#do you think it would be heretical to eat this or would it be like a 'consuming the body of christ' situation

[ink-the-artist]

Rosary

[pparadiselost]

your noa fanfic drove me crazy there is nothing i wouldn't do for you to write about ego 🧎

actaeon.

ego jinpachi x fem reader ego sets up the perfect trap to make you undeniably his. warning(s): nsfw, noncon, being filmed without consent, exhibitionism minors do not interact. author's note: hello there! thank you so much for sending in a request!! this one... got a little out of hand and gnarly, so if you'd prefer that i write a fic without the dark content, please shoot me another ask and i'll happily write up another fic for you!! (ノ*°▽°*)

ego jinpachi is distinctly aware of who he is as a person, and he’s distinctly aware of the privileges that come with his odd place as the coach of the blue lock project. he’s sworn under some legal masquerade to use his power only for the betterment of soccer’s future, as if anything other than his obsession with the sport flows inside his veins. 

he knows his place as a heretic. he’s an outcast always looking in: the director but never the star, the god but never the devotee, the abyss but never the light. he’s seen the way people distances themselves away from him, be it anri or even veterans like noel. ego is perfectly content playing the role he does. his crazed behavior brings the end, and in his worldview, the ends always justify the means.

but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the unforeseen pleasures that spring up along the thorny path. he’s a free man now, and he has the world at his disposal. fortune favors the bold, but happiness favors the hedons. 

“you’re so sloppy,” he drawls in that condescending voice of his. if it weren’t for the slight edge to it, you would think it sounded robotic. his long cock is buried deep into you as you squirm in his lap, and his long arms hold you flush and captive against his chest. 

you’re faced with the horrifying sight of every single one of ego’s giant monitors lit up, each one displaying you. they’re all relatively innocent moments from your life. you’re eating breakfast in one, scrolling through your phone on the other, paging through a book you picked up in another… things that, creepy as they may be, are candid snapshots of your average life. 

except for the singular monitor facing center stage, seeming to mock you. you watch, stricken with fear, as the video plays a recording of you stuffing your fingers in your cunt, your pussy stretched out unmistakably on display. ego grins devilishly, and he thrusts in rhythm with the video of you masturbating.

“n-no… don’t do this to me-,” you squeak out. you need to clear your mind, need to speak reason into him, need to persuade him to get rid of these clips and to quit using all the cameras in the building for ill, and yet with his cock sliding in and out of you, it’s impossible for you to get any of your priorities straight. “d-don’t thrust into me like that-!”

“but you like it. you like it when i fuck you to a video of you getting off,” he giggles. you don’t need to be looking at him to envision the crazed gleam he’s bound to have in his eyes. you hate how much your pussy flutters and stretches around his cock, your juices making you gush every time you sink back down onto his lap. 

his hands tweak at your nipples, and he pinches your hardened buds in rhythm with the video. every time your fingertips swirl at your sticky clit, he moves his hands accordingly. pleasure courses in hot flashes across your vision and your cunt, and your hips move lewdly on your own, against your better judgment. 

“feels good, doesn’t it?” he chuckles behind you. his voice sounds high-pitched and crazed, like he’s a schoolboy going crazy over a scrap of attention from his crush. you should be disgusted, you should be scared, and yet with each inch of his long cock that pushes in and out of your squeezing pussy, your mind threatens to go dangerously blank. 

you shake your head weakly. sparks of heat and pleasure light up inside your brain. the dull stretch inside of your walls has your stomach doing backflips, his cockhead prodding deliciously at all of your deepest parts. “no- not you- you can’t do anything to me-”

he clicks his tongue, and when your head slumps against your chest, trying to retain your sanity by looking away from all the lewd videos of you he’s hoarded, he hisses as if you’ve scorned him. he grabs your face harshly, long and calloused fingers digging into the flesh of your face and neck, and he wrenches your eyes upwards so that you can’t look away from the screen. 

you hate it. your vision blurs when tears glaze over your eyes, but that can’t save you from the video. your legs are spread shamelessly open, your drenched pussy fully out on view as you toy with yourself. your face is twisted into a clear moan, lips parted as you gasp and cry out in pleasure, fingers buried deep inside of your cunt. your juices drool generously out of your clenching hole, and your thighs quiver uncontrollably as you masturbate.

