#i say 'preachers' but there was... what. three people?

[rockabell-chime]

i went down to a route and was immediately accosted by some... palkia preachers? very intensely weird! they were just as surprised to see me as i saw them

[sungwanns]

!!

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afab!reader

PART SEVEN

NSFW

You woke up alone. 

The cot was warm under where you had laid but the spots beside you remained cool. You reached your mind out through your bonds, experimenting. You could tell that Rena was somewhere nearby, emotions calm and smug. Lyith seemed to be outside of the hive, worry fretting itself in iridescent specks in your minds eye. That was another thing you noticed. Your minds eye was a little more present, like you were looking in two worlds at once.

You pull yourself up and start looking for Rena, tipetoing down the tunnel hall. You don't stop until you make it to the huge open room, filled with about twenty or thirty bee-men of varying appearances, colors and sizes. You could taste magic in the room, now what you recognized to be the mana of the hive, pulsing through the air. 

Everything smelled fresh and sweet, and something about the place, despite having no windows, felt refreshing and calming to you. You glance around looking for Rena, nodding and waving to Bee-men you have met before. They are all exuberant today, buzzing about you happily and greeting you with the customary hand squeeze or forehead bump. There is such a lightness about them, unlike you've seen in them before. 

You come to the corner of the room where there is another tunnel, brightly light by cool glowing orbs. The familiar orbs had been all about the area, expanded light and cool air. You welcomed the feeling, as you couldn't imagine how hot and humid the hive would be without them. You felt a sudden pulse of magic from the tunnel, and an increase in the scent of sweet honey. 

You come to a room where maybe six or seven Bee-men are working. Their are pots as large as people spanning the walls, several of which the Bee-men are working with. They all seem to be holding onto a string of magic rope tying them together as they sing out in a noise that is equal part bug and human. Surprisingly, it is a comforting, pleasant noise.

 You watch, as the thread seems to pulse wide, like a snake who is swallowing and digesting a mouse, slowly moving from one Bee-men, to one pot to another. You watch as one Bee-man, unconnected to this rope of magic, brings a jar of pollen with him, keeping pace and messaging the bulge.

 On his neck is a large block of obsidian, tied with twine. He is chanting, a dark green, almost black magic working from his hands. You recognize the cute little nose and brown hair. Haven.

“If you watch closely, you will notice that young Haven is using a type of magic we call Kvasir.” A hand is on your elbow and you turn to see Elder Bisou. 

“The magic is neither personal, nor Shared Magic. He… i do not know the word in your terms. He calls on the Kvas of old, our first ancestors, and they lend him the ability to bake the pollen's life into something we can layer into our magic. Much like salt is to humans. It is a hard skill that takes many hours. He must not falter his breath or devotion, lest he have to start all over again.”

You blinked, surprised your favorite gossip had such a vital role. Though in some ways it made sense. Haven had such a way with words, he could spin an enthralling story over the most minute of details. He really was a good orator. And apparently a Bee like Priest? You wondered what Bee-men afterlife looked like. 

Elder Bisou however, had more to say.

“After the nectar is fed through our magic and blessed by the Kvas, it is to be fermented for three days out in the sun, and then portioned and dried until it is the proper consistency. Of course, we dry the honey with our wings, and that too is considered a blessing from the wind.”

Elder Bisou was all but chanting, a preacher on his pulpit, relaying the word of his Gods.

“The nectar is of earth and water, the Kvasir, a blessing of spirit, the Sun and the wind to ferment, a transformation that fortifies our bodies, our mana, our souls. We are one with all in the gathering, in the making, in the consuming. We have not forgotten our roots, young witch.”

His eyes were like steel as he met your gaze. “Though I hear you are much more now. It is a miracle. I thank you for saving the lives of two of our children. And your efforts to save our hive in the ways you can.” He paused here, as if their was more he wanted to say, something that made his chest stick out, the graying fur their puffing.

“Lyith and Rena shall have much to explain to you I am sure. Even if they are terrible drones, leaving you alone in your most vulnerable time. More rest will do you well.”

He turned around, about to leave you, but you put a hand to his shoulder, excitement filling your chest as you remembered.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your gardens! You see, I have this theory about the magic in the soil! I think its because of the beast men leaving. Well more specifically their… um. Waste. You guys have a treaty with the wolfmen a few miles out from here, right? I was thinking that maybe we could. Idk ask for their… fertilizer and see how that effects the ecosystem?”

Elder Bisou gave you tired eyes. “While I appreciate your passion, this is already a thought we have entertained. The issue is that we have no way of funding this “transaction”. Waste is not an easy thing to transport, or a topic welcome in embassy meetings. We only receive groceries through you humans from charity. I do not see any… kindness around the wolfmen shoveling their ‘shit’ into our backyards. I am sorry to disappoint you.”

He said it kindly but it felt like a slap in the face. You hadn't meant to open your mind to his emotions but you could feel them now, a sort of… disdain? The sort of smugness an adult holds in their throat while explaining to a child why they can't have a puppy. 

It occurred to you that this old Bee-man was a politician. And your well meaning intentions might have seemed like a slap in the face to his intelligence. Maybe. Something else seemed to be afoot here, as there was more complexity to this. You didn't need to taste his emotions in the air to know that.

You were feeling kind of dizzy.  Elder Bisou had left but you had leaned against the far wall. You could feel the bee-mens emotions without them throwing them at you, but it drained you. When your gaze focused again you noticed that the Bee-men in the room were trying their hardest to continue to sing and magic their honey, but their eyes still rested on you. Even Haven, who was supposed to be in communion with the holy of his ancestors, had eyes on you as he rubbed and chanted. 

Shame filled your heart. You had butted into a necessary and sacred process without any care. You wobbled up and out of the tunnel, hoping you had not done any harm.

Rena was on you in seconds. 

“What are you doing in there! You should have stayed in the infirmary, I was looking all over for you.” Worry, with a blood like tang filled the connection of your bond. You couldn't quite understand the emotions there, but there was pain in it. Like she had been hurt.

“Are you okay?”

“No! My Queen decides to go gallivanting around the hive before I can even tell her she is very vulnerable right now. Look at you, already stressing your mana.” She uses her hands to dust your shoulders and clothes of dirt from the floor of the hall, the only place in the hive with it, as the floors everywhere else were covered in what could only be linoleum like beeswax. 

“Where's Lyith?” You venture, feeling his own worry and a rush, as if he was flying fast, in your mind. 

“Hes getting you human food! All we have is honey here, and from what I can't tell, its not conducive to a healthy human diet.” She pulls your whole body into her arms and buzzes you off back to what you now knew as the infirmary. 

She had a small cup that steamed in one of her many hands. She set you down on the cot, leaning you so your back was braced by the wall, then covered you in several of the room's blankets before tucking the cup into your hand. You suddenly realized you were ravenous. 

You carefully sipped on the liquid. It was sweet. Hot water and honey, and possibly a little fruit juice glided itself upon your tongue. You smiled over at Rena, your heart full as she fussed over you, picking at your hair and braiding what she could. 

“So whats this about me being vulnerable?”

Rena continued braiding, her eyes not leaving your hair.

“I don’t want to say too much until Lyith gets here. But I’m sure you’ve noticed some changes by now. Your body is very weak because your mana is growing.”

“Is that why I can hear everyone's emotions so clearly?” You grimaced. You still had a bit of a headache. At least it only happens when you talk to someone. 

“That's part of it. You're so tense, come here.” She pulled you into her lap and started messaging the tight spots in your neck, another hand gently rocking on the skin between your shoulders. You shivered, as a wave of tingles worked down your spine.

“We were hoping you’d let us keep you here for a few days so we can watch you. Until everything gets figured out.” Her voice was even but you could tell their was anxiety in the pit of her stomach. She was pushing it down though. You continued to let her wrestle your muscles into soft, relaxed flesh. She sighed in satisfaction.

“Y/n!!!” A happy voice interrupted your quiet peace. It was Haven, the small brown drone vibrating with excitement as he flew towards you. Rena acted immediately, pulling you further into her lap and crushing you to her with the wall of her arms.

“Its the middle of the day, you should be working.” Her tone was gruff.

“We are on break!” He replied, before giving her and indignant eyebrow quirk. He then pushed his full attention to you and sat on the cot. 

“Congratulations on your recent mating! It was about time, with how much those two hung off you!” His words were hollow, as you were hit hard by Haven’s intense curiosity and hope. It almost choked you as you scrambled to adjust your mind's eye. 

“We are busy Haven. And you are stressing her out. She’s still adjusting.”

“So it IS true, you can feel us!” Haven must have been concentrating his mind at you, because you were met with a tsunami of emotions. His pleasure was palpable, a variety of reds. His fondness was warm and smelled of vanilla, as well as something else you couldn’t quite understand, mixed with the hope. A hunger?

“Get out. Now.” Rena stood up, carrying you up with her before pushing Haven off the bed.

“Whats going on here?” Lyith’s tone was hard, it echoed through the infirmary.

“I just wanted to know if she had made a decision yet! Besides, we are friends, right?” He looked at you hopefully. You sighed.

“Haven, I’m not really sure what's going on, but maybe you could come back later? I think I’m out of the loop here.” You realized then that all the talking and emotions had started to make you shake. 

Haven noticed too and looked somber. His voice then turned delicately light, and he organized his face. 

“Maybe we can talk tomorrow. See you guys!” He gave you one last look and then walked out the door. Lyiths eyes followed him. He didn’t seem upset, like Rena did, but you could feel that Lyith seemed torn. Noticing your touch on his mind his eyes met yours, and a loving smile blazed across his golden features.

“You need to eat.” He brought you a plate. It was a tuna sandwich and an apple. Your stomach roared to life, and you grabbed the plate out of Lyith’s hands, tearing through the fish and bread. You ate the whole sandwich in 10 seconds and tore into the apple. Rena relaxed her grip around you and nuzzled her nose into your hair, muscles relaxing. 

Lyith took Haven's place on the cot and opened his arms. Rena wouldn’t let you move. The two of them in the room, you started to feel at peace. But there was a conversation that needed to happen, and it had to happen soon.

“So, I’m your.. Queen now huh? What does that mean exactly?”  Lyith exchanged glances with Rena. 

“Well, it’s a lot like being married. Rena and I have sworn to love and protect you for the rest of our lives. And you accepted us into your mind, heart and body, fortifying us.” He crawled forward so he could take hold of your hand, caressing the curves of your fingers.

“Exiled Bee-men often survive dying by Queen Bonding with someone who has compatible pheromones. Thats how we are able to share our emotions. But you’re experiencing more then that right?”

You nodded slowly. “I could kind of tell where you guys were at.”

“And you were able to hear Heaven's emotions without him sharing them with you. You were able to pick up his pheromones and read them, despite not having a bond.”

“A Queenbond to another species is something that takes several weeks of mating to take. Not to mention, when you were healing Lyith, your magic should have only temporarily stabilized his magic. Instead you healed all the damage that he had accumulated from enacting magic without a Queen. Even if he had bonded to a normal Queen, he would not have been able to fully use his mana again.”

“You’re mana is turning into something like a true Queen. We don’t understand it.”

Your heart started pounding hard in your chest. You took stock. Did you feel any different? No. You were tired, but you were still you. Your mind went back to all the Bee-men who’s been eyeing you in the hall. The Joy, the hope, Haven’s hunger.

“The rest of the hive… they..,”

“No. Little One, there are two hives now. Ours and theirs. They are letting us stay here now in hopes of you becoming their Queen. That you would heal them all, and stop their inevitable walk towards death.”

The stakes are so high. 

You felt sick. You had only meant to save Lyith, but the whole hive?

You had wanted to help them, sure, but they wanted you to give your whole life away to them? You wanted to save them, but this might just be too much. 

“I’d have to give up my human life. And I’d have to become some baby making factory.”

“A Queen IS the mother of the hive, but she is so much more. She is also the heart. Like you are our hearts now.” Lyith leaned forward and the three of you were in a full embrace.

“We aren’t asking you to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to become their Queen if you don’t want to. But either way, we need to stay here for a few days. If you move your body too much, it might affect your mana and make you sick. Its possible that the stress of it could even kill you.”

Lyith pulled away and kneeled onto the floor so he could rest his head on your lap. His eyes didn’t leave you. Rena continued. “We are not able to hate you anymore, little one. We will not judge you if it's too much to ask. After all, another Queen could find her way to the hive.”

Twenty years.

 Your eyes started to water. You wanted to weep for them, for these Bee-men. For Lyith and Rena and Haven and everyone you had met here. You suddenly felt so young and small. You sat there and cried for what felt like an hour. It was all too much.

When you stopped you were bone tired. You tugged on your bonds between Rena and Lyith, and their minds consumed yours. Their pain for you, their worry, but also their love filled your mind. It was a balm to you. It was so intimate, this feeling of being one with them, but you had to admit you loved it. You loved them. 

You felt a wet warmth rubbing on your thigh. You looked down to see Lyith, his eyes big and round as he kitten licked your pants. You got goosebumps. You watched him for a second, the warmth flooding your cheeks.

“Lyith…”

“I think you’ve had a really stressful day, my Queen.” Lyith’s tone was innocence itself, but he continued to lick long stripes, causing a wet patch. You swallowed.

Seeing you not pull away, he shimmied his head up to the zipper of your pants and pulled it down with his teeth.  He then licked between the zipper, once, twice, three times. His hands snaked up to the top of your pants. Rena, seeing where this was going, pulled you out of her arms. 

She motioned Lyith off you and laid you down near the edge of the cot. She tossed Lyith a pillow. He rolled you over gently and positioned the pillow under you. Your entire face started to heat at the thought of how easy this was for them. Heavy arousal from both sides filled your mind, making you feel sensitive all over. Rena took hold of one of your thighs and pulled it closer to her side on the left. She started to reach over and message the skin of your chest as she pulled your chin to kiss her. 

Her breath was hot and her lips soft. The fluff of her chest felt good against your belly, as she had pushed up your shirt. Her tongue played hopscotch with yours, moving over and under, as if to tease you more. You whined at her as you felt Lyith kissing a slow trail on your inner thighs. His hand pulled your puffy lips apart, and he blew cool air onto it. The tension in your stomach wound deeper, waiting. 

He started licking wide flat lines from your entrance up your vulva. He took breaks, kissing and licking at your labia, before working his way slowly back to your clit, sucking. The texture made you groan, as he took his time. You don’t know how he did it, maybe he had practice, maybe he--fuck. 

He moaned into you, letting you know of his own pleasure as he humped the edge of the mattress. You ached for him, as Rena nibbled and sucked on your neck. You are writhing under them now. From Lyith, from Rena, from the utter devotion the were laying in waves upon your mind. It made your core boil, their emotions coating your consciousness with the blanket of their devotion. Despite the fact that they were the ones playing your body like some kind of instrument, you were the one with the power here. The one making them so crazy all they wanted to do was make you come one more time, scream out one more time. 

“You're our universe, my Queen. Won’t you come for us, just a little bit?” Rena whispered in your ear. Despite her words, Lyiths mouth was the center of your universe right now, building you to a peak so high, you weren’t sure where it would go. Then he sang into you, a high pitched needy note, and the tension broke. Your body was pleasure and stars filled your eyes.

You were panting when you looked over at Lyith, who was staring at you with the same adoration one would give a puppy who successfully carried out a trick. His mouth was glistening.

Seeing you watch him, he dragged his long black tongue around his mouth and swallowed. 

“Are you feeling more relaxed now?” He asked with some amusement. You pouted at him, then pulled yourself up. 

You patted the seat to your right, giving him a heated stare. He obeyed with poise. You could see his dick, long and as golden as his face, with a darkening brown near his tip. It held ridges on several points and was glistening, covered in his precum.

You looked back to Lyith, giving him an innocent expression as you dragged your finger around the bumps of his dick. The skin was smooth and slippery, but it gave a little under your touch. You pulled yourself out of Rena’s arms and off the cot. You plopped down on the spot between his legs, lining your face up with his dick. 

Lyith was completely taken off gaurd, eyes wide, then rolling back into his head as you took the tip into your mouth. Huh. Even his precum had a sweetness to it that you quite liked. You tried to swallow down more of it without chocking, causing him to gasp and shudder over you. When you looked up, his eyes were soft and glazed, mouth open. He didn;t hold back his moans as you continued to lick and suck his dick. You traced the ridges of it with your tongue and pumped him with your free hand. He was quite large.

He keened and gasped, letting out whiny thank yous and sputters. When you glanced over at Rena, you saw her with her own hands on her cock, her eyes never leaving your mouth as you worked Lyith down to babbles. Eventually it was too much for him and he came, beautifully blond lashes fluttering as he shot his load down your throat. You coughed and let go of him immediately, not used to how much fluid was coming out of him. You almost swore you swallowed down something small and squishy? Like a boba ball, but you were probably imagining it. There was just so much cum. 

“Was that.. Good?” You asked sheepishly. All he could do was nod at you as he laid back in the cot. It had seemed like at some point Rena had gotten off too. The room was full of panting and you took your place in the middle of your lovers, sated and happy.

“So… do you guys have showers in this place?”

Guys I would love some criticism for my smut. I've written so much lately that they all just kind of blend together. I will probably come back and edit this entire part at some point, but for now, here it is in all its unedited glory! And yes, at some point Lyith will have his turn inside reader, but for now, he will have to make do with being one of readers favorite sweets~ I hope you liked it! And yes, their will be more parts and more smut.

PART EIGHT

[heavenlymorals]

This started out as a list for me for fanfiction purposes, but then I decided I should just post it cuz why the hell not?

These are my observations for what religions some RDR characters may follow. These assumptions are going to be based off cultural details and dialogue.

Again, they're only assumptions, so I'm very much aware that they can be wrong.

Dutch: Dutch is really interesting in the sense that he believes in a higher power. The three main components of Romantacism were the relationship between man and man, man and nature, and man and god. Dutch is a romantic. He also has many lines where he talks about heaven, with one being: "Be a man who knows that there is a heaven above or scurry off like some god forsaken monkeys." We know Dutch isn't Catholic considering his negative views towards Catholicism ("Here we are in this strange land of Papists and rapists."), so he is most likely from some sort of protestant background who then rejected it for the romantic tradition as many of the newspapers in RDR1 would say things about Dutch not getting saved. John says the same thing. Dutch is a diest but not a Christian.

