#they need weapons and domains and clothes

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Needs Must — Rhysand x Reader

While I put the finishing touches to the next part of Bluebird, enjoy this Rhys x Reader that I got a sudden burst of inspiration to finish this morning!

Summary: War changes everything, and the human-fae war changed the trajectory of your life completely — most pointedly decimating the relations between you and those closest to you. It’s been a long while since you’ve seen your brother, Cassian, and your friends. But that’s all about to change.

Warnings: Suggestions of solicitation/sex work/brothels. Nothing else, really!

Word Count: 1.5k

Enjoy! 💕

It’s all pointless, you think — the red velvet drapes, the burning candles, the sandalwood-scented smoke that clouds the air and creates a thick layer of fog that hovers just above the shag carpet. Pointless, because no amount of pretty décor will change Salt’s Pleasure Hall from the vacuous and miserable place it is.

Not miserable for you, no. There is no misery in the hefty sum of gold you’ll take home on a night. You are a master of pretty smiles and hooded gazes and saying all the right things that desperate, lonely males wish to hear. There is so much coin to be had in feigning interest and attraction. Bringing their fantasy to life for a night. There is talent in making them feel as though you’ve bared yourself to them, without having removed a single item of clothing.

And to think you once begged your older brother to train you, make you like him. Turn me into a weapon like you are, Cassian. We cannot change what filth sired us. But we can stamp it out from our blood and be better, be more.

And oh, he’d trained you, alright. Turned you into a weapon. Into something he was so fucking proud of. You knew the pride it had once brought him to strut around Illyrian lands with you at his side, clad in leathers just as he was, armed to the teeth just as he was. His way of showing off that he had done something good, something useful.

Oh, how things have changed. How the mighty have fallen.

For all you are confident, comfortable, used to the job you have now worked for some time, you are nervous tonight.

Tonight is different. Tonight is territory that has so far been untouched. Tonight, this room of velvet and silk and sensuality is your domain.

The Juniper Suite is part of the most expensive package that Salt’s Pleasure Hall has to offer. The package is similar to your usual night’s work in that you will smile prettily and pour drinks and ply whichever lonely male arrives with mindless conversation.

The difference is that in Juniper, those things lead to sex. And this is the first time since becoming one of Salt’s girls that you���re crossing that boundary.

So, yeah, you’re a little bit nervous. But — needs must, and all that.

With a soft sigh and butterflies dancing around in your belly, you slowly pace the circumference of the room, stopping every now and then to study the weird little trinkets that Salt has picked up over the years. A strange mishmash of things that you suppose he thinks creates a certain ambience. But tiny metal lions and old, fraying maps will be the furthest thing from your client’s thoughts when the two of you sink into the feathered sheets.

They will be here any minute, and for the first time since you started your work here, you allow yourself to wonder what they might be like. You never usually bother, because the other girls warned you on day one what to expect — that this place attracts a certain clientele, and that never wavers.

So, your guest will likely be far older than you. He will likely have dark smudges beneath his eyes and the weight of the world on his shoulders. There will likely be the faint mark of a removed wedding band on his left ring finger. He will likely want to talk to you about why he is a victim of life itself.

And you will coo sympathetically and pour him drinks, drag your hand down his arm and hold his hand. You will let him know how sorry you feel that life is so cruel to him. You will offer him the bliss of touch and feel, and make him think, for a short while, that you genuinely care about his shortcomings.

And then when he hands you the heavy pouch of coins you so desperately covet, you’ll switch it all off.

You swallow down another sigh and cross the room to the small, compact bar in the corner. You need a stiff drink yourself, something to settle your nerves—

But a knock lands on the door, and there’s no time.

For a split second, you doubt whether you can go through with this. Playing hostess for a few hours is one thing, but giving your body to a client is something you’ve never had the courage to do, despite the extra coin it would bring. But — needs must. You repeat it to yourself as you stride to the door. Needs must, needs must, needs must. You can do this.

You brace yourself, feeling suddenly too hot and sticky in the scant clothing that covers you — a pink lingerie set, barely covered by the sheer robe that sits open and threatens to slip down your arms. You are beautiful — and strong and sexy and confident. This is your body to do with whatever you want. And if this is the course you are taking, that is fine. This will be fine.

You lay your palm on the handle and yank the door open before you have to give yourself another pep talk.

But at the sight of who stands on the other side, you freeze. Your lips part in surprise.

A pep talk is not what you need — but rather a huge hole to open in the floor and swallow you down.

“What the fuck?”

It takes you a moment to realise that you’ve uttered those three words at the exact same moment your client did — Rhysand did.

He’s just like when you last saw him, but…older, now. Even though you were adults back then, too, he seems…more mature, somehow. He’s regal and stunning and night itself.

And fuck, he’s High Lord of the Night Court now.

And yet he’s ruffled, as he takes you in, gapes at you. Neither of you know what to do.

His eyes dip down to what you’re wearing, before travelling back up to your face. And he blurts, “Pixie?”

Pixie. You haven’t heard that name in years. The fond nickname that both Rhys and Azriel had coined for you, because you were so much like Cassian and yet so much smaller, a little pixie buzzing around.

But you are not her anymore. You haven’t been her since before the human-fae war. You had changed, just like the others had changed.

And the new you doesn’t need to explain to an old friend what has brought you to a pleasure hall in Sangravah. Nor does that old friend need to explain what’s brought him here, either. You owe him nothing. He owes you nothing.

But the situation is so bizarre that your mind freezes. You don’t know what to do. All you know is that you do not want to be in front of him, almost naked. You do not want to look him in the eye. The mere thought is humiliating.

So you move fast and try to slam the door shut in his face. You don’t care what kind of reprimand Salt will give you because of it.

But, of course, he is Rhysand, and may you never forget that. He’s quick as lightning, something about him always having been wildly feline. He always bested you when you sparred, always had the upper hand.

He has the upper hand now as he wedges his foot in the door and stops it from closing.

You grit your teeth, feeling just like when you used to bicker with him in Illyria as you bite out, “Move your fucking foot.”

“No,” Rhys snaps, shoving it in further. “Open the fucking—” he growls as he shoulders himself forward. “Pixie.”

“Don’t call me that. Go away—”

You’re not exactly sure what happens next. Either he loses his footing, or you do, or perhaps you both do. All you know is that the door is swinging fully open, and your balance is suddenly off, and Rhysand’s hand is gripping onto you as you fall backwards. Your attempts to right yourself are far too late and seem to make it worse. Down you go to that musty shag carpet, and down Rhysand goes with you,

Air whooshes from your lungs as he lands on top of you, far too close than is comfortable when you’re wearing so little clothing. You attempt to sit up, shove him off you.

But he holds you firm and stares at you with wide eyes. His face is inches from yours. He gives what seems to be a baffled shake of his head.

“Pix, what the fuck?” he blurts.

[mirensiart]

Hey Miry what are some fun (or maybe angsty) headcanons you have for the boys, including Chain?

Hmmmm 🤔 ok let me think

Sky: I know most people headcanon Warriors as the field medic, but I feel Sky is also versed in first aids and is really good at it, he has excellent bedside manner. Like the knight academy probably taught him all about it, so the 3 medics of the gang are warriors, hyrule and him. I also believe he has an impeccable stitch technique, like barely leaves scars at all. Really dexterous with his hands too, thanks to his wood crafting and harp playing, he's really good with them hands lmao.

Four: he's a blacksmith sure, and knows a lot about making weapons and maintaining them, but I like to believe he's also really good and making stuff out of leather. Like he knows how to make leather belts and pouches for the weapons his grandpa makes or leather clothes as protection in battle. Idk just a very crafty little guy that offers the entire deal aka a weapon and the leather belts to carry it, all in one service hehe

Time: I like to believe he lost his eye in a very mundane non heroic way, like maybe he fell off a rowdy horse and landed in the worst way possible or a farm centric accident. He makes up different stories about how he lost it, every time someone asks, he changes it, some stories are batshit insane and some others are super normal. He actually has told the real way he lost the eye in between the fake stories, but no one believes him. He thinks it's hilarious btw.

Twilight: I've mentioned before that I headcanon him to be a very sensitive guy, like small things can make him tear up aka a baby animal absolutely makes him want to start sobbing lmao. I like to believe he gossips and talks a lot with his epona as wolfie, like when you're in wolf form in twilight princess you can talk to animals and epona is so sweet with him when you talk to her, they are soulmates man. The guys do something dumb and he turns into wolfie just to walk to epona like "can u believe those guys??" Epona knows everything tbh like he tells her everything, she's the only one who truly knows his woes over losing midna.

Wind: I love to believe the little guy can legit control the winds, like the wind waker is a way for him to channel his magic, but he can control the wind unconsciously, too. When he gets really mad, the winds pick up speeds around him, or if he's happy, a gentle breeze circles around him, etc. His hair is always blowing in the breeze even when he's inside doors, and there's no wind. It just does that.

Legend: Excellent gardener, has a talent for growing plants, flowers, and trees. They flourish under his care. Extremely particular about soil and water and shadow/light for his plants, he not only has an apple orchard, but also grows veggies and rare flowers. Ravio maintains his garden under extreme rules and guidelines lmao ravio is not allowed to sell the apples or veggies from legend's garden, but legend encourages rav to use them for cooking instead.

Hyrule: disney princess aka animals love him lmao typical guy who befriends every single creature he meets, he could pacify a bear if he wants to. His fae part is what makes him have such an affinity with nature in general, I see him as the elves from LOTR who can feel and communicate with trees and they guide him. It's why he never uses maps, he doesn't need them.

Wild: using LOTR as my base for headcanons again lol but I see him like aragorn in the sense that aragorn is a human who was raised by elves so he feels a strong connection to elf culture because of it. I picture wild to be the same, but with the zoras, since he was childhood friends with mipha, we can imply he spent A LOT of time in zora's domain as a child. He is way more versed in zora customs, language, holidays, etc, than the hylian ones. It's also why I feel the older zora are so pissed off with him in botw, like they saw him as one of their own for so long, utter betrayal that he didn't protect their princess (mipha) and failed them all lol he has some zora mannerism in the sense that sometimes, he eats fish raw LMAO when he absentmindedly ate one in front of everyone the first time everyone was shocked for a while lmao

Warriors: absolute nervous wreck, always riddled with anxiety, really low self-esteem, is probably screaming 24/7 inside his head at all times, but is EXCEPTIONAL at faking it, like fake it til you make it is his way of life lmao he exudes over confidence and is always worried about his looks as a way to hide how much of a mess he truly is. Time & Wind has seen him at his worst and know that he's a great actor, which helps him cause he can stop pretending around them for a while

And now my link lmao

Chain: All bark, no bite. He is ironic and sarcastic and shows himself as a tough guy, but he's actually a sweetheart, and things get to him pretty easily. He learned pretty early on than carrying his heart on his sleeve is a really bad idea around the Bounty Hunter guild, since soft nice guys don't last long, so he replies to hurtful comments with sarcasm and a tough attitude, when in reality he's really hurt lmao he also jokes to cope, he'd rather throw a joke or two at you than really open up and talk about his feelings.

[geliditramonti]

Through The Ashes

Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

1. The Scent Of Blood

Logan was no stranger to silence. It was the kind of quiet that enveloped the dense woods surrounding his secluded cabin like a living thing. Out here, stillness was both a comfort and a weapon, a calm that sharpened his senses while soothing the chaos in his mind. The trees stood tall and ancient, their branches interlocking like the rafters of a natural cathedral. Even the faintest sound stood out: the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by a nocturnal breeze, the distant snap of a twig under a deer's cautious hoof, the melancholy cry of an owl echoing through the darkness. This was his domain, a sanctuary carved from the wild, and he thrived in its unbroken rhythm.

But tonight, that rhythm was off.

Logan noticed it before he could see anything. The sharp, metallic tang of blood tainted the cool night air, subtle yet unmistakable. It slithered through the crispness of the forest like a serpent, catching him mid-stride and halting him where he stood. Instinct took over, his breath slowing as his senses sharpened. The familiar crunch of his boots on the forest floor softened as he adjusted his gait, moving deliberately now, each step calculated. The scent grew stronger, coiling tighter in his chest with every measured breath. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing in anticipation, a primal unease settling over him like a second skin.

The pale glow of moonlight filtered through the canopy above, dappling the underbrush in a patchwork of silver and shadow. Logan's sharp eyes swept the ground, picking out details most would miss: broken branches, disturbed leaves, a faint crimson stain on the earth. His hunter's instincts, honed through years of isolation, guided him like an invisible thread until he reached a small clearing and froze.

You were crumpled at the base of a massive oak, your body a shattered silhouette against the rough bark. Blood soaked your clothes, the dark stain seeping outward in a grotesque bloom that merged with the pool spreading beneath you. The trail leading to your limp form was clear: dragged or crawling, the leaves and grass bore the marks of a desperate struggle. Moonlight illuminated your features, pale and ghostly, streaked with grime and smears of dried blood. Your shallow breaths came in uneven gasps, each rise and fall of your chest barely perceptible. You looked as if the forest itself had tried to swallow you whole and left you for dead.

Logan crouched beside you, his boots whispering against the earth as his sharp gaze cataloged every detail. The jagged wound tearing into your side drew his attention immediately. Blood oozed sluggishly from the gash, the raw edges glistening darkly under the moonlight. His jaw tightened as he assessed it, noting the viciousness of the tear. No accident could cause something like this. No animal, either, he'd seen their handiwork before. This was deliberate, calculated. Someone had meant for you to die.

