#seven circles of hell

[remixedroses]

I don’t usually do this but everyone needs to see this video

[justgivemeabookplease]

I’m thinking about how Wasteland, Baby was a call to action and a tongue-and-cheek acceptance of the end of the world. And how Eat Your Young and Unreal Unearth are about the nine circles of Hell, about the afterlife, about the consequences after death. I’m thinking about one album cover being under water and another being buried under earth, about NFWMB “ain’t it like thunder under earth the sound it makes”, about Unreal Unearth and unearthing something, un-burial, about Like Real People Do “what did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth.”

I’m thinking Eat Your Young, about Kronos’ mythology, about hunger for and to keep power, about gluttony. I’m thinking about Swan Upon Leda, about the lust Zeus had for Leda, about the greed of man over bodies, about who is the sinner. I’m thinking about angels, about their lack of power in Swan Upon Leda “could never belong to angels”, about their fall from grace in the “Unknown” song “I thought you were like an angel/going unknown as any angel/you called me angel.”

I’m thinking about Hozier.

[voldkat]

trying to make a suns design . i am not feeling very creative today im happy with their head and their fluffy but a little confused with the rest of their outfit

[i-only-see-daylight]

Emilia: Go to hell! 

Wrath: Where do you think I come from?

[litnerdwrites]

Time for day two! Today, we're going to be visiting House Pride, with a piece that's pretty near and dear to my heart. So please, be nice, and enjoy. Let me know if you have requests for any character from this series. I think I'll try posting fics even after this week. I have a whole list of head cannons for Emilia x Wrath child too, if y'll want to read it. Let me know! @princeofsinweek

Day 2: Pride/Reflection and Ego

Shattered Reflection - Pride X Wife!Reader

WC:2,059

TW: Body dysmorphia, mention of self harm, blood, accidental cuts on shattered glass, anxiety, insecurity, mention of sex but no smut.

Index: 'Bella' means 'Beautiful' in Latin, Spanish and Italian. Used as nickname, and term of endearment.

The hurried clicking of heels echoed in the empty hallways, accompanied by the swathes of navy fabric Isabella wasn’t able to gather into her arms before she’d hurried back the way she came. With every step, the ringing in her ears grew louder, threatening to drown out the murmurs of courtiers and well practiced symphonies.

Too thick thighs. 

Too big tummy. 

Too big breasts. 

The words ring in her head, resounding throughout her body. Each syllable is an ache in her heart, and a throb in her temples. 

Isabella clutches at her chest, over the shimmering fabric of her bodice, and forces one foot in front of the other. She stumbles as the hallway leading to her room seems to rock with each step, and the sound of drums carrying from the ballroom, and echoing in her ear certainly don't help. Did the musicians playing tonight have drums? Or perhaps it’s her heart? She didn’t know, nor did she care at this moment. 

She hacks out a cough, reaching out to grab something for support with her free hand as the floor seems to drift closer and closer. Isa vaguely registers the sound of something shattering, and a sticky residue on her hands.

She chokes on a sob, trying to stand, only to stumble again.

This time, when she collapses to the ground, pain shoots through her knees, as well as the uncomfortable sensation of something stuck in her skin. Pieces of a frame? A mirror? Perhaps a vase? She couldn't tell. 

Her throat constricts, a shriek building, demanding to be set free. However, not wanting to draw attention, she forces herself to her feet, ignoring her pain, and begins moving back through the halls until she reaches a familiar hall. Changing her course last minute, Isabella turns from her room, entering one across the hall instead. 

The voices continued ringing in her mind, chastising her.

The whole court can probably hear you stomping around up here. Have you considered dropping a few pounds? 

Shut up.

If you did hit the training yard though, I bet you’d look so pathetic next to everyone else! 

Shut up. 

Are you sure you want to subject them to the sight of you? I mean, look at you.

Her eyes snap to the mirror beside her. In its reflection, she can see a portrait of her Prince, hanging just behind her. It didn’t do his angelic looks justice, nor did it quite convey that sinful smile he used to entice just about anyone to his bed.

Shut up.

She stepped closer to the mirror, glancing between the reflection of herself and the portrait. The ringing started getting louder, as her surroundings vanished and all that was left was the mirror.  

See? Can you really stand beside him like this?

“But… He loves me,” she rasps, though it felt more like trying to herself than refute the thought.

It would be better for his standing as a Prince of Hell if you weren’t around to humiliate him. You should leave. Then you also won’t prevent him from finding Lucia. I bet she didn’t look like this. I’m sure she was slimmer with soft curves. Nothing like you. Too big in all the wrong places. You should disappear. Disappear. Disappear. Disappear. Disappear. Disappear- 

“SHUT-”

“Count,” 

Her fist stops mere inches away from the mirror. 

