#the suns of perdition

[glitter-stained]

The public has requested fic recs for the hyper specific "dark mafia no kill rule reversal Jason comes back to the family angst but still there's love" trope, aka Jason Todd's platonic found family version of a dark romance, and so they shall receive: the five fics I've found on the matter, which I recommend especially if you enjoy protective batfam, angst and misunderstandings.

We happy few by sunsational96, it's really good writing if you're not afraid of stuff getting dark, unfortunately it has only two chapters yet but I hope it gets updated because it's so promising (only point I dislike is Jason being a cop but also given his family, I get it.) Tim is unhinged in it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42523731/chapters/106806804

The Safe Inside series by Dalee, the first work of which is "The Sun will Rise", which is complete and a satisfying conclusion to the story in itself.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25397782

Unrefusable Offer by Envisparkler, it's finished! Honestly I could have done with a third chapter because it's kinda angsty but it's really fun too, somebody give poor Jay a hug he's traumatized.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52124098/chapters/131834677

Choke by Chemically_Imbalanced, VERY similar to Unrefusable Offer (though idk which came first) so if you love reading different takes on the same idea and enjoyed one, I definitely recommend the other- also a real fun read, and it has the advantage of not being finished yet, so we might get more than just the two chapters, even if they're already fun on their own!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56516731/chapters/143631982

You liked Unrefusable Offer's take on dark!Dick and wish there was a short fic with his POV? Don't worry, here's sElkieNight60's extra add-on for that fic: Damned to Perdition. It's tasty, y'all.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53521066

@fhteehj

@hesztia16

@trust-and-jump

@dark-night-hero

@chaaannnah

@trashcanqueerie

@ohlooh

[dsco-kjs]

Once upon a time…

A whisper could be heard among the hills of an old abandoned land. A prophecy where it was said that an angel would come from heaven, bring glory to the world plunged into darkness and with his roar, would open the earth for it's rise.

But the prophecy was simply modified until it became a legend. However, it was never forgotten, since, in any case.

It was also whispered that the angel, whether of perdition or hope, would be much greater than the Sun itself.

Hello everyone, welcome to this post where i will introduce to you my story on Archive of our Own or AO3 about the theory of Papyrus being the Knight.

Must say that this took so long to publish due to some issues i had to fix, but now i can say everything is ready for you to enjoy!

With the following, I will give you some extra information about this story.

This story/AU is inspired by the theory of Papyrus the Knight, where you will see his point of view and his evolution.

Some characters have changed in age, like Papyrus in this case.

I apologize in advance if the story has grammatical errors, it is not my first language but I use several tools to make it understandable and enjoyable to read!

There may be slow updates, because I have external issues that may prevent me from updating frequently, but I will do everything in my power to achieve this.

This story is completely separate from the comic i did time ago.

And I don't need to say much more, you will have to discover that for yourself during your reading!

Now, let's start with the fun stuff!

Meet… "The Advisor"!

What? Does he have another name? Well, yes, but not right now.

This charismatic Darkner is the one who guides and advises Papyrus and his teacher, Dess.

As his name suggests, he is the advisor to the King of Spades.

He is enigmatic but very charming!

Meet the intimidating and powerful royal sorceress, Dess…!

Yes, strangely enough, she is only known by that nickname.

Dess is known as the Ice Sorceress, due to her superb control over magic and being very strong and good at hitting things!

(She is a bit grumpy but nice if you know her better.)

And let's not forget this charismatic skeleton that everyone knows!

Say hello to the GREAT PAPYRUS!

our dear knight, who is always excited to learn and protect others!

Believe in him or not, he will show you how cool he is!

Now that you know them, what are you waiting for to read their adventures?

Here is the link so you can go read it, I wish you a pleasant and interesting experience!

[majestativa]

Is a sacrifice for the greater good still a sacrifice?

I feel like I’m going to explode, all is naturalized, exorcize me, from the false me’s, I need to breathe my spirit, unquiet still, inconsolable at times, until Light appears, and it does…. Cartilaginous, shrewd, eclipsing the pellucid waters of flowing pain dwelling the translucent hearts and their parti-colored moods as they mouth slow solemn words the rays of a dull gray sun, greeting decay, flowering again, from the abyss. these inviolate ones, untouched, untouchable, the timid ones, the bashful ones, the frightened ones the brave ones, overawed at times, tightroping the fallen bridge of time absorbed by the tides of the unknown their wisdom is simple and self-explanatory, of insufferable perfection and perdition, of the utmost repugnance of a kind that disrespected itself, born to fail and fade away of militaristic order, of spellbinding chaos, blameless, debonair gentiles, genes and genitals, rearranged, rephrased, redesigned to triumph over the not-yet-named but shall be, legitimate, open to wounds and scars, jubilating in secrecy for they believe… oh they believe, in the censored refinement the forewarning revelations, and the impregnable auguries of love.

For the record, I am not here to preach, I’m just a madwoman, laconic then verbose, then silent, covertly sentimental, inured to trauma, immured in the chambers of insanity where tyrants and their boundless passion retell the tale of humiliation, strata, status and enslavement, my heart jumps when the right is wronged, Kharbouchesque at times, Leviathanesque at others, when they try to bury the women in me, the hag, the maiden, the timeless one, the warm embrace, the womb of glory I don’t scratch; I tear apart. And that too is part of femininity, madness and hysteria call it what you want, I persist like their sins, being nothing, as the nothingness of being screams that freedom is outdated, and before it’s their turn to scream, I stand, an unwavering Kali, fully and marvelously human, sinking my fangs, in the veins of the rotten ones, as cruelty leaks, and my womanhood soars, like the moonfaced Shahmaran.

Occult Woman | 29.03.23

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

T 🧛‍♂️ 🥵🎀 (also congrats! and I am very excited about this whole thing! 😘😘😘)

Thank you so much, love! 💖 This one is not as explicitly smutty as the other request I did for you, but I'm pretty positive this won't be the last time I visit this world. (And they will absolutely fuck nasty in later instalments.)

Sweet perdition

Words: 947 Rated: E Tags: Vampire & werewolf AU; Vampire Eddie; Werewolf Steve; Imprisonment; Non-consensual bondage; Sexual tension; Explicit sexual content; Homoerotic blood drinking Notes: Part 1

It seems, Kas thinks, like he needs to thoroughly reassess his notions of werewolves. 

He's just lucky none of his vampire siblings can see him now, shackled to the floor in the basement of the surprisingly fancy manor that is the den of Steve’s pack. Outwitted and taken captive by a bunch of mutts - he'd be an utter laughing stock. 

Then again, if his siblings think that all werewolves are ugly, hairy thugs with nothing but floof for brains, it only goes to show they’ve never met any real-life packs before. Or their very pretty, very witty, very naked leaders.

Speaking of which … 

“I see you. I know you're watching me.” 

A heartbeat passes in silence. 

“Don't give yourself too much credit,” Steve smiles as he steps from the darkness. “Merely checking if you're settling in alright.” 

“How very hospitable of you,” Kas snarls. “You treat all your guests like this?” 

“Only the ones that might tear out my throat while I'm asleep,” Steve shrugs, settling cross-legged on the ground, just out of reach. He's acquired a set of clothes since Kas last saw him. A pair of skinny breeches and a cream shirt with billowing sleeves, gathered at the wrists with little satin ribbons. He looks like a haughty young lord gracing a subject with his presence. 

“You could always just let me go,” Kas hedges. Steve snorts a boyish laugh. 

“Nice try,” he says. “Afraid I can't do that.” 

Kas groans. “Is this still about your stupid prey? I told you I have nothing to do with that. Animal blood makes me wanna hurl.” 

Steve’s face remains unimpressed. “Even if that's true, one of your friends might be involved. Keeping you around might come in handy.” 

“So you're just gonna leave me down here to rot?” 

“I didn't say that.” 

Kas is about to ask what the hell he is on about, but then Steve holds out his hand. Something unfurls from his fingers - a broad band of tan leather. Inlaid with silver like the manacles on his wrists, no doubt; designed to drain his powers without causing physical harm or pain. Dangling from the end are a metal clasp and lock.

Kas sneers. 

“I think you're a bit confused, wolf boy. If one of us should be in a collar, it sure as hell isn't me.” 

Steve shrugs, rising to his feet. “Suit yourself. I'll just-” 

Something rumbles, loud and humiliating. Steve turns back around, eyebrows raised. 

“Hungry?” 

Kas scowls. “Told you I haven't been anywhere near your food, didn't- what the fuck are you doing?” 

“You're of no use to me if you starve, are you?” Steve is undoing the ribbon on his left wrist with deft fingers, pushing the sleeve up to his elbow. “Drink.” 

Kas bares his fangs, drawing a breath to tell him to go fuck himself. 

And that is when the scent hits him. Coppery and hot and tempting like all living things. 

But also more. 

Also warm summer soil and newly mown hay and embers in a slow fire. 

Life. 

He's on his knees before he realizes it, nosing at the delicate skin of that wrist. Steve hisses lightly as he pierces his flesh, but he doesn’t pull back. 

