, and restore what was driven out of balance. Varric: C'mon, Chuckles. Who are you trying to convince here? Me, or yourself? Solas: Varric… Varric: You're not the first good man I've seen talk himself into a bad decision. The question is whether you can admit it.

This dialogue makes me so crazy and I mean that in a deeply pejorative way. This exchange between Solas and Varric at the start of Veilguard (which you can't actually really hear in-game) goes right to the heart of my biggest problems with the game, which is that it refuses to honestly engage with Solas and his motivations.

Varric, the terminal centrist, seems to suggest that Solas was in the wrong to rebel against the Evanuris for being tyrannical slavers. Which, given Varric's general attitude towards injustice in Kirkwall, isn't totally out of character. Except that Veilguard posits him as the moral heart of the game, so...not sure where we go with that. Is Varric suggesting they'd be better off if the Evanuris had been allowed to continue ruling until the present day?

Then, Solas refuses to give an actual reasons for why he's doing what he's doing. At least in Trespasser, he hinted at why he needed to bring down the Veil. Here, where the writers are given a chance to actually, clearly lay out Solas' motivations, they just...don't. Veilguard won't honestly interrogate either side of the debate, which results in incredibly circular dialogue throughout the game to the effect of:

Solas: I must do this. It's my mistake to fix.

Varric: You're going to drown the world in demons!

Repeat ad nauseum.

No reasons from Solas on why he needs to bring down the Veil--nothing like his Trespasser comments or even his Inquisition dialogue hinting at what the world was before the Veil. Nothing about how spirits suffer being confined exclusively to the Fade. Nothing about how the elves have suffered and been degraded since the Veil went up. Nothing at all about the uthenerai, who may have just been entirely reconned. Just "I made a mistake. I have to fix it." And then later we mix in his grief for Mythal and that's meant to explain it all.

Varric can't argue with Solas because Solas gives Varric nothing to argue against, and therefore nothing for the player to agree or disagree with. We can't have an opinion on what Solas is doing because we're never given concrete reasons why he wants to do this, except that apparently Mythal wanted this (which she never gives any indication of in any of the material we have about her)? (Demonstrably Flemythal disagrees, so this sentiment is at best out of date and at worst completely baseless.) And I've already talked about how making Solas' desire to remove the Veil stem from his personal grief for an individual rather than his desire to do justice for his people weakens his character.

Varric says that if Solas believed in what he was doing he'd give a straight answer, but that would require the game to give us a straight answer, so that can't happen. Veilguard suffers from being a game with a significant moral quandary at the center which determinedly refuses to ever interrogate that quandary.

[navybrat817]

Hollow

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky touches on memories from the past and wants to start a new tradition with you.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal fingering, dirty talk, slight use of knife, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Fic #7 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Newlywed Mob!Bucky won the poll.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A different side of Bucky came out when the leaves began to change. Subtle, but different. It wasn't noticeable to most since he showed people what he wanted them to see. It was a skill he perfected over the years, almost as if he wore a mask to hide his true self. What you saw, however, was ice in his eyes, the same that no doubt ran through his veins. Something weighed on his heart and mind.

You were determined to get to the bottom of it.

As his partner, it wasn't just your job to chase his demons away, but a need to protect him from whatever haunted or hunted him. You wanted to soothe him and let him know he wasn't alone. You knew if the roles were reversed that he'd eliminate anything or anyone that removed the light from your eyes. To have someone that loved you that much was still a bit of a dream.

How thin is the line between love and obsession?

“I can hear you thinking from here, Printsessa,” Bucky said. He knew you were watching him as he sat in his study, even as he focused on something else in front of him. He didn’t turn his back to anyone, except for you. He knew you would never put a knife in it. That was how much faith and trust he had in you. “Don’t want to join me?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” you replied, walking further into the room so you could get a better look at him. He had the sleeves of his button up shirt rolled up, giving you a moment to admire his metal left arm and the tattoos on the right. He commanded the room without standing.

“It's never an interruption if it's you,” he reminded you.

He twirled one of his signature knives between his fingers before he went back to work. The love of your life was an expert in many weapons, but had an affinity for knives. While it didn’t surprise you to find the head of the Bratva with a weapon in hand, you hadn’t expected to see a pumpkin in front of him. “Pumpkin carving? You’re just full of surprises.”

He snorted a little. “I like that I can surprise you.”

Watching him start to carve a pattern in the pumpkin with ease, his eyes narrowed in concentration and hand moving with care, was like a dance. He led with confidence and control. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

“Do you know why some people carve pumpkins?”