Hosea: Hosea is some sort of protestant Christian and we get this through cultural background and dialogue. We learn that when he was younger, he wanted to be a priest but let go of that because he needed to be Catholic. America was and still is a majority protestant nation but even moreso back then. We also hear him talk about heaven and hell a couple of times, lamenting about how when he does, he won't see Bessie because she'll be in heaven. He is angry at his faith, yes, with the line of "And we're supposed to believe in judgement" when ranting about Bessie's death, but then apologizes, admitting that he can't understand it, not that he doesn't believe.

Arthur is agnostic, but he's open to the idea of faith. In one of this journal entries, he says something about whether he can achieve salvation or heaven or whether that's all fairy tales, as he's not sure what to believe when he dies, even though to the nun, he says he doesn't believe in anything. Arthur also seems to have a distaste for the church as an organization, evidenced by his dialogue with the grave digger debtor, but he seems to like religious people, or at the very least he is open to them. He never knocks down Brother Dorkins and he feels at peace when he speaks to the nun in their final meeting at the train station. Very interesting that he feels better after he talks to the nun, a character who is supposed to embody positive religion and what it can do for people.

John is a non practicing Christian, which makes sense considering his background and the work he has to put in to keep his family safe. It keeps him from actively practicing. Though he's a realist and isn't practically concerned about religion in his everyday life, shown by his father dismissive attitude towards religious people in the game, God is still an active force in his life. Throughout the story, John has lines about God as an active force in his life. When he marries Abigail, he says he wants to marry her "in front of God." A preacher authenticates the wedding. John owns a Bible in his house, makes references about Dutch not getting saved, and talks to Jack about the possibility of redemption as something the "good book" says, despite not reading it with him.

Abigail seems to also be a more practicing Christian, given that she does ask Jack a couple of times throughout the story to read verses for her, but beyond that, I feel like she is also pretty lukewarm in regards to her faith, but she is still a Christian.

Sean and Javier are all most likely cultural Catholics. Sean is an Irish man and is proud of his Irish heritage, which also includes Irish Catholicism and he mentions being a child of God a couple times throughout background dialogue. Javier is a Mexican man and Mexico is very Catholic and though he doesn't really speak of it, he has done the symbol of the cross in game, so it's likely that he still holds some religious thoughts.

Molly is most likely an Irish Protestant due to her conflicts with Sean as well as her family's connections with the English.

Charles is tricky because we know that despite being proud of his native heritage, he is still very much displaced from his culture. What this means is that while he might follow native religion, it equally as likely that he follows some sort of protestantism because of his lack of time with his tribe, forced assimilation, and his relationship with his black father, who would culturally most likely be a Christian. There are really no clues or hints about Charles' beliefs besides his cultural backgrounds so take that as you will.

Micah is a reddit atheist. He doesn't believe in divinity at all and he uses that to shape his worldview as well. No such thing as heaven and hell, only winners and losers. He bullies Swanson a lot for his faith and constantly belittles the idea of religion.

Karen, Tilly, Marybeth, Grimshaw, Pearson, Lenny, Leopald, Josiah, and Kieran don't really have any clues as to what they personally believe. The only idea that we have is the setting that they lived in and the culture that they frequented which makes it most likely that they are some sort of Christian, but what denomination? Don't know.

Sadie is a Christian, but most likely non practicing. We have multiple lines with her referencing God as an active force. "Everyone's got to choose who they're loyal to. God, the state, themselves. If a bounty hunter wants to last, his loyalty has got to be with the one issuing the bounty, plain and simple." "Guess he began to believe he was God or something."

Uncle is nonreligious, most likely agnostic due to his very lax tone in regards to faith, which is also evidenced by his rather wild lifestyle in multiple stories of his. "Do you believe in reincarnation?" "I hope and pray to whatever is out there-" "It's like rooming with the King James Bible."

Swanson is a protestant. Need I say more?

I'll post more later if I feel like it 🫶🏼

[pastel-greene]

The Daughter | king!sukuna x curse user!reader

Prologue | Chapter 1 - The Summons | Chapter 2

Summary: The mother of curses happens upon a blind child and decides to impart a portion of her power to them as an experiment of sorts. The power morphs the child in their image until they are part curse and part human. So what happens when they get employed by the King of Curses? Will humanity bloom as newfound emotions flow between the two? Or will they usher in an era of never ending terror?

Notes: not all of this will be canon, it will be loosely based off of the jjk universe :) taglist is open, comment ur request on any chapter to be tagged in the next

Genre: female reader, fluff, angst, ‘loads’ of smut, violence, sukuna true form but like not with the weird face just two sets of stuff, dark reader

Warnings: profanity, explicit smut (two dick sukuna, sadistic sex, sub reader, dom sukuna, biting, oral m & f receiving, pet names, more to be added), violence, depictions of gore, dark minds cause yk, mentions of rape, toxic relationships, chaotic neutral reader, trauma, possessiveness from reader and sukuna, torture, vampire themes (reader’s blood is infused with the Mother of curses so if a curse user is to drink it it basically gives them a temporary stat boost bc what can i say vampire sukuna seems hot), and more to be added as the story progresses

Word count: 7.3k

This work contains mature content, so absolutely no minors I will block you if I find out :)

His eyes glaze over as they roam your body. The need within them allowing you to twirl his inhibitions around your finger and use them as a leash to guide him. He knows he shouldn’t let you close, but closer you get and god does it feel good. He knows he shouldn’t follow your command without an ounce a dignity, but oh how he wants to please you. He would do anything for you without a single question now that all his pesky thoughts were gone. The perfect toy to play with.

The man before you is the leader of a growing religious faction that preached about being able to save people from damnation for only a small price. He made promises of how his newfound god could protect anyone from the horrors of the world and all they needed to do was follow a set of rules— and of course money. It started with one bronze coin before growing to three silver coins. It also started as something one could choose to participate in before it slowly turned into a cult you were forced to be apart of. If you didn’t have money to pay the initiation fee, then you had to give up something else. If you were a married man, you could give up your virgin daughter and be granted a higher position in the hierarchy. If you didn’t have a daughter then you could give up your wife for general admission. If you were a woman without a husband, then you often were never seen again. If you didn’t willingly give one, then they would come and take what they falsely claimed was theirs and justify it with the name of religion. Sometimes even if you gave one, they would come back to take the other.

This contract came to you from a woman whose husband had sold their daughter. She didn’t offer anything material, but begged you to take her offer. You’re not one for charity, but you are one for dark pleasures. You asked if she would kill her husband and then herself, as punishment and payment for not protecting their daughter’s safety. She didn’t even hesitate to say yes. All she could think about was freeing her daughter from their grasp, her loss of life was of no consequence, and killing her husband… Killing her husband for selling their daughter away like a piece of meat would just be an added bonus.

So here you are, in the preacher’s chambers showing him a facade of paradise. Your smiles, your laughs, you lingering touches driving him further and further away from reason. Your power seeped into him, you could do it immediately and have him never see it coming, but that would be too easy. You wanted him to remember making the decisions that led to his downfall. You want to see the mortified look on his face as he realizes he chose this fate. The way his face would contort from panic as the weight of his sins crashes down on him. The way the panic would blend into fear fueled hysteria as he started lashing out and revealing the rest of his true colors. So you’re taking the long way. You’re setting everything into place so everyone can witness a showcase of reality that’ll send them into chaos.

”Mistress please, let me touch you,” he says begs while blindfolded to a chair. A chair he didn’t know had been transported to a very public area that people started to flock to. Horror and disgust on their features as they watched the man who boasted about how high and mighty he was begging for sexual pleasure. Your powers infected his senses so he couldn’t hear or feel anything you didn’t want him to. They also kept any party crashes from getting too close to the scene.

”Wrong line,” you said before letting the sturdy piece of wood in your hand lash against his skin. He let out a scream accompanied with a melody of sorries.

”Mother I have sinned,” a smile crept across your face at the ode to your Mother.

”Is that so? List me your sins and oink after each one to show what a filthy fucking pig you are.”

”I have lied to the people in this city. The god I made is not real, I made them up from a story I heard a few towns over. They were all just stupid and desperate enough to believe in it and hand over all of their valuables, oink!.”

The crowd’s faces were painted with disbelief and anger as the truth was unveiled. Dark thoughts started brewing between them making your blood hum as they continued to watch the scene unfold.

You let the wood crack down on the tops of his bare thighs once again, “What else are you guilty of?”

”I took their wives and daughters for my own sadistic pleasures. Me and the higher ups used those filthy bitches while they kicked and screamed against us. We would use them until we had our fill. Then I sold them off to the highest bidder. Some continued being sex slaves, others became mediums for sadistic fantasies, oink,” he said this line with a smile on his face as he recounted all of the deeds he had done to the girls.

Mothers that remained sobbed and some broke down in the street while others started taking their pain out on their husbands. Blood started to spatter as the number of fights spread like an airborne illness. Men started shouting and punching against the barrier you had put up, some fought out of love for their stolen family members and other fought out of spite for the harmed ego.

You let the wood smack down directly onto his dick and his scream echoed throughout the night skies before being silenced by his thank yous. “What else are you guilty of little piggy?”

”I told the higher members that I would get them into heaven. That all they had to do was listen to me and it would all turn out okay, but we are all damned now. I wanted everyone in this town to be as damned as me and now they are. They think there is a higher god but I am the god here. My words are law, my will is reality, those fucking sheep will give up their own fucking innards if I asked them, oink,” his words started carrying a laugh the more he went on. He actually believed that in this world he held power. You let out a laugh at the thought and he thought you were laughing with him.

”Tell me the names of the men who did this with you.” He started spewing out a list of names and with each one read a new fight began. The crowd dogpiled on whichever one they first laid eyes on and started bludgeoning them to death.

”What a good pig. I have a gift for you for being so good,” you said as the girls and women who survived his kidnapping came out from the building behind you each holding their preferred weapon. The crowd went still at the site of their neighbors, wives, and daughters. The abuse and torment they had undergone was evident as in the faces, clothes, and bodies. But it was their eyes where it showed the most. There was no light in them, no, currently that light was completely consumed by the darkness of revenge. They gathered around him in a circle, quietly waiting for their part.

”Mistress you are too kind to a soiled pig like me,” he said clearly thinking the present would be something splendid he would receive in the privacy of his own quarters.

You drew closer to him and brushed your hands along the sides of his as you removed his blindfold from behind, allowing him a full view of his victims. His eyes grew wide as he took in his surroundings.

”Wh-w-what-t’s happening? Where am I,” he asked in a panicked frenzy as he saw the girls and the bloodied crowd before him.

You walked around to the front of him, “Do you not recognize your own subjects?”

”You witch this can’t be real, we-we were just in my quarters. I would have heard them, I-I would have felt us move!” He started pulling against the restraints but they remained the same. “Don’t believe anything! This is all a lie! A facade put on by her! She is a witch! You need to kill her! Whoever kills her gets to join me at the top!”

You smiled down at the pathetic man, “Goodbye, little piggy,” you said as you started walking.

You looked to the girls, “You have 20 minutes before the others can approach him.”

They nodded at you and started circling the man as you walked into the building they came out of. You could hear the way they made him sing as they tore into him. You had fed enough of your energy into him that he would stay alive and conscious until the barrier fell no matter how much damage he took. He would feel every ounce of revenge they had for him. Inside, there was still one girl. The girl in your contract. You took her hand and told her you were taking her home. She had heard and saw what you had done. She gave you no hesitation as she walked behind you. Upon getting to the house, the mother rushed to her daughter with open arms. They both sobbed as they hugged each other and fell to the ground.

You let them have a minute before clearing your throat. The mother looked up to you and then back down to her daughter. She held her face and then wiped away her tears, telling her something you didn’t bother to catch. The girl looked up at you while still on her knees and started begging and crying. It all fell on deaf ears as you took the mother into their house where her husband was currently tied up. You handed her the dagger your Mother had given you all those years ago and she grabbed it tight in her hands.

”Thank you,” she said while smiling at you through watery eyes. She then turned around and stabbed her husband over and over. Each plunge accompanied by a scream of liberation. She looked down at his mangled torso before taking a deep breath and looking at the moon “Thank you,” she said again before plunging the dagger into her own abdomen. You grabbed the dagger and left, walking past the daughter who was still on her knees outside.

When you finally made it back to your home the sun was rising, you were exhausted. You grabbed an already open bottle of sake and took it to your bed deciding to forego a glass. Most crimes didn’t bother you but you always hated ones they dealt with girls being sold. It made you want to take the whole town off of the map for letting it go on for so long. The way that mother ran to her daughter irked you too. You couldn’t remember your parents or really anything before being sold. You had always assumed they realized you were blind and got rid of you as quickly as they could. You knew there would never have been anyone waiting for you with open arms after going through the traumatic events you did. It would have always been you having to comfort yourself, telling yourself it was okay. And that was okay…

You awoke sometime around noon to a fight happening in the hallway of where you were staying. Some man didn’t have something he owed the other man blah blah blah. Didn’t they know where you were? This was the city of night. Arguing that loud while it was still light out was a death sentence. You opened your door to look at them. It was two well dressed men—obviously not from around here. Your guess is that one of them was hiding from some debts here and the other came to collect.

”Keep your fucking voice down before I rip out your vocal cords and shove them up your ass”. Heh then he could really talk out of his ass.

”Mind your own business whore. Where’s your owner to keep you in—,” his sentence was cut short by your hand around his throat.

”Go on, finish your sentence,” you said without letting up on his throat. All that came out were gurgles as his face started to darken. You were fully ready to kill him when your friend Ieriri opened her door and sighed.

”Can’t we have a morning without a body in the hall?” She leaned against the doorframe clearly feeling the full effects of a hangover, her lips pouting into a plea.

”I thought you would enjoy a new body to experiment on Ieiri,” you said returning your own pout as you slightly loosened your grip on the man’s throat. “Plus he was so mean to me”.

”Ple-ease am- sorry,” the man choked out as he held onto your hand.

Ieiri put her hands together as she begged you to just let it be. You sighed and eyed the man that he was obviously here for.

“Both of you, out—now”.

The other man went to rebuttal but immediately shut his mouth when he felt your aura pierce through him. You released the man you were holding and he grabbed the other man by his hair before dragging him down the hallway and out of the building. You groan as you haggardly waltz into Ieiri’s room, still exhausted from your interrupted sleep.

”Well come in,” she jokingly says since you’re already on laying on her bed. She closes her door and comes to lay with you, “rough night?”

You sigh and nod your head. “I had a job a few villages over that required a lot of setup and was extremely fucked up. Like I will think I am fucked up, but when I see towns like that, I almost feel like a fucking saint,” you laugh.

”Fuck I know, right? I almost like going to towns like that though because I enjoy feeling like a saint and holding myself over people”, she says while literally holding herself over you which makes you laugh.

”Oh hardy har. Please madame teach me the ways of civility, turn me into a real upstanding lady!”

You both can’t help but laugh as she crawls into bed next to you. You had found Ieiri when you first came to this town 12 years ago. You were both children stealing for food, but she had gotten caught and almost killed on the spot for it. You had saved her and she had been glued to your side ever since. At first you kept telling her to go away, after all, you had never had a friend before. You didn’t know what to do with it, what she wanted. So you dealt with it the only way that made sense to you. You made it a partnership. She had knowledge of the town and you had power. You guys became town menaces in a town already full of them. It was the perfect paradise for you. Now you both knew it was more than a partnership, it was true companionship. You considered her to be like a sister and would turn the world over if anyone ever hurt her, but you would be surprised if they could. You had been teaching her how to use cursed energy ever since you felt a trace of it within her. She could easily hold her own against an average human. Your giggles died down as you both found rest in each other’s arms.

You walked the streets of your home. Some people gave you friendly greetings, some even approached you for a hug, while others hurried past you and didn’t dare to make eye contact. In a town full of criminals and assassins, they knew you were at the top of the food chain. Those who had challenged you in the past were either never heard from again or had come back so altered it was like there was no one home behind their eyes. Just walking zombies. Those were the ones you let Shoko play with. After running whatever experiments she wanted on them, they came out a ghost of their former selves.

You made your way to your favorite bar and as you came in the barkeep brought out an imported bottle of tequila that he knew you loved. Your eyes lit up as you beelined towards him. “Kentooo you shouldn’t have,” you said as you reached for it.

He pulled it back to your shock, “Oh I shouldn’t have? My mistake I will sell it to someone else then”, he said with an apologetic bow reeking of sarcasm. You put out your lips in a pout but he didn’t budge so you sighed.

”Thank you so much my knight in booze plated armor for remembering my favorite drink and fighting the terrifying trade company to retrieve it. I give you my most sincere thanks for bringing it back to me in one piece. Your efforts shall not go unacknowledged, what shall thy knight’s request entail,” you said with laughable grandeur.

He tried his best to keep up his end of the rouse but once one laugh fell through they all did. “You’re a little shit (Y/N)”, he said while opening the bottle and pouring you both a shot.

“And you’re an idiot for not taking up the invitation for me to grant you one request,” you said while clinking his glass and downing a shot with him.

”We will just say you owe me one then,” you were about to rebuttal but he remembered something,”By the way, you have a client in the back room waiting for you. He said he was a messenger for Lord… uhm well you know who.”

It wasn’t often you saw Kento get nervous but whoever’s name he was referencing definitely did it. You motioned your eyebrows to ask who but he acted as if a customer called him and walked off.

”Hey, where are you, KENTOOOO,” you shouted behind him to no avail. You sighed and grabbed the bottle as you walked towards the back to meet a messenger of Lord Spooky apparently.

In the back you saw a man in a very expensive garb and figured that was who you were looking for. You sat down at the table he was waiting for you at and took a drink.

”What do you want,” you said with little regard. Lords usually wanted some other Lord killed or a crime hidden away. They were also usually stingy and tried to slip payments thinking you couldn’t touch them. Man you hated dealing with them.

”I am a messenger of King Sukuna, he has requested your presence,” he said showing the same lack of regard to you. To him, you looked like a wench with a drinking issue. Not an asset.

You just looked at him, “Get out of here you fucking liar. The King has no interest in people here. We’re all just swine to him.”