The taste of him hits Kas like something solid, seeping heavily into his limbs and sending his mind abuzz with fuzzy sensations and images. The sky at dusk and sun on skin. Music and laughter and touch, and a forgotten name floating just out of reach. The warm, tingling heat pools at the base of his spine, setting his nerves alight with fire. He moans, lapping at the thin rivulet of blood like a parched man. Each droplet is like a hit of morphine, is sweet perdition, is another kind of shackle snapping shut. He knows, instinctively, even in this moment, that he's lost. He's powerless to stop it. 

“Enough.” 

Steve uses his free hand to yank him back by the hair. Kas snarls in protest, straining to catch the last precious drops falling from those long fingers with his tongue before they go to waste. Steve watches him while he licks them up. 

“Greedy, aren't you?” 

“Fuck you,” Kas snaps. 

Steve’s lips curl into a smile. “Oh, I'm sure you'd love to. That happen every time you feed or is that just for me?” 

Those hazel eyes are swirling with gold as they flick down, and Kas realizes with a detached sense of surprise that he is painfully hard. 

“Don't give yourself too much credit,” he drawls. “And besides, I could ask the same thing of you.” 

He turns his head, which is conveniently level with the very obvious bulk in Steve’s pants. The boy doesn't recoil when he scrapes his fangs along the outline of it, merely takes a well measured step back. He's a tough little bastard, Kas has got to give it to him. 

“I'll just leave this here,” Steve says sweetly. “In case you change your mind.” 

The collar clatters to the ground. Kas doesn't turn to look at it. His gaze is transfixed to Steve's hands fixing his shirt sleeve back into place. The ribbon soaks up the last beads of blood, crimson stains blooming on cream satin like flower petals. 

“Full moon's tomorrow, so you'll need to make that meal last for a day or two,” Steve says conversationally. “I suggest you put that time to good use and think about my offer.” 

Kas wordlessly watches how he turns his back and disappears into the darkness. The metal buckle of the collar glints in the low light of the basement.

The summery scent of life lingers long after Steve is gone. 

Werewolf!Robin: You let him drink your WHAT? Are you insane? What if he has vampire rabies?!

More celebration ficlets

[thisisnotthenerd]

The Legend Lore Database

This is another use of the Legend Lore spell. All information herein is only that of legendary importance.

[a more complete database. i took some artistic liberties. see here for the updating document]

Legendary Individuals

Deities / Deific Entities

Ankarna

Infernal Deity of Fire, Rage and Conquest

Formerly the Giant Deity of Summer, Justice and the Harvest, Patron of the Giantkin of the Mountains of Chaos

Sister to Ruvina, Giant Deity of Winter and Sorrow

Spouse of Cassandra, Sylvan Deity of Mystery, Magic, and the Night

Cassandra / Nightmare King

Sylvan Deity of Mystery, Magic, and the Night, Patron of the Tribes of Sylvaire

Formerly the Nightmare King, the King of the Dark Dreaming, Rí Aisling Olc

Raised from their Undead form by the Blessed Saint Kristen Applebees

Sibling of Galicaea, Elven Goddess of the Moon, and Sol, Human God of the Sun

Spouse of Ankarna, Infernal Deity of Fire, Rage and Conquest

Stark Father of Baron from the Baronies

Eidolons

Seven Sisters, Elemental Spirits of the Universe and Hands of the Gods

From Eldest to Youngest

Chronoa, Eidolon of Time, of the Astral and Ethereal Planes

Terra, Eidolon of Earth, of the Elemental Plane of Earth

Pyrria, Eidolon of Fire, of the Elemental Plane of Fire

Nera, Eidolon of Water, of the Elemental Plane of Water

Zefira, Eidolon of Air, of the Elemental Plane of Air

Anima, Eidolon of Life, the Beginning of All Things

Talura, Eidolon of Death, the Ending of All Things

Trapped in Enchanted Mirrors created by Logran Soulforger, of which the only way out was Infinity

Galicaea / Lida

Elven Deity of the Moon, Patron of the Elves of Fallinel

Patron of Lycanthropes in her aspect as Lida

Sister of Sol, Human God of the Sun, and Cassandra, Sylvan Deity of Mystery, Magic, and the Night

Struck her Sister from memory by way of the Sylvarian Heresy

Helio

Human God of Corn

Son of Sol, Human God of the Sun, and a mortal woman

Followed by the Cult of the Harvestmen, who sought the Apocalypse through perditional contradoxy

Jane Wren

Pirate Goddess of New Horizons, Freedom, and Adventure

She who stands atop the Ramble, overlooking the City of Leviathan

Kahaerin

The Storm King, the Wrathful Primordial of Storms

Perpetually in search of his lost Daughter

Logran Soulforger

Dwarven God of the Forge, He who Makes the World

Created the Enchanted Mirrors to capture the Eidolons in Finite Form, While Leaving Escape in Infinity

Did not Commune with his Followers after the Capture of the Eidolons, until Ostentatia Wallace, Prophet of the Forge, Joined him in his Workshop

Night Yorb

Speak Not of the Night Yorb

The Manta Ray of Darkness, they who would herald an age of darkness through a slow apocalypse

Currently Sealed by the Solar Lasso in the Hangvan

Ollie

Rad Dwarven God of Shredding, Patron of Skateboarders

Ruvina

Giant Deity of Winter and Sorrow, Patron of the Giantkin of the Mountains of Chaos

Sister of Ankarna, Infernal Deity of Fire, Rage, and Conquest

Sol

Human God of the Sun, Patron of the Humans of Highcourt and Solace

Father of Helio, Human God of Corn

Once ousted from his position by Arthur Aguefort, who proceeded to never leave his office and shit in a corner

Umberlee

Goddess of the Deep Sea, Patron of that which lies in the briny depths

Punisher of Sinners who Enter Her Waters

Prohibits artifacts which control the weather

NPCs

Aelwyn Abernant

She who assassinated the first Elven Oracle, Eleminthindriel

She who sank the Harpy, Flagship of the Fleet of Kalvaxus

She who determined the second Elven Oracle, Adaine Abernant

Caused the initiation of war between the nations of Solace and Fallinel

She who dispelled the Nightmare King’s Plague of the Shadow Cat

Acting Mistress of the Compass Points Library, in lieu of Ayda Aguefort

Arthur Aguefort

Founder and Principal of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy

He who caused the Sun to Fall

Paramour of the Last Phoenix

Former Paramour of the previous Elven Oracle, Eleminthindriel

Founder of the School of Chronomancy

Father of Ayda Aguefort

Asha Hammerheart

Saint and Cleric of Logran Soulforger

One of the Three Pilgrims to the Temple to the Earth Defiant

Ayda Aguefort

The Mistress of the Compass Points LIbrary, Quartermaster of the Knowledge of Leviathan

Paramour of Figueroth the Infaethable, the Archdevil of Rebellion, the Dark Mistress of the Bottomless Pit

Creator of Adaine’s Furious Fist

Bakur / Athenriel

Infernal Servant of Ankarna, the Deity of Fire, Rage, and Conquest

Formerly Athenriel of the Faeth Lineage

Former Owner of the Armor of Pride

Cathilda “The Black” Ceili

Legendary Pirate, the Widow in Black, whose daggers flash with death and destruction

Crewmember aboard the Hangman

Elder of the Ramble, who defended Leviathan amidst the wrath of the Storm King

Chungledown Bim

Legendary Mouth-Shitter

Archnemesis of Fabian Aramais Seacaster

Survivor of Captain James Whitclaw's attack on the Cult of Bill Seacaster

Braved the Forest of the Nightmare King alone and escaped unscathed

Highest-level Warlock of the Cult of Bill Seacaster

Court of Elders

Leaders of the Tribes of Sylvaire and the Great Unicorn

Destroyed the Name of the Goddess of Mystery in the Sylvarian Heresy, in league with clerics of Galicaea

Eleminthindriel

The First Elven Oracle, succeeded by Adaine Abernant

Member of the First Council of Chosen

She who prophesied the second rise and fall of Kalvaxus

Garthy O’Brien

Prodigious Descendant of Zajiri Celestials

Impresario of the Gold Gardens, Leviathan’s hub for pleasure and sanctuary 

The Curse Breaker who fought the effects of the King of the Dark Dreaming

Child of Ayda Aguefort

Guardian of Ayda Aguefort

Name contains an anagram for the Night Yorb

Gilear Faeth

The Chosen One

Current eldest male descendant of the lineage of Athenriel

Penultimate Inheritor of the Curse of the Armor of Pride

He who stopped three Apocalypses with wishes from a Puppy

Gorthalax the Insatiable

Prince of the Nine Hells and former ruler of the Bottomless Pit

Formerly Gorthiel, the Seraph of Eating the Right Amount of Food / Temperance

Father of Figueroth the Infaethable, Archdevil of Rebellion and Dark Mistress of the Bottomless Pit

Grafmy Rootdrinker

The Druidic Leader who pushed back the Curse of the Nightmare King on the Forest of Sylvaire

Hallariel Seacaster née Lomenelda 

The Greatest Fencer to Ever Live

Daughter of Telemaine Lomenelda, Heir to Kei Lumennura

Widow of William “Old Bill” Seacaster, the Scourge of the Nine Hells

Jamina Joy

The Bosun of Leviathan

She who keeps the City afloat

She who contains a Wish for the Welfare of Leviathan

Kalina

The Shadow Cat

Right Hand of the Nightmare King

Familiar of Cassandra

The Cursed Plague of the King of the Dark Dreaming

Kalvaxus

Former Emperor of the Red Waste

Allied with the Nightmare King and the Undead of the Necronomikron

Prophesied to rise once more at the word of Elven Oracle Eleminthindriel

When Kalvaxus once again beholds his glittering treasure And seven maidens once more are chained at the mouth of his lair When war befalls the realm And a king and queen are crowned anew in Solace Then will the Emperor of the Red Waste be released from bondage His destruction will know no bounds The sun shall fall from the Heavens And the world as we know it shall perish forever

