#bc of all the... corpse possessions...

[sunlight-shunlight]

suddenly sitting up awake at 12am: i think thedas has a genre of memento mori types of paintings, where they put a skull in with some fancy still life stuff to indicate that the patron/artist is wealthy, but also Pious and thinking about Inevitable Death rather than material things (even though they're lovingly rendering all the silverware and expensive fruits and lace tablecloths or whatever)

BUT. since andraste is associated with fire, this is done by including like a lit candle or an urn of ashes or something in the composition, to show the piety and focus on the impermanence of life! i think this would be common in orlais especially. presumably tevinter is trying not to play up the "whoops we turned the saviour into a burnt kebab :)" angle in their religion, so they'd have... idk. a knife or something? to indicate the sword of mercy as the pious symbol of death rather than the fire itself?

[doctorwhoisadhd]

theres just so many interesting things you could do if you staged chimes of midnight tbh....

[endawna]

hunger, when pax was ritualistically sacrificed:

[cherie-doll]

Could we please have a part 2 on the vampire cod men + victorian era + vampires.

Maybe with reader moving to the countryside abd being the towns new school teacher instead?

yep! link to first part is here for anyone who hasn't read it

i rlly wanna write a whole fic off of this plot i've built up bc i have SO MUCH LORE but idk how it'll fare

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Them As Vampires #2

 ๋࣭♱ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

The ripples of hysteria that had been caused by what the people believed were vampires preying on vulnerable people could barely be felt in the countryside, he had resided here for some time, surely there was no need for caution here

He was respected among neighbors, honored for his service in the past and now lived rather peacefully under protection of the wealth he had acquired in his youth

You had become an interesting individual who had dismantled his idyllic life, you were youthful, so full of vigor and life being around the children and instructing them

He sensed maturity and sagacity from you, and you revived what he thought had been dormant for a long time; lust and violent devotion, the need to possess and protect you

And passing through the final threshold you'll see he is actually the gentlest, using his many years of wisdom to guide you, convincing you to settle with him and despite the tumult you've found yourself in by being the muse of multiple vampires, he'll provide all the support and help you need to pursue your passion of teaching

Now, when accepting a vampire's offer, you must be very careful, for you may end up indebted with them and their requests may seem unreasonable, but he is not cruel, he only requires you to lend him your love for one lifetime, to save him from his many long years of solitude, that's all he asks of you

Ghost

Here was the worst of the unsalvageable, the damned, the condemned and the poor, forgotten souls of the departed beings trapped on earth, he was barely a person; a remnant and a corpse

He despises himself due to the curse he was to live with for eternity lest something put him out of his misery, the cycle of turning others into that he was; a monster, a corpse, a despicable creature

Yet the first moment he saw you, he knew he needed you, that overpowering sense of going after what called for him, he wanted you to understand his pain, of being different from everyone else because of an ugly past

It's not like you to be frightened but the scare he gave you on the first encounter was one that could have had you turning away from him had you not seen him in a moment of weakness, him doubled over, pain overtaking him, in his wild and crazed state you saw how forlorn his eyes were, half-starved was he and all you could do was observe his erratic breathing

you want to know his thoughts, you don't want him to hide any longer and to live as he's never lived before

He too, is drawn in by your soft nature, in this isolated pocket of earth, hidden from the bustling of crowds in town, you have all the time in the world to heal him, all you did was show sympathy and he took and he learned to not seize it as if you were to never offer it again but ask for it in return

Soap

He considers his bloodline irrelevant to his value, disregarding the riches his family has wanted to hand down for him to manage but he knows that as the eldest and with an eternity ahead of him, he'll be held down by earthly possessions from doing what he truly desires

He'll be more than pleased to donate some of that money to you without his family's knowledge so you can use it to give the poor children an opportunity to study without their having to pay, he knows a good natured person when he sees one, you're more good than all those bloody guilty and deceitful men who can walk by a starving child and only tip their hat in greeting

Just as he spends a great amount of time studying plants he finds himself wanting to learn more about you, observing every detail and habit of yours as if another species to learn about, he wishes he could take you home like he has done with many of his plants and keep you under his watchful eyes constantly

Stepping into his rather large estate can prove difficult due to the overgrown plants stretching and overtaking the place, they have crawled up the walls and creep into cracks which can easily get you lost if you were to enter alone

He'll give over any amount of money if you agree to have dinner with him as he gets rather lonely in his grand place he's inherited, he was to get a wife along with the passing down of the estate but he declined saying he already had his eye set on someone

Gaz

He's the most passion driven soul you've come across, his entire being emits warmth and sincerity, never would you have guessed he was half cold had he not told you so

His douceur nature is what attracts you to him, more tightly bound is this simple gesture than honeyed words of seduction which are commonly used by vampires for their victims, but his human half does not allow him to be completely consumed by carnal desire

Despite his better judgement he spends many evenings with you past what is proper of "good company" only, knowing sooner or later you'll grow curious at the mask he wears to hide what truly pains his soul, you seem to so easily read his emotions from his work as an artist

It captivates you how beautifully he can compose a dulcet song or write the pains of his melancholy on bloodstained paper, you want to mend the anguished heart within him before his sanity deteriorates and the madness awakes and takes away the human in him struggling to live with this feeling of alienation from being different from both halves

The only solace he knew before you was getting lost in the hills of this quiet countryside scenery and taking in all of what is good for the tortured senses, standing in silence to marvel at the moving clouds and sky, but now he is glad to find someone who is not only passionate about learning but also teaches the young children

Roach

How cruel had fate been to thrust him into this unchangeable course for the remainder of his days, it is terrible knowing there is something sinister living inside of you just waiting to claw out and shed your old skin, when he just wishes to live his idyllic life which is why he's even moved out to the countryside in the first place, town is no place for him, especially not a vampire

He wishes for a somewhat normal life, he sees you can your ability to be loving without being afraid of of the repercussions, he seeks the very things that may destroy him in the end if he does not learn to proceed with discretion

He is a fledgling; his lack of expertise and experience prevent him from going on with his life normally, finding it extremely hard to find the rhythm of this merry go round without the help of the sire who turned him this beast of blood

The fear upsets his heart as he ruminates on it but with time and your showing him how to prevent it from getting to him release his mind from the prison he's set for himself, he devotes his care to helping as best as he can to others

He finds a lively imagination that he can use to his benefit and it is this animated spirit that demonstrates how much he wants to live despite the cold in his body

Alejandro

He's felt a growing need to seek sanctuary in things that other vampires are unlikely to show an interest in, while others may seek riches and wealth he seeks power through ways people may be less heedful of

Just like him, humans will seek the approval of something, someone greater than their kind, and no matter how many times he is thrown away into the abyss to be forgotten he will dig through and find a way to live and make something out of himself

He just wants to avoid being forgotten about, and he is especially interested in how you are able to so easily make a place for yourself in this little countryside small town without making so much of a commotion, you quietly slipped and fell into a constant pace without clawing at anyone or having to bare your teeth

But for him to know this he must first step down from the podium he's positioned himself upon and learn to live in control of his sinful nature, the recollection of his nature and controlling it is still something he must come to terms with, especially if he's outside of the strict environment he's hidden away in for years

In time he learns to treasure those moments that will wither away with the people if he does not let them sink into his mind as he cradles your reassuring hand in his palm, enveloping your hand to remember the everlasting feeling of what amity must feel like

Rudy

He'll gently hold and savor every moment with you in his hands because chances like these only come once in an eternity, with a life like yours which is so fleeting you must allow him to admire and keep this to himself, it is not jealousy if he worries about you

Your unchanging smile that beams a little brighter for him than the others is more than enough to prove to him that there is light in the world he has seen so enclosed in darkness and seclusion, that there is no reason to hide away like all his other companions do

It is like a new world unfolding in his mind as he gets to know you, how marvelous it feels when you allow him to gaze into your eyes full of liveliness unlike the dimmed eyes he's been accustomed to seeing, you are alleviating to him like the cool shade on an overbearing summer's day

To him, it is such a beautiful thing to witness life from a human's perspective, because life for them is so fleeting and fast anything that happens is worth waiting for, unlike the same routine based lifestyle he's had to put up with for he doesn't even know how long, he only wishes to know simplicity

He is glad to finally have found someone as deserving of love to value nurturing he had kept within him for years

Phillip Graves

Will you choose the man everyone advises you not to go with? Even the undead seem to avoid him and he has few who outright declare to know him, obviously against your better judgement you will because you know no better, he has that tantalizing manner of luring you in

In a moment where you are alone, he finds you, soon as your eyes meet there already is a whole evening's worth of conversing said between the both of you and it's as if he is able to easily control your inquisitiveness to lead you astray from everyone who wishes to protect you and walk right into his arms

"It's all lies, darling" he whispers into your ear when you express worry of what others may think, truly you mustn't believe them, they just don't like outsiders, and he's been one in every place he's been to, seemingly hated or disliked by everyone except you, you make him feel welcome in your home, or so he says

There is now a tether between you and him, a bond unable to be broken so you may never want to be apart from him, why when he has everything you need in this life and the next?