“Count,” it commanded again. 

Everything was loud. The squeak of floorboards. The thoughts in her head. The swishing of her dress. All of it. All too loud, and all happening at once. How could she-

“Count,” 

“P-Pride said m-my hair is always done up b-beauti-beautiful,” she stutters, voice choked and raspy from crying. 

Had she been crying? 

“P-Pride said my smile is con-contagious, and my lips are plu-ump, like strawberries,” she add, slowly falling to her knees before the mirror. 

Her heart rate slowly eased, while her vision began clearing at the edges. 

“Pride said h-he loves to- to grab my breasts when he’s stressed, lay his head on them when he’s tired, and kiss them when we have sex,” her voice became steadier with each word she spoke. 

Still, she took deep breaths as more of the room came into focus, and she was able to recognise the navy walls, accented with silver, and ornate furniture that complimented the marble flooring. 

“Pride said he likes my stomach because it’s cute, fun to kneed, a comfy pillow and he enjoys tickling it, even if it annoys me,” This time, Isa’s voice was completely even as she spoke.

“Can you really blame me for wanting to see that blinding smile whenever I please?” 

She whips her head around, noticing the Prince in question leaning against the door frame. Isa can only watch him with wide eyes. 

Pride’s eyes narrow on her, as he takes in her appearance. Shards of a mirror are stuck in her palms, both of which are still bleeding. There’s also blood seeping from a gash he can see on her on her knee, from where it peeks out from under her dress. Although, her face is probably the most heartbreaking sight that Pride’s ever seen. Bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks stare back at him, along with a runny nose and lips that are raw and red from where she bit and pulled at them. 

It was a bad day for her. Pride could tell that much from the moment she wasn’t at the ballroom in time, but while being even the slightest bit late was odd for her, Pride didn’t begin to truly worry until he saw drops of blood and a shattered mirror in the hallway leading to their suite when he went to go find her.

He barely registered using transversa magic to get to his room before he found her crumpled in front of the mirror, a bloody hand pressed against it. He felt his namesake’s sin swelling in his chest as he heard her using the method he taught her to calm down. He’d remembered how bewildered she was the first time he’d told her to order her least favorite features from one to five, one being the least favorite. Confused, she had done as he asked. After that, Pride made her name one compliment, or thing he liked about the fifth feature on that list, two to the fourth, three to the third, and so on, so forth.

“You still need to do the last one, by the way,” he reminds, snapping her out of her daze. 

“Oh, Pride loves squeezing my thighs, spreading my thighs, burying his face in my thighs, thinks my thighs are strong strong, and that there’s a perfect amount of them to bite,” Isa finishes. 

“There’s a good girl,” Pride grins, walking over to pick her up from in front of the mirror. Caring little for the blood dripping everywhere, he deposited her right onto a comfy couch, knowing she’d lose it if he dumped her on the bed and she got blood on it, “Now stay put,” 

Isa only nodded, letting Pride poke his head out of the room for a few minutes. He didn’t go far, and didn’t shut the door. Instead, he stood in the doorway, blocking anyone from seeing in, as he spoke to someone. Moments later, he took something from them, and came back in, shutting the door behind them. When he came back, there were bandages and ointments in his hands, all of which were ceremoniously dumped onto the floor when Pride dropped to his knee. 

Gasping, Isabella tried to stand, only for a stern look to force her back down. Pride never kneeled. For anyone. The only time he’d ever knelt before her was less kneeling and more lying down, and it was just so he could feast on Isa. Now, however, his touches remained reverent as he pulled out the glass, before cleaning and bandaging each wound. 

“Pride-” 

“We’ll talk later, just- Just let me do this first,”    

Isa could only nod. 

When he was done, he carried her to the bed, before leaving and coming back with a simple, blue tunic. Pride had no intention of letting her do anything tonight, it seemed, as he pulled the gown from her body, not caring as the thin ties snapped at the back. After that, he pulled the tunic over her, and gently pushed her to lay on the bed. Moments later, he was climbing in with her, having taken off his formalwear, and coming back in loose trousers. 

“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked, once they were both tucked into bed. 

“It got bad,” she whispered, “Worse than before. I took one look at that ballroom, and suddenly, the thought of food made me want to hurl, and having to spend an evening with others looking at me all night, made me want to tear at my skin,” 

“Has it ever gotten this bad before?” Pride asks. 