You finally took a seat beside him on the sofa, resting a hand on his thigh. His muscles relaxed and you wondered what had him so tense. “I think most do it today to decorate, but some do it to ward off evil spirits,” you said, moving your hand in slow, circular motions as he hummed in acknowledgement. “Is someone haunting you? Do I need to scare them away?”

He tilted his head, a glimmer of pride flickering in his blue eyes as he smiled. “You’d scare them away? You don't think I can handle them myself?”

“I have no doubt you could handle them on your own,” you said with complete certainty. He more than earned his Winter Soldier nickname. “But if something or someone is after you, I want to help.”

He studied you as he lowered his knife and covered your hand with his, holding it like a lifeline. Some protected and fought for him because it was their sense of duty. Others did so out of loyalty to his bloodline. You did it out of love.

Because you did love him.

“No one is after me. At least not today,” he assured you, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “But thank you.”

“Then why are you holding my hand like you can't let go?”

The look he gave you melted your heart a bit. “Because I don't want to let you go.”

It was almost as if he was worried you'd bolt if he released you. The only time you'd run would be when you wanted him to chase you. Or maybe he imagined someone would try to take you away from him. He'd never let anyone get you. “What's on your mind then?”

And how do I help?

“My family,” he admitted, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “My mom used to carve pumpkins. I haven't done it in years.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. His family wasn’t a topic he discussed much, so you didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “Did she teach you how?”

A faint smile appeared and fell just as quickly. “She did,” he said, admiring his handiwork. “I thought it was strange at first, you know? Encouraging me to pull out the insides and leave it hollow. And to carve a face? It almost seemed like a form of torture. Probably why dad demanded I use a decent knife.”

He didn’t hide the hint of anger when he mentioned his dad. You turned your hand over so your palm connected with his, letting him squeeze it to ground him. “But that’s not why your mom did it. She was teaching you to do something beautiful instead of harmful.”

“That's exactly what she did,” he agreed, leaning forward to pick up the knife. “It also encouraged my critical thinking skills. You can’t just dive in without a plan. You have to think it through.”

Bucky sometimes teased that his best friend, Steve, was the man with a plan. The truth was, they both were. Each brilliant in their own way, there was a reason they stayed in power and why so many feared them.

“And I felt proud when she displayed them. Valued,” he continued, his voice a little choked up before he cleared his throat. “It was a tradition I didn't realize I missed.”

Maybe the nostalgia was the reason his eyes looked a bit colder in the fall. “Sounds like a beautiful memory,” you said.

“I hadn’t formed beautiful memories in years until you came along,” he said, his lips skimming your temple. “But you're my family now.”

Tears didn't fill your eyes, but you felt them in your throat. The man was ruthless when the occasion called for it. Terrifying in his rage. You were the lucky one who would never be on the receiving end of it. Only his love. His need. But you could take his rage if you had to.

Like his old memories, you could make it something beautiful.

“You're my family, too,” you told him. You hadn't expected that of Bucky when you met and part of you wanted to stay away from the dangerous world he helped rule, but how could you not want a life with him?

His gaze softened, which warmed your heart. “And I would feel very proud if you helped me finish this,” he said, moving further back against the cushion and opening his legs for you to sit between them. “Maybe it can be the start of our own tradition.”

Your heart raced as you stood up and took a seat on the edge of the cushion, exhaling as he pressed himself against you. “I’m not good at this,” you said, closing your hand around the handle as he placed the knife in it. You didn’t want to ruin the intricate design he already worked so hard on.

His warm breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “We’ll do it together.”

“Guide me?” You asked.

“Of course, Printsessa.”

At the root of everything, Bucky was a man who didn’t want to walk this earth alone. Power and money meant nothing if he didn’t have someone to share himself with. It would’ve left him as hollow as the pumpkins he worried about carving as a child. And if helping him finish this one would make him happy, you’d do just that.

Time passed as he helped you cut into the pumpkin and urged you to follow the stencil, the smell from the pumpkin seeds off to the side bringing a pleasant layer to Bucky's woodsy cologne. There was something intimate about him having you close, his hand directing where yours should go. Like when he taught you how to properly shoot a gun. He said you didn't need his help, but he gave it to you all the same.

Your hold almost slipped when his metal hand snaked between your thighs, softly rubbing your pussy through your underwear. It barely covered your mound, just like your flimsy nightgown. “How am I supposed to concentrate?” you asked, arching as he firmly pressed his palm against you.

“You asked me to guide you. I will,” he said, the light scratch from his scruff making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“You're distracting me,” you whispered, trying to keep your breathing nice and steady.