A growl rumbled low in his throat as Logan's eyes darted to the shadows surrounding the clearing. His muscles coiled, ready for an ambush, his senses straining for any sign of movement. The woods held their breath, the silence deafening now. Whoever, or whatever, had done this might still be nearby, watching.

But then you moved. A faint, pained moan escaped your lips, so weak it was almost lost in the night. Logan's attention snapped back to you as your head lolled to the side, your eyes fluttering open just enough to meet his. The raw desperation in your gaze was like a blade sliding between his ribs, sharp and unrelenting. It pierced through the doubts, the caution, the instinct to walk away.

"Help..." 

The word rasped from your throat, barely audible, each syllable carrying the weight of your fading strength. Logan cursed under his breath, his hand flexing into a fist before he forced it to relax. He didn't need this. He didn't need you.

But he couldn't leave you, either.

"You're gonna be a pain in my ass, aren't you?" he muttered, his voice gruff with reluctant resolve. You didn't answer, your eyes already slipping closed again as unconsciousness reclaimed you.

Logan stared at you for another moment, weighing his options, before leaning down and slipping his arms beneath you. Your body was limp, unnaturally warm with the fever that had already begun to take hold. You felt too light in his grasp, as though the forest had already started to drain the life from you. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you against his chest. A faint groan escaped your lips, but you didn't wake.

"You better not die on me," he grumbled, turning toward the path that led back to his cabin.

The journey through the forest was swift but deliberate, every step chosen with precision. Logan's boots crunched softly against the earth, the sound mingling with the faint rustle of wind through the trees. His eyes never stopped scanning, his ears straining for the slightest noise that might signal a threat. Your shallow breaths were a whisper against his chest, a fragile rhythm that told him you were still clinging to life. The sticky warmth of your blood seeped into his shirt, a visceral reminder of how little time you had.

Finally, his cabin came into view, a stark silhouette against the vast, star-strewn sky. It was simple but solid: rugged wooden walls, a slanted roof, and a chimney that always smelled faintly of smoke. To Logan, it was more than a building. It was safety, a stronghold in an unforgiving world.

Reaching the door, he shifted your weight in his arms and kicked it open with practiced ease. The heavy wood swung inward, creaking loudly before banging against the wall. Inside, the space was dimly lit by the warm, flickering glow of a fire. Shadows danced across the walls, casting the room in a mix of light and darkness. Logan carried you to the bed in three long strides, lowering you carefully onto the mattress. The old springs groaned under your weight, the clean white sheets immediately darkening as blood spread from your side.

"Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, he just stood there, staring down at you. You looked so fragile, your features slack and pale, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead. Every shallow breath you took was a reminder of how close you were to slipping away.

Snapping out of his daze, Logan turned toward a cabinet in the corner. He grabbed a battered first aid kit and a half-full bottle of whiskey, slamming them onto the bedside table. His hands moved with practiced efficiency as he pulled out what he needed: bandages, needles, and antiseptic.

"This is gonna hurt." he warned, his voice low. He didn't expect a reply, you were too far gone to hear him, but he said it anyway.

With a flick of his knife, he sliced through the fabric of your shirt, peeling it away to reveal the full extent of your injury. The wound was worse than he'd anticipated. Deep, ragged, and angry, it was a testament to the malice behind its creation. Logan frowned, his brow furrowing as he studied the torn flesh.

He poured the whiskey over the gash in a steady stream. The liquid hissed against your skin, and your body jerked involuntarily, a faint groan escaping your lips. Logan pressed a firm hand to your shoulder, pinning you gently but securely to the mattress. "Easy," he murmured, though he knew you couldn't hear him.

As he worked, something strange happened. In your half-conscious state, your mind reached out, brushing against his thoughts like a feather grazing the edge of a blade. The sudden flood of emotion hit him like a wave: pain, fear, and the faintest flicker of trust. Logan's body tensed, his claws unsheathing instinctively as he recoiled.

"What the hell-"

But the connection broke as quickly as it had formed, leaving him staring down at you in suspicion and unease. Your eyes fluttered closed again, your breathing shallow but steady. Logan shook his head, his jaw tightening.

"You're full of surprises," he muttered, reaching for the needle. "And I've got a feeling I'm not gonna like any of 'em."

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Second Chance Sorcerer

Chapter 1 - Phantom Tokyo

Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader

A/N: I can't believe I actually got around to writing this! *sobs*. I hope everyone does take the time to read it, and enjoys what I've created here. This will be a multi-chapter fic, quite different from the one-shots I've posted before. It was originally made with an OC, which can be read on my AO3 account, but all changes have been made to y/n here.

Thank you @actuallysaiyan for making the lovely title banner and for listening to me rant and giving me all the encouragement to finish this chapter. Everyone needs a cheerleader like you. 💜

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Nanami masterlist

“You’ve got it from here…Itadori kun.”

Those were the last words Nanami remembers saying before Mahito’s Idle Transfiguration fragmented his soul into smithereens. All he felt was pain, gut-wrenching pain as his soul collapsed and rearranged itself, piece after piece trying various combinations of alignment, trying to come back into some semblance of a whole, like chromosomes after being hit with a lethal dose of radiation.

His eyes squeeze shut, senses overloading as he prepares to meet whatever awaits him on the other side. Would it be a lovely afterlife like he’d hoped? Filled with long days on the beach, reading the backlog of books he’d been holding off on? Laying in the sun, no work, no obligations, just doing whatever he wanted to his heart’s content? He felt warmth against his chest, a bright light emanating from it, and for a split second, it felt like someone was calling out to him, a very familiar voice…

And all of a sudden it stops. With a thump, he crumples on something solid, his side colliding with the surface. Was this it? Was he in the afterlife? Nanami hesitantly opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings.

At first, it appears like he’s landed on a sidewalk that wound deeply into a very gloomy and derelict-looking city. He could make out buildings, traffic lights, and little shops tucked away in between these larger structures, all of them looking abandoned or in various states of disuse. Not exactly what he’d hoped for. Was this actually the Great Beyond? 

Nanami pushes himself to his feet, relieved when he realizes he’s not in pain anymore. Had Mahito sent him to a separate contained domain? He squints, trying to find his bearings. There was no sunlight wherever he was, but the street lamps were lit along the length of the sidewalk, casting shadows along the way. He cautiously looks around. The place looks strangely familiar…

He grasps his weapon, the blade having still been in his hand when Mahito touched him, and advances down the road. As he walks, he realizes with a jolt that wherever he is appears to be a phantom of his neighborhood. He recognized this road now, as he had frequented it so often. Up ahead was the grocery store he would go to every Saturday. And right opposite it, a little cafe he would sometimes wander into for their lovely croissants and artisan coffee. The more he walked, the more he started piecing together a map of this area, astonished at what he was seeing. This certainly couldn’t be a domain expansion. There was far too much detail resembling the real world and, although the place gave a foreboding aura, seemed to be unoccupied except for himself. 

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, lowers his weapon, and tries to think. Logic was telling him Mahito had sent him somewhere, perhaps a sealed space, rather than kill him outright. But if that was the case, why was he healed? His entire left side which had been covered with fatal burns was gone, the skin healed over like new, his eye regenerated, hair grown back. His clothes and shoes had somehow been restored to their original condition, his glasses back to their position on his face. 

Things weren’t adding up. He continued to walk, then came upon a library he remembered passing by in the real world but had never really paid attention to before. Deciding this was as good a spot as any to glean information about his whereabouts, he enters, squinting through the darkness. Lines and lines of shelves stood neatly arranged in the building. Nanami walks between the rows, pausing in between sections for a brief moment before continuing his perusing. 

He rounds the corner, then quickly presses his back against a bookshelf as he senses an unusual energy signature fading away from him. So he wasn’t alone, and the thought wasn’t comforting. The energy didn’t match a human or a sorcerer, so he had to assume it was a special-grade curse. After his interactions with Jogo and Mahito, he didn’t know what to expect in terms of its abilities. He was tempted to escape but knew he had nowhere to go. If he was trapped in this domain what hope was there to escape this odd being he was sensing?

Raising the clothed blade with its polka dot pattern, he follows the energy steadily, not daring to breathe too loudly as he advances. It moves stealthily and silently, as though trying to elude him. This makes him immediately wary, sensing he could be getting lured into a trap. He follows at a distance, then stops as he comes to a reading section, the area cleared out and decorated with little chairs, poufs, and tables. Struggling to see in the dim light, he moves into the open, instincts screaming that he’s making a mistake. He pauses, trying to sense the energy again.

“It’s rude to chase one with a weapon you know.” A voice says from directly behind him. Nanami startles and spins around to face his pursuant, arms immediately coming before him to block an impending attack. Upon seeing the sight before him, his gaze fills with both fear and wonder, the being in front of him a vision of amazement. 

All he sees at first are a pair of piercing silver eyes that seem to probe the very depths of his soul. There’s a quiet insightfulness to them like he was looking into the eyes of an old friend, yet an unsettling intensity that made him feel apprehensive. The being appeared to lack a shape, but as Nanami took another step back, the light from the street lamps showed it to be made of wisps of black shadowy mist, neither fluid nor gas, swirling endlessly around it. 

Something within him tells him he shouldn’t fear this creature, yet all instincts were telling him to charge the attack before it got to him first. They stood, staring at each other through the dimness, before Nanami gathered his courage and asked, “What are you? A curse?”

The being huffs, as if it was an impertinent question. “What am I…Who am I…The question has been asked for centuries. Yet, even I do not have an appropriate answer…But I am most definitely not a curse.”

It glides silently over the floor, and Nanami instinctively raises his weapon. The being appears to look amused, based on the way those intense silver eyes glowed. “Put away your blade, Nanami Kento. The things I could have done to you once you entered my realm can’t be defended against by you, or even a special-grade sorcerer for that matter. I doubt even Ryomen Sukuna would stand a chance against me.” The smoky form billows, ebbing and flowing as it circles him. 

Not entirely reassured, Nanami puts his weapon back in the holder of his suspenders. There’s an odd feeling of reverence despite the eerie nature of the being. 

“I am what they call The Mediator, The One Before Death, or The Spectator.” It answers his question. 

“And where am I?” Nanami asks the shadow. 

“You are in between worlds, Nanami Kento.”

“In between worlds?” The blonde man repeated skeptically. Did such a thing exist? He had never given death much thought (beyond the dying part), and always assumed it was like being asleep one moment and waking up in paradise the next. To be in between worlds…had Mahito somehow just locked him away in another dimension that was a bleak version of his neighborhood? 

“So…am I…alive? But in another dimension?”

The Mediator looked at him thoughtfully, as though wondering how best to explain to him. “You are alive for now. But you definitely died, otherwise you wouldn’t have ended up here in my realm.”

“I died, and came back to life?” The sorcerer frowned at the obscureness with which this said. “That makes no sense. People don’t just arbitrarily resurrect from the dead. I was severely weakened. My soul was unprotected. Mahito’s attack should have killed me.”

“It did. However, something at that moment reversed the attack and restored the various fragments your soul had shattered into.”

Disbelievingly, Nanami started running his hands over his torso as though trying to find evidence that he had died. It was just…fantastical…impossible…He had survived Mahito’s attack? What divine intervention could have possibly saved him from something so deadly? As his fingers near his wrist, they brush over a small chain, hidden under the cuff of his shirt. He quickly undoes the button and looks incredulously at the small charm, an Aum symbol, dangling from the chain. 

“Y/n…” he murmurs her name softly. His apprentice. He now remembers her fastening one of these to not just him but to Ino and Itadori as well before they were deployed to Shibuya. 

“That’s probably what saved you,” the being said evidently, interrupting Nanami’s thoughts. “Whatever that is, it was imbued with a heavy concentration of neutralized curse energy. So when you died from the attack, that charm activated and repaired your soul.”

Nanami absently fingered the charm, trying to think. Y/n’s ability to neutralize cursed energy had improved immensely under his tutelage, he knew that, but he hadn’t imagined it to this extent. Her other ability included being able to manipulate any cursed energy she neutralized into forms of heat, summoning flames on her palms that towered at least  20 feet tall. How she had imbued the energy into the charm was anyone’s guess. 

“And I’m in between worlds.” He repeats again, trying to make sure he’s not misunderstanding the conversation.

“Indeed. Think of this as your own personal purgatory.” Those silver eyes bore into him like moons against a black sky, waiting to see his reaction.

Purgatory. Nanami pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, unable to fathom how insane this sounded. “I thought purgatory was for people who needed to be redeemed.”

“It is usually. But in your case, it looks like the veil partitioning the worlds got confused, seeing as how you left one dead, and then suddenly became alive in another. Death probably couldn’t figure out what to do with you so it sent you here instead.”

“So I’m stuck here?”

Despite the miraculousness of it all, Nanami couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation. He had been prepared for death for several years now. So much to the point that he had a will drafted, signed, and sealed, declaring all his possessions to be donated to charity since he had no other family or next of kin. A copy of the keys to his house had been entrusted to the lawyer who had helped draft the will. He had all his affairs set in order with the expectation that his death would be sudden and he was unwilling to burden anyone to deal with the repercussions. 

He had known he would die in the line of duty. He had accepted his fate the moment Mahito had laid a hand on him in the underground, welcoming death as a tranquil friend. His whole life had been struggle after struggle, a gamble, clawing his way to stay alive. All he could say was that he had been lucky so far. There had to be a moment when that luck ran out. He had been dreaming of knowing peace and death seemed to be the only option for that. 