Makarov

It seems death itself follows you no matter where you go, once someone in the family has been in close contact with a vampire, it is hard for the vampire to leave the members of the family alone, for it hopes to find another impressionable heart to overpower and you have been the one with the susceptible heart

He asks you to ignore all the ignorant fools, they're far too brash to bask in your kindness that you give too easily, he is by far the one you are scolded at for even thinking of going near, there have been many rumors of what he does to those who are too naive, those poor victims who have been discarded, their veins sucked dry

He could easily make you surrender completely to him, but you have placed yourself under his care so benevolently that he has felt no need to forcefully subject you to him, with your gentle caress you have made him tremble and quiver out of what can be the closest thing to love as a vampire can experience

And it is with this fragility that you have found in his heart, that you now are in control of him, what happens next is determined whether you will let it taint you by reciprocating the manner in which he has approached you or will you show it purely

Keegan

He has no interest in what humans have got to offer, he finds their existence pitiful if all their efforts are in vain for they do not live very long, he holds a certain hatred for those who are greedy and succumb to every want of theirs

Yet, you arrive without any evil in your heart and you present yourself without filter to hide your intentions, he is curious of this when most of what he's known is greed from others, he keeps mostly to himself and is rarely involved in the affair of others

Still, curiosity is a vampire's greatest weakness, he stalks you nightly to know your persona, he is there to see your disposition in helping others, your kind heart when helping the children, you've displayed more fondness than a mother

In the light of the moon he becomes aware of his senses, the turmoil soon to brew under the stars that will watch as he divulges under susurrus that catch softly in the wind and drift into your room at night through the window; the whispers of confession that you don't quite catch while awake but rather find a way to manifest in your dreams, not sure if they are a nightmare or of a terrifying reality

His deep eyes that catch the light from the candles illuminating the room as he silently observes you

König

Despite the relationship between their countries, there still seems to be some sort of tension between König and the other vampires, the alliance they once had had begun weakening and he is distrusted, just when he is ready to completely untangle himself from this mess you drew him in

Gathering all the violent tension within him and burning it away, letting his rage dwindle and water it down to nothing in the pure night where no one can observe and reprove of him

You soak him in unfathomable amounts of amour and he does not find it within him to bite back, his breath catches in his throat at this feeling he cannot name, he can barely imitate you as a meager way of loving back

You sacrifice all the love you can give for him and he marvels at how you are able with so little you have received in life to give it up to an immortal being who's lived for so long yet received so little

He holds your hand to his face, closing his eyes to remember these moments of a mortal and to not let them be erased by the wind which can so easily take

Horangi

Your curiosity shall surely be the end of you, you spoke to a gentleman at a function for one night and now he's always lurking around you whether you like it or not, you don't even know of it

A vampire's adoration can go to great lengths when they find a human they are infatuated with, other than this he has no reasonable motives, he wishes you would accept his advances, only a vampire can love you forever, he has no difficulty entertaining you with promises exchanged at midnight

This nocturnal romance which tarnishes you, whether it destroys you for nothing or everything you are worth, leaving a deep scar within your heart which you can trace with your fingertips as your ache for him to return

You venture the uneven terrain where angels fear to tread, along the long desolate hallways of an uninhabited home where no other dares to enter, you maintain there waiting and trusting that he'll return every so often to adore you like always, you may go mad but it is something you look forward in the cycle of everyday life

Nikto

In order to escape deep solitude that has turned into loneliness he takes to watching over you like a butterfly on your shoulder when he cannot be there during the day, he seeks the pulsating of your heart, the tremors that run through your bodies when together

You don't draw back in fear like the others do, and this was the first time he was truly loved, in all your fantasy, you always knew he wasn't a monster, he could love, he could be tender and gentle, there was no need for desire or selfishness to consume him entirely, there was a time for him to live the life he deserved, the one you showed him

Still, there is a darkness he cannot fight that comes when listening to your tranquil breaths, the temptation he feels growing and gnawing within him to drink and confine you to the grasps of everlasting immortality, because it truly is terrible to love something that death can take away from him

He can already see the image forming in his mind; the fog that comes from the shaky breaths escaping your lips, the rise and fall of your chest stained with droplets of blood, letting you go cold for a moment before you join him in eternalness

He can only contemplate this as he watches the sun rise over the hillsides through the curtains that shield him from the rays of light

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Mullet stan with a caring reader

There. I said it.

Bringing him inside, making him meals through the day. Testing hair products on him as an excuse to run your hands through his hair, givung him gifts. Sharing hot beverages on cold nights. The sappy shit.

All these things, you do that with no expectantions of him to return the favor, but Stan doesn't feel the same way.

Stan thinks he needs to recompensate you. Needs to make sure that he's worth of your kindness. But alas, it's not like he have anything of value to offer you, right?

So he pays you in the only way he can when money is scarce. Sex.

But even there you're still thinking on him. It's almost like you're not even thinking about your pleasure at all. Kissing his body softly, whispering praises to his ear as you jerk him off. Learning what he likes by hearing how he whines (Fucking mewls) when you ride him. You even encourage him to moan louder goddamnit.

He really doesn't want to get attached, but the way you called him a good boy after he cummed all over his belly really wasn't helping him in the slightest.

Have a good day/night

can i eat this ask for breakfast and dinner pls? it’s so damn tasty i’m gonna start crying. mullet Stan is my roman empire. he makes me feel twelve different emotions per second and i would write for him forever with tears in my eyes. i love him so fucking much

also omg i’m so sorry i wrote this much ?? i don’t even know if this is what you meant but i just got so inspired bc this prompt is everything to me :(( forgive me for being possessed

nsfw

yes, exactly. it starts with you loving him the way no one ever did. Stanley is not used to it, the love. the little things. you feed him three times in one day and his eyes go all wide. you tuck his hair behind his ear when he’s too tired to answer, and he watches you like a stunned animal, expecting you to vanish but also ready to run before you can.

it's shocking. your love doesn’t barter. you brush out his tangles in the morning and warm his jacket on the radiator just because. you kiss his neck when he’s got a headache and tell him he’s doing so well, even if all he did that day was rotting in bed.

he’s not sure if he’s meant to speak it or kneel to it. and the fact that you do it with no expectations, nothing demanded in return, that’s worse for him, Stan can’t cope. he’s sweating under your kindness more than he ever did under interrogation lights.

you hand him a warm plate. put him in the chair and just. . . start rubbing shit into his hair. argan oil? cocoa butter? Stanley doesn’t even know what the hell it is, just that your hands are in his scalp. it feels so good he’s sinking like a corpse into soft earth. twitching sometimes. biting his lip. pretending not to like it.

and it makes him angry that he’s hard by the time you towel off the conditioner. because he felt safe. and he doesn’t know how to live with that. so he does the only thing he knows how to do, which is unzip his fly and try to fuck the guilt out of himself.

cuz that guilt builds and builds and he’s got no tools to fight it. no gold to give you and no skill he thinks matters, so his only option is to offer the one thing he knows he’s good at: getting you off. or. . . trying to. but of course, you won't even let him be a proper martyr for you, will you? you make it worse. because when Stan presses his face into your belly, groaning against your skin, trying to make you cum first so he doesn’t have to think about how selfish he feels for needing you, you just roll him over and smile, “shhh. i wanna take care of you today, baby.”

the look on Stan's face could only be described as genuine shock and something very close to tears. those big brown eyes wide with disbelief at what he just heard, thick brows lifted, lips parted slightly as a hoarse breath slipped out of him, still not over the way he’d just been thrusting into you so fast and so deep. because what the fuck do you mean by that? who taught you to say things like that to men who are worn out and out of gas and money. why are you still looking at him like he’s got worth?