“see? i have all of this and more,” ego murmurs. the glee in his tone is unmistakable. “i know how you like to touch yourself, how you like to be fucked. it’s cute that you think you can hide anything from me. you’re more feisty than you let on, aren’t you?”

he thrusts harshly up into you, his heavy balls slapping up against your clit. you barely bite back a strangled cry, electric sparks springing up inside of your chest. something tight pulls at your core, heat swirling like a slow whirlpool. you grit your teeth, and your breathing grows shallows. the friction of his cock rubbing into your gummy walls feels sinfully good, and his almost inhuman length makes it ridiculously easy for his tip to ghost over all of your sensitive parts.

it’s a lethal combination. his dick is just as long and tall as the rest of him is, not too thick but so long and enough to fill you up perfectly. each pump of his cock into you has you seeing stars, your nerves twitching and collapsing under the mounting pressure inside of your pussy. maybe it’s that, but maybe it’s also all the time he’s spent in the shadows, learning every inch of your body through the illicit videos and streams he’s collected of you, memorizing every quirk, every kink you have, making sure he knows by heart the best way to get you to crumble under his touch.

he was a feral beast that had been lying in wait, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. all you needed to do was to let your guard down for a split second, and he took full advantage of it to expose every single one of your weaknesses.

“don’t your worry. i’ll prove to you that i mean everything i say. there’s nothing i hate more than someone that can’t live up to their bragging. results… results are the only things that matter in this world—,” his sick laughter snaps you back out of your grief, “—even if that means making you cum until you’re a fucked out mess.”

he grips at your thighs, spreading your legs open a bit further in his lap so he can fuck his cock even deeper into you. your head feels heavy, a loaded scream locked in your throat when his tip starts fucking into your deep spots. you swear he’s hitting at your cervix, his cockhead trying to pry the entrance to your womb open so he can defile you thoroughly. you wouldn’t put it past him; ego was never the kind of guy to be satisfied with only doing the job halfway. it was always all or nothing with him.

pleasure consumes you from the inside out, his length stretching you out obscenely. your tight walls were massaging him so expertly, and ego can almost delude himself into believing that your cunt was made just to fit around his dick. you were made for him, made to be his perfect mate, and all the times he spent pleasuring himself to the illicit videos he took of you couldn’t even come close to actually getting his paws all over you.

“right here, isn’t it?” he thrusts up harshly into you, and you jerk back against his chest when heat slams down onto your skin. he’s abusing your g-spot, relentlessly bullying your sweet spots. helpess cries escape from you unwillingly as he fucks into you at his pace, his thrusts too sharp and too quick for you to relax into it, but your brain eagerly soaks up the friction. your cunt is begging for cock, wanting the addictive feeling of being filled up disrespectfully like you were just some loose toy, keeping you at constant odds with your shattered rationale. 

ego giggles in your ear, and you know his words are right. he does genuinely have you struggling futilely in the palm of his hand. you’re overwhelmed by all of the sensations around you: the haunting image of your fingers stuffed in your pussy flickering behind your eyes like a mocking vision. your hole was unknowingly milking him over and over, the shame and embarrassment of having to watch yourself fingering yourself while getting fucked making your pussy fall victim to all of the confusing pleasures.

“i can feel you getting tighter and tighter. i’m making you feel good,” he mocks you. his hands keep squeezing at your boobs, mesmerized by the soft flesh of your chest. his balls slap up against your skin, just waiting to spill his seed into your pussy and make you his forever. he sounds so pleased with himself. “you love to act like you’re all high and mighty, but we’re the same, you and i. it’s why i think you’re perfect for me. you’re just as dirty, just as much of a freak, and it’s my job to make sure you know that.”

tightness flares in your gut as if it’s mocking you. you don’t want to cum, don’t want to break that final boundary, don’t want to admit to yourself that you’re fully getting off of being manhandled and disgraced like this. but your body was never yours this entire time, and whatever madness possesses you right now only cares about the long dick sliding in and out of you.

“are you gonna cum? you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? filthy girl.” he twists your nipples harshly as if to emphasize his last few words. you feel so heavy and so weak all at once, broken down bit by bit and torn apart like a sheet of paper. how could you even dream of fighting back? you grit your teeth, not wanting to think about the frothy ring of ivory forming at the base of his cock, where your entrance is enticingly stretched out. “cumming from having a guy like me defile you… cumming from getting fucked while i play a video of you playing with yourself… filthy, filthy girl.”

tears had dotted over your vision a long time ago, and this was already a battle for you to lose the moment you got roped into his trap. your pride grips at your mind one last time, and you flex your thighs, wishing yourself the strength to forgive yourself when the worst of this would be over. even if intuitively, you knew that this was nothing more than the beginning to a wretched, wicked fall from grace, you wanted to take what little your remaining sanity could afford you.

you muster up the firmest voice you can. “you’re the absolute worst- you’re the scummiest man i know!”the lanky man simply laughs again, unaffected by your hurled insults. “oh, please. you’re just too predictable? you think i don’t know that? you think i wouldn’t consider myself scummy and awful after i’ve filmed you for so long in secret? what a stupid whore you are. it’s a good thing you have that pretty body of yours. otherwise, you’d really be nothing more than an unsalvageable excuse for a human being. naïve, gullible, all too easy for me to take advantage of…”

he pauses for a moment, and he leans in. horror settles in your psyche again when you can feel his hot breath fanning over the curve of your ear, and he presses a sickeningly gentle kiss right behind your ear. 