His eyebrow twitched in annoyance, “While I don’t rebuke you being swine”, ohohohhh this motherfucker wanted to walk out with his head facing his ass, “he did indeed request your presence in the throne room, by 10 tomorrow.”

You blinked a few times, “So let me get this straight, the King wants me there by 10 tomorrow? It is currently 2 in the morning, and it takes 7 hours to get to his shrine. So within an hour I am supposed to drop everything and go?”

”Well you see, I arrived here 6 hours ago but this forsaken town doesn’t wake up until the sun is down, so technically you were going to have 2 hours to get ready, we would have left four hours ago, and then had plenty of time to fix your appearance for the king. But now, we will be leaving immediately and hoping there is time to wash the stench of booze from you and find out if there is a presentable version of you”.

Gobsmacked. Your jaw was left open at his onslaught of words and you were about to shove your fingers through his neck and beat the rest of his body with his skull when he held up the King’s stamp. Holy shit. You grabbed it and looked at it closer. It was real. It was really fucking real. The King wanted to see you. The King that had so many fucking horror stories written about him that maybe it actually should be Lord Spooky instead of King Sukuna.

”Uhm, well give me 20 minutes and I will meet you back here,” you said while getting up still feeling a little surreal.

What did the King want? Was this going to go bad and turn into a fight? There were very few people you didn’t want to seriously throw down with and he was one of them. From what you have heard, he is a powerful curse user like you surrounded by other less powerful curse users. Fuuuck if you were going to fight you wanted to do it in a neutral area not his fucking shrine. That’s not even fair. Although, it also made your blood tingle at the prospect of fighting someone at your level. Someone who also used cursed energy and was absolutely fucked in the head. Maybe a fight wouldn’t be bad.

”You have 10 and if you run the King will come here himself to retrieve you and take out this town in the process,” he said while getting up and walking towards the door where his carriage was ready, “Don’t. Be. Late.”

Kento who had heard the last bit of the conversation looked at you in shock before inching closer. “What was that about? Why would the King come here? Why does he want you? What the fuck did you do?” He was directly in front of you while rambling off questions. You just hugged him. “Don’t touch my tequila while I am away.”

You hurriedly ran to Ieiri’s and told her the gist of the conversation and your goodbyes. She was reluctant but knew you could handle yourself, even if it was against the King. She knew you would come back home, so you hugged and then left.

You made it back to the carriage with a just a small knapsack. You didn’t keep much with you. You had your dagger, some snacks, money, and some changes of clothes. Not that you expected to be able to wear the clothes as your usual attire wasn’t really fit for where you were going. You assumed they would continue to “make you presentable” while you were there.

”On time. I suppose you do have some class,” the messenger said as he opened the door for you and motioned for you to enter.

You gave a sarcastic bow while holding his eye contact, “Opening the door for me, I suppose you do know your place, peasant,” you said with a grin as you got in and he followed with a face so red it was almost purple.

The ride was very long, and very bumpy. “Soo, what’s your name,” you asked.

He just scoffed at your question and refused to look like you.

”So you’re just going to act like a child then?”

Nothing. More silent treatment.

Act like a child? Two could play at that game. “Hey, hey, hey, HEEEEEEYYY-“

”WHAT”, he cut you off seething.

”I asked you a question.”

”I don’t answer to you.”

”Do I have to repeatedly scream my questions to get you to answer them?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Geto Suguru”.

”Seeee that wasn’t that hard,” you said much to his annoyance, “so what does the King want with me?”

”He will tell you when we get there. And before you scream at me that is all I am allowed to say so please let me ride in peace.”

You sighed. You guess you can ride in silence with him but there will be no peace for you. You wanted to be a little shit and make sure there was no peace for him either but given his obvious disdain towards someone of your class you were sure it wasn’t peaceful for him either. Whatever you thought as you leaned back into your chair and looked at the ceiling of the carriage.

At some point you had dozed off because Geto kicked you in the leg to get you to wake up. Or well tried. As soon as you sensed his foot near your leg you stood and raised your leg to the side of his throat. For the first time you saw his expression change from annoyance to shock. He was sure you were dead asleep from how you were snoring and drooling, but here you were with a kick that left air to blow in his face from the sudden stop next to his neck. He didn’t even see it coming. Maybe you could be an asset after all.

”Y’know a simple hey would suffice next time ass wipe,” you said while lowering your foot and exiting the open carriage door. The attendants kept their heads bowed but you could tell they were just as shocked from the scene and some had to stifle laughter from your insult to him.

You stretched your arms up over your head as you got out and let rip a hearty yawn. As you finished you started taking in the shrine and palace. It was so clean, obviously Sukuna had some very good help with how spotless this place was. You looked at the attending and noticed that even they were well kept. With all the rumors about him you almost expected them to be in haggard loin clothes covered in dirt. Instead they all wore black and red kimonos. They were simple but still nicer than what you wore when in a hoity toity setting. You wore a simple loose shirt that hung off your shoulder when knocked out of the center, loose pants with deep pockets, and an expensive pair of boots with steel on top of the toe. It wasn’t fancy but with how much blood got on your clothes there wasn’t a point in buying nicer ones.

“Weapons are not permitted. Hand over all that you have,” Geto said as he walked up beside you.

You figured it would be like that so you had used your magic earlier to slip the dagger your Mother gave you into a pocket realm and handed the rest over to Geto.

He looked down at the daggers you gave him, “Anymore?”

”Nope,” you said before trying to continue onwards to which Geto reached his arm out and barred your entry. “Oh what now?”

”I don’t believe you.”

You sighed and spread your arms and legs, “Go on then search me”.

He felt up your legs to your thighs to your back pockets. His body towering over you as you stared into his chest. His hands slid from your ass to your waist and then started moving up until they cupped under your breasts.

”Oi they’re not bombs they’re my tits, although I can understand the confusion since that sour look you wear makes it seem as if you’ve never been laid,” you said while looking up at him.

”I know what they are, although given their size I almost thought they were little bombs,” he said with a smile while moving his hands to your back and then finally up your shoulders and down your arms.

You just laughed at his comment. Your boobs were not the biggest but not the smallest either. You never had any complaints from past lovers so you felt indifferent about it.

”Well now that you know that they aren’t a bomb but just the bomb, are we done?”

He shook his head at your comment but you swore there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. Maybe all it took for him to start to like you was almost kicking his head off. He jerked his head to the side in gesture for you to follow so you did. Once on the grounds, you got to see how diligent his servants truly worked. They worked very obssesively all with their heads bowed, refusing to make eye contact with anything aside from what they were doing.

”Why are everyone’s heads bowed,” you asked.

”It is a rule. Keep your head down so you don’t make eye contact with the King on accident. If they do they are killed right where they stand.”

“Why can’t I look at him? Is he… y’know not quite-“

“I’m going to stop you right there. You may be a requested guest but you will be killed all the same for disrespecting the King. He is fine, it is a sign of disrespect to look him in the eye so don’t,” he said while guiding you into the servant’s wing of the palace.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “So you think he is fine, huh? That why you don’t like boobs?”

”Gods you’re insufferable”, he led you into a room with a bath waiting and a few female servants. “Bathe and get dressed—quickly. I expect you outside in 20 minutes”, he said before closing the door and leaving you alone with the other women.

They came to help you undress but you gave them a gentle wave of no while smiling and thanking them for the offer while you undressed yourself. You noticed them staring at your body. You were probably the most muscular woman they had seen and you had a few scars on your back and abdomen from before you were gifted by the Mother. You just smiled at their stares and got into the bath helping them quickly scrub you clean. The products they were using smelled like lavender and bergamot. Scents you didn’t realize you were quite fond of until basking in them. You got through the bath quickly and moved onto dressing. They put a black and red robe on you that was made of a nicer material than theirs and had designs along the inner trim and bottom of the sleeves. They went to put socks and sandals on you but you protested asking to just wear your boots. They looked mortified and panicked. You wondered if they would get killed if you showed up differently than planned so you just sighed and put on the socks and sandals. They tied your hair up into an intricate bun with black pins donning red tassles holding it into place. They moved onto your face applying a dark stroke of black to line your eyes and dark red lipstick that reminded you of how you look when you bite people.

You were sure they normally do more given all the beauty products laying in front of you but time was up. You bowed and thanked them to their dismay, a smile forming on their lips, as you went to the door. When you open it you meet Geto standing there waiting. “Alright time to go”, he said but as he turned towards you he stopped. Once again, surprise bloomed across his features.

“Oh piss off. A sprinkle of makeup didn’t transform me, let’s go”, you said while walking off.

“Wrong way”, he shouted which made you turn around and start towards the opposite end of the corridor that he had already started walking towards. He had found your features to be attractive before, so no you didn’t transform, but gods did you look good like that. If only he could wash and redress your attitude.

Before opening the door Geto reminded you to not look at the King, not to cuss, to be respectful, not to speak unless spoken to, and basically go against all of your natural instincts. To which you sarcastically thanked him and took a deep breath. You had played many roles over the years and this was no different. You calmed your energy down until you could feel it was perfectly poised, put on a friendly yet neutral face, put your hands together in your kimono sleeves, and kept you head down as Geto led you into the throne room.

You could feel the King’s presence as well as a less stronger presence beside his throne. There were a few other people in the room but you and Geto were the only other ones with cursed energy. The odds of winning a fight against all of them would be absolutely rough, unless you put them in your domain. There it would be them against an army of your creations, but you wanted to keep your domain under wraps for as long as you could.

You could feel all of their eyes on you, sizing you up as well. Gods it was so fucking stupid that you couldn’t look at them as well. The hypocrisy made you want to look directly in his eyes and flip him the bird. Shit you almost let out a little giggle at that. Keep your thoughts cool dammit.

“Welcome (Y/N), I have heard a lot about you”, a voice with a deep timbre and light rumble said. You didn’t have to look to know it was the King.

“I wasn’t aware you had heard of me my King, but I am honored at your invitiation”, you said with a practiced voice that had Geto side eyeing you wondering where the fuck the actual you went.

You could hear him getting up in his seat, but didn’t give into the desire to look.

“Do you know why I called you here, (Y/N)”, he said as he started descending down the steps leading to his throne.

“No, my King. I-“, you feel a wave of cursed energy shoot towards you and step out of the way of it before feeling the King’s energy approaching you rapidly. You brace yourself and he appears in front of you, you manage to keep up with his speed and dodge his incoming physical attacks while using your cursed energy to fend off his own. His attacks have no malice behind them and he is keeping you two in a small radius clear of destroying anything, so you assume this is likely a test. You keep your head down and your arms in your sleeves. You feel as if you’re doing well at the test until two more arms appear from nowhere.

What the fuck is this asshole part spider? How many fucking arms does he have?

Just when everyone in the room thinks that he has you in his grasp, you disappear. They’re left in confusion as they look around for you.

”Do you know why I am here my King,” you ask from in front of his throne with a slight hint of sarcasm on ‘my King’, your places now switched from how they began.

He smiled before appearing right in front of you again, “Serve me”, he whispered in your ear.

”Why?”

He let out a maniacal laugh, “Well one, you have no choice in the matter. You will serve me or die by me. I will be nice and give you a two though”, he said while circling you like a predator, “we are the same. Well maybe not in power, but I have heard of your work. Seen what remains after you're sent to do a job. You don’t just do what the client tells you, no, you sow seeds for cursed energy to grow from, don’t you? I can feel the hunger inside you, the pit that demands chaos paid in blood. Feed it with me”. He is behind you, his face beside your ear again.

“What are the terms of my treatment? Am I stuck here or do I get to go outside the palace? Also, what is your end goal? Why rule, why dominate? What world are you hoping to get out of it?”, you ask turning around to face him, this time staring right into his eyes.

He grabs your throat when you make eye contact, but quickly lets go in slight shock. “Were you draining my power just then?”, he asks with a wild smile on his face.

”Yes my King. I wouldn’t advise touching me against my will. It only takes a few seconds for me to send it to that pit that you mentioned,” you boldly take a step towards him, still maintaining eye contact, “I will work with you but there will be conditions. You will find that I am much nicer to work with when I am happy and that I am very easily made happy”. You say with the smile you learned from your Mother while unleashing the veil you always kept over your power and could feel the others’ spike in response to yours. The humans in the room launched their heads back before looking at the King, eyes matching the color of yours. All of the sorcerers, could feel your power tapping around in the heads, not in them, but letting them know they could end up out of control if they slip up.

Sukuna’s POV

This annoying little bitch coming into my throne room and challenging me. I could stick my fingers through her fucking brain until she has no choice but to be an obedient slave and part of me loves that idea, but the other part loves where this is going. She can disappear from even me and reappear without being sensed, tap into others minds, and drain other users of their power. She may not be as strong as me, but fucking hell are her abilities useful. And something about her presence makes my power hum with a feeling I can't place. Lust? Hate? Familiarity? Fuck I don’t know but I want her near.

I sit back in my throne, eyeing her up and down. With me sitting we are closer to eye level than before. Her eyes look like pools of blood, begging to drown the world in them. “What are your requests then, brat?” I can see the shock on the other sorcerers' faces, but also understanding on Geto’s. He must also realize she is an asset.

“I require alcohol, casual wear fit for fighting, an area where I can train but it doesn’t need to be private, and while I understand I may not be able to leave often, the ability to visit my home for 24 hours at a time not including travel time,” she said while still fucking staring me down. Cheeky bitch. But none of those are terrible, I suppose.

”Oh, and I would like to be able to have sex”, she added while nodding.

”With who?”

”You—“, Geto and Uraume both choked on air at her request as my eyebrows raised. Who does this fucking wench think she is demanding stipulations and then to fuck me I—“ Kidding, sorry. I didn’t really have anyone in particular in mind I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t off the table since this is kinda a shrine”, she said as if she hadn’t just informally joked about having fucking me—her fucking King.

I just sit and stare at her for a minute wondering what the hell goes through her mind that compels her to speak to me so casually. What happened to the demeanor she had in the beginning? Speaking like a bratty fucking whore now that she is close to me. Normally, I would grab her by her fucking throat and slam her around for such insolence, but I can still feel the hole she drained from my power. That ability is pesky as hell. Maybe I can get her to lower it and then smash in her skull. Hmm that would be nice.

“I will agree to your terms, but you will only drink after the sun sets, wear the clothing I choose outside of daily routine, and you may leave three times a year upon my approval and failure to follow those terms will results in losing one of those visitations. You will also speak to me with respect for here on out. I will not hear more slander about fucking a ran through whore like you or I will snap your neck, power drain or not. Are we clear?”

She gives me a shit eating grin before slightly bowing her head, “Crystal clear my King. I look forward to working for you.”

(Y/N) POV

Holy shit why did I say him? What demon inside me fucking compelled me to risk my life over that? Although…everyone’s reaction was funny.

“I will agree to your terms, but you will only drink after the sun sets, wear the clothing I choose outside of daily routine, and you may leave three times a year upon my approval and failure to follow those terms will results in losing one of those visitations. You will also speak to me with respect for here on out. I will not hear more slander about fucking a ran through whore like you or I will snap your neck, power drain or not. Are we clear?”

Except the end. Ran through whore? I am sorry, but who is it that has MULTIPLE concubines? Hypocrite.

“Crystal clear my King. I look forward to working with you.”

With that he waves his hand in dismissal and I walk away with my head still bowed and Geto following behind me. Once out of the room he smacks me on the back of the head.

”Fuck you actually do drain people’s energy don’t you?”

”Yea did you think our King was lying? You accuse him of being a liar? Don’t you know that is direct disrespect to him and punishable by death”, you say with a dead serious look as you stare at him.

He stares back absolutely baffled. “If anyone needs advice on how to not get killed by the King it's you. You flat out asked to fuck him like a goddamn maniac”, he says while guiding you to where you assume your quarters will be.

“Yea imagine if we got into a real fight. I wonder how it would go? I think it’d be pointless. We are stronger together. I am more of an asset than any of you know, killing me would suuuuck”, you say with an overly playful tone for the topic.

“How can you be so sure that you’re such an asset that he wouldn’t kill you?”

“Can any of you do what I just did?”

”Teleporting yes and—“

”I didn’t teleport. I went to a different realm that is in this one but not. Can any of you walk between realms?”

”I don’t even know what that means or what to do with that information. You make my brain hurt, for many reasons”, he stops and opens the door in front of you, “these are your quarters. I am sure your servants will be by to take your measurements and specifications for clothes and alcohol preferences soon. Do not leave this room without your attending servants until you have been told you may wander alone. Okay?”

You smile as you walk in and do a few spins in your room, “Yes, I understand. Wait for my servants and don’t leave without them”, you say without looking at Geto as you take in your room. You hear your door close, leaving you to your own devices

Notes: chapter one ayoo hopefully you guys like it. Some notes about the reader and Sukuna

- The reader’s cursed powers follow many techniques just like the Mother’s. The realm in between she mentioned is the Mother’s domain. Her domain is so big it is literally separate realm that exists on top of the other one without detection. The Mother and reader are the only ones that can travel to it. This realm is full of stored cursed energy and curses crafted by the Mother and reader. The Mother and her spawn stay in a palace that the reader cannot reach in that realm as they are taking a hands off approach for a while, so the reader can only use creations made themselves. Similar to Geto’s power but on a larger scale. This will actually make the two of them a good combo in the future.

- Sukuna had someone watch the events described in the beginning. He is interested in the reader because he has heard many accounts of their power and the technique is always different. He has also heard accounts of them lifting grown men twice their size as well as other items of great weight. Her speed has also been made a point of interest. Her bloodlust has also reached his ears and the depictions of gore she has left behind. Her killing didn’t discriminate on age or gender, but he had noticed her scenes were more intense when involving rape.

- The more cursed energy a sorcerer has the more of a pull her blood will have on them because the purer their energy is. It can feel the Mother within it and yearns to feed on it. This is why the King will let her get away with more and will act more erratic around her because he doesn’t know why he feels the way it does but he is oddly possessive/protective of her now. He would still beat her for the insolence if it wouldn’t drain him, but he has no intention of killing her.

- Ieiri knows more about the reader’s powers than anyone else and experiments on people to come up with new ideas for curses. She finds out what hurts the most but keeps the patient alive, different things that affect their vitals, tests on humans and sorcerers to ensure effectiveness, different ways to get inside people’s minds, and an array of ways to attack people in general. This has allowed the reader to create curses completely different than the Mother’s.