“lemme make it up to you,” Stan says in shock. “c’mon, sweetheart, lemme take care of you for once!”

but you don’t let him as you press him down by the chest, mouth on his neck, earning a groan from him. “no, honey, you’re the one getting taken care of tonight.”

and fuck if that doesn’t make his legs go weak.

you ease him back onto the bed like you’re tucking him in. straddle his lap, kiss his temple, rub slow circles into his chest while he trembles under your weight. you pull his cock out soft and slow, make a pretty little nest for it in your palm. before he can protest, you’re stroking him off slowly, kissing along his jaw and whispering things, “go on. let me hear you, baby. i wanna know how much you like this”, “look how you throb in my hand. look at how pretty you are when you’re trying so hard not to beg” as you smile watching his needy face

you grin when finally a long moan escapes from his dry lips. he never knew he could sound like that, did he? never knew he had a voice that could get so needy. Stanley's crying, pink-eyed and ashamed, but you’re licking it off his flushed hot cheeks, telling your boy he’s so so so fucking beautiful. and it’s breaking him over and over again.

Stanley’s in a fog. in such a thick, impenetrable fog, it wraps around his whole body, slips inside and tickles his lungs. he can’t remember the last time he felt this good? and more importantly, this safe during sex? you’re asking him something, Stan hears you, you’re saying something about good boys and how they need to cum, but he can’t quite make out your words because all he’s doing is crying out loud every time your hand moves up to his leaking tip and squeezes, so tight, making it feel so impossibly narrow there. Stan’s drunk. for the first time, drunk not on booze or drugs, but on pleasure. so drunk he doesn’t even notice when you start kissing all over his body. taking your time. from jaw to collarbone to chest. you mouth over his throat, kiss the hollow of it, kiss every scar, and then stop at his nipples, god, his nipples, and stay there.

you tongue over one, suck gently, then nuzzle at it, just lingering, and he’s gasping, whining, all those pretty noises spilling out of him while your palm never stops working his cock. “you sound so good, honey,” you murmur against his chest, and he shivers. “gonna cum just from my voice, baby? from me telling you how good you are? my pretty boy hm?”

he mewls. he actually fucking mewls and he’s gonna cry. Stanley hides his face with one arm over his eyes and tries not to cum right then and there just from how sweet your voice sounds. it’s maddening for him, the idea that this isn’t for you, but for him. he’s panting under your hands, flushed pink all the way down his chest, whispering little breathless “ah—shhiiit—fuck”s because his lungs can’t keep up with the affection you’re pouring into him.

but this is the part that kills him, you let him come down from it. carefully, you kiss his belly, wipe him down with a towel from the heater, murmur little nothings like “that’s my good boy. . .you did so good for me” and he thinks “that’s it” although he dreams of drowning in this love of yours. but guess what, you're not done, sliding back onto him, guiding his softening, oversensitive dick back inside, and he gasps, tries to wriggle away because it’s too much, but you just coo at him cuz he’s your sweetest thing.

Stan's hands slap against your thighs as he sobs again and again. it probably hurts to be touched so sweetly. probably.

“you can take it, baby. you always do so good for me. gosh, your cock feels amazing Stanley, so big. . . my big boy yeah?” you don’t stop with the praise. “cmere, lemme hear you. don’t hide it, i wanna hear all of it. that voice is so fucking gorgeous. louder, Stan, louder, please.”

you feel like you’re about to cry yourself, looking at Stan’s tear-streaked face. he’s barely even moving, completely given up, letting you ride his overstimulated cock however you want. his forehead’s all sweaty, and his mullet, messy on a good day, is so thoroughly ruined you can’t even enjoy those beautiful puppy eyes of his. leaning in toward your boy, you kiss his forehead, brushing the hair out of his face, and Stanley, completely overwhelmed, no, lost in the mess of emotion and the pleasure curling all his fingers tight, grabs your waist like he’ll die if you ever stop fucking him like this. he starts sobbing about how good your pussy feels, begging you never to leave him. god. “oh fuck baby. baby please don’t stop! please stay, stay with me, fffuck, you feel so good, i can’t. i can’t even think. . . please don’t ever go, live with me, fuckin’ marry me, i’ll do anything. j-just don’t stop, don’t stop ridin’ me like that. i need youuu, i need you so bad, i’m nothin’ without you. . . feed me, please fuckin’ feed me and ride me and stay with me forever, i’ll be so good, i’ll be so good, i promise. please, i love you, baby i love you so bad it hurts, oh god im so close. don’t leave me, please don’t take this away from me. . . oh im cumming. . .oh god, oh god, don’t stop, don’t stop”

Stan's so deep in that puppy love he doesn’t even realize the way he’s talking anymore. if he had a tail, it’d be wagging so hard it’d knock over furniture. he keeps nuzzling into your chest then reaching for your lips because you’re the only safe place in the world. he's a mutt that’s finally been fed and thinks he’ll die if he loses you. Stan wants to be kept, owned, loved. Stan wants you to touch his hair and call him yours. he wants to be your good boy forever.

and later, when he’s trembling, flushed and panting beneath you, belly streaked in cum, hair mussed from your hands, tears dried against his temples, you lean down, kissing his neck and say thank you, watching him sleep.

Stan's never been treated like this in his life. and you’re making sure that the first time he feels worthy, it’s when he’s whimpering in your arms, bare and loved

[iceingms]

Whb iceberg.

We start from curiosities, data that we can realize at first sight and descend to the murky ones. I clarify that I will also attach non-canon theories.

• In hell, a hundred years have passed since Solomon disappeared, while, on earth, since 931 BC.

• Not only Solomon, but also God and Lilith.

• Satan has a barcode on his arm, and sleep with his eyes open.

• Death does not exist in Paradise Lost, because of Gamigin.

• Beel left Abyssos since Solomon's disappearance.

• Orias will never stop consuming souls. Youth is never eternal, and by obtaining Levi's soul, it would only stop it for a while.

• Satan has confirmed that he has lost his home.

• Angels can also be humanized.

(Theory)

• Ark Academy and whb are connected.

• Solomon also had to drink human semen to stay in hell.

• Demons are infertile. Except for kings, because they have enough power not to use Lilith.

• All six deadly sins are needed to defeat Lucifer.

• Demons and angels can change shape. It influence their emotions.

• Bael tries to be a copy of Beel. He must follow the shape-shifting, from hair dyeing to limb mutilation, because he made a deal.

• Minhyeok is no longer human. Due to Mc's deal with Satan, nothing can kill him while it is in effect.

(Theory)

• Gamigin and Serenade will never see each other again. Since they reside in different realities.

(Theory)

• Beel wants to eat Mc.

(Theory)

• Morax's skill. Absorbs wounds, even if they are fatal.

• Beel has eaten angels.

• Solomon can possess the bodies where his soul resides.

• In hell, crimes of all kinds can be committed, without being punished. This also applies in heaven.

• Bael's comic. He almost died for impersonating Beel. Still can't explain what happened.

• Solomon has all the filias. Even the most questionable ones.

• Angels have orgies.

• Christmas cards. It's sexual abuse.

• Leviathan is the first, and the one who has forced Mc the most to have sex.

• Beel has died thousands of times because of angels.