“Does it bother you, that you are alive?” The purgatory being asks him curiously, noting his less-than-happy expression. “Most would rejoice at this second chance for life.”

The question hits Nanami with a gravity he hadn’t been expecting. “Most people haven’t lived my life. I’ve done enough. I’m tired. I’ve earned the right to a peaceful death.”

“And yet, it looks like someone desperately wanted you to live.” Those hypnotic eyes wander over to the charm dangling on his wrist. “Is that not reason enough? To not want to die?”

Disturbed by the notion, Nanami grips the charm. Y/n’s energy had kept him alive, unwittingly preventing him from moving on into the afterlife. Whether that had been her intent was debatable. Her desperately wanting him to live? It just didn’t seem likely to him. Sure, perhaps she didn’t want him to die in the way that people didn’t want others to die in general. But beyond that? He couldn’t fathom her being so consumed by the thought of his death that she would create a charm that essentially kept him alive after having his soul damaged to what should have been a point beyond repair. 

Y/n had a late start in her career as a sorceress, and certain concepts about it seemed to stymie her, more typically seen in a younger student than someone her age. He had repeatedly told her to not worry about him when he took her on missions, to value her life more than his. He drilled it into her head when he taught her self-defense, that if there was an opportunity to escape she should take it, the hand-to-hand combat sometimes leaving bruises on her skin because she’d been unwilling to take a shot at him. It always pained him when that happened, marking her, leaving those unsavory blemishes on her but how else was she going to learn that fairness wasn’t something that existed in Jujutsu? Her willingness to get a little scuffed up if it meant protecting him from a curse irked him. She was rather like a kitten unwilling to be shooed away from a reluctant petter. His lips curled wryly as he imagined her expression if she ever heard that comparison out loud. 

‘Don’t be so cruel Nanami san!’ She’d probably say, those large (color) eyes looking at him reproachfully. And for a moment, his mind’s eye couldn’t picture anything else except that; those large (color) eyes, and the shock in them when he told her that he didn’t think he’d live very long. She hadn’t said anything to convince him his mindset was wrong, but she did look like he had betrayed her by expressing his very honest and logical opinion. As though he had broken an oath to her by not saying he wanted to live long and prosper. 

Nanami gives himself a mental shake. This wasn't the time to be thinking about Y/ni's opinion on his death. The bigger task at hand now was figuring out what to do about his imprisonment in purgatory. 

All the while, the shadow hadn’t wavered and had merely continued to look at him work through his inner monologue. Realizing that Nanami had reached a limit, it said, “No, you are not stuck here. At least, not for very long.”

The sorcerer’s head snaps up at those words, eyes narrowing behind the green glass of his frames. “What do you mean, not very long?”

“Well, the neutralized energy imbued into that charm? It’s not infinitely going to remain contained in that. The seal broke when it saved your life, and it’s essentially trickling out little particles of it. It will run out at some point, although it’s difficult to say when that is.”

“And when it does run out?”

“You’ll die.” The being says simply. “And move on into the next realm. That’s the way purgatory is supposed to work. Cleanse you to be fit to live in the realm of death.” 

“And it’s unknown when that will happen?”

The shadow appears to ponder his question before offering a hesitant guess. “A few days, maybe 4 or 5 at maximum, based on the energy intensity that it's currently emitting.”

“And what am I to do for 4 to 5 days here?” Nanami gestures around the gloomy library, obviously not impressed with this arrangement. These extra days before his impending death somehow made a vein pop in his forehead. It was like a pre-death before the actual one.

“Well, you must have noticed by now that this is the neighborhood you used to live in. You are free to wander around here and experience your old life one last time. You can visit your apartment, take the subway and wander around the Jujutsu High campus, or watch a movie in the theater.” The shadow suggested, sounding like a pleasant tour guide for the afterlife. “Think of it as a vacation before your death.”

It struck Nanami as a little absurd but he strokes his chin, considering. “And that’s my only option? To experience my old life before dying?”

“It’s not the only option. You could go back and live.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air at those words. Nanami’s eyes widen at the thought. He could go back to the land of the living? He hadn’t even considered that as an option. He only had death on his mind. Thoughts of living on a beach, days filled with no responsibility still flickered through his mind but at the same time…

“What is it about life that makes you so hesitant?” The purgatory being asks him inquisitively. 

Nanami opens his mouth but no words come out. Had he been thinking about how to escape his situation that all he had ever thought about was dying? It wasn’t unexpected of him. He had learned so long ago that life was mostly shit, with a few moments of relief folded in. At least it was for curse users. He remembers seeing all the people he knew die, how he had tried to escape from Jujutsu, only to be sucked back in because he knew he didn’t fit in anywhere else. When faced with the choice of remaining in a job of corporate greed, or one that endangered his life but was somewhat altruistic, the choice became apparent. He had returned to Jujutsu. Not entirely selflessly, but with the idea that it was the quicker way out of his misery. 

“Is there nothing you would like to return to?” The shadow presses. “Remember that you are a very rare case. Hardly anyone ends up in purgatory under your circumstances. I would hate to see a life go to waste because you don’t know what to do with it.”

A sudden memory comes into Nanami’s mind. A day of unexpected frivolity, when Y/n, Yuji, and Ino had convinced him to come along to an amusement park. It was an odd day but to his surprise, he hadn't hated it. Y/n had mostly stayed away from the roller-coasters, leaving it to Yuji and Ino, wandering with Nanami to the food stalls, closer in age to him than she was to the boys. It was a strange feeling of domesticity he had never experienced before, almost like they were a hodgepodge family of misfits. It was the closest thing he had experienced to a normal day in a long time. 

But days like that were rare. They were like sprinkles on top of ice cream. People could never have more sprinkles than ice cream. Life just didn't work that way. However, Nanami found himself contemplating his choices. Perhaps he had been so jaded that he thought life was wading through ice cream instead of appreciating the sprinkles? And here he was dreaming about sprinkles when he was stuck in purgatory. 

He sighs and shakes his head. “If I did go back, would it make a difference?” He asks doubtfully. 

The being’s eyes crinkle warmly, almost like it's smiling. “To one person, yes. And isn't that more than enough?”

The charm swings from his wrist like a pendulum. He considers the shadow’s words and feels his heart clench uncomfortably. The stakes almost felt too high, wagering his return to life on the chance that it would make a difference to Y/n. Well, maybe not just her. He frowns as he feels the energy in the trinket resonate for a brief moment when he thinks of her, as though it was trying to convince him to make the gamble. He had never quite paid attention to her energy signature before now, so concentrated within the tiny object; it felt like a warm cup of coffee on a lazy Saturday morning. He feels disconcerted that he could sense this now and it was making him want to change his mind about dying. He sighed deeply, feeling his resolve begin to solidify, even though it felt like he was making the wrong choice. 

“How do I get out of here?” 

The shadow has no features except its eyes, but if Nanami could assign it an expression, it would have to be triumph.  

“I’m so glad you asked.” It appraisingly looks at him, before continuing. “Perhaps you might want to let the lady know you’re alive.”

“Must I?” Nanami asks with a hint of exasperation. 

The shadow looks amused but continues in an even tone. “I’m afraid I must insist. It's better to give people a warning when you’re coming back from the dead. Prepares them for the prospect of seeing you again. Trust me, it’s better that way.”

“And how do I do that?” 

It merely continues to look at him with that amused expression and Nanami almost lets out a growl of frustration. “Listen. I died. Then I was told I wasn’t dead, but I’ll die soon. Then I changed my mind and decided I wanted to live. The least you can do is tell me how to get a message out of here.”

The purgatory being laughs; it’s an eerie noise, yet had all the comfort of a long-lost friend. “Very well 7:3 Sorcerer. It’s simple really. To send a message out of here, all you need to do is blend your cursed energy with the cursed energy of the person you’re thinking about going back to life for. Imbue this energy into a small object which will then find a way to its recipient.”

The elementary way this was said nearly cracks his temper. “Is that all?” He asks, unable to keep the bite of sarcasm out of his voice. 

The shadow chuckles at this, adding to his ire. “It really is. Just try focusing on something other than your disappointment of not dying today.” 

Nanami takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose trying to keep his composure. “A small object…” His hand grips the handle of his blade and pulls it out, eyeing it carefully. The whole blade wouldn’t make it. He just automatically knew it. But he wanted to make sure Y/n would recognize the message was from him. He fidgets with the blade, thinking, and then by accident, the edge of it comes in contact with the Aum charm. 

The blend of energy that shoots through him was a shock; a mix of the warm coffee on Saturday mornings, coupled with the calculated preciseness of a seasoned Q-grader who assessed those coffee beans. The polka dots spattered all over the cloth wrapping the weapon glowed at the edges for a brief second before the blade lost contact with the charm. 

Nanami observed the whole process with fascination. Dormant instinct took over him, and he moved his hand so that the charm now swung over the blade. Focusing on that combined energy signature, he purposefully touches the charm to the blade. Y/n’s neutralized curse energy flows into the blade, and he feels his own beginning to fuse with it. He concentrates on his ratio technique, and with a flash, all the polka dots lift off the blade, glowing with a pale sea foam green aura. 

“Find her,” he whispers to the dots, and in a hazy glow, they vanish. 

Nanami watches, as though in a daze, unable to believe what had just happened. He turns to look at the purgatory being.

“Message sent. Now, how do I get out of here?”

The shadow being had been looking at the spot where the polka dots had vanished. It swirls around and looks at him in the eyes. 

“By facing your deepest regrets.”

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[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Escaping Lucien

Lucien Masterlist

Y/N was just starting to stir when she felt it- pressure on her neck, two tiny pinches, then…nothing. Her breath hitched. Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced at her host. Lucien started to drink, and Y/N barely felt it at all. As the seconds ticked by however, she began to feel warm and dizzy.

“S-stop, stop!” she protested weakly.

She tried raising her arm to strike him, but Lucien took it with his free hand and gently set it back down.

Dark spots encroached on her vision, and her struggles started to die down. Only when she felt her body going limp did Lucien detach his mouth from her neck. Y/N stared up at him through glazed, half-lidded eyes that slowly fluttered shut once more.

…

Lucien wiped the excess blood from his chin, licking it from his fingers. He looked down at Y/N. Unlike his servants or those in the village, her blood was intoxicating. Such a fine source of nourishment should not be squandered. She would need to stay here indefinitely. Yes, it would be much safer here.

“Well done, Y/N. Well done.”

…

It was only when a sliver of early morning light filtered through the deep crimson curtains that Y/N woke up once again. She bolted upright in bed. Her clothes had been replaced with silk sleepwear, and there was a soreness on one side of her neck. The memories of last night were hazy, but the alarm bells ringing in her head were loud and clear. She needed to leave, and fast.

Y/N sprang out of bed. She shoved on the closest pair of shoes she could find and threw the door open. She grabbed a brass candelabra, wielding it like a club, and sprinted from the room. She didn’t bother to wonder what had happened to her day clothes or her luggage. Adrenaline pumped through her every vein, making her face a soft red. The manor was enormous, and with so many twists and turns, it was more like a labyrinth.

She just had her hand on the front doorknob when a gentle breeze wisped through. That wouldn’t be frightening if it weren’t for the fact that all the windows were closed with the heavy curtains drawn shut.

Y/N whipped around, brandishing her candelabra. Lucien stood there, a great pair of bat wings sprouting from his back and his eyes glowing in the early morning light. Y/N stood frozen a moment, before tearing the nearest curtain from its rod, letting the entryway flood with sunlight.

Lucien blinked, seemingly unaffected by the bane of his kind. Y/N’s eyes widened; she clutched her weapon tighter.

“You’re causing quite a stir so late,” Lucien remarked, “or rather, so early.”

“Y-you,” Y/N stammered, “you should be dead!”

“Oh, I’ll probably have quite a few burns after this,” Lucien said, squinting against the light, “but I’m afraid Mr. Stoker has misinformed you. A bit of sunlight is not going to turn me into a puff of dust. Though I am a bit hurt that your first instinct was to kill me.”

“You kidnapped me!”

“Strange, I seem to recall you coming to my domain quite willingly.”

“You did something to my head!”

“Hypnosis.”

“And you bit me!”

“Only to get the blood.”

Lucien looked so calm in the midst of this, even a little amused. It enraged and further frightened Y/N.

She fumbled for the doorknob behind her back.

“Ah, now I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Lucien said, stepping forward.

Y/N found the knob, turned it, and went to push the great oaken door open. It… barely budged. She put all her weight on it, but before she could open it all the way, Lucien yanked her back by the arm, pinning her back against his chest.

“Let me go!” Y/N said, thrashing in his hold.

She did about as much good as a worm on a fisherman’s hook.

“Behave,” Lucien hissed in her ear, “or I will resort to ‘doing something with your head’.”

Lucien picked Y/N up in a bridal carry and started to take her back to the room she had woken up in. He deposited her on the bed.

“If you want to live, then you are not to leave this manor. In fact, it might do well if you didn’t leave this room until I come for you.”

Lucien turned, slamming the door shut. It locked with a gentle but audible click. Y/N sat there for a moment, staring at the door, before jumping up and trying to open it. She banged on the door.

“Let me out!” she shouted.

…

Y/N shouts echoed throughout the halls. Lucien rubbed his temples and turned to his servant.