- If it came down to a fight, the reader would win in cursed energy, but Sukuna would win in brute strength. It would come down to how both played their cards throughout the match. The reader’s domain is able to open within Sukuna’s and is the inside of the Mother’s palace. So while he may have Malevolent Shrine, she has Malevolent Mother but the reader would rather die than run to her mom, so y’know.

Taglist: @missroro

[holybibly]

girl i really dunno how to ask but ummm i...i mean WE need more preacher/saint/priest content....oh i just thought priest yunho with some cnc and bdsm........and maybe some watersports....oh. my. god. i died. my eyes are only seeing some whips, punishment and a lot of sin. bye.

Hi, honey, how are you? I really spoiled you, didn't I? But it seems that everyone is just as crazy about hot priests/pasors,preachers, and nuns as I am. Woo was hotter than hell when he was a priest, don't you think, bunnies?

I've already mentioned that I'll be doing a sequel for each member, but I'll tell you more so you can look forward to my updates.

Below I mention religious, hierophilia and church related topics. Bunnies, please refrain from reading if such content makes you uncomfortable. You have been warned!

Beware of False Prophets Demon San x Reader

Everyone in your town has been talking about the arrival of a new priest. The parishioners have been on their knees in praise of Pastor Choi San ever since he walked through the doors of your little church. He was devout, quiet, and, for a priest, incredibly handsome. He quickly became the object of admiration and wet dreams.

And you were not left out. The way his cat-like eyes would sometimes linger on you during Mass, or the way your name would roll off his tongue when he addressed you, made you blush with shame, not only at the dirty thoughts in your head but also at the fact that your panties were getting too wet just by looking at San.

But little did you know that Pastor Choi San had much more forbidden and depraved intentions towards you than that. Not all that glitters is gold, and not everyone is a saint who wears a holy robe.

It is said that one should beware of false prophets, for good intentions lead to hell. Or maybe the demon San will disguise himself as the new pastor of your church and try to tempt you into committing a sin.

Are you callin' me a sinner? Priest Yunho x Widow Reader

It was never in your wildest dreams that you'd be a widow at such a young age. Less than three months had passed since you got married when your husband tragically died, and this became the talk of your small town.

People walked past you, looked at you with disgust, closed their doors in front of you, and pointedly ignored you as if you had committed some mortal sin, which is probably what they thought you had done. You were so young and too beautiful, and your husband... Your husband was a man much older than you. You loved him; you really did, and losing him destroyed you. Your husband left you a huge fortune to inherit, and people whispered that you killed him to get money and to take a lover. Some even said you made a pact with the devil by killing your husband in return for your unearthly beauty and money. They said that you were a sinful brat.

Your only comfort at that time was faith, and you spent all your evenings in prayer and penance. One day, your housekeeper advised you to contact the priest, Jeong Yunho, describing him as a pious, compassionate, and gentle person who always showed mercy to everyone and granted the desired forgiveness of sins to all the troubled hearts. But she neglected to mention that Yunho was also an incredibly handsome young man who was more likely to tempt you to sin than to help you atone for it.

"I will help you get rid of your sins, my child." His hoarse voice whispered in your ear as he let the dress fall from your shoulders and down your back.

"I am going to cleanse you of the sin and the impurity of this world." Yunho said as he put a blindfold over your eyes and tied your hands behind your back.

"The only way you will be able to atone for your sins is through pain, and I will help you with that, my dear." He said this, accompanying his words with a lash of his whip across your bare skin.

Say yes to Heaven Pastor Yeosang x Libertine Reader

You never wanted to have anything as much as you wanted to have Kang Yeosang. He was handsome. He looked like an angel. He was everything that you ever wanted to sink your teeth into. He was your church's pastor. And that was what drove the hell out of you.

Yeosang was a simple man—an incredibly sweet and gentle man—who always helped his parishioners find the right path and to find God in their hearts. You, however, could brag about an endless list of sins and vices that you proudly displayed, like your favourite red lipstick. If given the chance, you would paint the whole town red, but mostly you wanted to see it smeared around Pastor Yeosang's handsome cock while you deepthroated him. The two of you came from completely different worlds—a saint and a sinner—but you had always believed that opposites attract.

Every mass was a game of seduction for you, and you wondered how far you could go before the angelic halo over Yeosang's head would crack and he would fuck you senseless. Although you had doubts that he could do it, you had a feeling that he was a virgin and would probably faint at the sight of a pink, wet pussy in front of his pretty angelic face. God, the boy was so holy and inexperienced about sex.

But how wrong you were about him! There are always two sides to every coin, and you will learn from experience that there are some desires that are better left as fantasies. Or the one where Pastor Yeosang fucks you to the last inch of your life and teaches you the concept of out-of-body experiences through orgasm.

Me and the Devil Lucifer Seonghwa x Reader Nun

From the day your parents took you to church for the first time, you knew that your life would be one of devotion to God. Of course, this was not the destiny your family wanted for you, but they still supported you on your way to becoming a virgin bride.

The convent where you lived to prepare for your vows was far from home and did not have the best reputation. But the priest of your parish convinced you that it was there, and nowhere else, that you could know God. And he was right; you did know God, but it was not the God to whom you prayed every night of your life.

It all began with dreams. Dark and unholy dreams came to you more and more often. The cold hands of a stranger sliding over your skin, a hot tongue exploring your body and lips as if sin itself were branding you with kisses, all ending with the first rays of dawn. Then this strange cat appeared and would not leave your side for a minute. But what frightened you most was the disappearance of the other nuns. One after the other, they vanished without a trace, until there were only a few novices left in the convent.

The night you took your vows was dark and moonless. So were the eyes of the dark-winged angel who appeared before you. It was as if he were woven of pure sin, depravity, and rage, oozing from his skin like ichor, and the rustle of his wings was the very sound you would hear before your death. But Angel, Lucifer, Seonghwa—call him what you like—came here with one goal: to finally get his bride.

"Do you have faith that your God will be the answer to your prayers, my beautiful bride? Do you believe that he is going to save you?" Seonghwa's lips touched your cheek, and his burning breath flowed across your skin. "You belong to me. Your soul, your faith, your body—all of it belongs to me. And you will accept me as your husband, dear child. Or you will say goodbye to your life at dawn."

There will be a separate post for Mingi, Jongho and Hongjoong. I am going to leave you in suspense, my little bunnies.

There's no harm in a bit of intrigue, is there?

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Is Sauron a narcissist?

I think it’s time for me to address this “Sauron the narcissist” headcanon, from my Tolkien nerd perspective. I’ve noticed this is particularly popular in the Sauron x Galadriel fandom (for some reason I fail to understand, honestly), don’t really know about the others, sorry.

I’ll start by saying folks are allowed to interpret fictional characters whatever they like, and see fit. Aren’t you allowed to call Sauron a “narcissist”? Of course not. You’re free of projecting or see whatever you want to see on characters.

Is this what Tolkien wrote or what’s being depicted on “Rings of Power”? No. Is this missing the entire point of Sauron and Celebrimbor as written by Tolkien? Yes.

First; you all want to see Celebrimbor as a victim of Sauron. He’s not and this way of thinking is a complete butchering of Tolkien’s message (I hate to sound like a “Tolkien purist” here, but it’s true in this case). You need to understand that Tolkien was, indeed, a preacher, and Christian-Catholic doctrine is all over his work. His legendarium is filled with cautionary tales. There is no escaping it, you can’t understand Tolkien without this. Unless that’s not your goal, and that’s your prerogative, of course.

Celebrimbor is not a victim of Sauron; he’s a victim of his own arrogance, vanity, pride and envy. This is what Tolkien wrote, and this is the cautionary tale. I already discussed this briefly on Of Sin and Sinners post. Don’t recommend if you don’t enjoy Sauron x Galadriel.

Tolkien was particular harsh on the Elves of Eregion, with Celebrimbor being their leader. By allowing the “rings of power” to be forged, they were acting against Eru (God) himself, because this is the core message of Tolkien legendarium.

But the Elves are not wholly good or in the right. Not so much because they had flirted with Sauron; as because with or without his assistance they were 'embalmers'. They wanted to have their cake and eat it: to live in the mortal historical Middle-earth because they had become fond of it (and perhaps because they there had the advantages of a superior caste), and so tried to stop its change and history, stop its growth, keep it as a pleasaunce, even largely a desert, where they could be 'artists' – and they were overburdened with sadness and nostalgic regret. 

Tolkien Letter 154

The Elves were “cheating death” with the whole “rings of power” project, which allowed them to stay where they don’t belong instead of returning to Valinor. Yes, including and especially the “good” Three Elven rings of power. Because this is a breaking of Eru’s laws on itself. And by doing this, the Elves are on the wrong, here, they are on the side of evil, even thought they fight Sauron (Tolkien Letter 183).

And this is why Eru allows Sauron to destroy Eregion (and Lindon, later), as punishment. In Tolkien lore, everything happens according to Eru’s plan. And this is why he doesn’t prevent Sauron from doing all of this. Because this is God’s justice at work. This is what you get for acting against me.

This is not “gaslighting”. This is show writers (or more likely the Tolkien experts that assist with the writing) using Sauron’s character to deliver Tolkien message to the audience. The problem is that the overall audience no longer has the religious background to grasp this. And apparently don’t even the actors understand it, either, with all the nonsensical “domestic abuse” interpretations. Or perhaps they went with this for the audience better accept it, instead of pushing religious messaging down people’s throats. Which is, with all due respect to Tolkien, what he intended with all of this.

It was Celebrimbor’s arrogance that allowed him to fall into evil (embodied by Sauron). And he, indeed, chose it. Because Celebrimbor wanted to surpass Fëanor, he wanted to craft legendary objects, he wanted to create a mythos like his grandfather’s Silmarils. And evil/Sauron gave him just that, and he payed the price for his sins. Because pride and greed are capital sins, deadly sins, against Eru himself, for which the punishment is death.

Tolkien is preaching here: this is what you get for being greedy and envious, and going against God.

Last, but not least, calling Sauron a “narcissist” doesn’t make any sense lore-wise. He’s not a human, nor a mere Elf; he’s a immortal deity who’s been around since the beginning of time. He helped shape the world he seeks to dominate. Of course, he feels entitled to everything he’s doing, and to rule over Middle-earth. He, literally, created the world alongside the Valar and the other Maiar.

He looks at Middle-earth in ruins after the War of Wrath, and how the Valar aren’t doing anything to help. Being a deity himself, Sauron makes rebuilding Middle-earth his mission. He thinks this is how he’ll redeem himself. And Tolkien tell us Sauron means well, at first, until he gets too high on power trips and tries to become God himself (and that’s when Eru intervenes).

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

I’ve seen someone else mention this, but I also wanted to talk about this

The erasure of queerness in the movie is something I definitely did not expect.

Sure, it’s a love story between two men, but grab Alex and Henry and make them a man and a woman, the movie doesn’t change much. Maybe monarchy instead of being homophobic and racist now it’s only racist, and they hate Alex not because he’s a man but because he’s brown. They kept it a secret because of monarchy’s racism, but love triumphs at the end. That’s why the movie didn’t hit as hard as the book. The movie is just some forbidden love movie, rwrb is a book where the main characters are in a forbidden relationship, but it’s not the whole point of the book.

Alex discovering his sexuality, Nora being bisexual, whatever Pez had going on, whatever June and Nora had going on, Alex learning about queer history, the historical lgbt love letters at the ends of their e-mails, all the references to queer history and literature, THE SHELTERS, monarchy’s homophobia (yes, it appears on the movie but it’s really glossed over. It doesn’t show just how homophobic they actually are in the book), Alex stating how he knows more about himself the more intimate (both in the sexual and non sexual sense) he is with Henry, Luna being gay and unapologetic about it and being exactly Alex’s queer role model, even before Alex knew he was queer himself, THE FUCKING SHELTERS

I’m so so mad about the shelters being missing.

Henry and Pez made shelters for lgbt youth, so they can never feel as alone as Henry once felt, so they can always have a safe space so they know there’s nothing wrong with them no matter what the adults in their life might say, no matter what the preacher or their classmates or the right wing politicians in their tv might say, where they can find hope, and friends, and a home if they never had one before, or at least, one where they could truly be themselves. The shelters are, I would say, crucial to Henry’s character development. He went from hiding, believing being gay was “the most unforgivable part of him”, not even trying to come out because he just succumbed to live an unhappy life in the closet, to someone who’s out, living with his boyfriend and running lgbt shelters with his best friend so young queer people can move past all the things he felt and believed time ago, so they know they are perfectly normal and loved and safe in there, as long as Henry and Pez are there they’re safe, they don’t have to hide anymore.

Henry became the queer elder he needed in his life when he was younger. The lgbt adult who could tell him than it would get better, no matter how bad it was at the moment, no matter if he couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, because it was there, he just had to hold on a bit more. Than there was absolutely nothing wrong with him.

Another thing than I seen changed than a normal person might not notice, but I did, because im obsessed, is the karaoke scene.

In the book, it takes place in something resembling a gay bar (maybe not exactly, but it’s full of queer people), and look at this

Three rounds of shots appear —one from a drunk bachelorette party, one from a herd of surly butch chicks at the bar, and one from a table of drag queens. They raise a toast, and Alex feels more welcomed than he ever has before, even at his family’s victory rallies.

Look again

and Alex feels more welcomed than he ever has before, even at his family’s victory rallies.

This book is about about finding community, finding yourself, finding love and letting yourself accept that love.

Do you think Alex in the movie has felt “more welcomed than he ever has before, even at his family’s victory rallies” at any point? Has he been with another queer person in the whole movie, except Henry, at all?? Because Nora’ sexuality was not mentioned at all no references nothing and with the whole Pez thing everyone could see Nora as just straight

Henry and Alex in the movie are kind of without community, alienated from it, they are, in my personal opinion, the kind of gay people republicans would consider “good gay people” who “don’t shove it on everyone’s faces and just wanna be left alone” (in the rwrb universe where they exist and are real not actual republican people watching the movie). They don’t really take a role on the community, in the book, Alex and Henry being queer is an important part of themselves, again, Alex feeling like he knows himself better, Henry whole internalized homophobia, their shared interest for lgbt history and literature, Henry and Pez making the shelters, etc etc meanwhile in the movie Alex and Henry just happen to be gay and bisexual, but it’s no deeper than that.

And don’t get me started on creating Miguel, a queer character, and making him the one to leak the e-mails or smth instead of a republican candidate

[professor-cold-ramen]

Why do you worship your god YHWH as the only one? This is a legitimate question? What good does it do for you? Everything your god has done for you shouldn't have anything to do with his status, or uniqueness. I've seen the power of gods alien to your own, from Hel (the goddess I'm closest to, though I do worship others), I've seen her stop animals from moving, protect the sick and wounded, and cause a blind preacher to see her and flee. And I've felt her love, felt her comfort (I probably wouldn't even identify as agender if it wasn't for her help). But because she is not your god you would call this demonic? And say my soul is bound for damnation? Why not admit the existence of other gods, and keep to your own if you wish. How can your relationship with your god even be safe if you can't leave for another? How can it be called anything but bigotry to deny another god's divinity while you worship one yourself?

If you're looking for real answers, here are some answers in good faith. I can only hope my words do it justice.

"Why do you worship your god YHWH as the only one?"

Yahweh is the only god (small g) that I have seen working in my life and the lives of those around me, just as you have felt Hel work in your life. I have seen Him quickly answer my prayers and the prayers of others, in ways that I never would've expected. I have felt His love, even in the moments when I didn't deserve it. Especially in those moments. Because of what I have experienced, I firmly believe that the Bible is from Him and that every single word of it is infallible. I believe that Yahweh:

Created the universe (every piece of it, from the largest galaxies to the smallest gluons) (Genesis 1:1)

Fought for the Israelites, His chosen people, when they were being attacked (and always won, no matter what He was up against) (The Book of Judges has plenty of great examples)

Freed His people from Egypt and Babylon on separate occasions (two of the strongest world powers in those times) (The Books of Exodus, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Daniel)

Came to Earth as a baby (Luke 2:11)

Healed the sick and raised the dead while He was incarnated on this earth as Jesus Christ (The Gospel of John, Chapters 9 and 11 among many others)

Died on a cross to cleanse us of our sins that we might be with Him (Luke 23:46)

Rose again after three days, ending the powers of sin and death (Hallelujah!) (Luke 24:6)

Still works in the lives of those who seek Him (Acts 17:27)

Has given His Spirit to those with faith to assist us in our daily trials (Acts 1:8)

Will win the final victory once this world passes away (The Book of Revelation)

Will welcome those who believe in Him into His kingdom (Revelation, Chapter 21)

I believe that He is stronger than any other force in this universe, because He created all of them. Because of what the Bible says, I believe that Yahweh is the the Lord God (big G). He has already done so much for me, and will continue to do immeasurably more as I follow Him. I can see no reason to follow anyone else. No other god is worth following.

"But because she is not your god you would call this demonic?"

Not necessarily demonic. I am open to the possibility of there being other supernatural/divine forces beyond Yahweh. I don't claim to understand the supernatural world. Your gods might be demons or some other kind of spirit. I don't think I'll ever find out, but that is something I'd like to ask Yahweh when I meet him. It's always fascinated me.

"And say my soul is bound for damnation?"

All our souls our bound for damnation. My own soul is bound for damnation. When I die, I will have to stand before Yahweh and his judgment. I will never be able to meet His standards on my own. "Foremost among sinners," as the apostle Paul put it (1 Timothy, 1:15). My only hope is the loving grace and mercy of Jesus Christ, the son of God. Because of the redemptive work He did when He died a criminal's death upon a cross, I have been cleansed of my sins. Christ bore the judgment for me so I don't have to. Just like the prodigal son that Jesus spoke of in His parables, Yahweh will welcome me with open arms. The same can happen for you. I promise it isn't too late.

"Why not admit the existence of other gods, and keep to your own if you wish."

Because these other gods don't have the power to save you. They make promises but cannot deliver on any lasting goodness. You can believe whatever you want. I believe Yahweh has given you the free will to do so. However, I am called to spread the good news of Jesus Christ. Keeping to my own isn't an option.