Former Vice Principal of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy

Currently the Goldenrod, the Infernal Vessel of William “Old Bill” Seacaster

Karl Cleaver

Legendary Adventurer and Member of the Pact of Kyburus

Of the Cleaver lineage of Adventurers

Kora Ironbrow

Saint and Cleric of Logran Soulforger

One of the Three Pilgrims to the Temple to the Earth Defiant

Lydia Barkrock

She who sealed Bakur in her body with rage and rage alone

The Curse of the Armor of Pride was used to excise Bakur from her body

Nuathera

The Awakened Familiar of Grafmy Rootdrinker

Leader of the Town of Arborly and Protector of the Border of Sylvaire

Octavio Costello Gainglynn

He who sailed off the edge of the World and into the Heavens

Paramour of the Solar Zarael

Pok Gukgak

Premier Agent of the Lower Planar Reconnaissance Task Force of the Plane of Bytopia

He who brought the Plague of the Shadow Cat to the nation of Solace

The first Solesian to be slayed by Kalvaxus personally in centuries

Father of Riz Gukgak, Slayer of Kalvaxus

Telemaine Lomenelda

The Greatest Elven Swordsmith, who forged Fandrangor and the Sword of Sight

Lord of Kei Lumennura, the Guardian of Elven Teens

Tectonya Karkovnya

Superintendent of the Larger Solesian School District

Legendary Wizard and Scholar of the Eidolons

She who stole the Legendarium Extrordia

Tracker O’Shaughnessy

She who dispelled the Nightmare King’s Curse on Sylvaire, the Forest of the Nightmare King

She who dispelled the Nightmare King’s Tree

Reformer of the Faith of Galicaea, Leader of Wolfsong, the Lupine Cleric of Lida

The Vulture King

Father to all Vultures, King of the Vulture Dimension

He whose body became the Royal Artifacts of the Vulture Dimension

William “Old Bill” Seacaster

He who struck down the Pirate King and Hung his Head in Gibbety Square

Captain of the Hangman

Married to Hallariel Lomenelda, the Greatest Fencer to Ever Live

Current Captain of the Infernal Wastes, Scourge of the Nine Hells

Captain of the Goldenrod, the Infernal Vessel carved from the body of Kalvaxus, Emperor of the Red Waste

Yvonna of the Sundering Hills

Saint and Cleric of Logran Soulforger

One of the Three Pilgrims to the Temple to the Earth Defiant

Zaphriel

Spirit of Endless Sky Towards Late Afternoon on a Day at the Beach with Your Feet in the Warm Sand, Just Being Chill as Hell

The Possessing Spirit of the Hangvan

PCs

Adaine Abernant:

The Second Elven Oracle, preceded by Eleminthindriel

Established the right of the Elven Oracle to be paid, via dance battle

Patron of the Oracle of Dance Fabian Aramais Seacaster

Current wielder of the Sword of Sight, Sword of the Elven Oracle

She who invoked the name of Ankarna and broke Obliviati Mori

She who sealed Bakur with the power of the Curse of the Armor of Pride

Creator of Ayda’s Comprehend Subtext

Kristen Applebees:

The Chosen of Helio, God of Corn

The Creator of Yes!/Yes?

She who Resurrected Herself

She who dispelled the Nightmare King’s Coin

She who destroyed the Crown of the Nightmare King

The Blessed Saint of Cassandra, Deity of Mystery, Night and Magic

Figueroth Faeth:

Mortal daughter of Gorthalax the Insatiable, Prince of the Nine Hells and former ruler of the Bottomless Pit

Current Archdevil of Rebellion, Figueroth the Infaethable, the Dark Mistress of the Bottomless Pit

Paramour of Ayda Aguefort, the Mistress of the Compass Points Library

Last of the Faeth Lineage to bear the Curse of the Armor of Pride

Currently holds dominion over the infernal domain of Ankarna, Goddess of Fire, Rage, and Conquest, due to the creation of Dawn of Justice, a song so metal it could claim an infernal domain

Riz Gukgak:

Fifth of the World of Spyre to summon the Night Yorb to the Material Plane

He who slayed the Dragon Kalvaxus, Emperor of the Red Waste

First living member of the Lower Planar Reconnaissance Task Force

The Investigator who Found the Prophesied Seven Maidens

Fabian Aramais Seacaster:

Mortal son of William "Old Bill" Seacaster, Legendary Pirate and the Current Captain of the Infernal Wastes, Scourge of the Nine Hells and Hallariel Lomenelda, the Greatest Fencer to Ever Live

Grandson of Telemaine Lomenelda, Swordsmith of the Elven Kings

He who killed William "Old Bill" Seacaster

Current wielder of Fandrangor, Sword of the North Star

Dance Champion of the Elven Oracle, the Oracle of Dance

Maximum Legend at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy

Gorgug Thistlespring:

He who discovered the Plague of the Shadow Cat

Creator of the Solar Lasso used to seal the Night Yorb into his personal vehicle, the Hangvan

Creator of the Barbificer Specialty, the first in the World of Spyre to combine barbarian rage and artificer spellcasting

The Greatest Wizard of Our Age, as titled by Ayda Aguefort, Mistress of the Compass Points Library

Danielle Barkstock:

Blessed of Anima, Eidolon of Life

She who assumed the form and gave voice to the Empress Anima, Eidolon of Life

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Katja Cleaver

Blessed of Terra, Eidolon of Earth

Daughter of Karl Cleaver, of the Cleaver lineage of adventurers

Friend to Horses, Rider of Cinnamon

Slayer of Jana Cleaver

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Zelda Donovan

Blessed of Zefira, Eidolon of Air

Battle Dancer of the Donovan Lineage, who was possessed by the god of wine and ecstasy in bacchanal

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Antiope Jones

Blessed of Chronoa, Eidolon of Time

She who killed Charity Blythe

Daughter of Athena and Hector Jones, of the Jones lineage of adventurers

Leader of the Reform of the Ministry of Adventure

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Penny Luckstone

Blessed of Nera, Eidolon of Water

She who revealed the Society of Shadows one of

Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Sam Nightingale:

Blessed of Talura, Eidolon of Death, the Ending of All Things

She who released Talura upon Spyre for the first time in millennia

She who guided Talura to infinite form

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Ostentatia Wallace:

The first forge cleric to Commune with Logran Soulforger in millennia

Prophet of Logran Soulforger

Designer for the Gods

Blessed of Pyrria, Eidolon of Fire

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Barbarella Sasparilla Gainglynn

The Goddess of the Gold Gardens

Daughter of Octavio Costello Gainglynn and Zarael

She who struck down the Storm-Druid Alamaria

Myrtle (the Bitch)

The Priestess of Storms, Devout of Umberlee, the Sinker of Ships and Collector of the Treasures of the Deep

Jack Brakkow

Unlucky Jack, he who escaped the Bilge only to sink in the depths of betrayal

The Captain of the Late Bloomer, whose crew haunts the mast kept at his side always

Legendary Adventuring Parties

The Bad Kids (Adventuring Party):

Members: Adaine Abernant, Kristen Applebees, Figueroth Faeth, Riz Gukgak, Fabian Aramais Seacaster, Gorgug Thistlespring

Slayed Daybreak, leader of the Harvestmen, and averted the apocalypse of perditional contradoxy

Defeated Kalvaxus, Emperor of the Red Waste

Defeated Occularia, Queen of Sight

Defeated Captain James Whitclaw, the archnemesis of William “Old Bill” Seacaster and prevented the crowning of a new Pirate King

Demolished the Elven prison, Calethriel Tower

Defeated the Nightmare King, the King of the Dark Dreaming

Defeated the Cult of the Night Yorb

Defeated the Night Yorb

The Sole Survivors of the Sundering of the Synod of Spyre

The first adventuring party in living memory to survive the Last Stand-ard Exam

The Buccaneer Buddies (Adventuring Party)

Members: Sunny Biscotto, Jack Brakkow, Barbarella Sasparilla Gainglynn, Cheese Stormcrank, Marcid the Typhoon, Myrtle the Bitch

Prevented the Summoning of William Seacaster for the destruction of Leviathan

Saved Leviathan from Destruction at the hands of Langley Sheffield-Harrington, Clive Mardres, the Storm-Druid Alamaria, and the Crescent Moon Trading Company

Averted the Wrath of the Storm King by disrupting the ritual of Alamaria and returning the Daughter of Storms to the briny depths

The Seven / The Maidens (Adventuring Party)

Members: Danielle Barkstock, Katja Cleaver, Zelda Donovan, Antiope Jones, Penny Luckstone, Sam Nightingale, Ostentatia Wallace

The Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Eliminated the Cult of Kalvaxus as vengeance for their capture

Cleansed the Temple of the Earth Defiant of the mutated monstrosities

Commandeered the Rombosa, the Pleasure Barge of Talcidimir Tallbreeze and kidnapped hundreds of nobles from the Baronies

Averted Project Reset, an effort by the Ministry of Adventure to cause world-ending disasters

Defeated Talura, Eidolon of Death, the Ending of All Things, by channeling the spirits of the Eidolons

Legendary Items

Sword of Sight

The Sword of the Elven Oracle, forged by the legendary swordsmith Telemaine Lomenelda

Currently owned by the Elven Oracle Adaine Abernant

Fandrangor

The Sword of the North Star, forged by the legendary swordsmith Telemaine Lomenelda and gifted to the Elven King Thristwin Eversong

Currently owned by Fabian Aramais Seacaster

The Armors of Sin

Seven Suits of Infernal Armor, each forged by a different Infernal Being and associated with the Sins assigned to them by name

Armor of Gluttony - Armor Carved of White Bone, armed with a massive spiked net. Chosen Armor of Gorthalax the Insatiable. 