“Would distracting you be so bad?” he whispered back close to your ear. “We're almost done.”

His fingers gently played with your clit through the fabric, drawing a breathy sigh from you as you squirmed. His almost feathery touch made you all the more determined to finish up, especially since he refused to let you close your thighs to get any friction. You were on the edge of release and he was relentless in loving you.

But he didn't let you come.

“Good girl,” he praised once you finished carving, stopping his fingers as you set the knife down. You bit back a whimper as the rising pleasure faded. “It's beautiful.”

“It is,” you breathed. Instead of a smiling face you saw on so many pumpkins around Halloween, he designed a merged sun and moon. “It's us, isn't it?”

“It is,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before he gestured for you to hand him another knife. “You're my sun.”

“That makes you my moon,” you said, stiffening when you felt the blade at your shoulder. “What are you-”

Bucky sliced through your strap and kissed your bare skin. “I'm starting a new tradition,” he said, doing the same to the other side before he slid your nightgown down. He dragged the knife across your exposed breasts, taking great care not to cut you. “Carve a pumpkin. Cut your clothes off. Make you come.”

“You mean tease my pussy without getting me off,” you said without much bite.

He chuckled, a deep rumble as he set the knife aside. “I always get you off. I’m going to make you feel so good, Solynshko.”

With gentle kisses along your jaw and neck, his large hand slid up to fondle your breasts. The rough pads of his fingers teased your nipples as you gasped and reached back to grasp his hair. He moaned as you twisted your fingers in the strands, his hand sliding down to your wet heat again. Thankfully, he didn't tease you through the fabric this time. His fingers dipped into your underwear and you knew he was eager to feel your arousal.

Everything in your core tightened when he caressed your folds. You met his gaze as you tilted your head back, wanting him to see your desperation as his gaze darkened. “Make me come, please.”

“People beg me for money. Power. Mercy,” he said in a low voice, nuzzling your cheek as he sank a finger in, your walls contracting around him. “Not you. It's only pleasure you ask for.”

“It's you I'm begging for,” you admitted in a whisper. Even when you pushed or questioned why he wanted you of all people, you gave him your love. You yielded only to him and you would never bend your will for anyone else. To deny him would be to deny yourself.

He brushed his lips along your jaw and dipped another finger in as you shuddered. “You begging for me to fuck your pretty pussy with my fingers? Make you ruin this couch before I give you my cock?”

Your head fell back against his shoulder as you bit your lip. “Yes, I am. Ruin me. Love me,” you moaned.

“I love you more than anything,” he promised as your eyes slipped shut, dots of white dancing behind your eyelids.

He gripped your jaw to turn your head back to him, seeking out your lips with his. There was nothing tentative in the kiss, his ice meeting your fire and creating an explosion of need within both of you. Your body hummed as you felt the peak of your impending climax, ready for him to tear you apart.

“Come for me, Printsessa,” he demanded against your lips.

Your pussy clamped around his fingers as you lost yourself to the daze of your orgasm, shamelessly crying out his name. Your juices dripped down his fingers as he helped you ride it out, praising you in your ear and guiding you the way he did with the carving. He was telling the truth before: He always got you off.

“Are you okay?” you asked once you caught your breath, the question you meant to ask the moment you entered his study. He seemed more at ease, though lust now clouded his eyes.

“I'm okay,” he said in a rough voice, slowly pulling his fingers out as you sagged against him. He pulled you closer, enveloping you in his strong arms. It was safe. It was home. “But I think you need my cock.”

“I think I need it, too,” you smiled once you caught your breath, knowing his cock likely twitched in his pants as he tasted you on his fingers. “And you owe me a new nightgown.”

“I ordered you a new one before you came in here,” he said, his expression smug as you turned your head to stare at him. “Now sit on my cock. We have a long night ahead of us.”

“Bossy Pakhan,” you teased.

But if giving you orgasms, ruining your clothes, and making new memories brought the light back in his eyes, you wouldn't complain.

Oh, to belong to him. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[bluerosefox]

Daughter of Phantom, Lady Gotham.

I love Lady Gotham stuff in the DCxDP stories, like a lot, so what if, hear me out (Long post is long, I rambled again)

Lady Gotham is Danny's daughter.

How? How about Danny is hurt (his parents? GIW? Vlad?), like badly, to the point even his core is damaged and the time needed to heal would take years, like a lot of years. Like it was bad that even his Rogues were shocked and shaken. They eventually get him to the Realms but are unsure what to do next. So they're scrambling trying to figure out how to save him.