• Death lines. Canonically they die in battle.

• The Glassyalabolas filia.

• Solomon knows what happened to Lilith and God.

• Fruit of the tree of knowledge.

• God and Lilith are dead.

(Theory)

• The real Gamigin committed suicide.

• Ronove is going to take the fingers from Mc's corpse.

• Leviathan was going to end Solomon's lineage.

• Kamikaze angels.

• Jjok was abandoned in the forest to die.

• Buer, Morax and Marbas have died hundreds of times.

• Satan has anger problems that can kill Mc.

• Mammon and Valefor could kill Mc by accident if they apply the wrong force.

• Angelification is so painful that it breaks a demon's mind.

• Mc has a high probability of dying if ignores where may or not be in Paradise Lost. This implies that Lucifer can kill anyone with just a voice command.

• Demons were the first to experiment with angels.

• The massacres of the angels. This includes the demonic, angelic race and the near extinction of dragons.

• Andre's past. (He carried his twin's head for days.)

• The archangels will never get the punishment they deserve.

• Leviathan and Orias' constant abuse on the farm.

⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧

Does anyone else have any interesting or shady data?

It took me a day to gather information in my head, but that's it! I appreciate knowing that the shape-shifting is different, between angels, and Beel's camp.

Edit: Yeah, as soon as I realize my man is a walking red flag, it's confirmed that Levi baby never tries to have a forceful response from Mc, or tries to get her to ask him first.

[mothyspace]

Death's Pet (yandere oc x reader)

Being the prized possession of a god of death. (❁´◡`❁)

[//warnings:// violence, captivity, mind break kind of implied]

A Grim Reaper, a shinigami, Death, they have many names. As you've also learned, there are many of them. This one has trapped your sad pitiful soul like a mouse.

*splat!* You flinched as more gore spilled out from the mangled corpse. It wasn't anywhere near you. But just watching it was too much... You wanted to turn your head but his large clawed hand held you still. His talons were tangled in your hair, almost painfully. Almost. He would never truly hurt you. So he says...

He laughs, the sound low and rumbling and too sudden that it makes you jolt in surprise. He only laughs more and leans down to speak directly in your ear. His breath is cold as always.

"It's been years and you're still afraid of these things? I thought this was my best work yet." He sits back, pulling you with him to settle you further on his lap. One hand is at the base of your neck, the other at your waist. By now you've grown accustomed to your place here with him. Being held like a precious doll. But these visions he shows you... of people dying. It's something you will never get used to.

He's the god of death- or rather one of them. His domain is over what you used to call "freak" accidents. Now you know they're no accidents, he orchestrates them all.

You stare blankly at the vision as he laughs like it's some kind of game. To him it is, you suppose. A woman holds her husband- what's left of him and sobs. You can't hold it back anymore and you retch.  He lets go of you and lets you curl up on his lap and tremble to your hearts content. "Still so delicate and pitiful, aren't you?" he laughs, softer this time, and gently strokes your back. He soothes you from the brink of another panic attack, "Give it another hundred years and this stuff will be as mundane as bugs to you."

"Please... I don't want to watch this right now..." you stare up at him with teary eyes and beg, hoping it's one of the few times he's in a good mood.

He leans closer, the dark void of his hood gives no emotions. It's always unnerving. Another thing you don't think you will ever get used to...

Slowly he brings a gloved hand up to wipe away a tear. You wonder briefly how such a monster could also be so delicate. and why, why so gently with y-

"On second thought..." his voice is a low whisper it fills your head and interrupts your frantic thoughts, "Maybe you shouldn't..."  

He hugs you tightly to his chest, burying his cold face into the crook of your neck. You feel his whole body shuddering... 

"Because... You're just so cute when you're frightened."

This an oc i've had cooking in the oven for a bit! He's a grim reaper, god of death type of guy. I'm thinking he might actually be part of a group? and they're people who no longer have human faces so they wear masks or hoods to hide the void of where their faces SHOULD be!! I have a few more ideas for characters in this group~! a few more yanderes too and one (1) wholesome boy. Maybe.

Also a few ladies bc,,,, i like wamen 🥺

YES THEYRE ALL EDRITCH FREAKS TOO!!! EXPECT TENTACLES FROM SOME !!!! not this guy tho--

ANYWAYS, as you can tell it's going to be a little messed up setting. You're his pet and there's p much no escaping that 💕 But it's not so bad maybe? He's…. well he doesn't hurt his darling. He's not someone who would assault his darling either! HE'S LIKE SECRETLY DOWN BAD but just doesnt kno how to be normal lmao? loser ???

I'LL THINK OF A NAME FOR HIM SOMETIME… LATER ? His appearance im thinking is like, classic hooded figure but also with fancy clothes like this:

also um,,,,, ( ^////^) this is my first fiction in like a million years,,, hope you enjoy it 💌💕

-Mothy

[lemonstars8583]

lalalaa hello i haven’t posted my fnaf au stuff in a while here’s two recent doodle pages RAMBLES UNDER CUT! but before that who the FUCKKK WAS GONNA TELL ME THEY MADE A TO BE BEAUTIFUL GRAPHIC NOVEL AND REDESIGNED SARAH ENTIRELY??????????

WHO IS THIS NEW GIRL whatever I’m not changing my sarah design ❤️ (mine is inspired by the pic on the left)

idk if I’m gonna go the route of “wow sarah realizes she’s (he’s?) trans!” I just think it would be neat if that sort of makes her realize something and she goes thru a journey of “did i ever really hate myself or did i just hate that i wasn’t what society said i needed to be?” there’s a happy ending for her in there… somewhere… even though she’s dead… 😭😭 uhmmm

but yeah idk transmasc sarah is cool but the more i think abt it the more butch sarah is cool too. like maybe she even goes by he pronouns sometimes but eventually settles knowing that she likes being a woman!! just not in the way she was pressured to be before :)

I REALLY really want funtime freddy and circus baby to parallel millie and sarah.. former best friends who’s relationship got super fucked up and all that yknow.. ik i said somewhere in a former post that sarah and millie didn’t know each other well but that is NOT true anymore sarah is the best friend millie had in CTW who ditched her for the popular people

also i didn’t draw freddy damaged here bc i’m too tired to add the cracks and little details LOL i don’t care ❤️❤️

ALSO!! fun story change! I think it’s fucking stupid that sarah just like. slipped on a fuckin banana peel and her necklace fell off. soooo i think it’d be cool if Millie saw her wearing the old BFF locket she got her back when they were friends and got PISSED that sarah would have the NERVE to wear that when they aren’t even friends anymore and sarah fuckin ditched her to be popular, so they get into a fight, millie yanks the necklace off in the scuffle, and whabam! Sarah’s true form is revealed and everyone freaks the fuck out.

Millie would probably continue clutching the locket tightly without even realizing it, she’s just in shock, and later on when she goes home freddy is able to identify the illusion disc inside. baby probably pressures sarah to go break into millie’s house to steal it back since now they can’t hide anymore so she’s pissed that sarah lost it

Sarah of course gets caught breaking in 😭😭 but millie and her grandpa offer to house her there while they figure out what’s going on and try to help her, during this time millie and sarah become very close again as friends while freddy and baby are at each others throats.

freddy doesn’t want sarah there AT ALL but is also reluctant to tell them why because explaining to millie that her best friend is dead and possessing her own corpse which is being piloted by his ex-friend who tore him apart is really awkward

(also he knows baby is trying to hide and blowing her cover might make her want to kill millie and her grandfather THOUGH as sarah’s corpse continues falling apart, baby already has plans to look for another body to inhabit..)

[double--blind]

(SPOILERS) Andrew and plausible deniability, OR: mfer doesn't wanna be held accountable for his actions

This has been churning in my head for a while (I am mentally ill 🥴), but a large part of the driving force behind Andy and his actions is his aversion to blame. He sorta shares this w/Ashley (she's got quite a few rants abt how things aren't her fault), but I believe Andrew takes it just a step further.