“Make sure she doesn’t starve,” he said, “and bring up the ointment, I’m going to need it.”

Lucien glided away, the beginnings of angry burns forming on his face and wings.

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[smallestapplin]

one of the best parts of romancing a non human person is them giving physical parts of themselves to you in courtship

Zoras and Ritos incorporating their scales/feathers into armors, clothings, weapons, jewelry, etc.

a handcrafted gift would be more than enough for anyone, but it’s a sign that this was made by them for you alone

idk why but hair accessories and hair decorations get me exceptionally weak and swooning 🙏🥰💖

∾ 【 Rouge Anon 】

YEESSS!!! Thank you for the loz requests Rouge anon I love you

-

-

Both Zora and Rito have similar ways of courtship, though still uniquely their own thing.

A Rito will soar into the sky, wings stretch wide as they pull off tight maneuvers, doing hard tricks in the air, all for you to see and impress you! Shaping clouds and showing off, just to hear you cheer. They will land in front of you, puffed proudly as you gush about them.

Zora will dive from great heights, jumping from the water they landed in to splash the water up as they leap and spin, making the air shine around them, showing you just how fast they can move in water and how fast they can get to you after such a show.

Rito split, depending on their personality, some will either make a nest to show to you, to get your praise of being a good home maker, or some will bring you nesting matierals so you could make the nest. If the ladder you are given many soft items, some of which belong to the Rito courting you, just so the nest smells like them.

Zora don’t have nest making, but they do have item making, whether it’s zora armor or some sort of jewelry with a shed of their scales or teeth, you will get a ring, bracelet, necklace, or earrings of one or both as the Zora lays a claim over you and shows the domain you are theirs.

Rito share that in they will gift their courted a plum feather of theirs, soft and plush, to symbolize how they feel about you and wish to grow with you in the future.

-

-

Revali

The champion Rito is that special case.

Revali maybe a bit snobbish but this also get s applied to any gift he gives you, he needs them to be perfect and of high quailty for you, he will not accept any less for the person he is courting.

When preening his feathers, trying to make himself look even better, a plum feather was plucked. Holding it up he knew it was the perfect one, so soft, a deep pale blue, and one from his neck so it smelt strongly of him.

Revali puffs proudly, knowing exactly what he wants to do.

That following day you are gifted an earring of that very feather, with sapphires adorning it, not only to help you combat the cold but also something strikingly Revali.

Along with a few nesting items he had to give you, but your eyes could hardly leave your mirror just in awe of how pretty it looks on you.

“My, I’m glad to see you enjoy my work so much.”

Revali stands behind you, feathers slick as he stands proudly.

“How can I not? It’s so beautiful…thank you, this is a wonderful gift.”

“My betrothed should only get the very best.”

He’s so smug, he almost forgot you were human and had no idea of Rito courting rituals.

Oops.

-

-

Sidon

Now, Sidon does too much, not in trying to be a show off, but just wanting to make sure without a shadow of a doubt that you are loved and very much wanted. From flashy moves in the water, to hunting a bunch of fish for you to show he’s a good provider, hell to even trying to subtly(not very subtly) get your measurements so he can craft you zora armor.

However he decides that’s not enough.

He crafts the zora armor for you very slowly because he’s using a mix of metal and his shed scales, making the armor red like him.

You will also be gifted a necklace, one of his shedded teeth, the sharpness of it is not lost on you, it’s adore with more of his scales and Topazes, to defend against the lightning.

Your jewels scream you are of nobility, even though you’re not and it’s just the king spoiling you rotten.

“Sidon, you don’t have to do all this just for me.”

“I must! I want the world to see you and know how loved you are, I can’t let you leave this domain unsure of my affections for you.”

He’s already kneeling in front of you, holding out a part of the zora armor, the red scales and chainmail glow in the dim light of the luminous stones of the kingdom.

“Please, allow me to court you and call you mine? It would be an honor above all else to awake to you.”

Sidon is a sap, he’s romantic at heart and just can’t stop himself from smiling wide as you agree.

[minneywoon]

𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗲: 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗝𝗝𝗞 𝗯𝗮𝗱𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗳𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗲! 𝗟𝗲𝘁'𝘀 𝗴𝗼!!

𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐳𝐮...

Asteria is a 24-year-old jujutsu sorceress, tall and atletic.

Features: sharp and angular features like high cheeks and slender jawline to give her a fierce and determined look. Grey stormy eyes, fox shaped.

Fashion-forward: She's the type to wear a leather motorcycle jacket with jeans. And to feel coming, she wears a tracksuits.

Messy hair: Since she's a professional fighter, having messy and wild honey-orange hair that gives her a fierce and unhinged look. This could also highlight her unpredictable nature and the fact that she's always ready for a fight.

Confident stance: Asteria have a confident and powerful stance that emphasizes her strength and fighting abilities. She could have a wide and determined stance that helps her look imposing and intimidating.

Accessories: she could have unique accessories like stars and gold with silver-themed jewelry or clothing that reflects her Celestial Cursed technique.

Abilities:

Heavenly Ascension: A Celestial Cursed Technique that allows her to manipulate the energy of the heavens to create barriers, reflect damage, change their own mass and that of others, and much more. It can also be used to reinforce weapons and manipulate them in battle.

Arsenal of Heaven: She can create and manipulate a variety of weapons, including spears, swords, bows, and chakrams. They can also generate special abilities for the weapons, like cutting through anything or exploding on impact.

Heavenly Speed: She can manipulate her own gravity to move at incredible speeds, potentially reaching the speed of light (or beyond if she'll go all in). However, she would need to wear a special suit to protect herself from the harmful effects of moving at such high speeds.

Fighting Styles:

Bruce Lee's Jeet Kune Do: This fighting style emphasizes speed, precision, and fluidity, and she can incorporate elements of this style into her combat.

Intelligence is a fundamental attribute for every sorcerer or curse user, and this character would need a certain level of intelligence to effectively use her abilities. Specifically, she would need to have a deep understanding of her own cursed energy and its properties in order to manipulate it effectively. Being a scientist could definitely help with this, as she's trained to think critically and use the scientific method to solve problems. However, it's also possible for non-scientists to develop these skills through experience and practice. In any case, the character will need to have a strong mind and the ability to adapt to new situations quickly.

Domain Expansion; Asteria's domain expansion could be a massive celestial temple surrounded by stars and constellations, symbolizing her connection to the celestial energy and her ability to manipulate the heavens. The inside of the domain could be a massive open sky dotted with stars and constellations, giving the illusion of being in space. The stars and constellations could move and shift in response to her commands, creating stunning visual effects and providing her with additional curse energy to augment her abilities. Additionally, the domain could contain various celestial-themed objects and structures that she can manipulate, such as floating planets, comets, and meteoroids, giving her additional options for attack and defense. Overall, her domain expansion could be a visually stunning and powerful display of her abilities and her control over the celestial CE.

Based on her Celestial Cursed Technique, a fitting name for her domain expansion could be "Starry Temple". The name suggests a grand and elegant temple filled with stars and constellations, symbolizing her connection to the cursed energy and her ability to manipulate the heavens. The name could also be shortened to "Celestial Temple" or "Temple of the Stars".

The Japanese translation of "Starry Temple of the Celestial" would be "Ryōiki Tenkai; no Hoshi no Teruma", which combines the Japanese words for "star" ("hoshi"), "heaven" ("tenkai"), and "temple" ("teruma").

Within her Starry Temple she possesses a range of powerful abilities that are heightened by her connection to celestial energy.

1. Celestial Manipulation: As the master of her domain, Asteria can manipulate the objects within her Starry Temple. She can control the movements of stars, constellations, planets, comets, and meteoroids, bending them to her will. This manipulation grants her versatile offensive and defensive options, allowing her to launch celestial projectiles, create barriers, or reshape the environment to her advantage.

2. Stellar Projection: Asteria can summon and project energy in the form of stars, utilizing them as projectiles or concentrated beams. These stellar projectiles can possess various properties, such as explosive bursts upon impact or the ability to pierce through defenses.

3. Astral Constructs: Within her domain, Asteria can shape the cursed tech energy into solid constructs. She can create weapons, armor, or even celestial creatures to aid her in battle. These constructs are infused with the power of the heavens and possess enhanced durability and strength.

4. Celestial Healing: Asteria can tap into the rejuvenating energy of the celestial realm to heal herself and others. By channeling the celestial energy, she can mend wounds, restore vitality, and cleanse ailments, granting her a potent means of recovery during combat.

5. Celestial Augmentation: Within her domain, Asteria can draw upon the CE to enhance her physical and magical attributes. This augmentation grants her increased speed, strength, agility, and heightened magical abilities, allowing her attacks to pack an even greater punch.

6. Celestial Divination: Asteria's connection to the celestial realm grants her glimpses into the future and the ability to read the cosmic energies. She can gain insights into her opponent's movements and intentions, enabling her to strategize and react accordingly.

These abilities, combined with her own skills and combat prowess, make her a formidable force within her Starry Temple. As the battle rages on, the celestial CE at her command amplifies her strength, making her a potent adversary for Ryomen Sukuna to contend with.

Since her Cursed Technique is Celestial themed, she could potentially use it to create a "Kamehame" like blast. The blast could be made of condensed cursed light energy that she is able to manipulate and control in various ways. She could also potentially imbue the blast with other celestial energy-based attacks, giving her a powerful and versatile tool in her arsenal with a unique celestial flair.

Her personality:

Driven and Ambitious: Asteria has a strong sense of purpose and is driven to become one of the most powerful sorcerers in Japan or outside from it. She is ambitious and constantly strives to push her abilities to the limit.

Curious and Intellectual: As mentioned, Asteria has a deep fascination with celestial and scientific topics. She is always eager to learn and expand her knowledge, and she approaches problems with an analytical, rational mindset.

Fiercely Independent: Asteria values her freedom and independence above all else. She can be stubborn and resistant to authority, preferring to forge her own path. She doesn't like being told what to do.

Unpredictable and Impulsive: Asteria's wild, messy long hairstyle and confident, aggressive fighting style reflect her unpredictable nature. She can be reckless and impulsive, often rushing into situations without much forethought.

Compassionate and Protective: Beneath her fierce exterior, she has a strong sense of compassion. She is driven to protect the those she cares about, and she isn't afraid to break the rules to do so.

Motivations:

Surpass Her Limits: Asteria is constantly driven to push the boundaries of her cursed technique and fighting abilities. She wants to become the most powerful sorcerer she can be.

Uncover the Mysteries of the Heavens: Asteria's fascination with celestial phenomena extends beyond just intellectual curiosity. She is determined to unlock the deeper secrets and mysteries of the heavens and the nature of cursed energy.

Find a Sense of Purpose: Asteria grew up without a strong sense of direction or belonging. Becoming a sorcerer and honing her celestial abilities has given her a sense of purpose, and she is driven to prove her worth.

Protect Those She Cares About: While Asteria values her independence, she has developed close bonds with a few trusted allies and sorcerers. Keeping them safe is a key motivation for her.

Reveal the Truth: She's driven by a sense of existence and a desire to uncover the truth, even if it means challenging authority or convention. She won't hesitate to go against the grain if she believes it's the right thing to do.

Overall, Tatiyana Shimizu is a complex, multifaceted character driven by a mix of ambition, curiosity, independence, and compassion.

Her personality and motivations should make for some compelling character dynamics and narrative arcs in Jujutsu Kaisen fanfiction.

(bonus☆)

Asteria's and Yuki Tsukumo's Relationship:

Initial Encounter: Asteria and Yuki first cross paths during a high-stakes Jujutsu Sorcerer operation. Perhaps they are both assigned to the same mission, or their paths collide as they independently investigate a powerful cursed object or entity. The two women initially size each other up, their fierce and confident demeanors clashing as they gauge the other's strength and capabilities.

Mutual Respect: Despite their initial wariness, Asteria and Yuki come to quickly respect each other's skills and determination. They may even find themselves working together seamlessly, their complementary abilities and fighting styles allowing them to overcome a formidable foe. This shared triumph solidifies a grudging mutual respect between the two sorcerers.

Developing Friendship: As they continue to cross paths and collaborate on missions, a tentative friendship begins to form between Asteria and Yuki. They discover a shared passion for pushing the boundaries of their cursed techniques and a desire to uncover the deeper mysteries of the Jujutsu world. Asteria's intellectual curiosity and Yuki's analytical mind lead to engaging discussions, and they find themselves drawn to each other's unique perspectives.

Supportive Allies: Over time, Asteria and Yuki become close allies, each providing the other with support, advice, and a sense of belonging. Asteria fierce independence and impulsiveness is tempered by Yuki's calm rationality, while Yuki's reserved nature is brought out of its shell by Asteria's boundless energy. They serve as sounding boards for each other, challenging one another to grow and improve.

Unbreakable Bond: Through the trials and tribulations they face as Jujutsu sorcerers, Asteria and Yuki's bond deepens into an unbreakable friendship. They have each other's backs, no matter the circumstances, and their mutual trust and respect for one another becomes a source of strength and knowledge.

Shared Vision: Their friendship is further cemented by their shared vision for the future of the Modern Jujutsu World. They both believe in the power of compassion and self-reflection, and they are determined to reshape the system and challenge the status quo. Together, they work towards uncovering the truth and creating a world where sorcerers can thrive without sacrificing their humanity.

The dynamic between Asteria and Yuki would be one of fierce protectiveness, intellectual stimulation, and unwavering loyalty. Their friendship would serve as a vital anchor for both characters, providing them with the support and encouragement they need to continue their relentless pursuit of power and respect.