“Once, but it was a while before I came here,” she assured him. 

Pride rubs a thumb over her cheek, gentle and soothing. 

“I’m so, so sorry, Bella,” he whispers.

Isa’s heart picks up its pace in her chest. Pride never apologizes either. Well, not to anyone but her anyway. It appears she’s been the exception to many rules, when it comes to Pride. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” she responds, “I’m sorry I made you miss your party. I know how much you love them,” 

“Don’t be. I love you more,” he soothes, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.  

“I have one more thing I need to ask, Bella,” he tells her, suddenly serious.

“Yes?” 

“The glass shards. Did you do that on purpose?” 

“No! No, of course not. I- On my way back up here, everything had overwhelmed me and I was so dizzy, I was reaching for anything to grab onto and I- I ended up grabbing the mirror, and…dropped it…” Isabella trails off sheepishly.

Pride examines her for a moment, his icy eyes carving deep into her flesh, before he finally relents. 

“Alright, good. Please remember, that I don’t know what I’d do without you, my Bella,” he whispers, “So don’t you ever, ever, even consider it.” 

“I’ll try not to,” she whispers, “But sometimes those voices just make too much sense to ignore,” 

“Tell me what it will take to help you, my love. Do you want me to take you on my throne before our whole court, to let them, and you, know who holds whatever’s left of my heart? Is there a person in particular bothering you, that I need to feed to some foul beast somewhere? Do I need to kiss every inch of your flesh until your mind accepts my words as fact? Would you like me to shatter every mirror in my circle, so you can never rely on them to show you yourself again?” he asks desperately. 

“I don’t know,” she whispers honestly. 

“Then try to remember this; You are my wife. You are the first face I see in the morning, the last face I see every night, and the one face I could never be tired of. I love your belly, even if it’s bigger than others’. I love your thick thighs, and plump lips. I love the way your eyes sparkle when you find something you’re interested in. I love the way you squeal when you see something cute. I love the way your smile instantly improves my mood. I love everything about you, my sweet, beautiful Bella,” Pride whispers to each one with conviction, “Whatever you see in your reflection, pay it no heed. Only my view of you matters. Mine, and nobody elses,” 

“Pride-” 

His arms wrap around her, pulling her close to his chest. 

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Whatever it takes, if it means I won’t lose you!” 

Isabella relaxes in his hold, though her mind is still racing. 

“Just- Just hold me. And help me remember why you love me. Why I love me,” 

“Of course, my beautiful love,” Pride whispers, before he begins listing everything he’s ever loved about you off, one by one. From appearance to personality to memories. Pride leaves nothing out. By the time he’s done, you can barely keep your eyes open. Noticing this, Pride chuckles. “Sleep Bella,” 

“Goodnight, Pride,” 

“Goodnight, my love,”

[handgiven]

i wrote em talking about 'the devil' the other day and it's still hanging around in my head. the concept of divinity is so loose in his universe, as is the concept of the devil. i feel like this view of his does manage to capture that quite well

“it is a popular name among those who do not wish to be disturbed. popular yet barely understood. a scarecrow of a name, really. (...) we’re family. that must make me quite biased, i believe, (...) the truth is, there is no singular devil, much like there is no singular god. the earth is melange of faith and yearning. the devil answers, much like a god. (...) a few of my brethren have gone by the name, none more valid than the other. it’s just armour. just a further wedge to drive between the they they are now and the angels they used to be. but in the end, in spite of everything, they are like any living creature. wanting, scared, ailing. each in their own way, some more overtly than others. all just lost children unto a divinity that cast them away. pride conquers all.”

[wherethewolfsbaneblooms]

Queen of the Damned — Demon Lord of Hell Alcina x Dead Reader

Your life was never yours. It belonged to your parents, the Church, and God. A good Christian girl on the outside, no one would've guessed you harbored a dangerous secret. One that you'd take to your grave.

After a terrible loss, in revenge you commit a crime against God - and now you must face the consequences of your sins. When you are condemned to the war-torn Seventh Circle of Hell ruled by the Warden of Violence; a huge demoness with serious anger management issues, violent tendencies, and a tragic past, all of a sudden being damned to Hell doesn't seem so bad after all.