Yahweh truly wants best for you, as do I. And what is best for you is to live in communion with your creator, who loves you and is calling you back to Him. He will leave the rest of the sheep in His flock to come find you (Luke 15:3-7). There is a part of you, no matter how small or how deep it is buried, that yearns to be with Him. Lean into it. Trust me on this, you will not regret it.

"How can your relationship with your god even be safe if you can't leave for another?"

I believe that I have the free will to leave Him. In fact, there have been plenty of times that I haven't been especially close to Yahweh, of my own volition. I screw up. I fall short. I turn away from Him to chase the fleeting pleasures of this world. Prone to wander, Lord I feel it. And every time He welcomes Me back. I pray daily that I might keep my eyes on Him and not fall away.

In fact, even King David, who was described as "A man after God's own heart" (1 Samuel 13:14) made mistakes. He chose his own ways and desires over Yahweh's, usually to disastrous consequences. However, he always returned to worshiping and praising Yahweh, and Yahweh accepted him back. (2 Samuel, Chapters 11 and 12, most notably 12:20)

This is true love. Yes, He will discipline us and let us deal with the consequences of our mistakes, but He will always forgive us and welcome us back. I truly hope that you have experienced an unconditional love like this. If you haven't, I hope you will experience it at some point from the future. In fact, I hope you will experience Yahweh's endless, undeserved, unconditional, overwhelming love. We were created to experience it. There's nothing else like it.

[5lut4ghouls]

Basic sleep token hcs...

An// Nearly all of these have reasons, either from songs, stage costumes, etc. i think about sleep token lore a little too often. The boys also use he/they/it.

Tws// monster vessels, they are not human. Mentions of human sacrifice, also mentions of cannibalism? Kinda? They aren't human so like, cannibalism adjacent

✦sleep is a lady. Or at least fem presenting. I don't care. I do not have a reason for this it just is.

✦her possession or prolonged heavy influence causes mutations to the body and mind

✦most commonly claws, sharpened teeth, hunger for blood/flesh, patches of grey and black skin

✦sleep prefers human sacrifice, as seen in Nazareth.

✦He's sleep's preacher. Also her preferred vessel, his body does not react as severely to her possession.

✦He has the widest emotional range of the vessels, as seen in the music.

✦Has six eyes, each set is a slightly different color, his mask highlights that feature.

✦While you would think humans would feel comfortable around him, they tend to be off put by him.

✦His prey drive is the lowest, it's rare to see him randomly hunting, prefers to give offerings in other ways.

✦He is a lot more mellow than any of the others, has the lowest emotional range. he's also more logical. He does have moments of being more expressive though.

✦He tends to plan a lot of the things related to the cult. He's sleep's second hand, despite being the second choice for a vessel

✦He has no mouth, the skin there is completely smooth, as seen in his mask.

✦He feeds through a proboscis-like appendage that sprouts when he's hungry. Because of that his “bite” is the least messy and painful. I do not have a reason for this but??? I cannot think of how else he would eat.

✦He also speaks telepathically. The ability also allows him to manipulate people's thoughts to a certain extent, similar to mind control.

✦He's sleep’s hunter. His prey drive is massive.

✦Not only does he thoroughly enjoy making his own sacrifices to sleep via hunting, he's also the one to pick and take the sacrifices for group rituals.

✦He's a horribly messy eater, looks like something straight out of a horror movie. When iii feeds nothing is safe from the blood stains.

✦He's the most sadistic vessel

✦Flesh on his torso + arms and upper thighs is zombified. Not too bad, but it looks worse than it is

✦When he was human he had tattoos all over those areas, they're still visible, albeit subtly

✦He's covered in a lot of piercings, iv gave him most of them

✦While his main form of offering is sacrifices, he also gets piercings/dyes his hair whenever he still wants to give her something but he isn't feeling as violent.

✦He doesn't quite have a role in the cult yet, though he has picked up habits from the other three boys

✦Sleep has noticed that iv does the best with new members, likely due to how human he seems to remain

✦His lasting humanity has also managed to enchant the other vessels. They're often more protective of him than each other (which is saying something)

✦The odd mix of humanity and monstrosity also has a siren-like effect with the humans. Vessel and his words draw them into the cult, and iv's presence is what makes them feel safe enough to finally join the cult

✦His main monstrous features haven't formed yet, mostly due to a lack of possession, but he does have the basics. (Claws, sharp teeth, etc.)

✦the results of the past three attempts of sleep getting a fem vessel

✦they are spirits that died during sleep's possession.

✦because they died during possession they are essentially tethered to sleep, and are often found where her presence is the strongest

[morablackbird]

I’ve had time to think, and I want to make something clear to all.

Now more than ever we should go out and vote, not just for who’s gonna run this bitch but for seats and for government. Look into your local polling places to see what the next election is on and vote

Because it was never democrats vs republicans, it had always been democracy vs autocracy, freedom vs fascism. I’m not mad about republicans voting in their best interests, or hell if their had been just about any other sensible republican candidate, nor am I upset about those who question our democracy and its ability to give us the representation we want.

My hope is that democracy lives on past these four years, even if we the people lose our rights and our freedoms, we must never give up and never give in to hate and lies. Because if democracy survives we can always bring it back.

Do not lie down and die, do not let them win. It is time we come together as American citizens both Democrat and true republicans cause I know you are still out there, to fight like hell. Do not hurt yourselves that is what they want, if you are so beyond the point of no return then keep living, do not die because they won, die because you fought back, die gloriously! Die with purpose! Fight what battles you can at home and do what you must beyond the home, protect each other, especially our children who shall suffer the most.

And speaking of which, if you are a woman, cis or otherwise, non-binary born female, or a trans male that has yet to fully transition. It’s time to use their tactics against them. They want a nation of Christian ideals? This whole ‘your body my choice?’ Then it’s time to be maliciously compliant. Let us all take up a oath to never lie with another cis male. Let us become saints of virtue and celibacy. Let us be pure and free of the ‘sin’ that is sex then.

No more sex, no more babies, no more shall we give them factory workers and no more shall we give our bodies to them. We are choosing to be pure in the eyes of ‘their’ god then.

I don’t know about you but irl cis men are really unattractive to me right now, and if I really want kids I can adopt.

And for those of you who are LGBTQ and so on. Fear not for I believe in the promise of a better tomorrow. I believe in it, and we have fought for many years to get this far. If you are a adult you understand these hardships and hiding has never been easy but we managed. The kids however need us more than ever, they need to know we are there for them and we should protect them even at the cost of our own personal freedoms.

To all my friends with immigrant parents, who were born here and raised up under the ideal of freedom of choice. We have failed you and we shall never forgive ourselves for it. This nation was built by immigrants for immigrants, and it should continue to be so. Yet we choose to blame you for our problems.

My grandpa used to tell a joke, that was less of a joke and more of a upsetting truth.

There is a room in which three men live

In this room is a feast fit for several

One man is a businessman

One is you

One is a immigrant

The businessman looks at the feast and scoots the majority of it to his side of the table and begins to eat while the other two starve

But being ‘generous’ he tosses you a leg of the smallest fowl and says

‘Better grab it quick, lest the enemy take it from you’

As he point to the immigrant with none.

So you hold on to your scraps in fear of having none when in reality it’s not the enemy coming from elsewhere, but the liars who tell you it is so.

Immigrants were never your enemy and they never should’ve been, because unless you are 100% purely Native American I don’t want to hear it, cause not even I am.

I come from a long line of preachers and speakers, I come from a ancestry of natives and pilgrims, I come from two sides of the same coin when it comes to the civil war, I come from many Puritans, Catholics, Christians, and so on, and no matter what their stance was in our government there was one thing they all clearly desired.

Freedom

Liberty

The pursuits of happiness

Democracy

Do not let them win, do not give up, do not lie down and die because they say you should.

Fight to live another day, keep going even when shit sucks, don’t give them what they desire,

never give up!

Do you hear me?

NEVER GIVE UP!!

Sincerely

Dove

[invisibleicewands]

‘Theatre changed my life,’ says Michael Sheen. ‘Now my passion is for helping others’

Theatre can change lives. And I should know. It’s changed my life more than I’d ever have imagined. Back in 2011, a play called The Passion took over the streets of my hometown of Port Talbot. And I haven’t been the same since.

Perhaps the perception of actors before a play is that we’ll learn a few lines, try on a few costumes... break a leg. But with The Passion, I went all in like never before.

I also met the people doing vital work in the community I grew up in, helping vulnerable people who need it the most, often at make-or-break moments. Being at this coalface of community opened my eyes.

This patchwork of people holding society together with the thinnest of threads, going over and above each and every day to help people in almost every aspect of their lives.

I saw then – and I continue to see – kind-hearted, warm, tolerant people helping out their fellow humans to bring communities together. These are the people who make our nation what it is.

The good deeds that these people did – from giving young carers a night off to go bowling, to setting up the only grief counselling service in the area – generally worked under fragile funding and often were under-appreciated by the wider community.

I knew then that I had to devote as much time and energy as I could to helping, however I could.

In the decade and a half since The Passion, I’ve started projects around homelessness, high-cost credit, care, and local journalism. And for the past 18 months, these have come under the banner of a movement known as Mab Gwalia.

Mab Gwalia believes that opportunity should not only be available to those who can afford it. The ambition is to build a movement that makes change.

We support people and projects which work in three ways: projects creating opportunity and fighting for fairness; projects rooted in communities, helping people directly; and projects that work in new and ambitious ways to deliver change.

My work on The Passion made me realise there’s so many people out there doing this. And Mab Gwalia has supported as many of them as we can.

This has included: Army veterans in Merthyr Tydfil. Autism support for children in Rhondda Cynon Taf. Food growing in Pembrokeshire. Opportunities for women in Swansea who’ve suffered knock-back after knock-back. Community skills hubs in Rhyl.

Theatre changed my life. Now I want the spark it set off in me to do the same for others.

My ancestor, Nanny Blower, the lion tamer

My great-great grandmother was called Mary Ann-North. Or Nanny Blower, as we know her.

She left Wales for New York in 1896 where she became, wait for it, an elephant and lion tamer for the Bostock and Wombwell Circus. Fast forward to today and young people in the Upper Neath Valleys don’t have to run away to join the circus. Organised Kaos comes to them.

Kaos stands for “keeping adolescents off the streets” and that’s what they do. I first met them on The Passion (riding BMXs through fire – them, not me) and now Mab Gwalia has helped fund their work.

Manics band drum up £15,000 for drama study

“Libraries gave us power” – the opening lyrics to Wales’ second national anthem, A Design For Life.

The Manic Street Preachers wrote a version of the song for The Passion, performing it at The Last Supper in the Seaside Social & Labour Club… before being arrested and hauled off stage for the show’s added drama.

The band is working with Mab Gwalia to fund a drama scholarship, providing financial support to students who need it. Since 2021, 11 students have received up to £15,000 each academic year.

We’ve just committed to another three years. The students tell us it gives them a chance to believe. The arts should be for everyone.

Mothers Matter, like my mum and partner Anna

My mum’s going through a tough time as my dad is living with Alzheimer’s. It’s a lot to take. I’m thankful every day for how my partner Anna is with our daughters.

It’s an understatement, but mothers matter. That’s the name of an organisation Mab Gwalia has supported. Mothers Matter helps mums suffering from loneliness and isolation through support, counselling, wellbeing hubs and workshops. Mothers in South Wales don’t have to do it alone.

We give a voice to working class writers

A summer reading recommendation: Only Here, Only Now by Tom Newlands. It’s Cora’s story – a teenage girl with ADHD finding her way through life in the early 90s in post-industrial Scotland. She’ll change the way you think about neurodivergence. It’s an unforgettable debut novel.

Tom was part of A Writing Chance, a project I developed alongside the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, New Writing North and Northumbria University. The Office for National Statistics says nearly half all authors are from the most privileged backgrounds.

So we’re trying to redress that balance. To turn up voices not always heard. Tom was one of the first group – 11 writers who received bursaries and mentoring with industry leaders including regular writer of this column, Ros Wynne-Jones.

You can hear their stories in the BBC Sounds podcast Margins to Mainstream with Michael Sheen. Now, 16 more writers are on board. Think of the stories to come.

My debut at the ‘brilliant Welsh party’

With origins dating from 1176, the National Eisteddfod is Europe’s largest cultural festival. A celebration of Welsh language culture with performances and competitions in everything from composition to cynghanedd (a type of Welsh poetry). And, last weekend, in Pontypridd, I made my debut on the maes (site or field).

My four-year-old daughter now refers to it as “that brilliant Welsh party” which neatly describes the atmosphere. On stage, the actress Sian Phillips said the sounds of words in Welsh “echoed with the language”.

I felt those echoes all day. Spoken in the park by families. Performed by young actors. Sung with emotion by choirs. It was a beautiful thing.

Homeless World Cup a beautiful game

Next month, the Homeless World Cup takes place in Seoul, South Korea. Bringing the tournament to Cardiff in 2019, seeing 500 players with experience of homelessness represent their nation on the football field, was something I’ll never forget.

If you can’t wait until then, watch The Beautiful Game on Netflix. Keep an eye on Callum Scott Howells, a brilliant young Welsh actor who I directed in BBC drama The Way (available on iPlayer).

Nye NHS vision seen on world stage

I’ve spent much of this year playing the man who had the vision and valour to create the National Health Service. Nye was theatre at its most far-reaching.

There were sold-out runs in the National Theatre in London, the Wales Millennium Centre in Cardiff. And cinema screenings were viewed by people all over the world.

On the night we filmed the NT Live screening, NHS workers from around the country were invited to be in the audience. They knew that at that moment, a global audience was learning about our welfare state and the man who was behind it.

My dad came along one night. He was just a little kid when Bevan’s idea became reality. Soon there’ll be very few left who can remember what life was like before the NHS.

Let’s hope it stays that way. Can the new government come up with a progressive policy that inspires a story which packs them in 75 years on? We can but dream.

[melanieph321]

and more related to the reader being Brazilian and presenting a little about her culture and without the impediment of communication with the reader's parents (Rúben nervous about meeting the reader's parents for the first time)

Thank you for your patience with me. 😅

Ruben Dias x Reader - No Son of Mine

Enjoy!

The first nights in Brazil were spent in hotels. You wanted to show Ruben around the sights, like the beach and other popular tourist attractions. It was his first time visiting your home country so you wanted to make it special.

Eventually you guys arrived in São Paulo, the city where you grew up. The city where all of your family and friends lived.

"She's home!" Your mother shouted as the car you were renting pulled up to your childhood home.

"Finally God has brought you back to us." She rushed down the driveway to give you a rib crushing hug.

"Mamãe." You groaned. Behind her the rest of the family spilled out of the house, your siblings, cousins, aunties and uncles. All had been awaiting your arrival.

"Y/N!"

"Look how skinny she has become."

"What are they feeding you in England?"

"Fish and chips." Your uncle joked.

"Pai! Come here and look how pale your daughter has become."

People were pinching your cheeks, pulling your dress and making you twirl around to get a better look at you.

"Guys, please."

You hadn't even gotten the chance to introduce them to Ruben yet. There was no need however, your family discovered him for themselves as he came up the driveway carrying all of your luggage.

"Oh my." Your mother gasped.

"Look at those arms." One of your aunties commented. "So strong, so full of veins."

Your sisters were no different.  "He's cute, no?"

"Stop it." You hushed.

Ruben certainly made a good impression with the females of your family. The men however, perked up their chests like male gorillas.

"Do you need helped with those?" Your dad said, clearing his throat to make his voice sound deeper.

Ruben shook his head. "No sir. But thank you."

"No. Thank you." Your auntie smiled, eyeing Ruben up and down as he went passed them with the bags.

You rolled your eyes, hooking your arm with Rubens. "Guys this is Ruben , my fiance."

"Fiance?" They frowned.

You had yet told them about Rubens proposal last month. This was one reason for your visit to Brazil.

"When did this happen?" Your mother said, taking your hand so she could get a better look at the ring. Your family gathered like chickens, gasping at the sight of the diamond ring.

"Last month." You smiled.

"And you told us nothing?" Your dad pushed through everyone to get to you, displaying a look disapointment.

"Well I wanted it to be a suprise."

"Normally a man asks the father for permission before proposing to his daughter." Your dad turned to Ruben.

"Pai!" 

He stepped up to Ruben in a way that made everyone nervous.

"What? It's a holy tradition, no?"

"Yes for us Pai." Your sisters help defend. "Ruben is not from Brazil."

"But he is Portuguese, no?"

"Here we go again." You sighed. Ever since your family found out that Ruben was Portuguese their view of him changed a bit. Especially your dad's view, since he has always been very in touch with his cultural roots and a preacher of how the white man took everything from our ancestors. Even when you were still a young girl he would say, "If you ever marry a Brazilian he better be as black as you."

"Pai?" Your mother came through to stop the commotion. "Stop this. We haven't seen our daughter in three years. This is not how we should welcome her and her beautiful husband to be."

Your dad groaned in response, but quickly came to his senses, seeing the hurt in your eyes.

"Y/N." He sighed. "You're mother is right, forgive me?"

"It's not me you should be apologizing too." You said, cuddling up to Ruben. He held an arm around your shoulders.

The whole family anticipated your father's next words. He still looked skeptically at Ruben.

"Do you have a job, son?"

"Yes sir." Ruben nodded.

"A house?"

"Two actually. One in England and one in Portugal. If you don't count the apprement we live in Manchester and the summerhouse in Spain, then I have four."

Your family nodded impressed, everyone but your father.

"Can you cook?" He said, continuing the live interrogation.

"I know a few dishes."

"Can you clean?"

"Of course."

"Dad stop this." You sighed.

He raised his hand "Just one final question."

"Shoot." Ruben said.

Your dad chuckled.  "It's funny you would say that. Can you play football? Because no son in law of mine shall step foot in my house without knowing how to use them."

Ruben shifted to you. His expression unsure.

"I haven't told them." You smiled.

"Told us what?" Your dad hissed.

"Pai, Ruben is a professional football player. He plays for Manchester City in the Premier League."

"My son." Your dad grinned, pulling Ruben in for a hug.

Everyone laughed, including you.

"I guess he's welcome to the family then?" You asked.

"Yes." He said, patting Rubens back. "He is very welcome."