I'll for sure be writhing fics about her, be ready. Let me know in tags what ya think!💜

[beautifulblooms]

A little catching up - Prince Sidon x Male Reader SMUT

So lmao, I finally got around to writing some nsfw content, this is actually fairly old but I figured I’d dig through some of my old files and post some things, I’m not super proud of this (deadass forgot I had it too, but I hope y’all enjoy it)

Heads-up, this doesn’t exactly reflect my current writing style (didn’t wanna rewrite all 3.2k words of it) so it might read a little funky with the first person reader.

Btw there will be more coming soon too, I’ve got a few projects in the works with CoD stuff.

CIS Women and Female Aligned people, please DNI, this story and all of my others are for non-binary, masculine aligned and male readers!

It’s been a long fucking week, first, you had to leave the domain to accompany Link on one of his quests, which left you bruised and pissed off. Then on the way back a blood moon rose to the sky and revived all the lizalfos, the octorocks, bokoblins, moblins, and even a few stray guardians that had landed themselves on the path back up to the domain. Finally reaching the bridge that led straight into the kingdom you sighed, the sun had risen by then and all you wanted to do was lay on Sidon’s stomach while he floated above the deep waters of the East reservoir.

Each step after the other felt forced and almost not your own as your legs began their usual path from the bridge up to the reservoir dam where the bed you had been given resided. Hoping to find your lover sprawled out there waiting for you or swimming within the waters you were sorely disappointed when he appeared to not even be there. Nor had anything changed in the area since you left. The bed was perfectly made from when you last left it. None of the bottles or dishes on the sides had been moved or opened. Even a thin layer of dust had begun to form, strange given the room was open air. Giving into the fact that your royal lover wasn’t there, you lay on the bed after removing your shield, armor, and weapons from their places amongst your body. Pulling the covers over yourself and closing your eyes a deep, well-deserved slumber was yours at last.

As you slept, Sidon was up at Vah Ruta watching over the lands of Hyrule as its red beam was aimed at Calamity Ganon. He had been none the wiser that you returned, your paths hadn’t collided given you could only take the roads home while he could swim all the way to the divine beast if he wished. The sun was directly overhead, noon, when Sidon decided he should head back, missing the comfort of the pools and the joyous laughter of young Zora running about. Climbing down the mountain Sidon wondered if you were back from your trip with Link yet. He only said that you would be gone a week at most, so he counted down the seven days that you were set to be gone. That’s the reason he came all the way up to Ruta, to see if he would be able to find you along the path and walk back to the domain hand in hand.

Once he reached the banks, he began swimming up the rivers, small falls, and finally one of the larger ones leading straight up into the central area of the domain. Asking around if anyone had seen you, the guard stationed at the entrance said you came through and said hello before heading up to the dam. He could’ve settled with a mere nod and would be sent running, but the fact that they told him where you were made him spring faster than he had ever run before. There was no direct path with water to your room, so the bridge and staircase leading up was the only option. Racing up the stairs, nearly falling off around the bends, he makes it to the top and finishes his sprint as he makes it to the bed.

He almost couldn’t help but pick you up and start swinging you around in his arms, but he knew you needed rest and a lot of it. Trips like these with Link always took it out of you and he knew it. Very gently he picked you up in his arms, removing your outer layer of clothes to leave you in a pair of boxers, he headed towards the reservoir. Thank the Goddess you were a deep sleeper, he had no intentions of waking you as he was getting into the lake. Making his way into the water, he turned onto his back with you on his stomach, almost curled up on his abdomen he smiled. He always loved these moments, the world was calm for the two of you, nothing else mattered, it was just you two in a lake with nothing to bother you.

It was nearly dark when you woke up, gently lifting your head, the surroundings set in rather quickly. You were no longer in the bed you fell asleep in, instead, you laid on your lover's chest, in the middle of the reservoir, at dusk.

“Good morning my darling,” he said in a quiet but excited tone, he could only hold back so much joy that you were awake.

“Good morning, well, it’s evening isn’t it” you giggled lightly at the end of your statement, happy to be where you were.

“I’m happy you’re back” Sidon spoke calmly, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

“I’m happy to be back, and in the one place I favor most of all, with you” Pushing back into his palm you smiled, locking eyes with the prince.

“What shall we do now that you’re awake? We could keep floating out here, go lay in your bed, watch the night sky, explore the mountains, what do you wish to do?” Sidon rattled off the first things he could think of for you both to do now that you were revitalized after your long journey.

“I think I have a better plan my prince, let’s get back to land first” There was a glint in your eyes as you said it, he couldn’t figure out what you meant by it but agreed nonetheless and started using his feet to kick you both back to the dam.

Standing on solid ground you stretch your limbs out, a few creaks here, a crack there, and a happy sigh leaves your lips. Coming up behind you Sidon wraps his arms around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him.

“So what did you have in mind my dear?” He whispered, the moment was peaceful and he dared not break it.

“How about we spend some quality time together, on my bed, for a few hours, and possibly have some fun while we’re at it?” There was that glint in your eyes, once again he couldn’t quite figure it out, but with the way your tone relayed its sultry message, he came to understand very quickly.

“I think that’s a lovely idea, but I do have a question,” you hummed, urging him to continue, “who’s going to be on top?”

“I’ve been gone far too long, and I want to please you my prince, allow me to do so.” Turning around to face him you started running a hand up his chest, leaving it near his pecs as he thought over his response.

“Then be my guest” Sidon replied huskily as he unwrapped his arms from you and headed towards your bed. Once in your small room, the boxers you had left yourself in were thrown to the side, next to everything you stripped off before your slumber. Sidon laid himself back on the bed, it was just big enough to where he could stretch his legs out and they had a couple inches before the end of the mattress. Spreading his legs apart with a hand on either of his knees, you scoot between them.

“How rough do you want me to be?” A normal question you would ask before sex, always wanting to make sure you weren’t too rough on the Zora.

“As rough as you please,” the look he gave you said more than his words did, needing no further response you continued to move closer to his crotch. Beginning to push onto his sheath, two tips began to poke their way through. A groan leaves Sidon’s mouth as you continue to prod at his sheath, he’s not all too used to having someone else do it for him. Finally able to see half of his cocks, you begin to lightly tug on them as well, encouraging them to fully come out. With a little more pressure and jerking of the lengths, they are fully erect and out of their sheath. Sidon locked eyes as you began to kiss the tip of each cock, a small whimper escapes him when the kisses become sloppier and precum starts to leak from his slits. Now you have deep-throated one of his lengths before, and while you’ve tried both, it’s never been possible for you. That was going to change today. Taking one into your mouth, you start the usual routine.

Sucking on one while your hand slowly pumps the other, after about a minute or two, you switch dicks, using your saliva as a lube of sorts to make it easier to jack him off.

“Oh my Goddess, (y/n) please keep going, you feel so good.” All Sidon could do was beg you to keep going and moan out with how good you made him feel. Pulling off his cock, you began to jerk both lightly, then you pushed both tips to your lips. Sidon let out a gasp as you took the first few inches of both cocks into your mouth. “Please don’t hurt yourself dEAR-“ his words were cut off with a moan as you shoved another few inches into your mouth. His lengths were equal in size, but they were not small in any capacity, both were long and thick, so 5-6 inches deep into both you could feel the tears beginning to streak down your face.

Once you got comfortable with that bit in your mouth you started bobbing your head, pushing a little bit further each time you went down. Eventually, you managed to get both cocks to the back of your throat, feeling the tips smack into your throat was a shock, a painfully pleasant one. Sidon put a hand on your head as he tried to steady himself with how much pleasure he was receiving from you. Moans and grunts were all he could produce at this point, too overwhelmed to form words let alone a sentence. Slowly speeding up once you felt his hand grip

your (h/l) (h/c) locks, the moans he let out became louder and higher pitched, he was coming close to his peak, and that only spurred you on further.

Thankful for the distance you had from the domain now more than ever as his volume somehow only increased. His hand never actually pushed you down further or faster than you went, he knew you were providing more than enough pleasure for him that he dared not intervene. A few more bobs of your head and he came, shooting stream after stream of thick cum down your throat. A lovely thing about Zora, their sperm glows in the dark, a beautiful thing to see especially when it’s nighttime. As you pulled off his cocks, a small bit of his cum dribbled out of the corner of your mouth. Swallowing whatever was in your mouth still, you made eye contact, heaving right after and moving forward to kiss Sidon.

“Every time I taste you, you only get better my prince.” Your words made him moan into the kiss, only able to speak between the searing lip lock you were caught in. As you moved a hand to his face, the other was busy at his ass, finding his hole rather quickly before using some of his own cum as lube. Pushing a finger in he moaned into the kiss once more, before you pulled away to scoot back on the bed. Making yourself level with his hole you began to stick your tongue inside of it, licking and opening him gently with the wet muscle before coming back in with a finger and then two. Scissoring those gently before getting rougher and rougher in your motions, a third finger is added as the process repeats once more.

“How do you feel Sidon, how do I make you feel?” Asking for his praise he moans and manages to get a few words out.

“Amazing! No one else could ever make me feel the way you make me feel!” Finally getting what you want, you remove your fingers, pleased with how stretched he is. Using some of your own spit left on your hand, you lube up your cock before aligning it with his hole. Slowly pushing the tip in he grabs at the sheets, trying to go slowly even with the urge to shove your whole length into him. Inch by inch you work your dick into his tight hole, reaching your pelvis you stop and let him rest with your dick fully inside. Sidon taps your thigh giving you a “go ahead” before you start moving slowly. Pulling out to the tip you push back in slowly, once you set this slow steady pace Sidon takes a couple of minutes to get used to it before begging you to speed up.

“Please (y/n), go faster please, we both know I can take it.” His words just urge you to pull out and slam back in. A shrill moan is ripped from his lips as you start a brutal pace into him. He was right about one thing, he could take whatever you gave him. Continuing the pace you grab his thighs, attempting to just push them up so his legs are bent. You continue with his legs like that for a good while before you decide you want to be deeper into your lover. Grabbing the back of his thighs you push them to lay on his chest, the new angle allows you to shove yourself all the way into his hole.

“BY THE GODDESS YES!” Sidon screams at the top of his lungs, his prostate well abused by now as your tip continues to jackhammer away at it. At some point, he grabs his legs by himself and holds them to his chest to allow you to use your arms for whatever you please. A hand went to his throat while the other went to his cocks, lightly squeezing his throat and jacking him off at the same time. It took very little time with all this stimulation to cum for the second time that night, the luminescent liquid splattering his chest, yours as well, your hands, and some even made it to his face.

“Look at you all covered in your own cum, how beautiful it is to see you glowing from it.” A chuckle followed your statement as you continued your brutal pace into his asshole. Letting go of his cocks to let them rest after orgasm, your other hand went to support you by holding onto his thigh. It only took another dozen thrusts or so before you were pouring your cum into his ass, filling him up with more than just your dick. Pulling out you let yourself catch your breath as Sidon stared up at you, blissed out and the happiest he’s ever been. “How about one more hm?” He perked up at your words, confused by what you meant. Then it all clicked when he saw you pulling his thighs down and straddling his waist.

“Wait (y/n) I just came and so did you, shouldn’t we wait a minute?” He hurriedly spoke, trying to figure out your rush in movement.

“But the best pleasure comes from that.” The words you spoke were full of lust, and nothing but it as you started to slowly grab and jerk off his cocks. Rising up above them, you aligned both with your own hole, slowly pushing down. Now you were not stretched nearly as much as he was for your cock, so the process of sinking down took much longer. Managing to get both tips in, you sit there for a moment, letting you both adjust to the feeling, then half an inch further, a rest, half an inch, rest, an inch, rest. This continued until you were sitting on both cocks, both deep inside your ass, brushing your prostate just by sitting there. Slowly you pulled your hips up, pulling out until his cocks were halfway out of you, then falling back down onto them. Doing this again and again you tried to set a pace for yourself on his massive lengths.

Finally getting a steady pace you pull out until nothing but his tips are inside you, then slam back down. You both moan louder than ever and then you do it again, lift up, slam down. Continuing over and over again, until you are simply fucking yourself dumb on his cocks. You knew his orgasm was approaching quickly when he started to grasp at your thighs and thrust up slightly when you came down. With his help thrusting up, you started to feel that oh-so-familiar knot bundling up in your stomach. Keeping up the pace you set, it took not more than 10 minutes before you both came in sync. Your cum shot onto his chest and face while he shot into your ass, filling you so much that it began to leak out around his cocks.

You sat there for a good while, not wanting to move from the rather comfortable position. After roughly 15 minutes you slowly pulled his softened cocks out of you, cum dripped out of your stretched hole and he was covered in it. Moving to lay beside him, you collapsed once you weren’t directly over him, shimmying closer to his larger frame for warmth.

“Was that enough pleasure for you my prince?” You ask quietly, not able to raise your voice with how sore your throat is.

“That was more than pleasure my dear, that was ecstacy and nirvana.” He gazed down at you as he spoke each word was quieter than the last. Sleep was slowly becoming a need for both of you, but not wishing to sleep covered in layers of cum you stood up and walked to the lake.