I've seen many say this before, but from the start of the game, you'll notice that even beyond normal moral quandaries, Andrew's first objection to any horrific action Ashley proposes is usually a variance of "what if we get caught?". He objects not bc her ideas are ethically repugnant, but bc they could be found out as having done them, and he knows rationally that others know they're bad. This goes as far back as childhood with the Nina incident. He fears punishment and the threat of prison more than he apparently worries about what his crimes might mean for him as a person or what they might mean for the people that might be affected by them (save him and Ashley). This doesn't mean he doesn't feel guilt or have nightmares abt them, but they're not his first priority. Trouble's a pain to deal with, and the dude's low-energy.

In fact, most of his guilt seems largely self-centered. Like, no exaggeration: if it isn't about either him or Ashley (which is, in a way, lowkey also about him), then he couldn't really care less. Do you recall him ever expressing worry or remorse on Nina's behalf? Mourning her? We think Ashley's the one w/empathy issues, but Andrew's in the same boat imo. Self-preservation and self-interest is all that's keeping him seemingly amiable enough for polite society, bc for the most part, he really couldn't be bothered.

In his dreams, the victims of their murders are just bodies: interchangeable, holding no more meaning beyond the fact that they're dead. Any corpse's limb will do to replace the one Ashley cooked—never mind that they may be from different people—bc they're all the same to him. Even Julia, sitting in her dorm room surrounded by evidence of Ashley's harassment, gets no sympathy from Andrew. For the most part, he elects to ignore it all, and regards Julia herself with a detached sorta nostalgia tinged in no small part with apathy.

img txt: You'll never see her again. And the fact that it doesn't really bother you, bothers you.

(The only things of notable worth from her were the colored pencils on her desk, which he promptly takes from her to give to Leyley instead, and isn't that just some crazy symbolism right there?)

His fear of punishment goes hand-in-hand with his desperate pursuit of plausible deniability. Everything he does, he does under certain self-imposed conditions. If it's Ashley's idea and he argues back, it doesn't matter in the end if he goes along with it, bc it was Ashley's idea in the first place. He's just there to make sure she doesn't get them in trouble, bc she needs him, bc he's gotta take care of her. Even if it's not her idea at all (e.g., killing the closet warden, killing the lady in room 302), it's still her fault, bc he did it for her, bc everything he does, he does for her.

Ashley's a manipulative, evil lil possessive gremlin w/a soul as black as tar, and Andy's a doormat, but don't think for a second that part of him doesn't use that dynamic a little to keep from reflecting on what he is. He suffocates under it, but he also relies on it. If there's any sort of plausible deniability available, he'll take it and run with it.

The truth of the matter is that they're both deeply toxic, warped individuals. The difference is that Ashley's owned up to it and quite frankly doesn't care. Andrew hasn't. He's the "normal" one.

Now, for the funky incest part (what we're all here for babyyyyy)—

We've all seen the flavor text abt the bed-sharing by now, right?

img txt: Oh yeah, you tooootally have nightmares as often as you claim.

We know for a fact that aside from some light teasing, maybe, Ashley would have no problem whatsoever with sharing a bed w/Andrew. Heck, she'll coax him into bed (demo) or climb onto the couch with him (ep 2) w/o any prompting from him whatsoever, just bc she feels like it. Andrew, apparently, can't do the same. He doesn't allow himself this intimacy of his own choosing, so he has to lie and pretend to get it if he wants it. He's greedy for her, too, but he can't let himself show it.

If something is sufficiently too intimate in his eyes, beyond anything he can excuse away for some reason or another, then he'll stop himself from doing it. Just like how he wouldn't let himself succumb to the urge of pulling Ashley into his arms to make her smile, but is willing to give her a hug when she asks for it in front of their parents.

He insists on the extra expense of two beds, and then cites his nightmares and panic attacks as the driving force behind crawling into bed w/her, bc then it isn't really his fault now, is it? He tried to stay away, after all. He did! He just didn't have a choice!

Lol

Andrew can't admit to wanting this—buries those feelings and thoughts as deep as he can so they fester and bleed, the repressed idiot—so he gives Ashley all the power to decide how close they get. It's in Ashley's hands. He's free of that hassle.

Which is why the post-sex vision, and Ashley's reaction to it, is so dangerous. @csg-iii made a good point about it in my last post:

img txt: I think the biggest point about "11" is that Andrew asks/begs Ashley for reassurance that it will never happen ("never say never"). It's a subtle admission that if she really wants it to happen, he knows he won't be able to resist his own urges. His only ""hope"" of avoiding going there is if Ashley doesn't want it.

Andrew, in absolving himself of this choice and putting it in Ashley's hands, shoots himself in the foot, bc what if Ashley goes the whole mile? Then the only real thing keeping his desires unrealized was the fact that they had never been voiced as an option before.

He doesn't want to think of himself as someone who'd bone his own sister. Forget being a cannibal, demon summoner, or a murderer; those titles were foisted upon him. This is too close to something real that he carries inside him; this isn't anything Ashley's buried in him, but rather something of his own invention. Something he'll definitely have to take responsibility for.

[empyreanwizard]

about miquella's kidnapping, you know the charm only works if miq gets really close in your face (see heart stolen + freyja's account of being healed) and it doesn't do a 180° in your personality (the npcs in the shadow realm are there to show us how it affects them and we can see it didn't change their personality) what the charm does is: make you non-violent (see heart stolen) makes you forget bad things (see leda and ansbach remembering "cascading sheets of blood" after the charm is broken)

if anything, I'd say the charm would've made him more sane, take thioller for example he's completely obsessed with trina after the charm is broken, to the point where he tries to kill you after she talks to you

compare thioller's dialogue:

"i am her chosen, not you. only I can doze off in the sea of st. trina"

and

"only i am allowed to know. of your velvety sleep. its sweetly gentle embrace. so please, smile—for me, and only me." (st. trina's smile)

to mohg's dialogue:

"miquella is mine and mine alone"

both are possessive and obsessed. miquella's charm nullified thioller's obsession, and I have no reason to believe miquella can just pick and choose the side effects his charm will have.

my points on why miquella did not want to be kidnapped

1 - he wouldn't have cocooned himself for a long ass time like he did otherwise. and you know he was there for a long time because he's all skinny and covered in cocoon liquid stuff. and mohg wouldn't need to break open his cocoon like he did, he would just take it back to his palace

2 - miquella couldn't have known mohg even existed. he lived in the sewers his whole life, and miquella never went to the sewers. also, even if he did, he couldn't have charmed him there bc otherwise ansbach would never know to differentiate a non-charmed mohg from a charmed mohg .

3 - mohg is already a established kidnapper. from the "war surgeon gown":

"Bloodstained white gown of the war surgeons who were effectively mercy killers. Of the surgeons that were abducted by the Lord of Blood, none were able to tame the accursed blood. None but Varré, that is; though he was an exception."

4 - mohg had his own reasons to kidnap miquella. he wanted to build his blood dynasty and to become a lord, as ansbach says he was seeking lordship, and the consort of an empyrean is a lord by right (see dark moon ring description). miquella is the only empyrean available, as ranni is presumed dead and malenia already has a god inside of her (and he could never kidnap her), leaving only miquella who apparently doesn't have an outer god meddling inside of him, so perfect vessel for the formless mother

now, you're probably wondering "well if the mohg thing wasn't planned, who would be used as a vessel for his consort??" to answer that, miquella probably didn't know he needed a vessel in the first place, as the ">>>secret<<< rite scroll" is only found in the shadow realm, he couldn't have known about that thing while living in the lands between.

verdict: miquella was forced to switch plans after the kidnapping (can't complete anything he starts curse yadda yadda), mohg did not beat the allegations, and miquella got his revenge for being used (mohg was living/sleeping inside his corpse how do yall forget this???) by using mohg's corpse to house his promised consort's soul somehow (which is awful too, but that goes without saying)

remember, the story in the dlc is there to parallel his ascension to marika's ascension. in this case, the hornsent killed and tortured marika's people, and she responds by genociding and terrorizing the hornsent people. mohg used and abused miquella's corpse, and he responded by using mohg's corpse.

marika = miquella

hornsent = omen

I just think it's weird that so many people are running off with the assumption that miquella, who the dlc all but confirm has the body AND mentality of a child, was charming mohg out of malicious intent rather than self-defense. remember he was probably never trained to fight nor does he have the strength to do it, the charm is basically his self-defense mechanism.