Armor of Pride - Armor of Gleaming gold, armed with a Golden Halberd

Armor gifted from Ankarna to her follower Athenriel. After Athenriel took on the form of Bakur, the armor passed through his lineage patrilineally until it was gifted to Gorthalax the Insatiable. 

The curse of the armor transferred to the eldest male descendants of the lineage with the death of each previous holder of the curse. The most recent of these was Gilear Faeth. Upon reunification with the line of Athenriel, the curse was left in a flux state, until it was taken on by the Dark Mistress and Archdevil of the Bottomless Pit, Figueroth the Infaethable. 

The Curse was broken and sealed in the Sword of Sight, and later used to remove the containment of Bakur from the body of Lydia Barkrock

Armor of Lust - Armor of Jet Black Leather, stitched together with a zipper over the mouth.

Armor of Envy - Armor formed of Pure Mirror

Armor of Wrath - Armor of Bleeding Iron, armed with two double-sided flails/scourges.

Armor of Greed

Armor of Sloth

Owned by Gorthalax the Insatiable and kept in the Bottomless Pit until stolen by the Scourge of the Nine Hells, Bill Seacaster.

The Transubstantiations of the Nightmare King

Four symbols of the Unnamed Goddess’ power, converted into four curses which spread the power of the King of the Dark Dreaming

The Coin, a curse placed on the hoard of Kalvaxus that allowed the Nightmare King to possess those who had knowledge of their wealth’s origin (Dragon Madness). This curse came from the trans-substantiation of the spellbook of the Unnamed Goddess, now known as Cassandra. DIspelled by the Blessed Saint Kristen Applebees.

The Plague, a curse placed on the familiar of the Unnamed Goddess, Kalina the Shadow Cat. This curse converted Kalina into a plague that manifested as various illusionary powers, with additional strength within the borders of Sylvaire. Dispelled by Aelwyn Abernant.

The Curse, a curse that bound celestials who attempted to enter the Nightmare King’s Forest and utilized their energies to power the mycelium web of trans-substantiations. This curse originated from the cottage of the Unnamed Goddess. Dispelled by Tracker O’Shaughnessy.

The Tree, a curse on the arcane focus of the Unnamed Goddess, a broomstick which became the Tree at the center of Sylvaire. This curse altered the shape of the Forest to suit the fears of those who entered–the more confident a traveler was in their path, the further they traveled from the center of the Forest. Dispelled by Tracker O’Shaughnessy.

The Crown of the Nightmare King

The last remnant of the Nightmare King after the Fall of Kalvaxus

A talisman capable of anchoring an extraplanar being to a world as if they were native to that plane

The Source of a great deal of power for the other trans-substantiations

Powerfully Cursed for mortal beings. Singular Curse broken by Garthy O’Brien

Dispelled by the Blessed Saint Kristen Applebees, through her Honest Worship of Doubt and her Resurrection of the Goddess Cassandra

The Daughter of Storms

Marble Relief that contains the soul of the daughter of Kahaerin, the Storm King, who calls the wrath of storms when it is brought above the surface of the deep sea

The Legendarium Extrordia

Divinatory Artifact that tracks the classification and progression of quests in the world of Spyre

Watches and Wards

Protective Ward created by the Elven Oracle Eleminthindriel, that prevents harmful summonings and conjurations on the grounds of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy

Only removable from the Aguefort Adventuring Academy Library by Arthur Aguefort and the Elven Oracle. Removed by Elven Oracle Adaine Abernant

[eldritch-spouse]

Prevarication

[Reader can be assumed neutral.]

TW: Body image issues; Yandere.

Hudd sits quietly in your vacant room.

He's not meant to be here, of course.

He has better things to do, now more than ever. This is utterly beneath him, every aspect of it.

In fact, ever since he met you, the historian has been tumbling down a flight of endless stairs leading him to an abyss of ruthless indignity. Truly, the demonoid believes that, if he doesn't miraculously find his footing amidst each painful tumble, it will only end with his pride shattered in a million microscopic pieces.

What's left of it anyway…

Hudsyn knew he didn't have much to begin with by the time he approached you. Because who even approaches a human for help? They're such helpless creatures on their own, almost entirely devoid of use in most situations. Stupid. Pointless. Active sophists, denialists, mendacious, perverters of truth-

It was a fool's gamble.

And Hudd tried before, past the wounds of people calling him insane at every turn, he tried to keep his chin up and hope that someone of minimal value would open their eyes, come to see that he pursues nothing but the most noble of goals.

Hope is fleeting however. He supposes he was also bankrupt on that by the time he had ventured to the surface. The surface… As much as it is filled with wondrous sites to explore, it's also deeply bothersome with its intense daylight. Days in Hell are a lot less visually stressful. Probably because there's no standard sun around the annexes, only magical imitations of a day cycle- Meaning the light Perdition inhabitants are exposed to is a lot less intense than raw sun rays. Past the shock of it, Hudsyn has to keep an even closer look on his robes, because it's hard to project facial features when a more potent source of light drowns out his own.

And, frankly, he looks garish enough, the last thing the demon needs is to look totally faceless to strangers.

Nevertheless, in retrospect, if Hudd had to guess what led him to you, it was probably a combo of hopelessness, physical stress, lack of self-respect… And, naturally, your vapid musing out loud.

He wanted to believe, desperately, for a second, that someone actually gave half as much of a shit as he did. In that moment, it didn't matter if you were human, demon, gargoyle- Fuck, you could have been a barely strung together ghoul, he would have still sprinted and sat beside you like a fumbling buffoon.

He regrets that day so much.

For fuck's sake, he's talking about it like it happened years ago when it hasn't even been a measly week… So why does it feel like Hudd's known you forever?

Sure, you said a few weird things to him that kind of put the historian at edge, you're a little weirdo, he has to concede, but you're what he's been desperately craving for all this time. A pair of functioning ears with a decently working brain between them- Someone who respects him! Who cares, who's minimally knowledgeable, critical of everything that's taken as gospel or, at the very least, willing to learn better. Willing to understand that his time is valuable and his findings even more so.

You're a gem.

Hudsyn knows he disappeared on you the day you met. And even if what you did weirded him out, on its own it wouldn't be enough to make him leave. He's seen weirder people with much less harmless quirks. No, he was nervous then. Anxious. He needed to leave sooner or later, because there was too much on his mind.

There's always too much on his mind.

But that was a different type of information. One Hudd couldn't neatly file away in organized categories, picking and plucking and flipping at it to crack secrets out. That was personal, deep, hit him in places he didn't really know how to handle. It was chaos. You made him feel chaotic, impulsive and intense in ways that had exactly zero in common with the hysteria he can sometimes fall into in the midst of his work.

It took mountains of effort for the demonoid not to reach out and touch you. In fact, he had been trying to put space between you all that time to keep himself grounded, even when you seemed receptive to more contact, when you tried to start flirting, for whatever reason. Why would you flirt with him? In truth, Hudsyn just wanted to feel your hair. He wanted to touch your cheek and place your hand in yours. It's small. You're small. Small enough to hold, he's sure of it. He would have liked to. Maybe kiss you. His mouth… Well, you wouldn't enjoy it.

Point is, you remind him of how lonely he is. Sure, better alone than with bad company, but now that he's met someone whose company is not just tolerable but enjoyable, he doesn't really want to be apart from you anymore. It's depressing.

Hudd knew what was happening to him by the time he got over his own shaking to seek you out again. He had deviated from his work just to speak with that little human again… He knew, he knew he was falling into something destructive- But he also had to, because if the demonoid didn't, then he'd just be thinking about you day and night in a rut, brain muddled and knotting itself into a ball.

He doesn't regret it.

You were… So nice to him.

Offered him tea.

Said his eyes were pretty. You idiot, they're hardly eyes to begin with.

Said he was well-spoken.

Said he was cultured.

That you could listen to him for a whole day.

And his heart just fluttered so incredibly hard that Hudd could feel his fur stand on end. It wasn't the only thing that wanted to stand, given your choice of wardrobe, but that's beyond the matter.

Was that a date? Was that your first date? Sure, Hudsyn invited himself into your living space, but you reacted so well, you looked at him so enraptured by his speech… That was a date. Some kind of date. And it went very well. Enough so that he can feel himself smiling at the thought of repeating the experience.

He hopes you smile at the concept too.

As memories flood him, the historian feels himself shiver again. It's more of a rattle, the short fur on his form bristling with the sincerity of his emotions. Hudd wonders if you'd ever willingly invite him into your bedroom, or if he's just continuing to poke where he doesn't belong. He's always been good at that.