Gather your flame retardant suits folks, we’re all going to Hell for this one 🔥

[chronicowboy]

seven sentence sunday

tagged by @alyxmastershipper ily <333 (hope you had a good birthday!!!!)

been a bit busy recently so haven't made as much progress on the palm springs au as i'd like, was hoping i'd get some done today after walking the hellhound but then my brother stopped by with my nephew so i have written exactly zero words in 24 hours!! but you can have a sneak peek of the start of eddie's best man speech featuring christopher diaz

"Uh, hi, hello," he begins, clearing his throat when it comes out a little high pitched. "I'm Eddie, Buck's best friend and one half of his best man." He shares a conspiratorial smile with his son as he turns to him. "The other fifty per cent of the best man has been working on something special for the groom, right, kid?" Christopher nods, and Eddie's so fucking glad that he can put this off for even a few more seconds. "Want to give it to him now?" Chris stands from his chair on Eddie's right and pulls a carefully folded piece of card from his blazer pocket as he shuffles over to Buck's side.

"What have you got for me, bud?" Buck asks, eyes already a little glassy.

And Eddie thinks he might have miscalculated this actually because he remembers how the first draft of Christopher's What is a Buck? poem had ended. Two simple words: a dad. He doesn't know if the final draft had answered the question that way in the end, but it doesn't matter what it says when the tears start rolling down Buck's cheeks. Eddie has to turn away and take a deep breath as Buck folds Chris into a hug, something colossal and unwieldy shuddering to life behind his sternum.

"I love you," Buck whispers, voice wobbling. "So much."

"I love you too," Chris mumbles into his shoulder.

Eddie has to reach up to loosen the tie around his neck, so he doesn't choke on the lump in his throat. He tries to cough it out as Christopher returns to his seat and Buck slips the poem into his breast pocket, but it just feels like he's about to hack up a severed chunk of his heart.

"Maybe should have saved that for last," Eddie chokes out with a wet little laugh. The guests laugh with him, and Eddie sweeps a hand through Christopher's curls to ground himself. "Always have to outdo me, huh, mijo?" Chris just rolls his eyes. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, um, best friend, right."

not been very online today so i have no idea who's already been tagged but uh yeah i'll just tag my usual babes if u guys have anything to share <33 @danielsousa @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @diazass @try-set-me-on-fire

[chucapybara]

had a nice fish dinner doused in a mix of chili oil and soy sauce and i just gotta say. eula would burst into flames at the first taste of it i think

[dilutedh2so4]

You know what, the second circle of hell in Dante's Inferno actually sounds like a fun time for what is meant to be horrific eternal punishment. You get blasted this way and that by constant winds, basically just indoor skydiving.

And the people there! You got Paris, Helen, Sir Tristan, Dido, Cleopatra... what a set list, I'm heading down ASAP

[remholder]

'cause it's time to bring the fire down // bridle all this indiscretion

long enough to edify // and permanently fill this hollow

[mask131]

Dante’s Hell: Two sides of the same coin

VIII) Fourth Circle: Greed

Upon entering the Fourth Circle, Dante and Virgil are confronted by a being that is alternatively called “Pluto” and “Plutus”. Called “mankind arch-enemy’s”, this entity, called by Virgil the “cursed wolf of Hell”, after frightening the visitors with an ominous sentence, is promptly shut off by Virgil, who reminds him that their journey is ordered by the powers of Heaven themselves, which makes Pluto/Plutus fall onto the ground, vanquished. Dante here reuses another figure of Greco-Roman mythology, or rather two figures conflated into one: Plutus, the Greek god of wealth and riches (it makes sense he would appear in the Circle of Greed), and Pluto, the alternative name for Hades/Dis Pater, the ruler of the underworld and king of the dead in Greek/Roman mythology. This confusion was originally present in the Greco-Roman culture itself:  “Pluto” means “the wealthy one”, “the rich one”, and already the Greeks and the Romans had established that the god of the underworld ruled over both the dead and the underground riches (metals, gemstones, etc…), to the point Plutus himself was sometimes seen as part of the chthonic gods. The fact Virgil’s world so easily break down Plutus/Pluto, as he falls on the ground “like a ship’s sail when the mast breaks”, “deflated, tangled in heap”, shows how this embodiment of wealth, while seemingly grand and frightening, is actually empty and quite weak when confronted with the true powers of good. And more importantly, Pluto/Plutus is given a line that has been a true mystery…

“Pape Satan, pape Satan aleppe”. It is the mysterious sentence that this entity tells to the protagonist as he enters the Fourth Circle of Hell, in a rage-filled tone, to threaten Dante/the Wanderer – and this sentence isn’t written in any actual language or dialect known. Some words can be recognized, such as the name “Satan” repeated twice, but otherwise it is a cryptic mumbo-jumbo, a nonsensical sentence to decipher. Many people have interpreted this sentence without ever agreeing on what it could mean: the most common theory is that this sentence is supposed to be an invocation to Satan, where Plutus invokes the devil himself onto the Fourth Circle, or maybe alerts him of what is going on, possibly invoking him as the “pope”, “emperor” or “god” of Hell.