“Are you going to come wash yourself or are you going to lay there covered in cum?” Turning around to face Sidon, he moved his head up to look at you, not even thinking twice before standing up very slowly and carefully, having orgasmed three times he was shaky. Grabbing your hand, you both stepped into the lake and started to wash yourselves. Moving closer to the Zora you started helping him wash off some of the sweat and semen from his chest and face. Once you were both clean, you’d stepped out of the lake and walked back to the bed. Sidon’s cocks had gone back into their sheath by now, but you just grabbed your boxers you haphazardly discarded earlier and slipped them on.

Sidon removed the cum and sweat-covered sheets on the bed before grabbing a fresh set for you both to sleep on. Laying down he opened his arms, awaiting you to climb into bed with him to sleep. Falling into his arms, you snuggled ever closer to his chest before closing your eyes.

“Goodnight my prince, I love you.”

“I love you as well my dear, sleep well.”

[lunastrophe]

Drow Fashion 🕷️✨ About Spider Silk - Part 1

Everything you may want - or may not want - to know about spider silk in (mostly Lolth-sworn) drow culture and fashion. In this part you will find information about:

sources of spider silk,

basic uses and meaning of spider silk in drow culture.

🕷️ Various Types Of Silk – among surfacers, silk spun by spiders is generally not widely used, but in the Underdark, spider silk is not excessively hard to obtain. It is extremely light, very elastic, durable and often has many other extraordinary properties, especially after being imbued with magic. In consequence, the Underdark silk market is probably vast.

Raw spider silk can vary in quality, depending mainly on the spider species it comes from – also, most spiders are naturally able to produce several types of silk that vary in thickness and adhesiveness. Some threads are suitable for producing delicate, transparent or semi-transparent materials. Some are useful for weaving thicker fabrics, carpets and tapiseries. Silk waste, after being properly processed, is also useful – for example, for making silken threads and fabrics of lesser quality.

🕷️ Silk Farming? – silk can be obtained from webbings, cocoons or egg sacks of wild spiders, or it can be extracted directly from caught or freshly killed specimens of various sizes. Such methods are generally time-consuming, though, and often dangerous.

Silk farming is probably quite popular in the Underdark, allowing to produce silk on a larger scale while maintaining better control over its quantity, quality and properties. Silk farms can contain thousands of more or less domesticated spiders that can belong to species best suited for producing silk.

Headcanon warning - silk farming is not mentioned in drow lore sources, I borrowed this idea from historical attempts to produce spider silk on a larger scale. So far, we humans are bad at this, mainly because we cannot figure out how to domesticate spiders (they like to kill each other, so it is hard to keep them together) and how to make them produce the kind of silk we want them to produce (every spider produces several types of silk and only some are suitable for making threads and textiles)... but I bet that drow would figure out how to make this work.

(If anyone is curious about this topic, I was inspired mainly by this article).

🕷️ Free-Range And Cruelty-Free* – silk can be obtained without harming the spiders and in case of more intelligent species, even with their explicit permission. Such things are probably especially important to Lolth-sworn drow who are forbidden to cage, mistreat or kill arachnids, or even to disturb inhabited spiderwebs.

*Only in relation to spiders, though. Underdark drow are probably not overly concerned with well-being of slaves and serfs tasked with gathering and processing silk...

Silk of spiders that live in temples and other places sacred to the Spider Queen, as well as silk of abyssal arachnids that live in Lolth’s domain, is most likely highly valued among worshippers of Lolth – especially among her priestesses.

🕷️ Uses Of Spider Silk – drow use silk to make armour, weapons, clothing, domestic and ceremonial textiles, high-quality strings, lines, nets and tents, and various works of craft and art. Spider webs, often calcified with magic, are used in creation of architecture ornaments or sometimes even whole structures like bridges, passages or buildings.

Among Lolth-sworn drow, spider silk is closely connected to worship of Lolth and is widely present in Lolthite temples and shrines – just like living spiders. It is said that Lolth herself favours silk and that when she takes the guise of a drow, she appears as a lithe drow woman dressed in a gossamer gown woven from spider silk.

Spider silk is also useful as a spell component and it can be used to craft magical items. For example, silk of phase spider and strands of ether are needed to create a portable hole – wondrous item that looks like a circle of black cloth.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[hiddenincommand]

The Divide of Dominance: True Alphas in Leather and the Submissive Role of the Faggot

In the world of true dominance, there is a line that can never be crossed, a divide between those who command and those who serve. At the pinnacle of this hierarchy stands the Alpha—unapologetically dominant, unchallenged, and in full control of himself and others. There are no pretenses, no masks, no delusions of equality. An Alpha’s authority is absolute, and one of the many ways this is reflected is in the elite choice to go commando in leather breeches with a fall front. This is a privilege, a sign of superiority that only the worthy, the true Alphas, can embrace. And then, far beneath, is the faggot—forever bound to servitude, knowing his place, and fully submitting to the will of his Master.

True Alphas: Masters of Their Domain

When I wear my leather breeches, fall front slightly ajar, going commando beneath them, it isn’t just a choice—it’s a statement. A declaration that I am untethered, free from the constraints that govern lesser men. I need no layers to separate me from the world because I own it. The absence of undergarments is not about convenience but about superiority. It is the ultimate show of self-mastery, of owning every piece of myself and every piece of the environment around me. My power is felt in every step, every subtle movement of the fall front—a constant reminder that I am in control, always.

But let’s be clear—this privilege is not for everyone. Only those who possess the strength, the dominance, and the sheer presence to command the world around them can wear leather breeches like these, unbound by anything beneath. Only true Alphas have earned this right. Lesser beings—faggots—will never understand it, let alone achieve it.

The Faggot: Bound by Submission

A faggot has no such freedom, no such power. His role is one of total submission. While I stride confidently, fully exposed and unashamed, a faggot’s place is on his knees, bound by chastity, locked in service. His body is not his own—it belongs to his Master, and that is reflected in the way he is dressed. No leather, no commanding presence, no fall-front breeches for him. Instead, he is bound in chastity, perhaps an anal plug as a reminder of his permanent subservience, and clothed in a suit, immaculately presented, always with the sole intention of pleasing his Master.

A faggot’s life is not one of freedom, but of servitude. His body is kept in chastity because he is not worthy of release—his desires, his pleasures are irrelevant. His purpose is singular: to serve. To obey without question. The Alpha commands, the faggot follows. There is no ambiguity in this dynamic, no room for rebellion or personal indulgence. A true faggot understands his place and accepts it with total submission, knowing that his only value lies in how well he serves his Master.

The Symbolism of Clothing

What a man wears tells you everything about who he is. An Alpha in fall-fronted leather breeches, going commando, is a man in total control—unashamed, dominant, and unrestrained. His body is his weapon, his presence undeniable. The leather clings to him, accentuating his power, while the fall front provides just enough concealment to keep the world on edge, never knowing how much he will choose to reveal. This is the uniform of a man who owns the room without ever needing to speak.

A faggot, on the other hand, wears what he is told to wear. His suit, while pristine and elegant, is not a reflection of his dominance but his submission. It is his way of presenting himself as a pleasing object for his Master’s enjoyment. He is polished, clean, and always eager to serve, but never free, never in control. His chastity cage is a constant reminder of his place, ensuring that his body is used only for the pleasure of the one who owns him.

Permanent Servitude: The Life of a Faggot

The true faggot is marked by his permanent state of submission. His chastity cage ensures that he is never tempted by his own desires, that his focus remains solely on the pleasure and satisfaction of his Master. His anal plug, an ever-present reminder of his subservience, keeps him aware of his role, ensuring that he never forgets his place beneath his Master’s authority. His suit, while tailored and perfect, is not a sign of status but a uniform of servitude.

A faggot does not walk with confidence, does not strut with the same swagger as an Alpha. His steps are careful, deliberate, designed to serve and please. His existence revolves around the whims of his Master, and he finds fulfillment only in his ability to obey, to anticipate, and to satisfy. This is the natural order of things. The faggot knows that his only worth is in submission, and he embraces it fully, knowing that he will never be the one in leather breeches, never the one going commando. He serves, and that is his purpose.

Conclusion: The Divide of Power

There is a clear divide between the Alpha and the faggot. One commands, the other serves. One goes commando in leather breeches, while the other is bound in chastity. The Alpha wears his power with pride, while the faggot wears his submission with humility. These are not roles that can be reversed, nor should they be. The Alpha will always be at the top, in control, dictating the terms of every interaction. The faggot will always be beneath, in service, fulfilling his role with absolute obedience.

For a faggot, there is no ascent to the heights of Alpha status, no hope of wearing the leather breeches that symbolize true power. His place is fixed, and his purpose is clear. He lives to serve, and that is where he will remain.

[nethhiri]

Siren Charms: Chapter 6

Zoro x Siren!Reader

Warnings: None

Of The Ether

It was dark when you opened your eyes. You were in a room by yourself, in a bed, with some kind of weird dress on. Did I forget sneaking on to a ship? One of your favorite ruses was to let yourself be captured, then have a little nighttime buffet while most were asleep. If they put you in a tank as a mermaid, you shattered it. If they put you in seastone, thinking you had a devil fruit, you broke the chains. You systematically went through the ship, indulging as much as you wanted before slipping away into the dark of night. But you didn't remember doing that this time. 

There was a pang in your side. Moving the fabric aside, you saw that your wound was finally healing. There was some kind of salve put on it. You don't know why anyone would be so stupid as to heal a predator among them. You looked around the room for your things. Your clothes were there, but your weapon was not. You slipped onto the deck after changing, hoping to locate your sword and get out of there. There was another problem. A lot of your energy was used to process healing. You couldn't transform until you fed again. The safest bet would be the blonde one, but that would require you to sneak around longer than you would like. 

"Lookin for somethin?," a somewhat cheerful voice said from behind you.

You turned quickly in a defensive stance. "Where's my sword?"

He ignored the question and pointed to your wound. "That doesn't look good. You should rest some more." 

You narrowed your eyes. "Why are you helping me?" 

"Felt like it." He shrugged. He continued to stare at you with round, kind eyes. "You should join my crew." 

It was unsettling. His eyes never once looked away from yours to look at your body. How could you not have any effect on him at all? "Why would you want that?"

"You seem strong. And your wings are really cool. Could you fly me around? That would be awesome." He rattled off a string of thoughts as they came to him.

How odd. "I don't think your friends would like that." You grinned a toothy grin. "I did try to eat them."

"They'll get over it." He smiled wide. "Robin and Franky tried to hurt some people on the crew once, but now they're good. Everyone does bad stuff sometimes but that doesn't mean they're a bad person." 

You never considered your actions as good or bad, simply seeing them as survival. This was confusing. Maybe you were having a fever dream. It was hurting your head. Sirens were solitary creatures by nature. You had never considered what it would be like to live or work with others. Almost shyly, you inquired further, "And if I did, what would my job be?"

He thought for a second, with his finger tapping his chin. "Oh! A scout! You could fly ahead and see what's goin on when we get to an island or somthin." 

"And what if I don't like being on a crew?" 

"You'll like being on my crew. Don't worry." He grinned widely again. "I'm Luffy and I'm gonna be King of the Pirates! Who are you?"

"I'm..." You thought for a moment. The name you had been given was a gesture, a hand sign. It was easier to communicate under the water with hands, not words. There was no need to tell anyone your name before, now realizing that you couldn't say it out loud. And the things you werecalled out loud ranged from "witch" to "monster" to "mermaid" to "vampire", etc. "I'm of the ether." You tried to explain your domain, thinking he would get it. You didn't know that your culture was not common knowledge, closer to a myth actually, though that would explain why no one ever called you a siren. 

"Ether." He said, testing it out. "Welcome to the crew, Ether." 

You opened your mouth to correct him, but shut it. It's not like you had another name to give him instead. Ether. A faint smile touched your lips. It sounded nice. "Now what?" It was hard to refuse him for some reason. Some kind of magnetism. A thought brushed your mind: you would get to see more of the green one.

[melanie-ohara]

In The Woods Somewhere

Whumpuary2024, Day 05 - (Alt) Prompt: Stabbed

Something in Sabine's burgeoning connection to the Force draws her out to the woods just as the Peridean sun rises…

AO3 Here

Sabine jolted awake and sat bolt upright in her bunk with a gasp. The lights in the room were turned low and the chronometer told her there were a couple of hours to go before dawn, so she slumped back against the pillows and tried to figure out what it was that had woken her. It could have been a dream, but since Mandalore she never remembered her dreams, and she had a distinct image of a forest in the rain still in her mind. It didn't look like anywhere she knew, but the trees looked distinctly Peridean to her. When they had been on the Ghost together, Ezra had visions through the Force - but they were strong and overwhelmed him while he was awake. There was something, though. Some strange pull she felt that coaxed her out of her bed and out of the ship. Ignoring it just made it stronger, so she sighed and got up. 

Ahsoka was probably already awake, so she didn't bother moving quietly when she left in full armour, carrying both blasters and lightsaber. Shin and her bandits hadn't appeared for weeks now, but they were still out there - along with wild Howlers and probably countless other predator species - and it paid to travel prepared. Sabine hopped down from the idling T6 into the Noti camp below it, and made her way to the edge, aiming for the tree line in the distance. Her plan was to walk until it started raining, and then look for a place that matched her vision, but she was still wary: their slow pursuit of Baylan Skoll had skirted around the trees so far, and from what she had managed to decode of the Noti language, they feared the forests as much as the ancient Nightsister ruins. 'The domain of betrayal', if her translation was right. Still, the Noti were pacifists, and Sabine had weapons and armour that far outstripped anything the locals had access to. 