So when CW appeared he asked to handed the Core because he knows what to do, where to hide him so he can heal they don't question it, everyone in the Realms know CW, the Ancient of Time itself, has a soft spot for Phantom. He opens a portal to a different world, not Danny's he can't run the risk of GIW finding him, to a just beginning world, the new world will help speed up his healing, and with Frostbite's help they set up a healing chamber deep, deep in the ground. Once they made sure everything is set up and safe, they place his core inside the healing pod and return every so often to check on him.

Over time though, above on the surface of that world it's timeline starts. Animals, creatures, humans, aliens, magic users, etc etc begin and with it, because even as a half healing core, Danny's power and ectoplasm starts effecting the area he's resting in (Ghost King Danny? Young/New Ancient/Eldritch Being? Or just an OP Danny?) (Clockwork and even Frostbite showing up every so often doesn't help either, it explains why Gotham is so cold sometimes or why time seems... off)

Anyways due to Danny's power (along with bits of Clockwork and Frostbite), magic of this world, and people beginning to build a small town on top of the land it gives birth to the namesake of the town.

GOTHAM.

CW foresaw her 'birth' and finds her sitting in front of Danny's healing pod. He always knew Gotham would eventually form, the belief/love her people have in her would had given her a form eventually he just wasn't expecting her to form so soon (this is why Danny remains his favorite person, he always did something CW never really see's to often) nor was he expecting her to become Danny's daughter. Gotham looks a bit like Danny, dark hair, blue eyes, pointed ears, sharp teeth, glowing star like freckles, but she also reflects her people, the ones that call Gotham home so her image shifts sometimes. But he can see small hints of maybe himself and Frostbite in the shifts.

She is 100% Danny's daughter via spirit/ectoplasm. If anything CW and Frostbite are like many times removed family members when it comes down to ectoplasm.

She's silent for a moment before she asks if "You and the other come here often to see him... The one sleeping is he my father?" Which CW does confirm, he explains why Danny is healing and who he and Frostbite are and why they show up to make sure he is doing better. How his healing will take many, many years. She goes silent again before saying "Teach me how to protect him. I am new and young compared to others... and yet I already know if anyone desires him for the power he gives, they will stop at nothing. He is my father and I am his daughter, I need to keep him safe just how I know he would keep me safe. This much I know."

CW agrees.

She learns, from her father's allies (CW, Frostbite, Pandora, etc etc) how to defend and fight. How to protect what she loves. She watches over her father and fights off demon's, monsters, sometimes an alien that senses the slumbering power, evil magic users. Etc. She watches over the town and people who named her as well, falls in love with the humans who call her home as well and defends them as well.

She even gets the blunt force of a curse a powerful old entity that tired to place it on her father after she had just banished it from her lands. It's an old powerful curse that CW or Frostbite can't rid of because it would weaken her far to much that they run the risk of her fading, the only way to get rid of it is if she had a family member feeding her ectoplasim to help sustain her. (Her aunts can't because Jazz isn't ghostly enough and Danielle can't because hers is limited due to being a clone (like she has enough for herself but does need to visit the Infinite Realms during her travels to get more ectoplasim to filter in and out). Danny is their only chance because he's constantly filtering ectoplasim in and out and even creating it because of how he died with a portal opening up at the same time)

The curse slowly starts eating away at Gotham, makes it hard for her to have a solid corporeal form because pain (when she has to use this form to fight off others she has to bare through the pain), her appearance starts changing (eyes turn from sharp ice blue to glowing yellow, skin turns deathly sickly pale, her star freckles slowly blinking in and out, hands become inked claws, her dark hair is unkempt and spills like an oil sludge down her body and face) and because Danny is still healing himself he can't help her and she can't see him all too often anymore because she doesn't want to run the risk of the curse effecting his healing core, she does get updates from the other ghosts that visit him and then her. She still defends him though, outside of his healing chambers should on the rare chance something finds it way down to him.

Eventually due to Danny's and Gotham's natural ectoplasim filtering on the lands, visiting and powerful ghosts, Gotham fighting off powerful beings trying to use her father for power, and the curse on Gotham herself, the town that had been built on the ground above by humans becomes the very city we all know.

Its a whole mixed bag do to so many factors, that's why Gotham is the way it is.

Gotham does her best to keep her people safe from well... everything but due to the curse and the fighting off another person/entity/demon/magic user/etc coming for her father's power, she can't always do much by the time one crisis is over and a new one pops up, she's slowly breaking down the longer it takes.

That's why she has a soft spot for her Dark Knight and his family and allies, they help her from the pain from the curse by trying as both the Wayne's and as the Batclan to fix up her city self, its not enough to really fix her fully but it helps with the pain that eats at her.