How different would that bizarre night have been if he had gotten over his own trance and said something bolder? If you had taken him by the hand, or even the horns, and led him to your bed? Which he coincidentally sits upon now.

Would you say you wanted him?

Maybe it's far-fetched, but Hudsyn likes to imagine you would. After all the rules he's broken and the punishments be carries, Hudd desperately wants to think you'd look at his body and call it beautiful. The same way you described his eyes. Or, at the very least, that you'd look past his blemishes and accept his affections.

He's not pretty like you.

He did look good before, but those days are gone, shelved, covered in dust and cobwebs and all the resentment his heart can hold- He hates beauty in others.

But it's tolerable in you. Because your beauty is the perfect type. The natural one. It shows in all parts of your human figure and he's sure the envious must burn to a crisp at the sight of you, the ones that can decipher that perfection for what it really is.

Hudsyn gets images of you sprawled on this very same bed, your hair disheveled and the same pajamas you wore that night slipping away from your soft skin. You don't care that it's revealing, don't care that you're teasing him, you're just that comfortable. He sees his own pale, bleached hands dragging the fabric down further, greedy for more- And his imagination is so vivid he swears he feels the heat of your skin on his knuckles, the pliant molding of your body as you stretch lazily and part your legs, giving him a view that-

Hudd groans.

His robes shift, and the fantasy dies immediately.

Because if you can't get over his blemishes then you'll certainly never come to accept his genitals. Just feeling his exterior protrusions -He doesn't know what to call them, they're not claspers or tendrils, but they move and swell- Pulse is a painful reminder that he's packing something very weird, and not just by human standards. You wouldn't want that. But that doesn't mean he can't fool himself.

By the time he feels his cock unfurl and poking at the top of his slit, the demonoid huffs, resigning himself to his self-inflicted predicament and lifting his robes out of the way. His dick emerges faster than ever before, probably because he's been in a dry spell for way too long- He likes to keep track of things, but as the years passed, Hudsyn grew a little too embarrassed to keep doing so in this regard.

It's a dark grayish member that curves firmly upwards, thin but long enough to make some men jealous. Hudd pulses, it's not a throb, he can see his own member contract and dilate as if he's going to lay something. But Hudsyn doesn't lay eggs. Maybe he was meant to, and something went wrong, he's not sure. He doesn't care. Beneath his strangely flexible dick, his clit perks and his pussy clenches, starting to make a mess of your sheets.

Yeah, a human might say he's uh- Kinda fucky.

Beyond his own self-awareness, the historian entertains the idea that you might, by a small miracle, react positively to his package. That you'd reach out, on your knees -Because really, that's a human's place in the end. Since the dawn of time, your race has been nothing but a toy- And use your mouth to show your appreciation towards Hudd. Because his time is valuable, and you're a generous little human, aren't you?

What part of him would you want first?

Maybe you'd go for his cock, he hums while looping a hand over his own length, tugging it leisurely from root to tapered tip, imagining it's your small hand, that you'd tongue at his end and try to take him into your throat- Failing, naturally. He's too much for most, but you'd keep attempting anyway, gagging and drooling viscerally, just to please him. Hudsyn shudders, panting in the quiet of your room.

Or, perhaps, you'd service his cunt. It's been so long since he's had anything inside him, your sweet tongue would do just fine, your fingers, your perfect unblemished digits curling into all those wonderful spots while you suck his clit and pump his cock and pop back just to moan how happy you are that he gave you the time of day-

Hudsyn makes a raspy croak of pleasure, arching on your bed like a slut in heat, eyes closed, one hand fisting his shaft furiously and the other filling his pussy. Who is he fucking kidding anymore? You could bend him over in two, he might almost beg for more.

It should be him thanking you.

For listening to him.

Finding him interesting.

Letting him converse with you even when he invaded your home.

Hudd needs to thank you for making sure his pride doesn't wilt completely. Beyond all his denial, all his mixed feelings, he knows that to be the truth.

He feels accomplished around you. Apt. Intelligent.

Wanted.

And fuck, he wants you ten times more. He wants his sweet mentee right at his side. Forever.

The image of you mouthing a tender "I love you" against his soaked cunt and moving up to kiss his length, lacing your hand with his, hits Hudd like lightning.

He doesn't know what shape he's contorting into, horns tearing into your poor sheets and that stump of a tail swatting around as his thighs flex and he orgasms harder than he could ever expect, snarling.

Thankfully, most of the monster's cum falls on his own stomach and robes, this pearly white mess that's going to matt his fur if he doesn't take care of it soon. Still, all Hudd's worried about is riding out the last of his high, fingers still pumping and dick twitching, oozing.

When Hudsyn's minimally coherent, he can only bask in his own shame, clarity chiding him. Mild panic rises in the demonoid's chest when he notices the very suspicious wet spots on your bed.

Fuck.

Now what?

The sound of keys turning has the historian almost squealing in distress.

Hudd jumps off your bed, still exposed and dripping and trembling with aftershocks. He strips his robes fully, crumples them into a gross ball, then throws them out your window.

Just before you can push the door to your bedroom open, he whimpers and vanishes into thin air.

…

It smells kinda funny in here.

[indubioprocoffee]

Cold rain was pouring heavily in Dean’s face. His clothes were soaking, clamping cold and wet around his freezing limbs. His skin getting sore from the damp fabric, but his nerves gone numb with the cold, so he couldn’t feel the pain. Not yet.

They were wandering for hours, days, months. Time passed by in a blur. The only sensation Dean felt in a long time, was the earth shattering cold. He didn’t remember the days of blue skies or the warmth of the sun. He moved his fingers around the handle of his axe, mainly to check if he could still feel them all.

If he didn’t know that this was purgatory, he surely would have thought of it as hell. He did remember hell. Somewhere deep inside his brain, he never left. But like the memory of blue skies, it was distant, a shadow of a life that had been.  

But they weren’t the only things which became distant to him. He did remember Sam like someone he knew as a child. He had difficulties imagining his face. The concept of a house, a home, had reduced to the concept of shelter. The feeling of laughter and love no longer associated with the word. Dean had started to lose himself. There was no room for funny remarks, no dumb jokes, no beers and burger while watching scooby do.

He still looked like Dean, but it was an empty vessel, that no longer contained Dean. Purgatory striped his traits away, everything that made him unique; made him human. He was becoming like them. A monster.

Like a ghost he wandered this wood, clinging to his unfinished business.

Cas.

He needed to find Castiel, the angel of lord. His friend, his … He needed to hold on to him. Hold on to the thought of him. Otherwise he would lose himself completely. He didn’t know much anymore, but that one thing he knew for sure. He just needed to hold on. He needed to remember.

Cas would grip him tight and raise him from perdition.

[luminouslumity]

Another year, another season, another post going into Chinese mythology (mostly in how it pertains to Journey to the West).

LI JING (李靖) is someone I've actually already discussed a bit here in terms of his and Nezha's backstories, but for JttW specifically, he's sent by the Jade Emperor to subdue Sun Wukong, and of course things don't go well in his favor. Later, he attempts to help Sun Wukong in apprehending the One-Horned Rhinoceros King and later shows up to arrest the Bull Demon King, and again after Tang Sanzang is kidnapped by the GOLDEN-NOSED WHITE-HAIRED RODENT-SPIRIT (金鼻白毛老鼠精), otherwise known as LADY EARTH FLOW (地涌夫人).

The SIXIANG (四象), or Four Signs, include ZHUQUE (朱雀), XUANWU (玄武), BAIHU (白虎), and QINGLONG (青龍) are the guardians of the four cardinal directions (South for the Vermillion Bird/Zhuque, North for the Black Tortoise/Xuanwu, West for the White Tiger/Baihu, and East for the Azure Dragon/Qinglong). In JttW, they are referenced towards the end in a poem:

One Real Body dropped to the dusty plain

Fuses with Four Signs to tend the self again.

In Five Phases terms forms are dead and void;

The fiends' vain names one should all avoid.

Great Bodhi's the right Candana fruition;

Appointments crown this rise from perdition.

Gracious light of scriptures now worldwide dilates,

As five sages live within Advaya's gates.

Much like the dragon family he'd married into, the NINE-HEADED BEAST (九頭蟲) is a thief, having collaborated with his father-in-law, the Wansheng Dragon King (萬聖龍王), into stealing a Buddhist relic—known as a Śarīra—from Jisai's Golden Ray Monastery. Erlang Shen's dog bites one of his heads off, but he manages to escape otherwise.

Like in many other religions, NÜWA (女媧) is said to have molded humans from clay, having initially creating what would become the nobility by hand before resorting to mass production for the rest. One day, when the heavens began to crumble—its cause depending on the source—she gathered five colored stones to patch up the sky, while a tortoise's legs would be used as pillars for support.

The Underworld in Chinese mythology is said to be divided into several hells and overseen by YANWANG (閻王) alongside nine other kings: QINGUANGWANG (秦广王), CHUJIANGWANG (楚江王), SONGDIWANG (宋帝王), WUGUANWANG (五官王), BIANCHENGWANG (���城王), TAISHANWANG (泰山王), PINGDENGWANG (平等王), DUSHIWANG (都市王), and ZHUANLUNWANG (转轮王). Most infamously, Sun Wukong erased his name and that of every monkey he knew from the Ledger of Life and Death and to prevent them from dying.