I think the main issue is that if you disagree on even the littlest thing here, the whole narrative shifts, and that's why there's so many different interpretations and confused people.

this is all subjective and there's no reason to claim my interpretation is the correct one ofc but I do think I make a good argument.

[pastel-greene]

The Daughter | king!sukuna x curse user!reader

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

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

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

Genre: female reader, fluff, angst, ‘loads’ of smut, violence, sukuna true form but like not with the weird face lmao just double set of eyes and arms, dark reader

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

Word count: 1.4k

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

The battlefield roars around her as she lets out a feral laugh. The scent of blood bathes her skin as enemies around her burst at their seams as if allergic to their own viscera. Her power curls around her in dark tendrils, shadowy mist traveling from her feet and from it monstrosities spawn. From her being they are born, from her existence cursed energy sprawls damning the world. Humans and socerers alike flood to exterminate her like the blight she is, but their hatred and fear only makes her stronger. Their infected emotions only allow her entry into their minds, allow her new hosts for her children. With each minute, more and more of them succumb to the sickness and from their corpses new curses rise and fight. She is the unending threat, the undying plague, the Mother of Curses.

This was her life for an uncountable number of millenia for her existence started with the creation of light, for light could not exist with darkness. A life full of death, misery, and sadistic pleasure. That was until, she fell in love with a human. Not in a romantic sense, but in a maternal sense. It happened after a particularly interesting battle with a man donning white hair and crystal blue eyes. His technique and mastery over cursed energy was a sight she never expected. It left her more wounded than she had ever been. Of course, she wouldn’t die from it, but it still hurt like hell. So she found herself stumbling across the snowy expanse and upon a run down hut. It was warm and smelled of a hearty soup begging to calm her ailments. She approached the hut with little trepidation and swung the door open ready to evict whoever was inside, but she didn’t see anyone. She stepped further in and looked around but the place was empty. A trap perhaps? She thought. But where is the trapper? Is the food meant to lure victims in only to poison them? She again stepped further into the abode, further towards the food, but she sensed a presence. It seemed to lurch from nowhere straight towards her. She turned quicker than the being could register and grabbed them by the collar of their shirt and held them up.

“Let me go you you thieving piece of shit before I strangle you with your own damn innards, add you to the fucking stew, and drink it through your hollowed out eye sockets!”

….before you what? The mother of curses had never heard such a threat to her. Never heard something as unhinged and quite frankly gross as that, especially from what seemed to be a child. Yes, a child it was, one with white hair and eyes to match.

”What are you fucking deaf? Unhand me and get the fuck out!”

The Mother of Curses started laughing as she moved her hand to grab the child by the jaw, her shadows unarming the girl of the knife she thrashed throughout the air. Defiance sat on the child's face as she spat right on the Mother. Ohhh you are so fucking close to dying. You think being made into stew is bad? Just you fucking wait. I will show you the true reaches of pain. Up came the Mother’s free hand to wipe the spit off of her face before using the girl’s hair to dry it off. Then went her finger into the girl’s skull. A strangled scream ripped from her and she writhed in plea of escape.

Within her mind was vile. Her memories were dark scapes filled with throat wrenching smells and unknown touches. Her fear of being touched without being able to see stained each and every rotten corner of her mind. But as the Mother dug deeper, she could make out silhouettes, each with a different feeling. The child had learned to feel people’s energy and had used that to navigate.

That must be how she sensed me coming. And knowing she can sense other’s energies means that she can probably sense her own. Which would explain why I didn’t sense her at first because she has most likely learned to mute her presence altogether. Cheeky little assassin, yeah?

In her memories the Mother feels and smells a very familiar substance—blood. She pulls herself towards the memory drenched in it. A memory of the girl’s first kill. It starts with screams and sobs overpowered by hungry laughs and hands. It wasn’t the first time the girl had been in this predicament, but this time is what changed her. Something in her snapped and all of the beauty made by the Mother herself started pouring into the girl. Strength she hadn’t known before surged through her body and before she knew it her hands were slicing through people like butter. Now it was her hungry laugh drowning out their screams and sobs. Some pleaded which only earned them an audience with her teeth as a wicked smile pulled back her lips to introduce them. Into flesh they sank, blood pouring down her face and throat and dousing the room as she ripped back. A feral beast finally liberated from its cage.

The Mother had originally intended to pump her with cursed energy until she popped, but another idea came into her head. She decided to add onto the cursed energy the girl already possessed but not to kill her. To enhance her. To make her a spawn of the Mother of curses in human form. Her proven survival instinct and bloodlust were promising aspects for a spawn and her cooking smelled decent enough that she could at least cook for her if nothing else. The girl’s writhing calmed down as she felt the power flowing into her. Everything felt as if it was exploding inside her as her very makeup was being altered. Her bones grew denser, her blood grew richer, her muscles grew stronger, her hair grew darker until only a section of the light remained, and within her eyes bloomed irises of blood.

The Mother withdrew her finger and released the girl to collapse on the floor as she headed towards a pile of blankets in the corner. Her state haggard after parting with energy after being in such a state already. The girl sat there on her knees looking at her hands.

”You are going to overcook the soup. Hurry and serve it already,” she said whilst stretching out her legs under the small covers.

The girl looked back towards her, finally seeing the mask that hid the bone chilling aura she felt. She stared for a long minute before getting up and pouring the woman a bowl of her soup. She continued to stare at many things as she ate, things she had never seen before. It was beautiful. She would have cried if her intruder was not still present.

From that day on, the Mother stayed in that little run down abode with the girl. Teaching her how to use her new body, showing her the secrets to her ever growing powers. It was something the Mother never saw herself doing, but an experiment that had her shaking with anticipation. She had started to consider what it would be like to withdraw to her domain and leave her spawn behind to rule. She wanted to see the chaos that would ensue without her, wanted to see what curses would be born from a human with her powers. Someone with a different mind, someone hardwired differently. She knew her curses would always be stronger, but would hers be more adaptable? The Mother knew nature would create stronger sorcerers like that white haired prick, so she knew curses would need to evolve as well. They needed to possess intelligence as well as strength, needed to be able to amass followings behind them.

For this to happen, the Mother kicked the girl out of her own house 10 years after their meeting and out into the world on her 18th birthday. Most children would have screamed and cried, but she was excited. She knew from the past how to get by and figured if she could do it blind and basically powerless, that it would be exponentially easier now. She bowed to her Mother as they laid their hands on her.

“Show me you are worthy of my blessings. Make the heaven’s weep at your monstrosities and the realm beg for your pardon. Make me proud or take this dagger and bury it in your heart,” the Mother said with her usual smile as she unveiled her final present to the girl. The girl looked at the gift in awe as she took it into her hands.

“Don’t worry Mother, I will make you prouder than you can ever imagine.”

Notes: ahh hehe my writing is so rusty but I am really excited to write this idea. Updates should be (relatively?) frequent and I am determined to finish it lol. The following chapters will be told in first-person with (Y/N) tags. Canon in this story is that the reader has mostly black hair with only a small white section left and their irises are blood red. Going forward though I will use (h/c) and (e/c) so that it can suite whatever you want for your reading purposes. I hope you all have a wonderful day, see you in the next one muahhh~

[pupkinpumpkin]

I really love the idea of my Cousland and Alistair having kids bc Elena definitely insists on having a reunion at least every 2 years, so every 2 years, these kids meet their "aunts and uncles" which consist of...