Unlike the previous circles, here the sinners of Greed are divided into two clear groups, the Prodigal and the Misers, who embody the two aspects of the sin of greed (at least according to Dante). Both groups are cursed into constantly rolling before them enormous, heavy weights, while circling around each other, constantly shouting insults and war-cries at the other group, before finally throwing their weights at each other in a big, thunderous clash. Then each group gains back their weight, rolls out again with more insults and screams, clashes their weights again, and it all repeats forever and ever… Dante throws in a LOT of Greco-Roman references, from the constant rolling of a big boulder/weight as a nod to the legend of Sisyphus, to the clashing of the boulders being described as Charybdis making the waves crash against each other – but here the punishment still fits the contrapasso, because each group is doomed to constantly exhaust themselves by pushing aimlessly a huge, heavy rock that represents the material wealth and the earthly riches they grew so fond and attached to in their life. Of course, there is also a morbid irony in the fact that these two groups are locked into an eternal hatred, each one accusing the other of being the sinner, the vicious, the criminal, while no one realizes they are both in the wrong, due to the embodying the two extremes of greed: the Misers hoarded their wealth for the sake of owning and being rich, selfishly keeping all for themselves in a pure act of avarice, while the Prodigal expressed the reverse excessive love for money and goods, by spending their existence wasting their riches and squandering their belongings instead of putting them to good use. But both are now in Hell two undistinguishable groups in both body and action – only the specifics of the insults they throw at each other can allow to differentiate them. Or little proverbial details – for example the Hoarders have tight fists (showing their inability to lend a hand and their tight hold over their money), while the Squanderers have no hair (because an old Italian proverb says that prodigal will “spend even the hairs on their heads”).

IX) The Fifth Circle: The Styx

It is quite interesting that the second of the rivers of Hell, the Styx (also taken from Greek mythology) actually overlaps with the Fifth Circle of Hell. Indeed the Styx/Fourth Circle here is a sort of swamp, a marsh created by a spring of dark waters “boiling and overflowing” into a ditch, and drowning gray slopes until they turned into the great “slimy pond” that is this circle.

The Fifth Circle is often called the Circle of Wrath, because the main group of sinners here are those that allowed their life to be dominated and burned up by anger – now they forever wander in the swamp of the Styx, naked and muddy, their faces distorted by rage. In a constant state of wrath, they constantly fight each other with their bare arms, heads, feet (and even teeth), into violent muddy and swampy battles where they end up tearing the limbs of each other, without ever resting.

But there is a second group of sinners in the Fifth Circle… Sinners that are not wandering through the marsh, but rather sitting at the bottom of the slimy water, waiting in the black muck at the bottom of the Styx, constantly sighing and making bubbles as they only way of proving they exist. Their crime is apparently to have been “sluggish” or “sad” even in the most joyful and happy of days, and to have let “dejected/gloomy/slothful” smokes smolder in their hearts… This second group of sinners, doomed to stay under the surface, in the dark muds forever, is the subject of one of the big debates of the Divine Comedy… Indeed, from the choice of words and the general behavior they show, many read them as being the sinners of Sloth. But not of Sloth as we know it – rather as Sloth was originally… the vice of Acedia. A quick history lesson: “Sloth” in the seven deadly sins is a very recent addition. Or rather Sloth as “not liking work and loving too much rest and comfort” is a modern reinterpretation of the original sin it corresponded to. Originally, the sin of “sloth”, the sin that led one to not put any effort into things, to neglect their duty, to waste their talent, to dislike hard work, was not “sloth” but a thing called “acedia”. Acedia has been described as many way: the vice of despondency, a spiritual sloth, or the precursor to today’s burn-out. Acedia was a spiritual evil, a mix of sadness and boredom that led one to lose any kind of interest and involvement into whatever project or cause one could be part of, a spiritual torpor and numbness that destroyed any kind of love, hope, joy or care people could pour into the world – and, more than just causing one general disgust and indifference towards anything, could ultimately lead to despair/depression. This was the original sin part of the “seven deadly” – which only came to be known as a material, work-related “sloth” later in history. Many people consider that the sinners at the bottom of Styx are sinners of acedia, and thus it would make the total of deadly sins treated in the Upper Hell five instead of four, by adding Acedia/Proto-Sloth to Lust, Gluttony, Greed and Wrath.