She does her best to give them tiny blessings though, but due to her duty of protecting her father she can't always do much (she wept when news of Jason, her second Robin, her rough around the edges bookworm, had died came to her. She couldn't protect him because he was out of her reach. Its why when Joker returned she made it very hard for him to really gain his foothold in her again but had to stop because CW told her if she kept making it too hard for the clown he'd go running off to 'play' with a different hero and that... that timeline would lead the world to ruin. She begrudgingly stopped but when Joker had taken her third Robin, her tiny Tim the one she loved watching shadow her knights, she did everything she could to keep him sane from the pain he had been put in, and lead Batman to the warehouse to save him. Also it turns out her heartbreak over Jason's death, her curse acting up, and her ectoplasim sparking off at the same time it helped bring him back from his grave not fully but somewhat, she was so shocked that she didn't have time to send hints to Bruce to get him when he was taken by Talia and once again out of her reach. She tried hinting it to Bruce that Talia had taken him but by the time he would check on the League, Talia would had moved him)

Gotham, depsite being young in the eyes of many other powerful beings and entities has held her own and kept those that wanted to use her father for power packing. Despite being cursed that is slowly eating her alive she still holds onto the hope her father will awaken and she will finally get to meet him. (She hopes she made him proud, he is a protector spirit core after all and she had been steadfast with keeping him safe all these years).

Things however take a turn for the worse when Gotham awakens from some sort of powerful slumber (she doesn't know what happened?! Did something knock her out?! When did she fall asleep?! Was it magic? Did the curse do it? Did someone or something-) And discovers someone or something had managed to steal her father slumbering core. (So close to healing, so close to awakening according to Frostbite, just a few more days he says. Just. A. Few. More. Days)

She tries to go find him but is suddenly hurting more, her curse has progressed even worse, she can barely stand, let alone fight whoever had her father. And she knows her father's friends won't be back to see her until far later.

And then all of Gotham shakes and shudders when her rage, panic, and terror are felt that early morning.

-×-×-

Deep in the Batcave, Batman and the others are searching for whatever caused that strange almost magical but not (ectoplasm) shudder that morning.

They were expecting a full scale attack. Magical, alien, maybe even all the Rogues in Gotham working together. An all scaled war. They were looking for any signs of it, maybe to by some miracle stop it before it becomes to late.

They however weren't expecting a strange sick looking woman with yellow glowing eyes, oil ink like hair covering her face and body, clawed hands like they had dipped in ink as well, star like freckles blinking in and out on her body and face, sharp ears, breathing heavily and coughing every so often to appear in the cave. Like she had sunk out from the shadows in pure silence. (Even Cass did not hear her)

Nor were they expecting her not to even flinch when they trained their weapons onto her. Instead all she did was laugh, a raspy low laugh, but it held warmth and mirth.

"Now, now my knights... No need for that. I come needing help and you are the only ones I will ever trust with this mission..." her voice was soft but harsh, talking seemed to hurt her though for she had to take deep breaths and suppress a cough. Her eyes trailed across them all, despite her sickly look her eyes gleamed with a motherly warmth in a strange sense, something all of them could feel "I can not hold this corporal form for long. Long story short I am cursed, have been for a very long time and whatever happened to me earlier this morning has aggravated it even more and thus I can not stay in the world of the 'living' to do much. My father, the one I have been protecting since my creation from all sorts of terrible and dangerous things, for should they get a hold of him it could spell the end of life itself for he is that powerful, has been taken from his healing chamber. I do not know who or where but I know he still remains in the city, that much I can sense."

She coughed and took a shuddering breath "But alas I can not go to his aid as I once has been able to, this is where you all come in. I need you to find my father, find his core. Bring him to safety. I had fought so many to keep him safe, to make sure he heals in peace for so long, and he... So close. Just a few more days he needed... then I could had finally had met him."

She lightly muttered those last few words, eyes looking lost for a moment before coughing hard.

"Who are you." Batman, Bruce Wayne, stonely demanded but for some reason he couldn't help but feel like he knows her, like from a foggy memory, and by the looks of his family they all could sense the same thing.

The woman, or whatever she was, merely smiled, sharp teeth bared in it as she looked him right in the eyes and said.

"Gotham, my dear Dark Knight. I am Lady Gotham herself. Its wonderful to finally meet you despite the circumstances."