[csbat]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 — 𝐒𝐑.

▸ PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x AFAB!Reader

▸ SUMMARY: Simon wanted you, even when he pushed you away. Even when you left because of it. Even when he let you.

▸ CONTENT WARNING: Hurt/no comfort, explicit sex

▸ WORD COUNT: 1,320

Simon was a voracious man, and he’d eat himself to perdition just to have a taste of you.

When he buried himself in your neck, tasting your supple skin with an ephemeral greed, he wasn’t apologetic. He chased the soft sounds spilling from your mouth, swallowing them with scarred lips. Canorous. Dulcet.

He took what you gave him, and then he took more, digging for scraps when you arched against his palm.

Pretty little thing, trapped in the throes of his maw, pragmatic as he tore you apart and put you back together. He was rotten work, he knew that, selfish when he burrowed into you, finding home in the heat that burned him to the touch. It was never more, fleeting intimacy hidden in vicious thrusts, rough palms. Demeaning. Better for the both of you.

“This is the last time,” you drew, your voice ripping down the crest of his stomach. There was a finality in the line between your eyebrows, pulled together with disdain as you kissed his shoulder. “I’ll let you go after that.” It was biting, and it tore through him.

You didn’t lean into his calloused hand, and you didn’t look him in the eye. Distance. Detachment. A mere release of frustration, a carcass without the spark.

If it was what you wanted, it was what he would pour out. Anything, all of it, behind a veil of derisory. Leaking from his chest, from his fingertips when he pulled you into him.

Neither of you could withstand the weight of something more than what you had. Forever too wishful, too good for someone like him. Maybe if he was different. If he was made to hold something other than the hilt of a knife, the barrel of a gun.

He didn’t mean to get caught up, really, didn’t mean to brush your hair behind your ear with such reverence. He liked you this way, mused. His. Where he could keep you caged in his ribcage, where you could make a home out of him. You were written in his blood, even as you bit it from his lip. He’d let you devour him, would let you crawl inside of his skin until you got tangled up. Until he couldn’t separate from you.

When he pushed inside of you, it didn’t cure the ache in his bones. He held your bleeding heart in his palm, your blood on his hands when he bottomed out. It felt like hearing your favorite song, like driving through the night. It felt like black coffee, like heavy rain against his skin, like a breeze on a scalding day.

A superposition.

“This could’a been more,” he breathed, a finger pushing at your jawline, his hands spanning to your temple. Tiny little thing. It forced your head back against him. Forced you to acknowledge him as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. Pliable. Malleable.

His chest was pushed against your back, curling over you, keeping you caged in like a sheep to slaughter, a bird to catch. You were his to detain.

A hand slipped under your hip, sliding up your chest to push you back against him, his free hand pinned above your head. You wouldn’t escape him. He wouldn’t let you.

“You could’a been mine.” His dick pulsed inside of you like a heartbeat, watching as you sucked him in like a breath.

You met his lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue as you clashed, indecision painted in every line of your body. You held onto his voice, held onto something you thought was empty. He’d never been more honest. There was too much between you, irremediable even when he snapped his hips into yours like it mattered. Like it’d change your mind.

They could’ve had a nice house in a field, somewhere the stars were visible so you could watch them from the porch. A big room where the sun filtered in so you could bathe in the light every morning. You’d curl into his chest, searching, and he’d pull you into him with a hand on your spine. You’d trace his tattoos, and he’d trace the column of your throat.

“Could’a had you,” he mumbled into your sweat-slicked skin, pushing you down into the bed with a hand between your shoulders.

You looked back at him with a wide-eyed gaze, allowing him to lay you on your back, hooking a thigh over his shoulder. A catharsis as he kissed your jawline. Your cheek. Your eyelid.

You made him feel like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. Like he was too big for his body. You were burning his wings. Like he would let you if you stayed.

“Could’a loved you,” he whispered into your ear, a confession shared between gritted teeth, as if it fought its way out of his throat. A bolted lock. Rusted metal, acidic to the touch. Rotting away with every thrust inside of you.

It was cruel, and he knew it. You both did.

He couldn’t stop, even when you looked up at him like that. Like it meant something. Like you knew. Like he was everything you ever wanted. Like he was the one thing that could’ve been yours. He did this, he knew, but he held you with a shaking fist. He kissed your tear-stained cheeks, held them as if it was his last chance at heaven.

You shied away with a broken sob, but Simon wouldn’t let you. Not now. Not like this. Not when it could be the last time, when he was losing you before he had the chance to recognize that he had you in the first place. Simon needed to burn this into his head, he needed to remember something other than blood and decay. Something other than nothing. “Don’ hide from me,” he muttered, pushing his chest into you to keep you rooted.

He worshiped every part of you, even those he couldn’t see. Smart little thing, clenching around him in that way he liked, dick scraping against your walls.

He could’ve been better for you. Would fight his way out of the dark void in himself, the one that sucked the life out of you. He saw it when you looked at him. This was ruining you both, but he’d let you rip him to the bone, make a mess out of him. Use him as you wanted, he wouldn’t complain.

Incoherent moans fell from your lips, something that sounded like I love you. It made his muscles tense, made it hard to hold back, to taint your insides with his spend. You said it like it was a goodbye, like it would be the first and the last time he pulled it out of your chest. Fuckin’ hell.

“Say it like I’m not losin’ you,” he bit, rough palms gripping your hips to push you down on his cock. “Like your mine,” he continued, breaths rugged against the skin of your breast. His tongue slid over the bud, teeth scraping against the peak.

“I love you now,” you whimpered, broken, hands tangling in his hair, pulling his head back to look at you, “and I’ll love you when I let you go.” His pace stuttered, his hands rough as he gripped the sheet above you.

He could feel it before he saw it, your pretty pussy gripping him, your toes curling. You came around him, and he realized with a brief moment of horror that you were dragging him down with you.

Not yet, he wasn’t ready.

And God, you were a sight. Skin riddled with sweat, eyelashes kissing your cheek, hair mused and sprawled around you. You were a mess, and he wanted it all. Cupping a firefly in his palms, chasing an unending stream. Simon wasn’t ready, and he would never be. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.

He never did see you again.

▸ A/N: WHAT IS UP GUYS!!!!! i genuinely have not written anything in so fucking long, so i apologize if this is absolutely shit, but if you got this far i suppose it was okay. life has been absolutely bonkers, but i had this idea and wanted to get it out of me and actually do something with it. little short, would like to make it longer but my brain is absolutely frriiieeeddd. now that i think about it i don’t think i’ve ever let simon be peaceful… oh well!! shawty loves a little angst

[boinkingbattlemechs]

Wasp

Introduced in 2464 as an attempt by General Mechanics to create a fast and maneuverable recon BattleMech for the Terran Hegemony, the Wasp was revolutionary for being the first 'Mech capable of jumping, sporting a prototype jump jet system; however, the system was not perfected for most of the next decade. After improvements in production and jump jet technology progressed, the modern WSP-1A Wasp began production in 2471. Centuries later, it is still considered a valued asset for recon work and is one of the most numerous 'Mechs in existence.

The initial design was built without monomolecular stress-resistant materials (MMSR) in the lower leg actuators. This wasn't identified as a flaw until the 2580 Battle of Imbros III when many Wasp MechWarriors practiced the jump-kick maneuver. After performing the maneuver even once, so much stress was put on the actuator that any subsequent jump-kicks immediately amputated the lower leg upon impact. By 2610 nearly all Wasps had been retrofitted with MMSR actuator bars.

The classic WSP-1A has a ground speed that could be considered lackluster when compared to many modern light 'Mechs, but this was offset by its jump capability. While carrying heavier weapons than 'Mechs like the Locust, the Wasp would generally only engage other light 'Mechs, using its jump capabilities to avoid conflicts with larger foes. The Wasp was also used in the role of raider because of its ability to hit and fade in rough terrain.

Even after the sheer destruction of the Succession Wars, the Wasp still remained the most numerous 'Mech ahead of the Locust and Stinger; many thousands were in use by all of the Great Houses and in the Periphery while 100 or more were built each year from factories across known space. Nearly half of all newly built Wasps came from IBMU's and Kali Yama's factories located in the Free Worlds League on Shiro III and Kalidasa respectively. Among other major Inner Sphere Wasp manufacturing sites were Defiance Industries' Furillo factory in the Lyran Commonwealth and Achernar BattleMechs on New Avalon in the Federated Suns. Many of the Great Houses had Wasp variants built specifically for them, as did Wolf's Dragoons. Even out in the Periphery the Wasp was manufactured on Taurus, Perdition, Canopus IV and Alpheratz, making it equally common among the Periphery States.

The WSP-1A Wasp was not designed as a line combat unit. It carries a light weapons payload meant primarily for self-defense against other light 'Mechs and was not meant to engage heavier 'Mechs, resulting in tactics such as the jump-kick in order to deal more damage. The primary weapon is a Diverse Optics Type 2 medium laser carried in the right arm, backed up by a Bical SRM-2 launcher that is curiously mounted in the left leg which can carry one ton of standard or Inferno rounds in the left torso, making it useful against enemy 'Mechs and a good deterrent against infantry and vehicles. Published schematics indicate that the leg-mounted SRM-2 launcher is located near the hip.