However, there is a group of people that do not agree with this theory because they point out that ALL of the Circles of Hell are focused on one specific vice or sin, and that no other Circle hosts two vices at once. For example Greed has two groups of sinners, but they are both aspects of the disorderly love for wealth that is Greed. So, they argue that the sinners at the bottom of the Styx must be, like those at the surface of the swamp, sinners of Wrath, instead of suffering from Acedia (which is a distinct and different vice). Their theory is that we have to interpret their sin as one of “slothful and apathic wrath”, that make them constantly sad and burning inside – in this viewpoint, the sinners here (often called the “Sullen”) are thought to represent an internalized, passive form of wrath (unlike the exterior, active, violent wrath of the sinners of the suffer), to be sinners guilty of grudge-holding, rancor, spite and bitterness.

The debate is still up – maybe it is one, maybe it is the other, or maybe it is both at the same time, who knows!

Passing by the marsh, our protagonists arrive at the foot of a high tower, with at the top two flames appearing – that another fire answers far-away in the distance. It is actually the signal to call another boatman of Hell, here to take the Pilgrim and Virgil across the Styx proper (as a river flowing away from the marsh), and the one riding those “filthy waves” across the “marsh vapors” and swamp mists is yet again another Greek mythological figure: Phlegyas.

Here to take our protagonists to the famed and dreaded City of Dis…

[yahuanbk]

I've managed to get the precious Cardigan skin and I am not touching this gamemode ever again, EVER.

Who dicided that this was perfectly balanced and that a skin should be a reward?????

[benjinkies]

the thing about elevated horror stans is that you can derive meaning from literally anything. you can go all 8th grade english class annotations in the margins about LITERALLY ANYTHING. especially horror movies. on the flip side i can watch hereditary and say yeah seems like an average day in utah usa and be on my merry frickin way

[blackstarchanx3new]

Star rants about BL manga for a REAAAAALY long time

Lmao so I go to this specific book store to by M rated manga and apparently the cashier recognizes me by my face lmao.

I made a joke about it like, a month or so ago that "Oh yeah I'm probs the weirdo who buys BL porno manga"

And now I'm unsure if that's even a joke anymore.

I like to buy BLs and gamble if their terrible. (Idk why it just became a habit. X'D)

There was one so bad it's an internal meme between me and my bro that "Well it wasn't as bad as Caste Heaven".

NOTHING. Is as bad as Caste Heaven my god. I literally threw them in the garbage. X'D I cope with how legit triggering it was with ~COMEDY~ don't read it unless you hate yourself. It is SO BAD. I'm not a pearl clutcher by any means but HOLY SHIT.

Bitch club was at least MILDLY funny at times (Also terrible. But I kinda wanna know where it goes...? Is that bad??? X'D I've like, played with the idea of getting more of it just to see wtf happens it's like a crack series, but it's REAL. And terrible.)

Titan's bride is at least interesting enough plot wise I have somehow found myself with 3 volumes despite it being a Porn without Plot, but somehow has enough plot that I care 99xs more than the sex scenes. (Haven't read the 3rd one yet lmao but I does is have to know how it ends.) Also the art is nice lol. Characters are dumb as bricks tho lmao.

Ten count is a THING. That exists. Dear god I don't even have comprehensive thoughts on it. I've read it multiple times and I still dunno if I hate it or love it. I THINK I like it??? But Dear god my thoughts are COMPLICATED. It's like "Well I like this...but WTF WAS THIS" type vibe???

Bad boys Happy home is pretty enjoyable. Also has many WTF moments tho. I haven't reread it in awhile tho.

Hitorojime boyfriend- Terrible. Hated it. Didn't finish it. Less bad than caste heaven but that isn't saying much. Still god awful. Unlikeable as fuck characters. Kinda glad I hated it though because there's a whole other series it's attached to (Which I didn't know when I picked it up) so I at least didn't waste my time. (Does it say anything I was disapointed I found the recipe for it AFTER it was too late to return the "piece of literature"?) Art was cute though. Just terrible story and characters.

"I Didn't mean to fall in love" - AWESOME. I PICKED A DIFFRENT ONE OVER THIS ONE AND I MADE A MISTAKE. THIS ONE IS GREAT LOVED IT!~ ART 10/10 STORY 10/10 CHARACTERS ARE PRETTY GREAT TOO WOOOOOOOOOO

Seven days monday-sunday - Liked it. Was cute. By the same person who did 10 count so art was an absolute banger. Story wasn't by them so it was NORMAL. X'D

I have more but I'll shut up.