- The Divine

- The Arishok

- Possessed grandma

- The Witch of the Wilds

- A drunk (he is the third most normal person there)

- An ex assassin who tried to kill your parents

- A big rock

- The son of the man who killed your grandparents

- A terrorist

- A corpse who is also the terrorist

- Grey DeLisle

- The most normal person there (Sigrun)

- Your actual uncle Fergus

And of course...

- Your dog

They all bicker and fight like children and then happily say they'll be back next time

It's probably the weirdest those kids ever see their parents

[deafsignifcantother]

my husband and I

♥ summary: alastor is an amazing husband, but the tone in the house starts to shift when you learn that he is the serial killer you feared. ♥ relationships: human alastor x deaf gender neutral reader ♥ word count: 1.6k ♥ warnings: big power dynamic issue, reactive abuse, murder, visualization of deafness and dependency, but they still have cute moments bc they're married and love each other ♥ a/n: A VERY SHAMELESS REPOST OF A YEARS OLD FIC THAT'S NOWHERE NEAR HAZBIN RELATED LMFAO

There are so many things running through your mind. You think about the smiles and how they always appear like a cocky smirk. Then, there's the way he laughs, even if it's a short chuckle, he bares his teeth. So many things could have alerted you to his danger. Are you stupid for not detecting it before?

When you think back, you are sure he had tried confessing his hobby (hobby, what a simplistic way to describe it) to you. He had made past comments about how he'd kill people, but you thought it was dramatics, and you had brushed it off.

He knows that you know now. The energy in the house had shifted—from both parties—and became hostile. The hospitality within your home had dissipated alongside the innocent eyes he would give you in the morning.

That night, before he undresses himself to slip into bed, he holds a threatening hand to your neck. He doesn't grab it or tighten his grip, but the implication is there. He signs with one hand,

"Without me, you have nothing, so don't you ever forget that, darling."

It's true. Your job, friends, the chance of a future being single, the idea of making money without him—it's all gone. It has been for a while. Your time in the house is all day, every day, and even if you wanted to leave, you had no car to drive. He keeps you here. It has kept you sane and safe up until now.

"I won't tell anyone." You sign with an empty facial expression. It feels pointless. With him, you feel like a walking corpse, somebody who is already dead.

His hand moves up to your cheek, where he pats you, tilting his head with a smile. "I know."

And after that, he stopped treating you differently. He returned to kissing your face every morning, leaving the house after cooking you breakfast, and doing all the husband-y things he was doing before. The days went on and on, and you were beginning to get used to the dial-back.

But you jump whenever he walks up behind you and places his hands on your hips. He has gotten quieter, sneakier. Is he planning something?

When you're alone in the house, you eye the phone, wondering if, in another life, you could pick it up, call someone, and leave the house without having to worry about what would happen. In a perfect reality, you could talk to the police about everything.

You can't even imagine Alastor in jail.

It would be your fault if anything happened to him. Would you be able to deal with that?

How could he even hurt someone? You try to imagine yourself doing it, standing in the forest and torturing someone.

It has been you and him for the last couple of years. He was all you needed and all you cared for. You didn't notice that he was stripping you of all your relations, your friends and family, stripping you of your independence and the things that made you human. He gave you enough in return. Your social life is spent with his coworkers while he interprets for you. You go to dinners, ones that his job hosted. You are always flashed as if you are a prized possession.

Maybe that's all you are.

You read his facial expressions even closer now. The furrow of his brow or the dropping of his eyelids always makes your whole body tighten. What will he do if he's mad at you? Will he hurt you?

You try to search in your memory: has he hurt you before? No, you realize. He hasn't. A sadistic twitch in his eye only appears in your romantic life. His hands have a consistent way of touching your body as if he is examining it.

You think about these things while you do the housework, while waiting for him to come home from work. Throughout everything: the fear, the sorrow, the guilt, you continue sticking by him. What else is there to do?

When he comes home from work, he puts his jacket around the shoulders of a chair, stepping close to you. You can feel his body—his warmth and his touch. He rolls up his sleeves and helps you with dinner without saying a thing. When you look up to him, he doesn't allow his eyes to look at you. A part of that makes your cheeks warm.

That night, he signs, "It's your turn."

You are too busy gazing into his eyes to realize he has taken his turn.

It was when you first moved in with him that you brought, in boxes, your board games. Whenever Alastor would bring company, he would force you to bring them out and be friendly as he played with them. Now, alone with you, he is being competitive. It's cute. And it's the Alastor you have known.

When you move your piece, he eyes it, tilting his head. Your breath stops. There it is again: he's examining you.

"What's work like?" You ask.

"Same as it has been."

You nod your head, glancing at his hands, trying to think of how many lives they must have taken. Does he shoot people? You can imagine that. The thought of him using his bare hands is beyond you; you've never seen him be violent like that. What about knives? His cooking - skilled, far off from clumsy… he may use knives.

He lifts his chin. His eyes ask the question: what are you thinking about?

There's a vacant space and a lack of words between you. You are chewing the inside of your mouth, grinding your teeth before you raise your hands.

"Do you use knives?"

He straightens his shoulders.

"When?"

"In the forest."

He smiles. The one that looks like a smirk.

"Yes."

You just nod, your cheeks warming. He's a killer. It's true; he admits it and doesn't shy away from the fact. But still, in your head, you can't seem to force yourself to be too worried about it. He hasn't hurt you, not unconsentually, and this thought taunts you like a loaded gun.

What do you have to be scared of?

A lot, you remind yourself. He's the danger: the stranger in your house that you need to be cautious of. Yet, ever since he had been revealed to you, he has done little to further the narrative of psycho-serial danger. He's still your husband. He's still the one you belong to.

That's why, when he comes home bloody, you shower with him before helping him bandage himself. You're the one who ruffles the towel through his hair and against his shoulders, catching the spare droplets. The two of you hardly even talk to each other as you press bandaids against his skin. You kiss each one.

Your lips touch the skin of his bicep, and then you peck upward, continuing to his neck, where you linger in the space between his cheek and his ear. His hand falls to your thigh, cupping the side of it, and he rubs the skin up and down. He doesn't move it from there, doing nothing salacious, not without your direct intention stated to him. It makes your heart race. At that moment, you forget about everything violent about him. But with those kisses, with the way his lips suck on your skin, you wonder if it is contagious. The violence, the wrath, and the war seeped into your skin like poison. You felt it corrupting you: the innocent front you had began to melt away, and suddenly, you were exposed.

Because when one of his victims enters through the backdoor: your home, your safety net, you do what you know Alastor would do if he made it in time. You grab a knife, hiding behind a wall, feeling their footsteps as they step closer. And when they round the corner, you strike them in the face with the back, knocking them down before holding the blade above your head.

You get a good look at their weak body, imagining your kitchen tiles as dirt, a leaf-covered ground, and the walls around you as arrays of trees.

You think about the times Alastor had held you behind him when people tried to talk to you. You think about the times he would protect you from the outside world, the ways he would drive himself insane to make sure you were safe.

He did so much for you, and what have you given him in return? A home filled with paranoia and unnecessary caution? It is unfair to him. You have been lashing out for nothing. So, you decide to gift him this: a new sense of ego—a pride that cannot be hidden, developed from a realization.

In this lifetime, you have one beam of hope: him. With those vows, you both swore to stick together. Through sickness and health, through life and death.

He is your husband; this is the house where you will spend the rest of your life.

When Alastor stands in front of the dead body, he places both hands on his hips, tapping his fingers before signing.

"Is the mess for me?"

You are still breathing heavily. He can see it in your eyes, the way they are wide and craved, the way the person's blood still stained your hair and the skin of your cheek. Your serenity is in the dark gloom yonder.

But you argue against him and his assumptions. When he asks if you are okay, you just smile and nod. "It feels good."

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 29

The Fifth Doctor said he could name every pharaoh Egypt ever had.

Erimem was one of the Fifth Doctor’s companions as well; she was an uncrowned pharaoh born in 1419 BC.

She also brought on board the TARDIS a cat named Antranak, who the Doctor hated.

Fitz Kreiner thought of himself as "James Bond in space."