The six jump jets, split between the Wasp's legs and torso sections, are responsible for its jumping distance of 180 meters and its longevity as a recon 'Mech. These also make up for the relatively slow 66.5 km/h cruising speed produced by its four-ton fusion engine. 10 single heat sinks are more than enough for the Wasp - it can actually fire both of its weapon systems continuously with little to no issue unless the jump jets have been overused. The three tons of armor protection is average for light 'Mechs, and with its placement around the chassis essentially two shots to the same spot anywhere will punch through and cause damage.

[metalcultbrigade]

Panzerfaust - The Suns of Perdition: Chapter II. 28/08/2020

[astarionfixation]

Chapter 10: *there's no need to hold back anymore*

Part of "Am I Fu**ing Insane !?!" A multi chapter adventure in Astarion’s mind

Rating: EXPLICIT SEX (fellatio, PIV intercourse) Continuous Consent Check-ins

CW: vague mentions of previous trauma

Word count count: 3.6k

Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/139817542

I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more

** Thoughts "" Dialogue - - Remarks ++ Quotes / Memories

SUMMARY: They take it really really REALLY slow, but sex. And mutual pining but how the heck can they be in bed naked together and still not get into their heads they want each other? Because trauma is a bitch, that's why.

The bedroom feels fragrant with the scent of her. Every part of her. Her naked body still traversed by the sudden tremble and jolts that are slowly fading. Every kiss his lips leave around her face, her forehead, her collarbones, her neck, still rewards him with a low guttural murmur he can feel from her throat.

*So languid and soft, so malleable…*

And it's all his doing. 

His half clothed body still lying halfway on top of her, an overdressed leg between her naked ones but as she is coming down from her orgasm, looking utterly blissful and spent the corner of his eye is caught by the copper bathtub as the morning sun rays reflect upon it next to the window. And fine… frustratingly, maybe what she needs now after sharing such a vulnerable moment with him is… care.

A part of his mind kicks him with a moment of discomfort much as his own nether regions felt strangled up against the fabric of his trousers until only a few moment ago, but at the same time the vague memory of a feeling, rather than actual events, comes to the surface, even though it carries almost none of the torment usually linked to anything related to… the last two centuries…

And that is the desire, need and gratitude he would have held for a moment of rest after a night of seduction. The peace it would have brought him to close his eyes and let the nights be washed off his skin, if not his soul, by simply being submerged in hot, clean, perfumed water.

He knows she relished in the pleasure he brought her to, her body if not her entire being yet, but there will be time to work and lead her towards complete perdition. 

His lips trace from her shoulder down to her arm whilst his body slowly peels away from hers and after planting a final, lingering kiss on the inside of her wrist, he’s now standing.

Her body is a painting, lying on her back and her dark locks splayed around with her eyes still closed and such a glowing expression painting her delicate features.

He's about to turn around to swiftly cover the few steps that separate the bed from the bathtub when a soft growl of protest raises from her lips and the hand he just left a kiss upon reaches to him, and as her fingers find the waistband of his breeches she hooks them in, preventing him from moving further

“Astarion, please don't leave… ”

He barely has the time to register the fact she's fully awake and aware when she has lifted herself up and in a moment she's kneeling on the bed.

Just in front of him.

Still beautifully, gloriously bare.

And now she's looking up at him, her dark eyes pleading and his mind cannot remember for the life of him any plan he had set himself upon. Her fingers still dancing and now *pulling!?* at his waistband that makes him…

“would you… if you want to…”

*You'll be the end of me sweet thing…*

His hand reaches up to hers, softly demanding her attention and moving her away from his clothing, he pulls it to his lips once more.

“There will be time darling, let me draw you a bath for now”

After all, he's trying to remind himself that, after feeding on her last night and the *glorious* morning of unexpected activities, she needs rest, much as keeping long term benefits in mind is proving an unreal feat of his will when she's looking up at him with pleading eyes that seems to just be begging him to take her

“Wait, is it because…”

She trails off and suddenly pulls back from him, searching for the bedsheet as if she just became aware of her nudity. She pulls the fabric to hide her magnificent body from him and a tinge of disappointment rises on his mind, though he knows

*it's alright, she needs to rest, she needs care, I need to stop…*

“I know I'm not… the way I look… I'm sorry… you said it… I just didn't think… I'm so sorry… you didn't have to…. I'm sorry”

His own memories from the first night he fed on her rush back and his own damned words he spat at her with the bile and anger of what he thought was the loss of her are suddenly vivid in his mind

+looking at you darling… I thought it was fairly obvious: she doesn't have to be pretty”.+

The shame and disgust for his own self, for the absurd lie packaged perfectly only to hurt her in that moment when he felt like a caged animal, drown him. 

He should disappear. 

He should run away and live with the pain of the loss of her and all the ways in which she had brought him anything positive because all he knows is how to lunge and destroy when all he has of himself is already in pieces.

Her feeble voice brings him back before his mind can plunge in that dark abyss

“I don't know why I thought you wanted me too… you were just so kind, I'm sorry… I misread everything… you didn't have to… I'm so sorry Astarion…”

*She really believes that!?! That's what stuck with her!?! Not the dozens of nights spent holding her until I lost all my fucking blood and hers to my strained cock… that!?!? She thinks that!?!?*

He might have considered the masochism of depriving himself of her but for her to believe he doesn't want her?! 

“Fuck… do you really not know?!??”

The sound of his own voice surprises them both, her eyes widen and that's what makes him realise how his voice must seem… angry? Dangerous. His long delicate fingers thread across his own hair, almost pulling because of the rage, the frustration, because the only creature he ever cared for is naked in front of him and yet sad, thinking he has barely done her a favour by finally holding and tasting her body, as if he hasn't felt every reverberation of her moans directly onto his twitching cock whilst her body convulsed around his fingers.

“You must know all the ways in which your simple presence intoxicates me… you must have felt how my body reacts every time you let me touch you, how your skin torments me and how I have dreamt of sinking into you from the very beginning… Why do you think I said those things?”

*What the fuck am I doing?!??!!!!*

His hands pull at his soft curls and his eyes have to close because he can't stand this, he can't see her, looking at him while his own traitorous tongue lines all the ammunition that could ever be necessary to destroy him. After a long unnecessary breath the words pour out against the will of a large part of himself and push past the pressure around his throat 

“You never knew I was just terrified!? Being so close to having you and yet that night you rejected me, I was mad! I was just… hurt and wanted to hurt you for it but I never… gods look at you… you really thought anyone could hold a candle to you in claiming my attention!?!”

*Fuck it… she might as well…*

“Every inch of your body, your breath, your scent, your hair… I taste you and yet I always feel like a starved man because I can't… you didn't even want to…”

His arms fall to his side, his head shakes to try and push away all the words and images and incredibly the grasp at his throat held tight but not enough to prevent that pathetic confession. His eye peek to look at the certainly disgusted expression on her face when he sees her and

*How did I not feel the warmth getting closer!?!! Where the fuck did my mind go!?!?*

She's left the cover of the sheet and she's now sunk into her knees.

Directly in front of him.

The tip of her nose so close to his navel that all he can focus on is to keep his legs straight not to fall at that vision and vicinity.

Her tapered, delicate fingers are about to reach for his breeches again but this time he has exhausted words and thoughts to dissuade her

“Astarion, can I take these off of you?”

His mouth must have fallen open because he realises after a few moments he's in need to swallow around nothing, his head barely nodding of its own volition and when she smiles at him and nods herself as her hands reach down his waistband to pull down, he finds a part of himself grateful for the fact she hasn't thrown back at him his own demands for vocal consent.

Her hands guide his trousers down past his hips and a deep sigh escapes his throat when finally his semi hard cock is freed, followed by a hiss as it immediately meets her warm breath as she moves down, low on her knees. His legs move of their own volition to discard the last piece of clothing and he finds himself standing naked in front of her.

Her eyes raise to meet his and before he can think he feels something reaching, touching his hand and a moment later he realises her own fingers have interlaced with his. She looks at him so… softly? 

“Please… can I touch it? I want to make you feel as good as you did me…”

“Sweetling… You don't have to…”

Her voice lowers

“I want to taste you too”

His head nods before he can follow what's happening… the last thing he hears is her voice saying something about beauty but that’s the moment he feels her fingers delicately wrapping around his shaft followed in a flash by the soft, warm, wet sensation of her mouth taking him in.

He draws in a sharp breath as the scent of mulled wine, flowers, pomegranate and just need and desire make his head spin. The softness of her mouth is the most delicate sensation he can remember ever feeling in a context such as this. Though his sensitivity is likely due to the fact that he does not remember the last time anyone cared to ask, cared to do something for him, something so completely focused on his own pleasure rather than everything he could do and give and…

“F…fuck”

His head is falling back, she feels so soft and caring. Her hot, wet mouth, her tongue moving slowly and delicately from one sensitive spot to the other. As she begins to follow the ridge of his tip he realises the animalistic growl he hears it's actually coming from his own throat. The moment her lips lock and she softly starts to suck him in, a shock of electricity traverses his body, cock to spine and then the back of his brain when something gets poked the wrong way and all he can hear now are screams.

His teeth clench as his hand reaches for her check, forcing himself to be as sweet and delicate as she has been but pleading her to stop. She pulls away and looks up at him

“Am I doing something wrong?”