[litnerdwrites]

Want it - Euphemia

A/N: I had this idea a couple of days ago, and thought it'd be a fun story to write. Euphemia is six in this, and Wrath is an overprotective father. I hope you enjoy it.

TW: Little blood, but just cuts, canon typical threats of violence (I know I mention that a lot, but threatening people is like, Wrath's hobby), mentions of a child potentially having drunk wine. She never does on page, but the possibility is discussed if that's something that bothers you. Really, it's mostly fluff.

“I blame Sloth. He’s already out here, giving us all bad reputations, he’s probably done something to rub off on the kid,” Lust complained, waving a hand in his brother’s direction. A thud is heard, and Lust yelped as he spat out the wine he just sipped, then threw Sloth a nasty look. “See? He’s getting defensive!” 

Wrath narrowed his eyes on his brother, while Emilia just shook her head.

“If she learned this behavior from anyone, it’s more likely to be either you or Gluttony,” Sloth drawled. 

“Don’t drag me into this!” Snapped Gluttony. 

SLAM!

The table- No, the whole room shook when Wrath slammed his fist against his desk. His brothers glanced towards him, eyes narrowed. 

“If none of you can be helpful, then you can leave,” he seethed. 

“Witch's tits, are you really that concerned about this?” Lust groaned.

Wrath narrowed his gaze on him, while Envy shook his head at them, choosing to take another sip of his Dark and Sinful instead. Pride nursed a flute of sparkling wine, his thoughts likely stuck on Lucia, and how Wrath had pulled him from his search for her, while Greed idly tossed a coin in his hand, and Gluttony tasted one of the tarts Emilia had set out for them. Wrath had sent messages to his brothers, demanding their presence shortly after he and Emilia put Euphemia to bed, and they’d arrived an hour later. Since then, he’d been resisting the urge to send them back to his circle in pieces. 

“Remind us again what the problem even is?” Envy huffed.

 Wrath was about to snap his brothers’ necks one by one and then- A warm, gentle touch pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced down to see Emilia’s hand resting gently over his own. She gave him a reassuring smile, before turning to her brothers in law. 

“Euphie has developed… A new interest,” she began tentatively, “in wine.” 

Lust sputtered into his wine glass, making a poor attempt at disguising his laughter and ignoring the way Wrath reached for his House Dagger. 

“In wine?” he asks, “Isn’t she a little young to be an alcoholic, brother?” 

Wrath narrowed his eyes, and Gluttony scoffed. 

“If you want me to send you back with your intestines hanging from your gut, brother, you need only ask,” Wrath seethed. 

“If you want to brawl, brother, then I-” 

“Enough.” Emilia interjected, “If you want to kill each other, do so elsewhere. This is about my daughter,” 

“You think somebody gave her alcohol?” Envy questioned, brow raised. 

“Yes. I want to know which one of you is behind this,” Wrath growles, scanning his brothers, but making eye contact with Lust, Gluttony and Pride, in particular.  

“Well who let her drink it to begin with?” Pride asked. 

“We aren’t even sure if she had any yet. We only suspect,” Emilia responded, eyes narrowing at Wrath, even as she held her husband’s arm to keep him from stabbing his brother before she got an answer out of him, “She comes to our room when she has a nightmare, and tries to sneak into the bed with us, but recently, she comes in almost every night. At first we thought her nightmares were getting bad, but every night she goes straight for the wines Wrath keeps in our chambers. Sometimes she sits and stares at them, others, we catch her trying climb up the case to reach them,” 

Lust found amusement in the situation. 

Wrath did not share the sentiment. 

Eventually, Pride walked over, shoved Lust out of his chair, and made himself at home. Greed merely raised a brow at the action, then snickered as Lust protested. 

“Are you sure it’s the wine she’s interested in?” he asked, “Perhaps she just wants to climb something like a monkey? She’s done it plenty of times for it to be a viable option. Or perhaps she’s simply not tired enough to sleep and wants entertainment?” 

Wrath’s eyes narrowed, while Emilia thought over the suggestion. 

“If she’s bored, why stare at the wines? Why not try to wake us up or find a servant?” she wondered. 

“As for climbing the wine rack, we actually considered that. The following night, we emptied the wine rack, and placed some pillows around it, so she could climb it,” Wrath added.

“But?” Greed coaxed. 

“The moment she saw the wine rack empty, she sat on the floor and began sobbing loudly,” 

Amusement sparkled in Lust’s eyes, while Wrath dared him, dared him, to make a sound. 

“There’s also the possibility that she just wants to copy Wrath,” Greed supplied, grabbing their attention. 

Emilia’s brows furrow. 