[jqmalikhsgib]

moonlight

three

eddie holds her close as she lies on his chest. he stares at the ceiling before simply looking at his girlfriend. eddie still couldn’t believe it. yn yln was his girlfriend!

she was by far the prettiest girl in hawkins high. sure, others would say it’s tammy but they’d be wrong. yn was breathtaking to eddie. she might be an angel forreal, he wouldn’t know nor would he care. he was in love.

eddie never expected to find love. after his mother died and his father was sent to jail, eddie was constantly shamed by the whole town of hawkins. the ten year old boy was confused. he was just a boy, a simple little boy who lost his mom and dad in less than three years from each other. he was shunned for the crimes his father committed. people expected him to be nothing but a criminal just like his old man. eddie only did what he could do. he put all his anger into his favorite game, dungeons and dragons! he became an excellent dungeon master. it was his rage that made him good. then his uncle introduced him to the guitar.

eddie became good at playing. he started writing music and finding other kids who were labeled as ‘freaks’ to for a band. they were actually pretty fucking good. unfortunately they listened to that ‘devil worshipping’ music. with how closed minded the fuckers in hawkins were, he was only shunned even more. people started labeling him as a cult leader. and creating a club named ‘hellfire’ where you play a game that’s getting bad press didn’t help his case. but eddie didn’t care. he couldn’t have care less about what these dumb fucks think of him. eddie knew he’d make a name for himself, he knew he’d be successful and prove everyone who ever doubted his abilities wrong.

his mother was the only person that pushed eddie. his mom letting him know he was somebody and the whole world will know his name. and still ‘till this day he believed her. her words always left an impression on him. and then he met her.

god, when he first laid eyes on her, she was mesmerizing. the way the sun shined in her hair, her eyes glowed brightly, her smile lit up his heart. she was fucking perfect. finding out she’d been the daughter of a preacher, knowing how this town looked at him, knowing what her parents might think if they saw him. he knew he had no shot with her. not a single bit. but he was so wrong.

when she approached him he thought she’d been confused at first. ‘no fucking way is she actually talking to me. no one she knows my name. no fucking say man!’ but she did. she knew who eddie had been and she didn’t give a fuck what anyone else thought of him. she thought eddie was beautiful, unique, intriguing, intelligent, funny, and handsome.

eddie still has yet to believe she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. and here he is, six months later dating her. six months of kisses, six months of hand holding, six months of tight hugs, six months of i love you. six whole months since you gave him a chance. he thanked his lucky stars every single second of every single day. he promised he wouldn’t mess this up.

it’s one reason why he hesitated to make love to her. he knew it would be her first time. he didn’t want to hurt her and he knew how much she vowed to stay a virgin until marriage. but then her words made his heart flutter. “‘m not worried ‘bout that eds. i know in my heart you’re my forever. in a way, im giving myself to my husband.” he spent the rest of the night worshipping her body. eddie simply looks at her once more. kissing her forehead gently before whispering in her ear “goodnight, wife.” he truly been lucky.

looking at her now has only made his heart hurt. that night was something he’d cherish forever. it was the moment he knew, or at least thought, he’d marry her.

then he woke up one morning hearing the rumors about her family suddenly moving. he didn’t believe it at first. but when he passed by her house and saw the for sale sign, his heart shattered. he assumed her family found out she’d been dating eddie and took her away. the one thing that made eddie really happy in a long time. eddie wasn’t sure why he assumed something would actually be great for once. he should have known better.

the night she left he was reminded of the last thing his father told him before he got arrested for good. “the munson men are cursed, kid! i should have known your mom being my ticket to happiness was just a sick joke god played on me. we munson men, we’re only good for being a slave for the man, or being criminal, no in between. we don’t get the fairytale happy ending. it’s no princess waiting in the castle for us with a shit ton of doe. we are who we are. if i taught you anything kid, remember that.”

he was absolutely right. what a fucking fool he’s been to fall for it.

“hey, why don’t we all go to the play room, yeah? maybe start building something with the legos?” nancy grabs all the kids, including kali. eddie hadn’t notice the little girl who looked identical to him. he’d been too busy staring at her. 

she gives him an awkward smile. looking down at her feet before clearing her throat. “it’s so much i have to tell you, eds. i just don’t know where to start.”

eddie simply shakes his head. “you don’t need to explain yourself to me, yn. i know your parents probably found out about us.”

her eyes begin to water. he could tell she wanted anything to hold his hand, hug him, and kiss him as if it were their last. he knew that look. it’s never changed.

“it’s deeper than that. i—eddie what my parents did wasn’t okay. what this town has done to you was never okay. seeing you as some kind of—it’s disgusting eddie. you were just a young boy when it started. i don’t know how you did it, eds. i still don’t! you’re the strongest man i know.”

eddie gives her a half smile. he didn’t have much to say. he wanted her to speak. mostly because he missed her voice. it feels good hearing her again.

she simply closed her eyes before sighing. eddie assumed she was holding back tears. he had been doing so the moment he saw her face.

“just gonna rip this off like a bandaid. eddie, the reason why my parents forced us to leave was due to my pregnancy,”

she looks at eddie. he just gives her a blank stare. she frowns not knowing if he heard her. but as soon as his hands connect with his mouth she knew he did.

“i—they just barely made friends in this town. my father being a preacher, he couldn’t risk this town looking at his daughter as the ‘town slut.’ or the ‘freaks mistress.’ so he moved us and forced me to sign my right away to my, our kid. after a few years i couldn’t take it anymore. her seeing me as her older sister and not her mother, it felt so wrong eddie. i—i tried to get to hawkins but i didn’t have enough money. not for food, clothes, shelter, nothing! i knew i had to get my life together to being a single mom. so i moved in with my grandmother and saved and saved and saved. i worked many jobs, barely getting any sleep, making sure our baby was fed, telling her about her dad. i sacrificed a lot to get back to you, eds. so we could get back.” when she finished eddie stared at her. he soaked all the information in.

she bites her bottom lip before hearing footsteps running towards her. she looks down as she feels arms wrap around her. “im hungry, mamma.”

eddie simply bends down. he looks at the little girl. she had her hair in two simple braids, she was wearing an orange rugrats t-shirt, a pair of overalls, and a necklace with an e on it.

eddie cried. he couldn’t believe it. he was a dad! eddie was a father to the cutest kid. he didn’t even know her but he already loved her. she had his eyes. he knew he’d do anything just from one look. this little girl already had him wrapped around his finger. he still couldn’t believe that he was a father.

“mamma.” the little girl whispers. she gestured for her mom to bend down.

“why’s the curly haired man crying? did i do something, mamma?” the little girl questioned.

eddie simply laughs through his tears.

“no, baby. it’s just—remember how mamma said one day she’s gonna take us home to daddy?”

the little girl simply nods her head. “well baby, the curly haired man is crying because he’s your dad and he loves you. he’s just feeling overjoyed.”

“oh! can—can daddy take us to dinner?”

eddie noticed she was going to decline. eddie simply shakes his head with a smile before nodding at his daughter gently.

“yeah, let’s—let’s get some food.” eddie whispers.

eddie watches as his daughter plays in the mcdonalds playroom. she was definitely a mini version of himself. he’s learned that she’s a talker.

the whole time they’d been eating she told eddie pretty much her entire childhood. eddie listened to every word. he loved listening to her babble.

he couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago he was just a man. a man who suffered for the last six years without the only woman he’s ever loved. now that same woman is back in his life and brought him someone precious to spoilt.

god, eddie felt like he now had a purpose in life again. he still had so much work to do within himself. with everything that happened in the upside down. he’s so grateful that dustin and steve carried him out. he would miss this very moment of his life if he died down there. he owed everything to those two. he owed everything to the doctors that saved his life as well.

“so, we should probably discuss somethings.” eddie turned. he completely forgot that the woman he loved, the woman he still loved, was right in front of him.

“nance told me that you almost died, eds.”

here it goes. the seriousness of his life. he knew they’d have to talk about it at some point. he wasn’t quite ready to tell her everything. she didn’t need to know everything! it’s not like she’d believe him anyway. who would believe that a simple fantasy game could be reality?

“i—i did.”

“im sorry, eds. i—i couldn’t imagine what you went through. nance didn’t tell me much. she said that you tried to save the town even after they tried to pin you for murder. may i ask who died?”

eddie clears his throat. he didn’t know how to answer her. telling her that the girl he had a crush on before meeting her, was inside of his house. it would probably devastate her. she knew of his crush on the cheerleader. she’d probably think they’d been together.

but he knew her as well. she could sense a lie a mile away. he didn’t wanna lie to her.

“chrissy.”

“cunningham? how did she—how did she die?”

eddie scratches the back of his head. he bites his bottom lip before looking into her eyes.

“it’s hard to explain, yn. she just—it was the most terrifying thing i seen in my life and im still facing the hell it put me through.”

thankful his girl was understandable. she never pushed eddie into revealing anything he wasn’t ready for. that’s something he’d always love her for.

“i hope this won’t affect whatever this is.” eddie points between the two.

“eddie, we’ve both changed over the last six years. i had our daughter and also had to deal with my toxic parents. you had to deal with seeing someone die and almost dying yourself. we still have so much to work on, eds. for the sake of our family, for our daughter, i think we both need to have professional help. nance tells me you’re already in therapy. that’s great, eddie! means you want to get better. and that’s exactly what kali needs. she needs both her parents to be stable and happy! im looking for a therapist myself. i think until we can figure things out for our kid, we shouldn’t be seeing each other. not romantically. i don’t think either of us are ready for that.”

eddie nods his head. he wants her back. wants to be with her and only her. but he knew mentally, he wasn’t ready for that just yet. eddie had a little ways to go before starting a relationship with anyone. he loves her with his whole soul. but he couldn’t ruin something so pure and beautiful when he’s suffering. he needs time to grow. especially now that he’s a dad.

“i love you eds. ill always love you. you’re my person, okay? and i—i want us to be together. i just want us to be together properly. we deserve to give kali, and ourselves time to learn each other again and time to heal.”

“i agree. i just want to be apart of her life yn. your parents took six years away from me. six years of not knowing where you were or if you were safe. and six years of not knowing i had a daughter. promise me you won’t take that away?”

“i could never! so, we’ll figure this out?”

eddie looks at his kid once more. he gives her a simple nod. “we’ll figure this out.”

[rosewaterandivy]

Through Me Prequel - iii. justice

Summary: The world is of but men and beasts, and you cower to none.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, Eddie Munson x fem!reader, Steddie x fem!reader

WC: 8.5k

Warnings/Themes: cursing, criticism of religion (catholicism/xtiantiy mostly), religious themes, canon-typical violence, death, idolatry via smut, blasphemy, heretical notions, angst, occasional fluff (as a treat), Biblical & western literary canon and media references/allusions

A/N: This is the last of three prequels centering on the three main characters. This has been in the works since last July, oh my GOD!!! 👀 Thanks to my loves @jo-harrington @powderblueblood and @big-ope-vibes for letting me prattle on about this! 💜

Please do not interact if you aren't 18+.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not. This (*) is a singal to check the footnote at the end!

Enjoy! 💜

Masterlist | Playlist | Currently Spinning:

"How lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill."

— Jeremy Radin

Wednesday, July 3, 1985

You are a weapon.

Salvation is an aptly named town, all things considered.

Unfortunate for this particular demon possessing the preacher, however.

After clearing the room, you inspect the various holy icons in the light streaming through the dirty window. A thrash and hiss from the man strapped to the bed as you happen upon a particular amulet tells you everything you need to know.

You step away from the window and onto the bed, kneeling over the preacher as his head rolls back, avoiding your gaze. Lowering yourself to speak directly to the demon in question, you greet, “Hi, I’m Constantine.”

A growl in response.

“I know, I know. My reputation precedes me.”

And press the amulet to his forehead, watching as it sizzles against the skin. Your free hand settles against his chest in an attempt to stabilize the man as the demon thrashes, screeches, and shakes in his body.

Muttering incantations under your breath as his wife looks on from the doorway with her Bible, thumbing worrying over the golden cross strung around her neck. You begin the prayer anew and wait for the mortal flesh to admit defeat, a human, after all, can only take so much. Finally, the body gives in and the thrashing subsides— the preacher unconscious for the time being.

Inspecting the lax body, you lean closer following the subtle movement of his breathing. The visible blue veins of his neck bulging slightly before the demonic form rears up from his throat with teeth bared.

Dropping the keyring of amulets from your hand, you land a punch directly to its gaping maw, regretting having left the gold knuckles in the impala. Shaking out your hand to alleviate the sting, you turn to the wife. “I need a mirror.”

She just stares at you, tears falling down her sunken face.

“A mirror,” You reiterate, “At least three feet high. Move! Go now!”

A few parishioners scurry off in search of a mirror. You jump from the bed and rifle through your bag by the door. Once you’ve grabbed a rope, you toss it on the bed.

“Sorry about the window,” You say to the wife as you grab a chair and break through the glass. Chunks of it fall to the ground from the second storey, a few grazing the trunk of the impala.

You string the rope through the far grate of the fire escape above and crawl back through the window, very much regretting parking so close to the scene today.

Some people return with the mirror after you’ve rotated the bed to face the now broken window. Straddling the prone preacher once more, you grab both ends of the rope and have them raise the mirror above the bed.

“Tie this onto the bottom of it.” You give one end of it to the woman to your left. Turning to your right, you give an older man the other end. “Loop this over the top, on my signal pull.”

He nods, doing as you ask and taking his position at the head of the bed, rope in hand.

To everyone else, “And whatever happens,” You lower your palm to cover the preacher’s eyes, the demon awake and glowering. “Don’t look.”

Palm covering the preacher’s eyes, you begin chanting in a litany of tongues— Latin, Hebrew, Enochian. The growling and thrashing begins anew, the demon not wanting to be ousted from its host. Everything is going according to plan when,

“Holy shit!”

A corner of the mirror comes falling toward you as a man backs away from the bedside, his hair rapidly graying and eventually turning white. His back hits the wall just as you secure the mirror with your arm, allowing the demon enough leverage to go for your throat.

Hand crushed to your windpipe, you let go of the mirror hoping it’ll hold as you grab the preacher’s wrist.

Clearly, no one can be bothered to follow directions anymore. And as much as you try to do your job without tapping into divine intuition, at times it can’t be helped.

Right now, for instance.

Shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath, you relax and allow yourself to sink into your true nature. It’s a risk, the full might of a celestial body against a mortal is no contest. And you’d hate to accidentally injure or, god forbid, kill the guy.

One hand on his wrist at your throat, the other pressing against his chest you open your eyes. The demon caterwauls for respite— the ethereal light burning against its skin, sizzling and crackling.

Using just enough of your power, you get a palm over his eyes again and maneuver the preacher so the demon could reveal itself. It’s invigorating, the thrum as it rushes through you— replenishing the depleted reserves of power in this finite form.

With a blink, divinity slips back to its slumber. Tucked neatly beneath the cage of your ribs, a warmth emanates from it, contented to be of use. But all too alluring, and you can’t become reliant on it.

Not again.

“Smile pretty, you ugly son of a bitch.” You say, taking your hand from his eyes and tilting to the side so the demon has a clear view of the mirror behind you.

It lurches from the man’s throat and lands with a thunk in the mirror’s reflection. The preacher, reeling from the remnants of possession, gazes into the reflection, eyes gone black and smiling widely.

You glance back, to see that the demon is stuck within the mirror. It hisses lowly in response. “Ugh,” With a roll of your eyes, you flip it off. “For your boss.”

Turning back to the man holding the rope, you say, “Pull it!”

He heaves with the effort; the mirror getting stuck against the window frame while the demon pounds at the glass containing it.

Shit.

Rising from the bed, you take the rope from him and give it a tug. When it doesn’t budge from its position, you walk and take the place of the man, placing one foot against the metal bedframe quickly followed by the other and leaning back.

As you tug against the rope while the trapped demon continues to punch its way out, you pull your body upward and climb your hands along it, nearly parallel to the floor at this point. The bed lurches against the floor with a metallic sounding groan.

The wood of the window frame begins to bow against the pressure. With one last forceful pull, it finally gives and sends the mirror careening through the window. Which lands you directly on the floor. You fall to your back with a thud, head knocking against the wooden planks.

The preacher’s wife rushes to the bedside, stepping on you in her haste. From your position on the ground, you listen for a sign that the demon has either escaped or the mirror has held it and shattered against the pavement.

Or your car.

You really hope it’s not your car.

There’s the sound of shattering glass from below, just as the preacher breathes in erratically and opens his eyes.

“Oh, John, you’re okay!” His wife sobs, “Thank God!”

You snort and slowly sit back up, rolling your sore neck and shoulders.

Right, thanks be to He.

Thursday, July 4, 1985

You are aching.

It’s what rouses you from sleep. Car pulled on to the shoulder of a county road somewhere between Salvation and Hawkins. Illinois, if you had to guess— farm land and cornfields as far as the eye could see.

You don’t feel pain, generally speaking, you don’t wound or scar. But none of that explains the chasm in your chest, like something cleaved it open and scooped out your guts. It makes you restless, skin itching as if it's been pulled too tight.

Sitting up, you don’t feel any better.

Back in the driver’s seat, you consult the crumpled map under the light from the dome lamp and decide to drive on what little rest you’d managed to get.

Not that you rest, per se. Recharge is more accurate.

After the engine turns over, you shift the car into gear and pull back onto the road as Creedence Clearwater Revival streams through the speakers.

One hand on the wheel as the other hangs from the window, catching the late night breeze. Heart squeezing inside the chamber of your chest. Hurt radiating from the fissure outward and flooding your veins.

Foot pressing more forcefully on the gas than you’d intended, car picking up speed on this lonely stretch of highway. If only you could just put your finger on it, what’s causing this uncomfortable and foreign sensation— you can taste it on the tip of your tongue, like ash and smoke.

A couple hours later, you turn on the familiar road driving past the ‘Welcome to Hawkins!’ sign. It takes you toward the new mall, awash with flashing red and blue lights.

“Oh, fuck.”

Taking a hard right you pull into the parking lot and kill the engine. Rifling through the glove box you finally find the gold badge you need and reach an arm into the backseat, searching for the slippery feel of a nylon jacket.