The rain started and the pull got stronger. Ahsoka had told her so often to surrender to the Force when she felt it, but Sabine still found herself trying to resist it: trying to guide herself to a destination she would never find without the help of the Force. It was the Mandalorian in her, determined to make her own way, and while she still hadn't decided the path she wanted her life to take, right now she needed Jedi instincts to find whatever was out there. Something about the pull had changed now - it felt urgent. Desperate, even. Something in the dark between the trees was calling out to her like a distress call. Sabine paused, shut her eyes and took a deep breath, and waited until she could stop second-guessing herself and follow her instincts. When she opened them again, she was already walking.

When she next glanced up from the ground, placing her feet to avoid a series of knotted roots, what she saw in front of her lined up so immediately with the image from her dream that Sabine almost fell over in surprise. At the exact same moment, the tug at her guts disappeared like a cut cord, and she was left standing alone and unsure in the darkness and the rain. Outside the forest, the sun would have risen by now, but under the canopy there was barely enough light to see. 

"Hello?" she called, but received no answer. The trees absorbed her voice before the echo could get very far. She doubted anyone would hear her over the rain.

Sabine tried to place her trust in the Force and took a few steps forwards, but when her gut instinct insisted she was going the wrong way, she couldn't help turning back. And there, slumped against a rock between two trees, was Shin Hati. Her hair was starting to grow out and she had pinned it back behind her head, and her clothes and armour had been adapted and added to with bandit equipment, but it was definitely her. 

Caution dictated she draw a weapon and approach slowly- after all, Shin was a deadly assailant who had spent their entire time on Peridea trying to kill her. It could be a trap. Sabine dimly recognised that after she had started running towards her, and by the time she had crashed to her knees in the mud by Shin's still form all of her weapons were still clipped to her belt. 

"Shin?" she demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking. "Shin, wake up!" 

Why did she care? Why was there a roiling, sinking sensation, like a battleship going down, churning through her guts? Why was Shin not moving? Her hair was plastered to her face, which looked even paler than usual, and when Sabine lifted her eyelids she found her eyes rolled back into her head. Her pulse was thready and unstable, but it was there. She wasn't dead, but she was dying. 

Sabine glanced down, and saw that Shin Hati had been stabbed. 

This wasn't the neat, perfectly circular mark of a lightsaber blade - like the one Shin had given her when they first met - this was a messy, jagged incision that left blood and severed skin behind rather than a perfectly cauterised scar. A lightsaber, even in the hands of whatever Shin and Baylan were, was a Jedi weapon first and foremost, and killing was a last resort. This had to have been a bandit weapon. 

A soft cough turned Sabine's attention back to Shin's face, where she saw the briefest flicker of her eyelids. Her throat worked to swallow, and Sabine tried to shake her again.

"Wake up, blast it!" she growled, but Shin remained silent. "Karabast," she muttered, reaching into her armour pouch for a bacta spray and unclipped the cover from the nozzle. "Don't blame me when you're not ready for this," she said, and pressed the tip against the wound in her stomach.

Shin's eyes shot open and she screamed as the bacta started to knit severed veins back together and stem the bleeding. The sound wrenched at Sabine's heart as much as it did her ears, and she gripped Shin's shoulder with her free hand to try and soothe her.

"I know, I know," she said, concentrating on running the device all the way around the rough edges of the wound. "It stings, I know." 

Sabine had been unfortunate enough to learn a lot of battlefield medicine during the war, and she knew when someone wasn't going to make it without a full bacta immersion. She didn't know if there was a full-scale tank on the T6, but the alternative was that Shin Hati would die out here, from a wound inflicted by her own allies. 'The domain of betrayal' wasn't a myth after all. 

"I have to get you to the ship," Sabine said, trying to sound reassuring and not let on that she wasn't sure that would save her either. The helmet made her sound insincere so she took it off with one hand, scrabbling for a bacta patch with the other. There was no way it would heal Shin's slashed organs or repair her internal bleeding, but it might seal the initial flesh wound enough for Sabine to carry her. She wished she had brought Mirshko the Howler with her, but there was no point thinking about it now.

"Sabine?" Shin's voice was a thin whine that Sabine barely heard over the rain.

"It's me," she said, lifting the tattered remains of Shin's bloodstained robe to press the patch to her skin. The wound was so big the strip barely covered it, but at least the infusion had stopped the more severe bleeding. "You can murder me once I save your life, okay?"

"Took… lightsaber," Shin managed. Her eyes opened for a moment, and a lump rose in Sabine's throat as she saw how bloodshot they were. A second later they closed again, and Sabine worried she had been too late.

"Shin?!" she shouted, and the other woman stirred very slightly. 

"It's a trap," she said. "They're… they're coming."

Sabine's blood ran cold.

[fufuheheii]

Cyno x Adventurer!F!Reader

Very short! Encounter request between Cyno and an Adventurer♡

♡ You trudge through the sand, your shoes already filled with it as you attempt to walk across the desert. The map in your hand is already soaking wet with your sweaty hands and you struggle to hold the compass in your other hand.

♡ Just a few days ago you received a commission to deliver an item to some guy living in the desert. It pays hefty money, and you need the extra mora to at least get some decent food for your future adventuring days.

♡ It happens often that scholars would run off into the desert in hopes of not getting found by the matra. With so much sand, there’s no way to track someone with so much sand and wind covering their tracks.

♡ However, for the general mahamantra the sand is his domain.

♡ “N-no!” the scholar screams before getting slammed against the sand floor. “Oof!”

♡ He shrieks when the tip of the General Mahamatra’s weapon points right at his face, and at the very end of course, stands the mahamantra himself. He glares down at the man, his piercing red eyes inspecting every belonging and seeing none of which is stolen from the library. “Where is it?”

♡I-I don’t know what you’re talking about-,” he stops when the edge of the weapon touches his neck. “I-it’s with an adventurer! I c-commissioned them. S-she has the knowledge capsule!”

♡You sent an adventurer to do your job?” Cyno almost laughs, but in the eyes of the scholar it looks like the demon smirking. “How pathetic. Where is she now?”

♡ “I h-have no idea,” he hiccups. Cyno narrows his eyes before looking out into the desert. If it’s an adventurer, no doubt they’ll be lost by now. There have been a number of them coming into the desert with no idea on how to navigate through it.

♡ He turns back to the scholar. “When did she leave?”

♡ You finally reach your destination. Just up ahead is a small oasis, and a number of people native of the desert sitting around. You look back at your map and frown at the mess it has become. “It’s fine, I’m sure they have an extra map for me to use,” you reassure yourself under your breath as you head over to the oasis. “They look friendly enough…right? Wait, they’re looking super alarmed right now…uh, hi! I’m here to deliver something!”

♡ Cyno hurries through the sand, sprinting at the speed of a cat in danger. After learning where the scholar sent the woman to, he realizes that’s the area where bandits regularly hang out together. Damn it all, to think the damn scholar would go as far as to send an innocent civilian into the hands of bandits…there’s no way she’ll get out of it alive.

♡ He sees his destination up front, and his eyes that were once glaring into the heat, widen at the sight before him. The bandits run past him, screaming about a crazy lunatic. But he doesn’t mind them. Archons no, the person before him is truly too beautiful to look away from. Her frizzy hair from the intense heat, her arms flailing around, and most importantly, her shiny six pack that shines in the sweat under the sun makes his heart go doki doki as he watches the marvelous sight before him. Never has he seen a woman possess so much strength, so much willpower. With the exception of the Traveler of course, but this woman is different. For her body looks firm, healthy, and her birthing hips are just right. Something awakens in him, something is making him want to tell a joke to her. He holds the left of his chest, his face reddening.

♡ Is this love? ♡

♡”This woman is crazy!” one of the female bandits screams before getting smashed in the head by a barrel. Another barrel is thrown at the escaping bandits by the one and only adventurer who is sweating buckets. Your clothes are half torn from getting into a small fight with the bandits for supposedly roughing you up too much. Your face is full of sand, your lips so chapped from the intense heat that it's bleeding down your chin. You pant as you watch all the bandits run away, all bruised or injured.

♡ Thank you mom for forcing me to take self defense classes. As you’re getting ready to jump into the small pond of water, you notice a figure heading your way.

♡ Is your eyes playing games with you, or is that a dog with a human body? As the thing gets closer and closer you see it is a boy around your age, his eyes wide and sparkling and cheeks red as you look at you with so much awe.

♡U-uh, you’re not a bandit are you?” your voice cracks from the lack of water for hours. He blinks before shaking his head.

♡“I am Cyno, and I have a thousand jokes to tell you.”

It’s been so long since I played Genshin Impact I had to actually search things up to refresh my memory (;_;) Hopefully ya’ll enjoy this, and thanks to the anon who sent the request!

[sunnyy-sunsh1ne]

About Guizhong Having a Correlation with Domains and the Heavens (TL;DR)

It is indeed a fact that Guizhong has similarities with the Heavens & Domains.

She's an entitity that "descended" from above, and also has clothes that resemble to the Abyss/Heavens & Domains.

To continue with the theory we need to asume that all deities descend from the Heavens or recieved the blessing of the Heavens.

With Heavens I don't mean Celestia, but a higher/different power like the Primordial One and its shades or even the Seelies/any other divine envoy.

This theory also follows another theory from a video of @/Ashikai.

Where she talked about domains being concentrated places of space & time. According to this theory these places are like the teapot function, where we can have a big space in such an small teapot.

Domains could be places full of chaos, crowded with forbidden knowledge or random data of Teyvat.

This data could be physical items that the ley lines cannot storaged for some unknown reason.

So because these items cannot be in the ley lines & in the world of Teyvat, domains were created by the Heavens so Teyvat could exist with peace.

Here is where Guizhong finally appears, to be part of the creation of domains.

I have three leads about Guizhong being a creator of Domains:

(1st lead) The ornament she uses in her clothes, and also her clothes being similar to Lumine's & Paimon's clothes.

The ornament of Gui can be seen in various forms around Teyvat, like in the Viparya flower, in the elemental attack sight of Nahida and more.

But I think that @archa1c_l0rd (in twitter) can talk better about it. This post was helped by this other one...

Link: https://twitter.com/archa1c_l0rd/status/1617437510912860162

(2nd lead) I think that Gui's clothes look pretty similar Paimon's clothes (asuming that Paimon has some corelation to the Heavens).

And also a bit to Lumine's clothes (if she also even has some corelation to the Heavens.

(3rd lead) The 3rd lead is the catalyst weapon Memory of Dust.

According the weapon's description, in this dumbbell lies all the wisdom of Gui, one that Rex Lapis was never able to unlock after Gui passed away in the Archon War.

What if inside this lies a domain just like in the teapot function?

Maybe Gui was able to create this dumbbel thanks to her previous creations of domains.

I would like to add that maybe domains could also storage god's residue so it doesn't harms Teyvat.

Maybe old destroyed civilizations had gods that died in some point of history (ex. archon war).

As also there could be pple's souls put in those domains, so they were not storaged in ley lines bc maybe they had forbidden knowledge?

This is why domains have artifacts and weapon ascension items.

[petthebunfluff]

TI GOT A COMPLETE REDESIGN LETS GO!!!!

okay!! first form is his original appearance in his universe (underchestra), second form is when he first glitched and third form is after he was rescued by ink keep reading for more info on drawing him and his lore!!!!

likes do nothing so please REPOST

LORE SECTION

about ti

ti was just a normal sans who lived in underchestra, a universe where all monsters were intertwined by music. ti mainly plays the trombone, but has also learned to play the flute. his personality is similar to classic, but he has social anxiety and tends to be more secluded because of it.

about underchestra

it's an au where all monsters share a passion for music. most monsters play instruments typically found in orchestras. here's what the characters will play so far (i still need to decide the rest):

frisk: flute (uses it as a weapon in genocide. can be used as gun or dart shooter)

sans: trombone (secondarily, flute. learned from frisk)

papyrus: trumpet

toriel: harp

asgore: tuba

ti's lore

on a random day, ti was kidnapped by error. frisk managed to tag along with him. while they were in the anti-void, ti's creator gave up. his universe was being destroyed. core frisk managed to get everyone to safety, but noticed their absence.

frisk and ti glitched the anti-void. a horrible screaming noise could be heard, not just coming from them, but their code. the anti-void turned blue.

error did not expect that. he instantly let his strings go off him, in disbelief. the noise was as if their code spoke to him, as if they were alike.

core soon managed to arrive with an ally: ink. ink rescued ti and frisk from the anti-void, leaving error in a semi-glitched domain. the anti-void would soon go back to normal.

ink helped core take care of ti, as he found him to be very interesting. over the next few days, ti's glitches would reduce to a something he could live with without being in complete agony. frisk managed to recover with minor errors, due to not interacting with error directly.

ink gave ti new and funky clothes: pants, sneakers and a small cape. at the time, ti didn't have a name... he was only sans. ink was very fascinated by ti, and when he learned ti could play the flute, he gave him one. due to the nature of it being ink's flute and to his glitches, it made him able to travel the multiverse. he soon got to be known as flutist sans (ti for short), for traveling through aus with his flute.