“Copy Wrath?” she asked. 

“She’s only six. If she saw Wrath drinking Demonberry wine, perhaps she decided she wanted to try some too?” he shrugged, “Hasn’t she always been a daddy’s girl?” 

SMASH! 

A sudden crash has the room’s occupants whipping their heads towards the door. Emilia is out the door first, followed by Wrath, his brothers right on his tail. As they make it to the staircase leading up to the King and Queen’s suite, a loud cry echoes from the top. 

Wrath quickly transvenios up to their chambers, not bothering with the stairs, his brothers following after and Emilia. When they arrive, they see the king crouched amongst shattered glass and spilled wine, cradling their six year old in his arms, trying to hush her. Emilia rushes over to inspect Euphemia’s hand, ichor dripping down it from where shards of glass were embedded. 

“Oh, my baby,” she cooed, cradling her wrist as she picked the glass out, “What happened, my flame?” 

Euphie cried harder, burying her head into Wrath’s shoulders. 

“There there, dear heart. It’s okay. It’s already healing, see?” he said, so gently, it appeared as though he forgot his brothers were staring. 

“Wan’ it.” Euphie whispered, pointing to the wine rack, “But I fell,” 

“Oh, Euphemia. We warned you not to climb it, baby,” Emilia chastises lightly, kissing her daughter’s hands. 

“Wan’ it,” is all she responds with, gripping Wrath’s shirt tightly. 

Emilia and Wrath frown. 

“Why?” 

All eyes turned to Sloth, including Euphie, who still sniffled into her father’s shoulder. 

“Pretty. Like Mama and Daddy,” Euphie huffed, “Wan’ it,” 

“You’re a little young to be drinking- ” Lust tried only to be cut off.

“No! Want it!” 

The Princes frown, but it’s Sloth who reaches for a bottle that hadn't shattered, but did spill its contents onto the floor.

“I’ll get you some,” he assured, before walking to the kitchen connected to the Royal’s suite.

His brothers furrowed their brows, and Wrath was about to go and carve out his tongue, but Emilia urged him and the others to keep their daughter entertained.  

“I should probably know better, but I’ll ask. Are you going to give my  daughter wine?” Emilia asked, coming up beside Sloth, who was rooting through the cabinets. 

“No. I doubt she’d drink this at all, even if it were wine. Do you have any pearl dust, by any chance?” he asked.

Emilia raised a brow, but went to grab what he asked for regardless. When she came back, Sloth was pouring sparkling water into the wine bottle. Five minutes later, they were heading to their suite’s receiving chamber, where Wrath leaned against a wall, and Euphemia passed around amongst her Uncles, pouting as they tried to cheer her up. 

“They’re betting on who can cheer her up,” Wrath supplied, and Emilia rolled her eyes.

“Well I’m going to win quite a lot of money then,” Sloth muttered.

“Would you like to visit the ice dragons?” he heard Gluttony ask, and Wrath growled behind him, “Only the hatchlings,” his brother assured the king. 

“We already tried offering to read to her if that’s what you’ll do,” Lust poked. 

Sloth was not deterred. He knelt in front of Eupheima, who sat between Pride and Envy.

“I brought you what you asked for,” he told her, passing her the bottle. 

His brothers quirked their brows and narrowed their eyes, but said nothing.

Euphemia took the bottle, shaking the sparkling water and pearl dust concoction. Her eyes widened as she saw the swirl of colors, and even noticed some silver demonberry seeds floating inside. The princess’s eyes lit up, and she squealed at the sight. 

“Yay! Pretty! Thank you!” She grinned, shoving the bottle aside to jump into Sloth’s arms.

Envy only narrowly grabbed the bottle before it shattered, glowering at Sloth. His other brothers, aside from Wrath, did the same. But, with a groan, they each threw pouches of gold onto the table, scowling when they saw his smile. 

Once satisfied, Euphemia took the bottle and ran to Emilia with another squeal. 

“Look! Look mama! Daddy! Shiny! Sparkly!” 

Emilia knelt down, smiling at her child.

“It is, isn’t it? Is this what you wanted, my little magpie?” she asked gently, stroking the girl’s hair. 

“Yep! I wanted shiny things!” 

Wrath ruffled her hair, placing a kiss on her head, smiling as she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, before Emilia scooped her up. She mentioned going to clean up her wine stained dress and sticky hair, before bidding the Princes a goodbye. Wrath turned from his wife and daughter to be met with his brother’s grinning faces. 

“Fatherhood suits you,” Lust smiled, barely dodging the dagger that flew in his direction.