Slamming the car door and stowing the badge, you spot a familiar crop of curls hidden under a Camp Know Where hat.

“Henderson!”

He turns back immediately, eyes blowing wide at the sight of you. Hesitant to leave his post near an ambulance, you make your way toward him as you shrug on the jacket and pocket a walkie-talkie that had somehow wound up in your car.

“I knew you weren’t just a camp counselor,” He says with relief and hugs you tight, arms squeezing you around the waist.

Hand at the base of his head, feeling and looking for any injuries, you smile and pull him back to continue assessing. Satisfied that Dustin is safe, you crouch down to his level to ask, “Wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”

He doesn’t immediately respond. Casts his eyes to the pavement and kicks at some stray gravel, “Was just visiting Steve at work s’all…”

Your heart nearly leaps from your chest.

Steve.

Eyes cutting to the ambulance, you take a breath and school your features into something placid.

“Was he—”

“He’s fine, I think,” Dustin is quick to say, “At least, that’s what the paramedic said. Wouldn’t tell me more because I’m not family.” He glances to you again, concerned. “He took care of us, made sure we were safe.”

“That’s… good.” You sigh, scrub a hand down your face. “I’m glad kept you safe buddy.”

Slowly, you stand back up fingers grazing the gold badge at your hip. Running a hand through your hair, you address Dustin, “Does your mom know where you are?”

“Uh,” He flushes a deep pink. “Not exactly.”

“Right, come with me then.”

Weaving through the crowd of people assembled, you walk Dustin in front of you, hands on his shoulders, back to the ambulance. The paramedic leans against the side of it, looking toward the mall.

“Let me do the talking,” You say lowly. He nods and comes to a halt at the side of the vehicle.

A beleaguered paramedic greets you. “Kid, I told you already. You’re not fam—”

You cut him off in a brusque tone, flashing the badge at your hip. “Special Agent Constantine, FBI.”

That shuts him up.

“I understand you have one Steve Harrington in your care, is that correct?”

He nods, dumbly.

“And is it a habit of yours to linger at the scene of a crime when a patient in your care needs immediate medical attention?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I thought as much. You are going to take him,” You push Dustin forward, “And Mr. Harrington directly to the hospital.”

Dustin looks a little too smug at the dressing down you’re giving the paramedic.

“Once there, Dustin will be contacting his mother and you will see to it that Harrington receives the tests and treatment he requires.”

He nods and opens to the cab of the ambulance to let Dustin in.

Momentarily calm in the knowledge that Steve will be fine at the hospital, and that you’ll see him later, you quell the inferno raging in your chest. And dust your palms against your slacks in an effort to stop yourself from slipping into something more than human.

But just barely.

This fucking night.

You shut the door of the cab, arm leaning on the windowsill. “I’ll check on you at the hospital once I’m done here, alright?”

“He really is fine, you know,” Dustin says. “A little banged up, s’all.”

“I’m sure he is,” You agree. “Now—”

“Do you want me to give him a message?”

“Uh.”

“I know you went on that date,” He blurts out. “And Steve has been mumbling about this girl off and on so, I just put two and two together.”

“What?”

Dustin balks. “Oh,” He pauses in thought. “I just assumed it was about you.”

“Huh, okay.” You take a breath, try to give him a reassuring smile. “Tell Steve I had to go to work and I’ll try to not do anything stupid while he’s gone.”

Whatever Dustin was about to say is cut off as the engine to the ambulance turns over, red and blue lights flashing as it pulls out of the parking lot.

_

The badge does most of the talking, you’ve found, in situations such as this. After speaking with Hawkins PD and the United States military officers, you know that Starcourt served as a Russian cell for scientific experimentation and espionage. A fire broke out from an explosion in the subterranean bunker, and there was a carcass of some kind in the food court.

“We’re working to identify it now, Special Agent,” The officer reports, exhaustion evident in his voice. “But if you’d like to go in ahead of your team, we’d welcome the extra help.”

You nod, spying a familiar face in the crowd. Murray’s comforting a sobbing woman as the mall burns, but the expression on his face is reserved solely for you— confusion and disbelief, before it quickly devolves into blind fury.

“I’d be happy to help,” You say to the officer, “Let me alert the team and I’ll be back to suit up.”

Murray hasn’t left the bereaved woman yet. Blending in with the crowd, you grab the walkie from your back pocket and hold it against your mouth, as if you’re talking into it, and stand at his back.

“You’re not supposed to be here, kid,” He says over his shoulder.

“Finished up early, also? Not a kid,” You reply. “Rumor has it, I’m a world-class bad ass and good at my job.”

He snorts, “I’ll believe it when I see it.” His hand rubs soothing circles on the woman’s back, her sobs are beginning to subside from exhaustion more than alleviated grief. “But you still shouldn’t be here.”

“In your professional opinion? Or—”

“Your boss has made it crystal clear that you’re not to be involved.”

You pause, considering the information.

Jobs had dried up for the most part over the past few weeks, Murray would throw you a line every now and again, all easy and quick gigs, generally things deemed well below your pay grade. The recent exorcism being an exception.

With a lack of jobs, and no messages from on high, you’d been left to your own devices. Crashing with Steve or hanging out with Eddie and keeping an ear to the ground for any news of relics or artifacts.

“Well, I’m involved now.”

“Mmm,” He hums, arches a knowing eyebrow. “Didn’t say you were shacked up with Harrington either.”

You sigh, “Didn’t realize you were such a gossip.”

“Didn’t realize you were getting sloppy.”

The walkie in your hand crackles to life before you can hiss out a reply.

“Constantine, do you copy? Over.”

An apologetic shrug to Murray as you press the call button. “Yes, Dustin, I copy.”

The woman Murray’s been comforting lifts her head, “Constan— That’s her?”

You turn back, curious. “That’s me.”

Murray looks just as perplexed as you do. The woman sniffs, pulls back from where she’d been sobbing into his chest. “The kids— Steve, he said—”

But you never figure out what it was Steve had said, because the officer has flagged you down and waves you over to suit up and head in to the scene.

“Sorry ma’am, but I have to go.” Murray can surely smooth that over and just fill you in later.

You turn back toward the military tent and radio back to Dustin. “I’m about to head into the mall, buddy. I’ll let you know when I’m done.” You step into the tent, “Stay with Steve. Over.”

The hazmat suit is ready for you, another officer at the ready to assist. You shuck your FBI jacket onto a nearby chair.

“Don’t do it.”

You look to the walkie in your hand, shocked.

Because it’s not the rushed intonation of Dustin’s voice sounding through the speaker. It’s Steve. Not his usual pep and cadence, but him nonetheless.

“I’ll be fine,” You assure him, and you will be. You always are, but he doesn’t necessarily know that just yet.

Or at least he shouldn’t. You hadn’t had that conversation yet.

“C’mon angel,” He sounds tired, as if the act of speaking is beyond his capabilities.

“In and out, no problems,” You say, stepping into the suit at your feet. “I’ll be there in no time, promise.”

“... Okay. Be careful.”

You smile against the speaker, slipping a free arm into the suit. “I’ve seen worse, Steve. Over and out.”

Passing the walkie to another officer who places it with your jacket, you slip your other arm into the suit, duck your head as they place the SCBA over your face and zip you up.

A new radio has been supplied for you and the rest of the team going in. As you turn to leave the tent and enter the scene, Dustin’s voice comes through the walkie on the chair.

“I knew it!” He crows, “I knew you were his angel!”

“Dustin,” Steve scolds, words slurring, “Knock it off man, she’s working.”

_

Dustin and whom you can only presume to be Mrs. Henderson are slumped on the chairs in Steve’s room at the hospital, completely passed out. Tiptoeing in, mindful not to wake them, you perch at the foot of the bed.

Steve is sleeping, chest rising and falling with his steady breaths. The hum and beeping of the machines are the only sounds in the room. He looks awful, his left eye beaten black and swollen up with blood, hip lip split and bleeding. They’d cleaned him up and bandaged what they’d could, according to the attending nurse.

All that’s left to do was for him to heal and rest. The tests would come back tomorrow, there was a concern for head trauma— a concussion, but he should be discharged the next morning.

You thumb at the jewelry on your left hand, unused to the ornamentation. Figured the easiest con was to pass yourself off as newlyweds, allowing you to sign his discharge papers and take him home when the time came.

“That’s new,” He rasps, head lolling to the side as he looks at you. “Who’s the lucky man?”

You crack a smile, “Oh, just some guy. Don’t worry, he treats me real nice.”

“He better,” His hand falls to your leg, grasping your thigh. “If he knows what’s good for him.”

It’s new, this thing between the two of you. Too soon to put any sort of name to it, and this is certainly not the time, nor the place. His thumb traces patterns against your thigh, nail scraping against the fabric every so often. You remind Steve that he should be resting right now and he tells you the same.

“Counter offer,” He says when you won’t budge, “I’ll rest if you lay down with me.”

It’s easy to grant his request. Slow hands smooth away the hair from his forehead, slides the sheet off his damp shoulders, growing warm with perspiration. You have to be delicate. Don’t want to startle him any more than he already is.

“Glad you’re here.” He says, hooking one hand under your back and turning you over until his front touches yours. You place your chin on top of his head, press kisses to his hair. Your hand grips his in the dim light, letting him know that wherever you are, his words are reaching. He squeezes back gently, head settling against your chest.

A sniffle. A shudder. A shiver as goosebumps break across his arms. Steve’s not entirely awake anymore— eyes sliding back shut, sleep’s grip too strongly clamped down. It had been an exhausting few days— rigorous missions heavy on your mind and body, torture and drug-induced interrogations wreaking havoc on his.

A tug to pull the covers up, encasing his body inside the cocoon and kissing his brow. Tender. Sweet. Pouring what little claim you had to a soul into it. Not even a week with Steve, and it’s mended the cracks inside you, pieced you back together better than before.

It’s gone past midnight now. Somewhere inside the second hand of liminality— not quite sleep and not totally awake, the weight atop your chest leaves. Where it was once perched and heavy, crowding the breath inside your lungs, choking the peace from your brain.

“Everyone sleeps.”

He sounds worried— but you’re not quite sure. He sounds far away.

You lean closer and close your eyes. “Evil doesn’t sleep, Steve… And neither do I— or so they say.”

“Hush.” There’s no bite in his retort. Only a breath of a laugh.

You sigh, the weight of the week taking over suddenly now that he’s near. Something about him. Soothing. Soft fabric settles over your shoulders and wraps around your arms. Then, a hold. Secure. Safe.

Warm, like a fire. Tender, like a lover.

“C’mere, honey.” Deep. Low timbre and sonorous. It runs up your spine and beckons oblivion.

There is darkness and a soft touches. He’s blue and gold in the dim light, holding you by the hand. A stroke of a finger across your cheek. “Even angels rest.”

October 11 1985

The impala idles in the Hawkins High parking lot as you wait for Eddie. It’s a Hellfire night, so you’ve brought a well-worn paperback to pass the time. The van is out of commission currently, waiting for parts to come in at the body shop. And Steve’s working the closing shift tonight with Robin. Thumbing the pages, you turn to a dog-eared page and begin to read.

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood

Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather

The multitudinous seas incarnadine,

Making the green one red.

“Psh, get in line buddy,” You scoff, so taken with Macbeth’s unraveling, that you didn’t even see the double doors of the school burst open, the Hellfire members streaming forth.

Eddie saunters over with Henderson, Wheeler, and Sinclair in tow, chain clinking against his thigh rhythmically. Head turning at the sound, your lip curls into a smile as he opens the door and slides in the passenger seat.

“Hi,” He greets, hand falling to rest against your thigh while the kids pile into the backseat. “D’you mind dropping the gremlins off? Already told ‘em not to touch anything back there.”

“Not at all.” You chirp, earning a quick squeeze to your leg. “Just, uh, buckle up, I guess.” You turn to glance back as you reverse from the parking spot, catching Henderson’s curious gaze falling to Eddie’s hand at your thigh. “And if you see anything rolling around back there, no you didn’t. Capiche?”

The three boys nod, eyes wide and darting to the floorboards.

Ignoring Dustin’s eyes burning into the back of your skull, for now, you elect to drop him off first. Sending him down the sidewalk to his house with a perfunctory wave, your lips pulled in a straight line. That could be a problem.

Mike and Lucas are relatively quiet in the backseat as you drive through the suburban neighborhood streets. They’re polite and grateful, mumbled thanks and goodbyes from each as they shut the door and fumble for house keys. You wait until each has entered the house and given Eddie a wave before maneuvering to Loch Nora.

“Dustin’s getting suspicious.”

Eddie’s fingers flex against your thigh, thumb rubbing circles against the warm denim. But he says nothing, just uncomfortably clears his throat and taps his foot in time with Metallica’s “Creeping Death.”

Your hands grip the steering wheel, turning from one sleepy street to the next. It’s route memory by now, navigating back to Steve’s. If pressed, you could probably find your way blindfolded and dropped at any point in Hawkins. You knew that Eddie and Steve kept their distance in your absence, both unsure of how to proceed without you there as a buffer.

They get on well enough, if a bit haltingly. The boys starting high school this year brought them into each other’s orbit, but your presence cemented it, a red string fit for three. Not that it was exactly discernable to the naked eye, more of a feeling than anything. A steadying pressure against your left ring finger, cording you to them and them to you.

And, subsequently, them to each other as well.

It’s not something you’d personally encountered before, but there were murmurs and vague mentions of it in the forgotten texts. Whimsical notions at the whims of pulp romance authors and film executives, the basis for any romance worth its salt.

You kill the engine after pulling into the driveway, hands finding his before he can bolt.

“Hey,” You say, finger curling under his chin to lift his gaze. “I know this… arrangement isn’t the easiest.”

And his eyes, so wide and wet, stare back at you skeptically. Lacing your fingers together, you open your mouth to continue.

“It’s uh,” Eddie interjects, worrying his lip between his teeth, “It’s not hard for just me.”

You blink in response.

“Steve and I,” He continues, “We talk about it. Not much, obviously.” He sighs glancing toward the front door. His palm is damp against yours, eyes dart from your gaze, narrowing as they settle on Harrington as he shuts the door and walks toward the impala.

He leans agains the door, forearm slung against rolled down window. “Hey, thought we were doing dinner.”

Glancing from Eddie to Steve you let out an indignant huff. “Change of plans,” You turn the key in the ignition and rev the engine. “Get in, loverboy.”

Clearly your attempt to protect Steve and Eddie had failed in disastrous fashion. Sure, you could blame a myriad of things, your ridiculous work schedule, for one. But at the end of the day, it all fell on you really. If you had just taken the time to talk to them, maybe some of this tension could’ve been avoided. Or at least resolved.

But no, you didn’t do any of that. So instead, it festered.

Leaving hurt feelings on all sides and an increasingly jealous set of boyfriends. Just fucking peachy.

Pulling into a clearing of the forest on the outskirts of town, you kill the engine and stomp out of the car, pine needles trampling under your boots. Fisting the lapels of your trenchcoat your chest heaves, mind racing to find the words and tone that could explain this mess away.

Two car doors thud in the distance, lowered voices in conversation as Eddie and Steve walk further into the clearing.

What is going on?

Don’t look at me, man. Fuck if I know.

The guys stop walking a few paces away, sharing confused looks and shrugs as you continue further on.

It would be as easy as a flick of the wrist, but still there was hesitation. You hadn’t slipped up in years, centuries at this point, and never of your own volition— the orders had come from on high.

To reveal yourself for what you truly were would be— well, there wouldn’t be any going back after this. No greeting St. Peter at the pearly gates or whatever schlock they spouted now.

Judging the distance safe enough, you turn on your heel, slowly, always slowly so as not to startle. It was like wading through molasses most of the time, but something you had grown used to in your time among them.

The mortals, that is.

Seeing them across the clearing you steel yourself for the fallout. And you know, for all the tales of your kind the world over, it never failed that one person would fail to heed the warnings.

In their hands, you’d left Steve and Eddie with torn scraps of cloth and instructions to cover their eyes until you said otherwise.

Dusk was quickly falling. The once overcast blue sky receded into remnants of seafoam green and teal. There was no breeze; the air felt thick and humid as it coated their lungs with each inhale. It was also silent - no crickets or birdsong accompanied the evening.

The air around you stills, the sounds of the clearing— birdsong, subtle wind, chirps and chitters from the edges of brush— all of that falls away.

You cough lightly to clear your throat. “Wrap the cloth around your eyes, secure it tightly,” you instruct, “Otherwise, the light will blind you.”

Eddie huffs in agitation, “What the fuck are you talking about?” The strip of cloth remains in his hand as he bristles, “Some of us have things to—”

“Eddie.” Steve’s voice is low in warning before he moves to wrap the cloth over his eyes.

The temperature plummets drastically as the wind begins to howl. You monitor the storm clouds now crackling with lightning and rolling through the sky at an uncomfortable pace. Taking a tense breath in, they pause inhaling the tangy scent and taste of newly forged metal - sharp and pure at the back of their throats.

And with that, you slough the mantle from your shoulders.

Their bodily response is both sedate and swift in coming. Temporal reality feels as if it is both being stretched agonizingly apart and contracting back together too quickly. A demanding rain begins to fall but the droplets evaporate before falling to the ground - all too hot and cloying but the air is somehow refreshing and cool.

Eddie is sick, vomit splashing onto the ground and just missing their feet. Steve feels an acrid bile rising its way up their throat and makes an effort to stifle it.

The crackling lightning intensifies, all of which is your doing, and through a cloudbreak a white burst of flame appears. A monstrosity, really, stories tall with a white-hot heat as it lands in the clearing. A swath of the field is scorched beneath the beaming tower of flame.

An energy reverberates throughout their chests - a constant buzzing hum that defies all reason. A sniffle emanates from Steve, the cloth around his eyes bleeds with the precipitation of his tears - why he is crying he could not say as he stumbles to his knees; a shortness of breath that Eddie hasn’t dealt with in years comes upon him as he staggers to the ground.

“BE NOT AFRAID.”

A buzz, a sound, a feeling, an innate knowledge.

What was once a furious beam of white-hot flame has transformed into a divine being: six pairs of wings, countless phosphorescent eyes, stories tall, bedecked in arrays of gold and billowing white. The voice - if you can call it that - is soft as a lover’s caress but harsh and cacophonous at the same time.