While attending a funeral, Polly was approached by a being claiming to be God who wanted to be her fairy godmother and thus sent her on a trip to find the perfect dress. As she is sent about the timeline, she keeps on accidentally changing history.

Before things were put back the way they should be, she had interfered with the short stories Bide-a-Wee, The Immortals, The Thief of Sherwood, Of the Mermaid and Jupiter, and Graham Dilley Saves the World as well as the Big Finish audios Colditz, The Fires of Vulcan, and Bloodtide. (I don't think I'm missing any of them but correct me if I'm wrong.)

The Master has referred to Tegan, Nyssa, and Adric as "the Doctor's whelps" before.

While monologuing, the Master once considered keeping the Seventh Doctor's shrunken corpse as a memento.

Harry Houdini is so familiar with the Doctor that he not only knows about regeneration but also that he attended the Academy with the Master.

There were several companions in between the Ponds and Clara.

The Fifth Doctor once took on an Ancient Roman named Marcipor ("Marc") as a companion. He was eventually partially cyberconverted.

The Doctor was so distraught over this that he ran away, leaving Marc, Tegan, and Nyssa alone on an alien world. He had many trips by himself (brooding) but eventually went back to them after meeting the Eleventh Doctor. The Fifth had decided he didn't want to be like the Eleventh, who at the time was companionless and quite depressed.

The Protyon Unit is a component of TARDISes that allow some of them to have independent thought.

The Hermit still occasionally calls the Doctor Theta even long after running away from Gallifrey.

The Eighth Doctor eventually possessed a sonic screwdriver that his future self had lost in Leadworth. He stashed it in a drawer in the TARDIS in the meanwhile, noted that it is currently calculating something, but did not stop the calculation it was currently completing (the calculation which would have allowed the War, Tenth, and Eleventh Doctors to break out of the Tower of London if the door had been locked).

A very young First Doctor had kept a diary. In it, he not only wrote about riding skimmers with friends but also drew pictures of Torvic.

Part 1 Prev 28 Next 30

Changing the way I do the links because. Holy Hell. (All will still be linked in Part 1)

[nyan-bynary]

I feel like I have the most hyperspecific Pet peeve ans maybe I sound insane or like the friend's that too woke hope you'll tell me then.

I don't like personally when people don't use Kaori Itadori's name and just call her 'Yuuji's mom' and similarly the turn of phrase that says 'Kenjaku possessed Yuuji's mom's body'

Bc the hell Kaori has to do with that role? She was dead as hell and we don't even know for sure she was ready for or wanted kids at all. Evidence would even lightly point towards the opposite. She wasn't even there during the conception nor was she there during the delivery, nor any of the pregnancy nor when the idea even first formed. Kenjaku was, whilst using Kaori's body like a vest but still. It's quite fucked up that even dead a woman cannot be free of being reduced down to her reproductive function both in verse including by her husband and out of verse. Her name was Kaori! She had a cursed technique, she was with Jin Itadori and despite her body used like a incubator a mean to an end she wasn't Yuuji's mom. (Like Geto wasn't the guy who was conspiring with the disaster curse that Kenjaku possessed, nor Noritoshi Kamo was the guy who did injection on the Death Painting's mom that Kenjaku possessed. That was literally Kenjaku, they're all those things quite literally including being Yuuiji's mother)

Anyway random rant over but to me it also has everything to do with people's skipping over Kenjaku's mother coding as a way to skip over their gender queerness. I just sorta needed to let it out byeee

Oh I absolutely get what you mean that's not weird per peeve to me at all tbh! (Mostly bc I'm exactly like that when ppl talk about getojaku like that's geto as well) like NO! none of those bodies or the people they used to be are responsible for what kenny's doing with their corpses AT ALL bc they're all dead and being actively defiled (which I get why people ignore bc that's an uncomfortable thing to witness and admit you find cool and compelling)

But yea absolutely I get you bc even if that was kaori at some point it very much isn't anymore (also why I usually call them kaorijaku whenever the topic of yuuji's mom comes up)

Also YESSSS YES YES ON PEOPLE ATTRIBUTING KENJAKU'S GENDER FUCKERY TO THE BODIES INSTEAD OF THE BRAIN LIKE THAT MF IS VERY MUCH A BAD MOTHER THEY DESERVE THE RECOGNITION (also why people attributing womb profusion to geto pisses me off bc geto's huge motif is not and has not and will never be motherhood/giving birth/having a womb THAT'S KENJAKU THAT WAS AN IMPORTANT CORE EXPERIENCE FOR THEM NOT GETO AND NOT KAORI)

[science-lings]

Being annoying about each option under the cut

1- Ryunosuke has no other pictures of his bestie's face except for the one of his 'corpse' and that is Fucked Up, which is why I love it. this hc is based on the fact that during my playthrough I looked at the picture so many times bc I missed him immediately. Anyway 1-2 was the worst day of his life and the moment where he was given the photo for the first time really stuck with me.

2- They get to switch off being each other's judicial assistants and they both get to be different flavors of transmasc, I think it would be fun for them. Would they have to attend classes at Yumei to even be considered lawyers? who knows the point is they do it together and are like those cats that bond together and get sad when they get separated.

3- If they are in the same room together that sword is being switched back and forth several times, 'I think it matches your outfit today' or 'I'm on my period I shouldn't be in possession of a deadly weapon' or 'you said in the custody agreement that I get it on weekends' etc etc etc... Though it tends to go with Ryunosuke when they are separated for long periods of time. That sword is symbolic of so much gay shit in these games what's a little more.

4- my guy talks about 'the look' in Ryunosukes eyes so much during the last case, what are you looking into his eyes for? Heterosexual reasons? sure... (also 'fancy meeting you here' that is a pick-up line, you're in a prison, not a bar) Anyway his feelings towards Ryunosuke are complicated and he's so mad that at least one of the feelings in the emotional cocktail is something like attraction)

5- There's that disaster lesbian thing going on but also the situation was pretty stressful but one day she will wake up and it will hit her that her friend was still very interested in her even after she knew it was her in the disguise.

6- Sholmes keeps trying to refer to himself as 'the root of all evil' and how he's 'drawn to the darkness', he's trying so hard to be edgy but he's a six-foot-tall lanky blond man who is dramatic in the silly way and drapes himself over Ryunosuke at every opportunity. Either he's trying to build some kind of reputation or he wants to appeal to the local goth milf populace (Sithe and Tusspells) or even the reaper himself (there's some messy ex energy going on over there...)

7- I need Phoenix to inherit Karuma, he knows a bit about it but he doesn't make a big deal about it. He does have a few prosecutor friends who know the blade and are so annoyed that he's not super proud to own it. Also it's funny to me if the only family that Phoenix knows are a couple of victorian lawyers that haunt him. I think they should watch over him and be a little horrified. Ryunosuke was excited when he was intending to be a performing arts student as a fellow drama kid but it doesn't surprise him that he chose to become a lawyer. It's in his blood.

8- You cannot tell me Ryunosuke didn't want to fling himself off of that boat every night he was stuck in the room he thought Kazuma was killed in. He just didn't want to ruin Susatos trip to England by leaving her alone and he goes into a depression when she leaves for Japan, going so far as to avoid looking at the photo the 221b fam took before she left because it made him sad, which gets put up every time by Sholmes who Gets It. Meaning that he went up to the Naruhodo consulting agency regularly to check up on him. I like to think Sholmes was genuinely worried during the months he spent banned from the courtroom and without his weirdgirl who he bonded with through his best friends 'death'.

9- Wagahai is a good kitty, she can tell who the most depressed person in the building is and follows them around, sometimes Ryunosuke has a nightmare and wakes up with a cat right up by his face.

10- Ryunosuke starts the Naruhodo family tradition of not talking about their personal lives to people they care about and making their own little patchwork family for themselves. Practically all we know about his past is that he's afraid of doctors and studied English from a young age. And then like three months after going to a new country and meeting new people he's just like 'neat this is my family now :)' there is something going on there I swear. I have many conflicting ideas about what it could be specifically though.