[wandixx]

Prompt For Dc-x-Dp With M’gann and Danny M’gann didn't expect to be dealing with Random Lazurus Green Portals forming around mars, but since she's Nearby mars she gets to deal with it... and their's An Alien with snow white hair Fighting A Glowing Vampire who's raving about Fathers and mothers?? Danny Is in such a Mood, He's on mars, which is a plus, but He's Fighting Vlad On Another 'Join me! Let me remove Jack from this plain of Reality!' and Honestly The Portals are throwing him off, Just... Bad memories, And Then, becuase of fucking course Something else happened, Vlad Gets Decked in the face and sent flying. "hey, So im going to guess that The Vampire is The Evil one here?" The Green woman asked, while Looking at Danny. While Vlad is growling and about to Throw A Red Ecto-blast at M’gann Danny gets in the way with a shield and responds. "yeah, arch nemisis and all, how are you even out here? or breathing?" M’gann Just Shrugged and said, "Well Home is home and all." Before flying to go Deck the Vampire and all. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ hope this is enough for you to Work some magic and all. and as for some extra stuff you could use, maybe danny has a Space obsesion, and His Protective stuff is Becuase of the Type of spirit he is half of? And maybe An Ice core Could be fun to go with? Ghost prince territory? with danny not wanting to be ghost king just yet. ideas for ya to use.

It's such a cool concept! I didn’t fit Ghost Prince in, but I hope you'll like what I did

*****

Danny was going to strangle Vlad, all subtleties of ghost powers no withstanding. He needed the brutal power that just wasn't fully there even when using more offensive abilities, like ecto-blasts.

He had been having a good day. Okay, maybe not a good day, it's been a long time since he had an actually good one, but a decent day. One, that seemed to start out calm, with all of his typical rogues stuck in Zone recent enough they shouldn't get out today specifically. It was Saturday, so no school, and for once his homework wasn't swallowing him, so he had a bit of time to breathe. And prepare college applications, because his grades got to an appropriate level again and he actually got a shot in academic career. No chance for scholarship like Jazz, but he could go if he played his cards right.

And then, of course, Vlad had to come into his room to harass him again. This time with the added flair of a portal gun he made for some freaking reason.

This time Danny wasn't even trying to piss Vlad off, in the love of Ancients, he tried to ignore the other halfa even when he showed up in his room, raving about removing Jack Fenton from this plane of reality. Craving to deck the guy right then and there was enormous but Jazz was on him about controlling his ✨️displaced aggression✨️ and his anger in general, so he was trying to tune Vlad out. He carefully didn't even think about transforming into Phantom. Especially since both of his parents were safe, a few states away on some ghost hunting convention that Danny managed to skip by the power of ‘I can't take more days off school, sorry I messed up my attendance early in the year’.

Well, they would be, if Vlad, being the obsessed creep he was, didn't try to follow them with a portal gun.

Danny was still willing to ignore it all, because Vlad was a loser and chances that he made something so complicated work properly were only slightly above chances his parents had. And both of them were tripping hazards in hell.

But then Vlad started blasting around his room to egg him on and hit his Curiosity rover model.

Phantom tackled him before the bastard had time to smirk. They phased through the wall, because otherwise Vlad’s back would smash into Lego Saturn V and boy was not looking forward to even more damage. His white gloved hands pressed Plasmius against the cold floor. It looked promising. Over the years he got to a relatively similar level as Vlad with his fighting abilities so getting advantage so early could in theory mean it would be over soon and he would get back to his applications.

He forgot how to breathe for a moment when he was pushed through a portal. Some most instinctual part of him, deep in his core, fell to the mindless panic because He died this way! He died this way, was he able to survive it again?! Without thinking he lashed out, trying to scratch and bite and blast because he needed to get out, he needed to get away but danger was in front of him and he needed to get rid of the danger before he could escape to safety. And Vlad kept teasing him, like he didn't know fully well what portals did to Phantom, to Danny, like he wasn't breaking the most basic rules of the anarchist ghost society.

So Phantom kept trying to punch and kick and scream, trying to get away from green ovals that just kept appearing around them leading to who knows where.

Powerful blast to the chest sent him flying back, through the portal and down to the ground, which at some point became asphalt instead of wheat field. He was too frazzled to even try stopping his fall, just half heartedly tensed waiting for an impact.

It never came, because he was caught by static. Men in red (Flash he'd realize second too late, Flash) send him a concerned smile and asked about something but Plasmius was trying to duplicate, no doubt to overshadow actual hero and it wasn't the way Phantom wanted to be introduced to the Justice League so he jumped forward, sending both halfas through another portal.

It was easier this time, when he expected it but his hands were still shaking when he put them in fists. He could handle it though. He fought in much worse circumstances.