“YOU HAVE CALLED.”

Every blaspheme, exalted prayer, cursed assemblage of words, tear strewn plea; they had all been heard. The odds had been weighed. There had been agreement. And here was the answer.

“YOU HAVE BEEN DEEMED WORTHY OF AID.”

A boom of thunder and the apparition vanishes.

Eddie rips off the bandage from his eyes and glances up to find a winged body fallen right where you’d been standing, scorch marks in a charred circle around you. He rises quickly and breaks into a run, Steve not long behind. He drapes his jacket over your prone form. Mindful of the enormous dove gray wings, he scoops up your lax figure and turns.

Eddie, who can’t seem to stop the silent tears as they track down his face, is the first to speak, “W-was that an…” he trails off, not wanting to shatter the illusion.

Before he can step forward Steve stops him with a hand to his shoulder - holding him in place. “This isn’t possible,” he mutters before growing in confidence, “That literally should not happen.”

Steve sighs and claps Eddie on the shoulder, “Welcome to the club buddy, we’ve all seen things that shouldn’t happen.”

“Is she bleeding?” Eddie asks from the backseat, your head resting on his lap.

You’ve been out cold since the clearing, as silent as the grave.

It’s more than a little unnerving.

Steve takes charge because Eddie can’t string more than a sentence together before going silent in shock.

He’s driving the impala back to his house, taking the back roads and speeding as if he could outrun the devil. He takes a moment to glance back, eyes going from Eddie’s cow-eyed stare to your limp body and back again.

”I dunno, is she? Can you staunch the flow with something?”

Eddie grabs the black bandana from his back pocket and gently turns you on your side.

Dull splotches have seeped onto the backseat, four to be precise. Eddie gently dabs the fabric at the four open wounds seeping a golden fluid. He clears his throat and glances up to meet Steve’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Harrington, I think we have an issue.”

Steve hums in assent and punches down on the gas pedal.

A soft groan falls from your lips as Eddie sets you down on the couch in Steve’s living room. His bandana is covered in this golden fluid, which he can only assume is something akin to blood. Modesty be damned because the wings are proving to be quite the problem, you’re gently turned onto your stomach so they can inspect your wounds.

The first appears at the nape of the neck, followed by the sprouting of two wings, further down three identical wounds lie all equally spaced and of the same size. They’re minor enough to clean and bandage. “Ichor,” Eddie guesses, as Steve returns with the first-aid kit.

Steve takes a step forward, “Eddie, the wounds need to be attended to first,” he says cautiously.

Nodding to Steve Eddie moves to the side. Allowing him to get out the gauze and bandages. He places a tube of neosporin to the side as well. Together they attend to the wounds, applying the salve and bandages as best they can before sitting back on their heels.

Eddie swallows audibly.

”Got any beer, Harrington?”

Steve snorts and does one better. He claps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder before rising and disappearing into a room just off the entryway, only to return with two glasses and a bottle of bourbon.

”Atta boy,” Eddie says, taking the bottle and opening it. He ignores the crystal glasses and takes a pull before handing it off to Steve.

With a deep sigh, Eddie begins: “She said we had called; what does that mean?”

Steve takes a sip of bourbon and shrugs, “Prayers, I guess.”

Eddie sighs, “Okay, sure. And how are you the expert here?”

He shrugs, “I think I’ve known for a while…” He reclines slightly on the carpeted floor, “I’ve known her for a few years now, but I met her after Barb disappeared. She said she was a detective and asked me a few questions.” He takes another drink. “After she left, I had the worst headache of my life and slept the day away. Woke up with dried blood in my ears.”

The room stills with an uneasy quiet.

“In that… form, I guess, she doesn’t really have a voice as we understand it,” He shifts slightly and leans forward, “Well, they do and they don’t. When we heard her ‘speak’ what did you hear?”

Eddie sighs and grabs the bottle from Steve. “I-I’m not sure,” He relents. “I felt this thing, like a vibration in my chest but I also heard something. Kinda soft, but strong?”

As he explains, Steve nods. “Yes, that’s how it is for me,” He ignores the fact that Munson can hear you as he can, for now. “From what I can tell, humans have adverse reactions to encountering the divine. Crying isn’t uncommon. And you threw up. Their arrival also brings about a natural feeling of supplication: falling to your knees and stuff.”

Eddie remains quiet and stoic as they take turns passing the bottle back and forth.

“How did you know?” He asks softly, concentrating on the amber liquid, “I mean, you’ve known for how long?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably.

“He saw me meditating,” a familiar voice supplies, low and husky from disuse.

Eddie jumps off the floor, out of his skin nearly, wheezing out a “Jesus Christ,” under his breath and brings the back of his closed fist to his lips. He turns, unable to settle his eyes at where you currently laze on the couch.

Two pairs of eyes fall to the form who can now speak. “Well,” You acquiesce, “Meditating is an unfortunate word for what transpired, nearly gave Steve a panic attack I’m sure.”

He smiles and huffs a laugh. “So that’s what that was,” He says, taking a step toward you. “How you feelin’?”

Eddie, having taken in the fact that he’s in front of a bonafide heavenly body, averts his gaze and busies himself with another drink. “So you’re an…” He trails off again.

“An angel,” Steve affirms, eyes not leaving yours.

A cock of your head, “In a general sense, yes.” A roll of the shoulder, flutter of wings.

And with that admission, Eddie killed the rest of the bottle.

Be not afraid, indeed.

You lie low for the next few days, regaining your strength, readjusting to the advent of visible wings.

Eddie ran back home to grab a bag of clothes and to let Wayne know he’d be at Steve’s for the time being. Meanwhile, Steve had tried to warn off the kids and Robin from dropping by, and made up some excuse about having the flu.

Things were quiet.

Steve made sure you were comfortable upstairs and hovered around anxiously, while Eddie remained jumpy and kept his distance.

It hurt and you tried to be brave about it.

More often than they knew, you could overhear Steve’s furtive whispers to Eddie about how nothing had really changed all that much. You were still the same as you’d ever been.

”She could literally kill us, Steve.”

You crouched at the top of the stairs, hidden by the balcony rail as they talked downstairs.

”Don’t be like that man.”

”Like what?” Eddie laughs despite himself, “Realistic? God-fearing? Did you even pay attention in Sunday school?”

”Uh, not really no.”

Eddie sets something down on the table with a bit more force than he’d intended.

”When God wants something done, a punishment doled out or a message sent, d’you know who does His bidding?”

”Angels.”

”Right. And everyone knows the most famous of them all.”

”Are you—“ Steve stops short, seeing a streak of gray on the upper floor. “She’s not the Angel of Death, Eddie. For fuck’s sake!”

”Yeah?” He volleys back, incredulous. “And how are we supposed to know that?”

”Because we know her.” Steve rises from his chair and makes his way out of the room. “She would never do anything to hurt us.”

”How can you be so sure?”

”I just—“ Steve pauses on the staircase, head turned back to face Eddie, hand gripping the railing hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “I can’t explain it man, I just know.”

”Well I don’t.”

A flapping sound, like a whoosh of air distracts them.

Two pairs of eyes, one whiskey-warm, and the other flecked with glimmers of gold and green follow your bumbling footfalls up the stairs, and out of sight.

They turn to each other in the inky blue, and maybe it begins there.

Steve knocked softly on the door as it creaked open, leaving you little time to quell your tear-stained cheeks. Doing your best to wipe them away, you make room for him on the bed.

Sitting at your side, he wastes no time in winding an arm around your hips and pulling you into his lap. Your wings retract ever so slightly, relaxing bit by bit into his grasp.

”Hi,” Steve’s voice had dropped into a low whisper, his thumb worrying along your hip.

A tingle runs down your spine and fans out across your wings and making your body tremble.

”Miss me?”

Your head drops to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, you can feel the tendons flex as he swallows.

”Not just you.”

”Give it some time,” He sighs, “This is new for him.”

His hands fall to rest on your hips before sliding slowly to the small of your back. His fingers caress their way up and down your back.

Shivering, you sit up and rest your head against his. Steve’s lips brush against yours lightly.

“I can hide them.”

”The wings?”

”Yeah, just glamour them like I have been.”

”Honey,” He sighs, breath ghosting along your lips. “I don’t think that—“

”Then what will Steve?” A laugh escapes you. “What can I do to get him back?”

”Eddie didn’t leave,” Steve points out. “For all his… concerns, he’s still here. That has to mean something, right?”

You shift in his lap, his lips grazing along your neck.

”Besides,” He says, voice soft, hands inching up your spine. “They like me.”

He nips at your ear and you lurch forward in a shudder, wings arching as tension coils in your body.

In all your years, you’d never met anyone as unflappable as Steve.

He was consistent, reliable, and easygoing.

But he was also insatiable.

”Okay,” You acquiesce, “That may be true.”

Steve’s fingers brushed ever so lightly along the base of your wings, sending a shudder straight through you.

Emitting a low whimper you move to draw back, to distance yourself because it shouldn’t feel like this, so wildly arousing.

”C’mon angel,” He cajoles, “It’ll help you relax.”

”Yeah?”

He presses a kiss to your temple, fingers tracing gently along the delicate bones and plumage, “Promise.”

A warm heat was gathering in your pelvis from his ministrations. It felt odd to have someone touch a part of you that none other had before. Odd, but not unpleasant.

”We’ll go slow.” His fingers brushed a spot that sent your back into an arch, your hips flush against his own, a gasp falling from your mouth.

Just outside the door, in the shadow of the hallway, Eddie can smell it in the air. A musky salty tang wafting through the air and into his lungs that ignites the kindling of his want.

His eyes ran up and down taking in the scene. The flush of Steve’s face and the sweat beading along your skin, illuminated by a warm yellow glow from the lamp on the side table. Eddie looks at you with a curious expression on his face.

Steve spots him as Eddie enters the room and shuts the door with a soft click. You turn suddenly in his grasp only to see that Eddie has recovered from his former shock and trepidation.

He can see your bare back flanked by gray wings fluttering every so often as Steve drags his finger along them. He’s managed to sidle his way within arms reach, expression growing more intent with each step.

A thrilled shiver slides down your spine at his approach, and you fail to suppress it as Steve kisses you hungrily. Eddie tries to swallow the feeling away but it catches in his throat.

You’re straddling Steve’s thigh and moving against it in slow winding orbits. The underwear sitting at your hips does nothing to keep the arousal smeared between your legs at bay.

Steve only pulls back as you're nearly gasping for air, trailing hungry kisses down your neck and jaw. Eddie’s eyes drop to the gleam at Steve’s thigh, how your slickness catches the dim light.

He’d watched you go earlier, cursing his stupid mouth as Steve trailed after you, feeling guilty and shitty for upsetting you.

It wasn’t worth it, he’d decided not long after. Given a choice between having you or losing you, there was no contest— he’d choose you every time.

Eddie shucks his clothes as he crosses to the bed, dropping his shirt, belt, and pants off haphazardly. Each step feels impossible, like quicksand, but he pushes through the heaviness of the room.

Facing him, your face is a mask of confusion, pleasure, and elation. He can see the exact moment that you relax, slumping slightly against Steve as he holds you upright, one hand extended toward him.

”E-Eddie?” His name falls like a tumble from your kiss-bitten lips. There’s a split second of modesty when you realize the state you’re in and move to cover yourself before Steve distracts you by nipping at the curve of your shoulder.

”Figure it out?” He mumbles with a pointedly raised brow in Eddie’s direction.

In lieu of response, Eddie simply lets you tug him down onto the bed before settling at your right, hand curling around your waist. He’s already rock hard, in awe as he watches you arch and shudder under Steve’s hands, hips winding slow against his thigh.

Your brain is positively spinning. Between Steve’s mouth biting and sucking along your neck and Eddie’s hand guiding your hips, you’re about to lose it completely.

Eddie marvels at how lightly Steve works his fingers against your wings, brushing along the undersides of delicate bones and soft feathers. Tentatively, he brings his free hand to the wing closest to him, a single finger stroking downward.

Your eyes nearly cross at his touch and you make an undignified noise lurching toward Steve with such a force that he falls back on the mattress. He grips your hips and moves you from his leg as Eddie’s breath ghosts along your neck. You’re turned around to face him, Steve pressing your back to his chest, the wings trapped between you.

”Hi baby,” Eddie’s husky voice sails into your ear.

You feel so small between them, impossibly so. Vulnerable and exposed in your skin. Steve bites down on your shoulder, and you nearly forget your own name. Too invested in Eddie edging closer to you. His hand trails up your wing in such a way that sends a spasm through your entire body.

A low, throaty moan slips up and out of your mouth as you push yourself and grip his shoulders. He turns his head enough for your lips to brush, his breath fanning out against your skin. His nose brushes yours as your lips descend, his mouth falling open in a harsh gasp.

Kissing Eddie is like coming home.

Warm and sweet, slow like honey.

”You,” He says pulling away, eyes so blown they’re nearly black, “Are the best thing. You’re amazing.”

Steve’s hand squeezes at your hip as your head drops back against him. The tip of Eddie’s tongue traces up your sternum before dropping a kiss at the hollow of your throat.

”Stop,” you say, “That’s not—“

Steve shushes you with a kiss to the top of your spine. “Listen to him angel.”

Deft fingers brush back your hair beginning the frizz in the heat.

“I know this thing between us,” He glances to Steve and back to you, “It’s … unconventional.” Eddie’s finger traces your cheekbones lightly. “And we’re doing our level best not to fuck it all up.”

From behind you, Steve nods in agreeance. His jaw grazing the nape of your neck, fingers trailing at the sensitive underside of your wings.

”And there’s been something we’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now.”

Your fingers still along the band of his boxers, his stomach muscles contract in anticipation.

“We love you,” He whispers, lips kicking up in a smile. “Every single part.”

”And we’ve got you.” Steve adds with a squeeze to your hips.

”That is, if you’ll have us.”

The simple admission lights a fire in your chest as you surge toward Eddie, teeth clacking against his in your rush to get your mouth on him. Steve’s accompanying laughter is a comfort at your back, his hands a welcome anchor at your hips.

There’s a slight pressure at your ring finger, a soft hum in the air as a thin red thread, nearly imperceptible, stitches the three of you together— a fool, a hanged man, and justice.

Eddie’s not sure if he believes in God now, or ever really did, but he believes in this. Thinks that if he had to choose and do it all over again he would, every single time.

But that’s the funny thing about fate, isn’t it?

It’s a relief, knowing that it’s all come down to this.

The soft morning light falls against your skin, warmed with fading vestiges of the autumn sun. Crisp white sheets tangled beneath your legs, a smattering of skin exposed; it was sweet, this tender sensation of thrumming in his veins.

Eddie’s staring.

Committing this moment to memory for the rest of his days; your face bathed in shafts of light relaxed in slumber, body sated warm twisted in an impossible position. His finger traces the knobs of your spine, a gossamer touch barely perceptible; you snuffle briefly and sigh against the pillow.

Steve rouses not long after, a tanned forearm thrown haphazardly over your exposed hip and blinks blearily.

Outlining the faded marks against your back Eddie’s body curls closer to you— three waxing crescents in the golden haze of morning. Steve rubs his thumb against the jut of bone at your hip, he knows nothing of divinity, but he hopes it’s something akin to this: sun-warmed, sweet, and pliable.

A lot like you.

You’re half-asleep, or so it would seem. But you gaze at them now coquettishly from beneath your lashes, all mischief and love— peering at him like a sunbeam through stained glass. Glorious in your benevolence, full of color and life.

This is why they would return to you, time and time again.

Self-admittedly, they know nothing of piety or faith, but they do know this: the slow smile of your pretty lips, dextrous fingers falling from the sheets to reach for them, and the desire to slip beneath your skin to the heart knocking in your chest—

That is devotion.

Sacred.

Holy.

[qqueenofhades]

Dare you to, on the second-last day of Pride Month, write a big effortpost about all the people that Pride Month either moved to the Find Out stage or proceedings or flat-out assassinated. A necessary part of this post would be bemoaning that Pride Month missed Kissinger or some other monster. The reason would be to dare the universe to render your effortpost out of date by sniping someone just before the end of the month, after you post. Please, I beg of you, goad the universe into taking out one or two more than it intended!

Oh, I will do that right now for free!

JUNE 2023: Great month for justice, bad month for assholes!

Pat Robertson, notorious conservative Christian activist and long-time hate preacher: dies on June 8

Ted Kaczynski, aka the Unabomber, conducted a decades-long campaign of mail bombings and domestic terrorism in the name of protesting technology: dies on June 10

Silvio Berlusconi, notorious far-right ex-Italian PM and general fantastically corrupt shitheel: dies on June 12

Stockton Rush, billionaire libertarian businessman who actively ignored 1000 safety warnings about his crappy product and fired a whistleblower for saying so, notably got himself and 4 other people killed on June 18 and joins the hallowed Wikipedia list of inventors killed by their own invention

Honorable-not-quite-June-but-close mention: James G. Watt, Ronald Reagan's secretary of the interior and a rabid anti-environmentalist, died on May 27

John Eastman: conservative lawyer who actively advised and encouraged Trump to stage a coup: facing disbarment hearings in California

Oh yeah, that guy Trump: on June 8, was charged with 31 federal criminal counts under the Espionage Act, relating to his crimes with classified documents; 37 charges overall, which takes his felony haul to 71 (and counting);

Vladimir Putin: is not gonna have a fun time over the next few days over the fallout from the Wagner mercenary rebellion;

Andrew Tate, flagrant misogynist asshole: officially charged with rape and human trafficking in Romania;

Ron DeSantis: lost literally THREE different lawsuits over his terrible anti-LGBTQ laws; collapsed in the polls and his campaign is allegedly "close to being over" because he's so bad at it;

State of Arkansas: likewise had its attempted ban on gender-affirming care for minors permanently struck down

Marjorie Taylor Greene: the crazy House Freedom Caucus doesn't like her anymore, apparently, and wants to "purge" its members, including her (lolololol)

Man, that's all well and good, but it's really a shame that Pride Month 2023: This Time It's Personal didn't put a cherry on top by offing Henry Kissinger, or like, Clarence Thomas or Samuel Alito (or both, both, both is good)

Come on, Pride Month 2023.

What are you, a PUSSY?