His hand keeps caressing her cheek softly, his head shakes and without the overwhelming sensation of her mouth around him the scream in his head subsides. This is not the time to wonder what must have gone wrong at some point for such a wonderful gift from her to feel like a threat. 

His cock twitches, those soft, sweet kisses have already brought him back to full, strained hardness

“You are perfect, I promise you, absolutely divine. I just… just… can you lie back for me, my sweet?”

Nodding sagely, granting him the grace and understanding he certainly does not deserve she immediately does as asked. After disentangling herself from the caress on her check with a reassuring kiss on the palm of his hand, and even something that simple and sweet sends shivers down his spine. He follows her and his own naked form is crawling between her legs as she opens them to let him climb her body. The warmth of every bit of her skin, from her ankles to her thighs, stomach and breast is engulfing him and once he feels the tip of his cock brush along her folds his hand reaches down to caress her sex softly and

*Fuck she’s still so wet and warm…*

A delicious mewl leaves her lips and it’s just so inviting, a summer flower blooming just for him, her body arching slightly and her hips raising so that he can feel her press herself to his shaft and there’s no point, no reason anymore to deny himself. His hand goes to position the tip just at her entrance and he concedes one last time, one last layer of safety before he just lets his desire to possess her run wild

“Are you sure you want this, my sweet?”

Her head moves in small quick nods under his and when her voice comes next she sounds like she’s begging, absolutely enraptured, maybe just like he is, in these last few months of anticipation

“Please Astarion I need you… but only if you want me too…”

*there's no need to hold back anymore*

The thought leaves his mind as his hips begin to slowly push and broken breaths leave his chest as the inner warmth of her sex envelops his ingress. He has to steady himself and slow down, carefully measuring every movement to savour the moment she’s finally becoming… his. The filter that usually occludes the path between his mind and his lips isn’t found anywhere around his throat anymore as all he can feel is just her soft, tight wetness, slowly engulfs him.

“You have no idea… I’ve needed this… I’ve needed this… I’ve dreamt of this since the beginning…”

Doubts around that, in hindsight, crucial rule of hers are swiftly dissolved as her hand grabs the back of his neck so he can finally bury his quick tongue in her mouth. He feels her involuntarily clench and tight around him and he’s not sure whether his words or his cock are to blame for that. A deep, guttural moan resonates from her throat to her lips, separating them from his as her head tilts slightly back, subconsciously offering access to the delicate skin of her neck to him

“Your blood, your scent… your skin… I've conjured thousands of ways to bring you pleasure in my mind, I wanted you to be as obsessed with me and I was with you…”

He can feel her getting used to his size and relax her walls around him so that he deliberately pushes himself further inside of her

“Yet I swear, I would have been happy to never lay a finger on you if that was what you wanted, I would have followed you like a dog to the end of the world and my life, just to be near you, I couldn’t even kiss you in my dreams because you didn’t give me permission… I had made my peace with it…”

Just because the words are coming out it doesn’t mean they are not hard confessions to concede, he has to hide his face in the crook of her neck as once again he stills inside of her to let her adjust once more to his size

“But you feel… Gods… please… please don’t ever leave me and I’ll be your ever willing slave…”

The words get muffled and confused with his mouth now pressing against her neck to try and stop that terrifying cascade of truths. He pushes his hips and he feels her all around him, filling her inch by inch and once he’s finally flush against her, buried to the hilt in her soft, wet sex, he stills completely. He can feel her heartbeat pushing all around his cock that can recognise every small increment of pressure she involuntarily causes around him. Her walls stretched so tight around him he's sure, the same grip on his neck would undoubtedly kill him, and this is not far from that

“A… Astarion… I… I’m yours”

He doesn't have time to register the full meaning and implication of her words because suddenly all he can feel are her hips, gently swaying underneath him, her silky walls caressing his length as his eyes roll back in his skull and his entire body seems to exist only in the places it touches hers. He’s about to begin moving his own hips to meet her movement when he catches it. Likely imperceptible and completely unbeknownst to her but he can feel, he can hear the strain of her body to accommodate him. She’s trying to work through it but she’s in pain, and he cannot allow that. His hand reaches between them and presses on her stomach to try and still her. He leaves a kiss on her neck and despite parts of his brain screaming murder to him he stops the steady motion that had brought him such ecstasy so far.

“What.. What did I do? I’m sorry… Astarion please… no… I need you…” her hips make several desperate delicate movements up to meet him begging him to bury himself in her once more. 

“You're wonderful sweetling, there’s nothing to worry about… I just want to try… something different… Do you trust me?”

With an agile movement he unsheaths himself, now lying next to her, catching her hand with his, his thumb caressing hers in slow circular motions

Her brows are still furrowed in a concerned expression but her head nods slightly and so with the hand he’s holding he pulls her to him until her body is now on top of his, One soft, warm thigh on each side of his pale, bony hips. Her warm sex finds his own, strained once again immediately as if they’re calling to each other. He can feel her moist lips and her clit swollen from unrealised desire pressing against his shaft, He pulls in a sharp breath just as he hears her hiss at the contact as well and that’s how he knows, if he needed to, that she might actually need him as much as he needs her. He rests both his cold hands on her hips that seem designed by sin itself to drive him insane

“Why don’t you move these enchanting hips of yours, just so we can feel each other for a moment?”

Her head moves in the same rhythmic, soft movement he can now feel directly on his cock. 

“Like… like this?”

Her slick, wet folds dragging on his length, pressing just right until he can feel her tumescent bundle of nerves pressing just against his tip, before her hips move again and he can feel every texture of her sex drawn directly onto his cock. She’s driving him mad and he’s sure every single drop of blood in his body has now rushed between his legs leaving little for his mind to grasp onto

“You’re… you’re doing amazing darling… we can… we can take our time… you’re just… wonderful…”

His words might be doing something to her because at that, he feels her press herself just a bit harder against his hips, indulging in the contact, grinding her warm sex against his. He can still feel her heartbeat through every blood vessel engorging her centre and he’s sure he might just die like this if he doesn’t get to be inside her. She throws her head back, the intoxicating scent of her thrown around by the luscious locks that are now gathered at her back, slightly tickling his thighs, he can tell his plan is working not only because of the renewed amount of  slick wetness from her that’s now coating his cock but also through the muffled moans she’s trying to hold back. She brings her head back and her eyes open just enough to find his

“This is… something new… for me… but it feels… nice… very…”

The implications of that sentence hit him like a ton of bricks.

*Of course she’s never been on top, never given this control… like I never let any of them…*

“Our first time shouldn't hurt, my sweet, you were so accommodating trying to push through it, it's only fair I offer you the same grace… and this way it will be easier for you to come again”

It takes a moment for his words to reach her but the moment they do he can see something change in her dark eyes. Her body moves so that the tip of his cock is now positioned right at her soft, wet entrance. She looks at him, her voice almost an imploration

“Please… can I?”

The words die on her mouth as she’s biting her bottom lip in anticipation. He dips his fingers in her hips just a bit further to encourage her

“When you ask so sweetly I can’t deny you anything my darling…”

His hands guide her and finally he can feel her wetness beginning to envelop him again, much more resolute than he did moments ago and she doesn’t stop until he’s fully, completely buried inside of her, and with the last of it, she gives him no reprieve and her hips begin moving against him, her soft walls so tight around him dragging along his length and 

*Fuck…*

[ryin-silverfish]

Was there any rationale as to who got what master in FSYY? Guangchengzi and Chijingzi teaching the two princes of the Shang Dynasty makes sense, as they have a reputation for being teachers of kings. Assigning Nezha to Taiyi also makes a certain amount of sense as Taiyi's main responsibility is saving souls from perdition. Nezha's two brothers train under two immortals with connections to Buddhism because of their syncretic origins. Wen Zhong, the chief Thunder God, learns from Doumu, the Daoist adaptation of Marishiten and the goddess of starlight. But then Qingxu-Daode Tianzun trains Yang Ren and Huang Tianhua, two powerful gods, but ones that have ambiguous reputations (all 60 Taisui and their lord Yin Jiao are perceived as very fierce, while Prince Bingling, in his role as a mountain god, has myths and folk legends of being lustful). And Yuding trains Yang Jian while Daoheng trains Wei Tuo/Skanda/Idaten, and Kakusandha trains the earth-affliated deity Tuxing Sun. Some matchups seem to be meaningful, others look more random.

In Yuding's case, I think it might be because he was mentioned as a sage of Western Shu aka Sichuan, the heart of Erlang worship, and thus they were made masters and disciples based on proximity.

Outside of Taiyi's relation to Taiyi Jiuku Tianzun, there's also a bunch of Song paintings of the sage, and the most famous one by Li Boshi featured him lying atop a lotus leaf, reading a book.

The painting itself did not survive, and we only know its content bc the poet Han Ju had written a poem about it, but this might be what eventually inspired the Lotus Resurrection Thing.

Aside from Wei Tuo, Daoheng has 2 other deified disciples, Han Dulong and Xue E'hu, who became the gods in charge of the addition and subtraction of fortunes, traditionally depicted as two young acolytes.

You are right that the matchup is pretty random, and I attribute that to the fact that the immortals themselves are pretty much OCs, whose only relation to any IRL deities/sages is their names.