They spawned through a few more portals, almost threw worried looking Superman off the sky and barely not killed some of Aquaman's dolphins before something changed. Phantom didn't realize it at first, too focused on rapid fire from Plasmius and on the constant lookout for new portals, but something changed.

His next blast hit the target and left charcoal black burn and almost fire in its wake. It wasn't something that happened normally. It wasn't something that happened normally unless Danny's obsessions were being served. He wasn't protecting anyone but himself, which didn't fill the protection obsession, so that left…

Space.

Oh.

He was on Mars. Or well, a bit above.

It was mesmerizing. It was breathtaking. It was everything he wished for ever since he learned about other planets in kindergarten.

Sky was a pinkish red color that on Earth meant a beautiful clear sunset but here was just the middle of the day. He didn't see the sun itself, apparently lucky enough to have his back to it. It wouldn't be brighter than at home, obviously, but it was always nice to not be blinded when admiring the view.

The landscape below them seemed familiar. He probably saw it in some photo, but he couldn't remember which one. He couldn't help but try to remember. He wanted to know where was he, what he'd seen, what he'd touched, later when he was in his room, longing to get out here again.

In his almost trance he just about ignored the blast that flew past his ear like an annoying pest.

He had the name of this rock formation on the tip of his tongue! C'mon, brain, you could do it, you could remem-

Even he couldn't ignore the burning pain of the ecto blast straight to the shoulder.

“Listen to me, Little Badger!” Plasmius yelled before dodging ice javelin. Phantom made sure it evaporated before hitting the ground. He was not letting other planet become collateral damage in whatever mess Vlad wanted to stir this time.

He carefully didn't look around when they teleported next time, aware just enough to know they were still on Mars. It wasn't a good moment to sooth his neglected obsession.

Being mad that this was probably the only chance he got out there helped. It definitely reignited the absolute fury, before muted by the panic and then obsession trance.

Phantom wasn't sure what he was yelling back as Plasmius went on and on about killing Danny's dad and marrying his mom and adopting Danny and how ‘look Little Badger, you and I both see how much better off you'd be if you just joined me and let me teach you’. He just knew there was little other than obscenities, and it was paired with an array of blasts and ice and straight up punches when he got close, which was good enough.

Oh, how he wished he could strangle the pathetic vampire lookalike bastard.

Something green and indigo sent Plasmius crashing into the ground.

“Hey, so I'm going to guess that the vampire is The Evil one here?” Feminine voice asked in clear English. Danny took a moment to just stare, blinking rapidly to make sure he saw what he thought he saw.

Yup, that was certainly The Miss Martian, an alien heroine, whose action figure he displayed at the most honorable place of his room. The Miss Martian he tried to learn everything about when she debuted. The Miss Martian whose powers were so similar he used footage from her fights to learn himself. His biggest inspiration.

Dope.

Wait, she asked him a question, didn't she? It was not the time to be a fanboy, probably.

Yeah, no it was definitely not a time to be a fanboy, he decided, right when he threw a shield in front of her, because Vlad didn't take kindly to being interrupted. It really was the least he deserved.

“Yeah, arch nemesis and all that. If I may ask, what are you doing here, Miss Martian, ma'am? I thought you lived full time on Earth?”

“Well, home is home and all” she just said wistfully and telepathically threw a rock to Vlad's stomach, making it follow until it hit the mark, right before another stone hit him in the unprotected back.

And here Danny thought he got over his celebrity crush back when he was sixteen.

Good thing though, another person in the fight made his protection obsession rear back to life, the fact that she was an alien only helping as his space side zeroed on her too. It was useful to not get distracted by glimpses of the world around them.

Of course Vlad just duplicated to make the chances ‘equal’ once again, so the fight dragged on.

Miss Martian just kept being graceful like a supernova, beautiful and destructive.

Danny hoped he didn’t look as embarrassingly pathetic as he thought he did. What were the chances she didn’t see when he took the blast to the arm because he got distracted by pretty rocks?

Plasmius kept taunting, calling him Daniel because of course secret identities or prefered names don't matter when you have to harass the teenager.

Phantom decked him extra hard for that.

At least he didn’t try to use his portal gun again, too busy with fighting off both of them.

Kick, dodge blast, ice, shield for Miss Martian, ice because how dare he attack an alien, dodge, intangibility.

Was it or was it not a good idea to use Ghost Wail and be done with that.

“I've got an idea, cover for me for a minute, okay?”

“Sure” Did he sound too eager? He wanted to keep it cool at least outwardly, not mess up his first and perhaps last impression.

Wait, shit, Martians can read minds! Miss Martian probably already knows how big of a mess he was.