INFO SECTION

for everyone who wants to draw him

both second and third form have the incorrect DOS version BSoD image overlaid over them second form uses burn on 50-60% and third form uses screen on 20-30% second form uses the same incorrect DOS version BSoD image for his eyes, but with a filter that makes it look like the blue is darker on the second and third form, the amount of chromatic aberration is up to you, just keep in mind that the second form has more chromatic aberration than the third

fun references i put on him

the 0x0000007B text on him refers to the (INACCESSIBLE_BOOT_DEVICE), which means the system is unable to boot from the hard drive,,, which would fit on his lore since his au was abandoned while he was in the anti-void, leaving him with an unaccessible path to his au (which would be the equivalent to a hard drive)

[arachnixe]

The Hangover

(Part 11 of Night’s Longing - Previous: Homecoming)

The castle should be darker than it is. Without so much as torchlight illuminating the passageways, we would ordinarily need to rely on our lamps as we make our way to the beating heart of Dracula’s lair.

Yet somehow, there is enough to see. An eerie, violet light shines in place of mortar between the stones, as though the whole structure were held together by occult force rather than by the arts of man. A lesser hunter might quake with doubt, but I am resolved to see this through.

“Careful, Boltman. Set too hasty a pace and we might fall to ambush before achieving our goal.”

The voice of wisdom to my left comes from Alucard—among my most valuable allies, one without whom we could never have penetrated so far into the enemy’s domain.

With long, tied-back hair the color of sacred silver, bearing a frame and voice that balances on the razor’s edge between masculine and feminine, I had on first meeting dismissed the fop as weak and useless, some delicate, effete molly masquerading at mastery of the martial arts. I have since learned better, having witnessed firsthand how well the other hunter weaponizes the presuppositions of men against them.

It would be a similar mistake to underestimate the young woman behind me, the array of amulets around her neck rattling as she jogs to catch up. Hernández may look frail, but the witch from Spain invokes powers beyond my ken, far exceeding the limits of my meager theurgy. With pockets full of strange trinkets, talismans sewn into her clothes, and arcane symbols etched across her skin, she wields her mystic knowledge to prepare our party for every obstacle.

Neither of them would be with me now if I weren’t willing to trust them with my life.

I grit my teeth and slow my steps to match the pace of the others. We cannot afford to take unnecessary risks, and right now it is my impatience that puts our party in needless jeopardy.

“Good timing.” The witch pitches her voice low, for our ears alone, speaking in hurried, clipped statements. “The snake tail quivers. Threats approach. Not men. Not beasts. Unholy. Undead.”

I draw my silver blade and whisper a prayer. With a nod toward the others, I affirm my readiness as we round the corner together and spring the enemy’s trap.

To get here, we have had to cut through vampires, yes, but also living vines, wolf-men, puppets of stone and spiderweb, and toxic fiends beyond description. Still I am unprepared to witness what faces us in the next room.

Our assailants are more than just undead. Looking like the bones of men picked clean by vultures and bleached white on some ancient battlefield, bones that rise again, lacking muscle or sinew yet standing upright all the same and gripping the weapons they clutched in death, these skeletons charge at us as if still fighting their ancient, forgotten war.

Where to stab? Where to slice? Professor Van Helsing’s unimpeachable research on the undead has proven tragically lacking on tips against this particular variety. Even the garlic I insisted the three of us wear seems hardly to slow them down at all—perhaps because they lack the necessary olfactory organs?

I narrowly avoid the thrust of a spear, catching it and lashing out with a kick that snaps the thing’s femur in two, but broken bones seem to hurt the skeletons no more than the fact that those same bones are missing ligaments to join them together.

“Well done, friend!” Alucard’s heavy glaive shatters the skull of another, though it rises once again to stand, pieces of its skull drifting back into alignment again. “Break as many bones as you can!” The glaive caves in the same skeleton’s chest. “The puissance animating each one is limited. The more pieces it must hold together, the thinner it stretches, the weaker it becomes, until—“

Another strike, cleaving the pelvis just as the skeleton starts drifting upright again, and the monster collapses, bereft of sufficient strength to reassemble itself.

How fortunate to have the company of two fine experts on the dark arts!

The spear makes for a useful quarterstaff with which to bludgeon and crack bones at range, but we are quite outnumbered, and destroying even a single skeleton is exhausting work. Alucard, with that massive glaive, clears enough space for Hernández to do her work, plunging her staff into the ribcage of a skeleton and rending its animating force to shreds in a flash of light, but even our witch is limited to the slow work of dismantling them one at a time.

They’re closing in, surrounding and forcing us slowly backward, toward the entrance to the hallway that led here. That is a real danger. The bottleneck would serve our enemies and their spears better than us; we need the space more than they do.

I cast my eyes around the room, searching for an approach. A heavy oak table sits near a wall, further along which is an alcove bearing an oversized stone statue of a woman I do not recognize. The arched opening leading from the hallway provides a small lip, and above us looms a grand, albeit tarnished, chandelier.

“Keep them off me!” Taking a step back, I sheathe my sword and drop the spear.

Alucard steps forward, not hesitating to fill the double-duty of clearing space for both Hernández and me. The glaive spins in a furious, two-handed whirl. Someday I’ll have to ask where such a fighting style comes from, but for now I simply whisper a prayer of gratitude that my allies are as formidable as they are.

Hup! I leap to catch the lip of the archway above me with one hand, the vantage high enough to offer an unobstructed view of the far side of the room. With a practiced motion, I pop the clasp at my belt and uncoil my long whip. As a part of the hunter’s arsenal—despite my storied ancestor’s efforts to prove otherwise—it makes for a poor general-purpose weapon no matter how much theurgy one invests in its construction, but as a tool it has its utility.

I find my grip on the stone—firm enough—while my other hand lashes forward, casting the whip in an unerring line across the room to wrap around the neck of the statue. I heave with all my strength and pull the thing off its plinth, sending it crashing down atop a line of skeletons.

“Ha!” Alucard barks a triumphant laugh, taking advantage of the sudden chaos to finish two skeletons in rapid succession.

That’s a few more down. Enough to momentarily clear a path through the crowd.

“Coming through!” Tossing the whip to the ground for the moment, I release my grip on the stone and bound ahead, across the fallen statue. I sprint, vault onto the friendly table, transfer my momentum vertically with a leap that kicks off the wall and sends me soaring overhead to catch the chandelier.

I heave myself atop the ancient fixture, even bigger up close than it looked from below. Perfect. With two hands on the chain, I flex my arms and lever my legs to start the chandelier slowly swinging. Need to build momentum first. I’ll only get one shot at this.

My hand grips the sword again. I whisper an invocation to awaken its true power, conjuring forth a brilliant glow of theurgy, the power that makes this heirloom more than mere metal. Gripping the chain, gauging the timing, I slash downward. More-than-silver cleaves through tarnished bronze, severing the chandelier from its support, sending it tumbling into the crowd of skeletons below.

My aim is true. Most of the fiends are crushed with one fell blow. Letting go of the chain, I land on the table below with an artful flip. Made of heavy oak, these wooden legs make for adequate clubs after I chop them off.

With their advantage in numbers greatly diminished and their remaining strength divided between my allies and my dual-club assault on their rear, the tides turn decisively in our favor. We work as a team to crush and dismantle the skeletons until, panting with exhaustion, we emerge victorious.

“Clever work, Boltman.” Alucard claps me on the shoulder. “And not a scratch on you. Each day I’m given new reason to marvel at how well-earned your reputation is.”

Hernández runs a hand through her dark hair, clearing wild strands from her face. “A wonder, truly. I have never before seen anyone—ah, anyone human, that is—move like that. You fly through the air, a hawk among the bats that haunt this castle.”

“I am human,” I respond with more defensiveness than is warranted. “My clan possesses great lore to enhance our human potential, and God Himself blesses my family name, but I am human still, nothing like the devils we hunt.”

“Of course not.” Alucard offers a placating smile. “After all, the garlic you’ve forced us to wear should offer adequate proof of that point!”

Hernández scoffs. “That doctor you so respect plagiarizes local superstitions and calls it science. Smelly plants ward away my distrust no more than they ward away vampires. Morris, my friend, your actions speak with deeper truth; none who fight the undead with such awesome ferocity could count among their number. Let my words never cast doubt on that understanding.”

Her contempt for Professor Van Helsing no longer raises my hackles. To disagree on how one should hunt the minions of night concerns me less than the truth of her own ability to fight them. At least she humors me by wearing the garlic despite her disbelief.

I nod in acknowledgment, then turn my attention to my other companion. “Alucard, what on Earth were those things? I have not seen undead of their like before. Not vampires at all, but something frightfully new.”

“Beyond ‘skeletons?’” A shrug, as if this were a trivial point of academic curiosity. “The Count was a powerful sorcerer long before he became archvampire. We must prepare ourselves for many powers and defenses that exceed the capabilities of ordinary vampire-kind.”

“But how?” I shake my head in frustration. “Are there others capable of similar feats? Could he train apprentices to become a threat on a similar scale?” I gesture at the bones littering the ground. “If all vampires were capable of commanding an army like this, our job would become far more difficult.”

“They say,” Hernández speaks slowly, picking her words with care, “that he was tutored in his youth by a witch who sold her soul to the devil, groomed from childhood to become the ultimate manifestation of evil on Earth, the product of a dreadful ritual that can never be repeated.”

“All the more reason to end him now, while he is yet vulnerable.” Alucard nods decisively. “With that said,” the hunter casts a scrutinizing look toward our party’s witch, “I wonder where you learned such secrets about our enemy. To describe that as ‘rare lore’ would be a fantastic understatement.”

“Perhaps when our job is done, I will lay bare what secrets I still keep. To do so now, well, the walls in Dracula’s lair have ears.”

“Nevertheless—“

“We all have our secrets,” I interrupt, putting a hand on Alucard’s shoulder. “You not least among us, friend. Let us not distract ourselves with talk of the past. It satisfies me to know that we’ll not suffer from an epidemic of Draculas after we finish our job here. Have we not just spoken of our mutual trust? Hold fast to our faith in one another, and we cannot fail.”

The two of them nod in agreement, duly reminded of the bonds between us. They have both become dear friends to me, and I trust them with my life.

But… Why is it that the light casts such strange shadows across their faces? I can hardly make out their features. Their smiles, simultaneously familiar and strange to me, suddenly lose their reassuring quality.

Do I know these people? I rub my eyes as though I can wipe my vision clean, clear this confusion, this nagging feeling that I am not myself.

Names and faces flit through my mind, superimposing themselves on my companions. Elizabeth and Victoria, dignified and dear, catch me as I slump to the floor.

“Boltman, are you well?”

Now it’s Ylio and Carmen, the hands on my body a silent threat, concern painted on masks hiding their true agenda.

“Dracula’s resurrection is at hand.”

When did we decide to assault a castle? Where is this castle?

“I am not yet through with you, Hanna. You must play your role in this story.”

Now it’s Daniel and Carlo, towering above me, swinging whips of blood. In unison, each man’s whip coils around a wrist. They haul me upright, a weightless marionette puppeted by my relatives. Daniel hands me a stake of pure white oak which my fingers mindlessly close around.

“Did you think you could give up on your duty? There are none left to take up the mantle. You saw to that when you made yourself the last of our bloodline.”

My head is weak, flopping to the side, but I do my best to shake it in denial. My voice fails me, but I mouth one word: lies.

“Did you think there were still others? Did you think the Boltmans haven’t been hunted? Did you believe an archvampire drew close to you on accident? By your own hand, you have made yourself the last Boltman, and in so doing you have doomed yourself to become the vessel of prophecy’s fulfillment.”

I refuse. You’re dead and buried and gone! You have no right to rule my life! Go to hell!

“The Cult of Dracula is your responsibility. The death of Dracula is your responsibility. Ending the reign of the vampire is your responsibility. You have no choice.”

No!

---

I bolt upright. A scream dies in my throat before it escapes to the waking world. My sweat soaks the bed, sheets a tangled mess kicked to the floor.

What was that dream? Not the usual one at all, showing me the moment of Morris Boltman’s death. This one was something altogether new. Is it real, another vision of the past, or merely a nightmare reflecting my fears?

Also, I can’t help but notice, I’m alive. Why am I alive?

Carmen is sound asleep at my side, meaning that I, for once, woke up before her. It must be midday still. In sleep, her back to me, there remains in her no trace of the violence with which she assaulted me last night. I still ache from it, but by now I’m sure the injuries have closed up already.

My eyes fall to admiring the curves of her body, tracing the ornate lines of her tattoos down until I notice a familiar symbol on her lower back.

Huh. I hadn’t caught it before because her version of the design is almost medieval in style, rather than the more modern interpretation I’ve seen, but that is unmistakably the same winged ouroboros worn by Ylio and their allies.

What does that mean? It feels like I’ve been handed the pieces to an important puzzle, but there’s something critical I’m missing. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. Whatever it is, my skull is pounding, and I still ache all over. I’m not exactly in the right shape to play detective about this mystery.

More immediate a concern is the way Carmen revealed some of her true self to me last night. I doubt I’ll ever feel quite as safe around her as I once did, but… she didn’t kill me. She even tucked me into bed afterward and fell asleep beside me just like always.

I could leave now, before she wakes, with the protection of the midday sun, making my way back to my sisters’ place. That would be the smart thing to do, wouldn’t it? The safe decision?

Let me admit the truth to myself, though. I don’t want safety. I’ve never honestly known what it is to be truly safe, and I’m not sure I even trust the concept. All I want, all I ever wanted, is love at any cost.

Wrapping an arm around Carmen, I lie back down, pressing my body into hers. I prefer the familiar caress of a beautiful knife at my throat over the stranger that is “safety.”