Shit, shit, shit.

Phantom dutifully shielded heroine as she levitated with her eyes closed, at the same time keeping constant assault on Vlad. It was getting exhausting. At least he could go home fast when the fight ended.

“Do you want me to make him indefinitely indisposed or is it too much for you?” Miss Martian suddenly asked. Danny froze for almost a minute before he choked out.

“What do you mean?”

“I can rip his mind apart, leave his body alive but useless without any thought to lead it, but I know some people find it uncomfortable even when it happens to villains”

For a moment, in the midst of fanboying, he forgot how terrifying set of powers she had.

“Please don't” After all, ghosts are their minds, and despite how despicable things Vlad did, no one deserved fate of completely not existing.

“Alright. Is enhancing his experience of pain okay with your moral code?”

“Yeah, I think”

“Done,” she said with a smile, and despite how terrifying he was of her just a few seconds ago, he had to admit, this smile was gorgeous.

After that, it took, like, three punches before Vlad bailed. Which was good.

What was less good, was the fact that the portal he used to escape closed before Danny could go through it. He just stared for a long moment, blinking quickly. He wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both. Both was good.

“So, Daniel…?”

Danny winced and looked back at Miss Martian.

“Danny. Or Phantom. Nobody calls me Daniel”

She nodded with a friendly smile. Good thing they were flying, because his knees got weak for a hot second.

“Alright. I'm M’gann”

“Should you tell me this?”

“I know your name,” she shrugged. “It's only fair that you know mine. It's not a name I use on Earth anyway”

“Um, sure, okay. It's nice to meet you M’gann” Was this too stiff? He had no idea how he was supposed to interact with heroes who just shared their identity. For no reason too, because c'mon, she didn't know him. Why would she do it?!

“Are you from Earth? You speak English”

“Yeah, USA, Illinois. That bastard teleported us around and of course left me stranded”

“It's your lucky day then, I was about to head back, I can take you with me”

There was no universe in which he wouldn’t agree.

[what-even-is-thiss]

(About the missionary post from March)

I know that Jesus is supposed to have returned 3 days later, but then how did he die permanently ? Just old age?

And doesn’t ‘died on the cross for our sins’ mean less if he didn’t really die?

- A non-Christian

Jesus did die and was buried in a tomb. Many Christians also believe that during this time he went to Hell and broke down the gates and defeated Satan though not everyone believes in something like Hell or an underworld that literally. His triumph over evil could’ve just been a sacrifice to cleanse the world of sin or he might’ve literally broken the gates of Hell. Depends on who you ask.

In any case, three days later he was resurrected and the stone sealing his tomb was removed. This was discovered by three of his friends who were women because they were going to prepare his body. They didn’t find his body but instead an angel was there telling them that Jesus was alive again.

The women then went to go tell the twelve disciples about this. Most of them did not believe the women. Over the next few days he appeared to his followers a few times and even lived with them for a bit. Eating and sleeping and doing all the things that alive people do.

During this time and when Jesus appears to people now he’s said to have holes in his hands and feet where he was nailed to the cross and a large wound in his side where he was stabbed by a soldier with a spear. This is part of how people recognize him.

After a time, Jesus ascended back into heaven, promising that he’d send someone to be with his followers in his place. This is the third aspect of the one god, the Holy Spirit, who was sent down to his followers on what Christians now celebrate as Pentecost when God the Holy Spirit entered them and they were blessed with the ability to speak in other languages and the drive and passion to preach and baptize people.

Now what does all of this mean to Christians? Well, way back when a lot of cultures, including ancient Jewish people, used to sacrifice animals in order to cleanse themselves and their communities of sin. Jesus, by dying painfully, became a sacrifice great enough to cleanse the whole world of sin. His resurrection shows us that not only did he suffer for us, but he conquered sin and death and in doing so gives all of us the ability to do so as well.

This gives hope of personal resurrection to join God the father, son, and Holy Spirit, in the kingdom of heaven when we die. However, beyond that it also acts as personal inspiration to make our own personal sacrifices to purge suffering and sin from the world, knowing that there will be rewards for doing so.

What those rewards and sacrifices are depends on your personal beliefs and the denomination you’re affiliated with. Many other things also depend on your personal beliefs. How much you need to personally sacrifice, if this mission to make the world better is through conversion or through just doing good things, if this mission justifies violence or if it forbids violence, if Jesus purged all sin or just original sin, etc.

The core belief though is that Jesus coming back is good news because it demonstrates a victory over death and sin. How literal you believe that victory is and to what extent? Well, wars have been fought over that. Because people can’t agree on anything.