“and if i’m the scummy one,” he murmurs contemplatively, “what does that make you? you’re the one getting off on it. you say you’re not, but your body doesn’t lie to me. i can feel every little fucking thing that slutty pussy of yours is doing whenever i fuck myself into you.”

your stomach twists, painfully and needily, and your legs shake as his cockhead keeps ramming into your sweet spot. his tip bullies you right where you like it most, and your vision glazes over, threatening to go hazy and leave you at the mercy of this terrible man. you’re gonna cum—you can feel it. you can feel the heat building up inside of your core, the depraved tension just about to break.

you clench your eyes shut and brace yourself. your walls are greedily sucking onto his length, the wet noises of your bodies coming together echoing across the room. your toes curl as the pleasure overtakes your mind, and it feels like a second pulse is forming in your cunt, your body no longer willing to listen to you.

you grit your teeth and throw your head back against ego’s shoulder, much to his delight. “...nngh-!”

your pussy clamps down on his cock, milking him with all it has. it feels like something deep inside your stomach is exploding, and heat grips you all over. your nerves all feel as if they’ve been lit on fire. pleasure floods your brain as your pussy quivers and throbs. you hate that it feels good, a pleasure so blinding that your vision spins and it feels like you’re losing your center of gravity. any lingering strength escapes from your body as you shamelessly orgasm all over the cock that’s stuffed deep inside you, your walls fluttering all around his length and drooling around it as if it's the most delicious thing your cunt has felt. 

even as your high consumes you entirely, ego continues to fuck his hips upwards into you, threatening to break your body in half over his dick. you let out an incoherent cry, thrashing weakly against his frame. “n-nooo… d-don’t…!”

he laughs, his voice raspy and evil. “you came, didn’t you? don’t fucking lie to me. i told you i can feel everything, can’t i? that pretty little pussy of yours came from getting fucked by my cock. and to think you were going on and on about how you hated me that much… you’re not above getting dicked down, are you now? that’s what i thought… you really do look the prettiest when you’ve been fucked out like this.”

you don’t even have it in yourself to fight back against him. his cock weighs heavy inside of you, still thrusting rapidly into you despite the overstimulation that starts to claw at your weary insides. it’s too much; he’s moving too much at his own peace without any consideration as to whether or not you can fully keep up. but you don’t have any remaining fight to do anything to defend yourself, and it’s all you can do to even keep your head upright as he pistons his hips into you as if you’re his personal sex toy.

he twitches dangerously inside you, savoring the newfound tightness of your walls from fucking you straight through your orgasm. you’re sobbing softly, unable to form full thoughts and just crying out, praying that this whole thing will stop soon so you can tend to whatever remnants of your shattered psyche you can salvage. he’s close too: you can feel the way his cock throbs and shudders inside of you as he drags his inches in and out, the way his balls tense up against the curve of your ass, his ragged breathing and his muttered threats of stuffing your cunt up so full with his cum that not even contraception can save you from being marked inside and out by him.

you brace yourself. it should be over once he’s done having his fun with you.

but instead, he pauses. you peel your eyelids open at the sudden stop, and you gasp when he leans forward in the seat he has you trapped in between. he’s still buried deep inside you, his cockhead pressed up dangerously against the entrance to your womb, but he reaches for the controls of his monitor.

you know better than to think he has anything good in mind by reaching for his technology. but ego is faster, smarter, in all ways better at thinking a step ahead of you, and after pressing a button, he quickly traps you in between his long limbs to keep you from moving. you whimper pathetically, your legs spread out to reveal your stretched out cunt being continuously speared on his dick.

“shhhh,” he chuckles, the maniacal gleam in his eyes twinkling with an unmatched madness. horror swirls again inside of your gut when you hear the mechanic whirring of a camera, and your fears are confirmed when the giant camera lens atop his many desktop monitors swings towards the two of you, seemingly focusing straight onto your fucked out, restrained form, getting fucked out helpessly like some scene straight out of a porno.

in another move of faux affection, he kisses the shell of your ear. “letting you get off with only getting creampied is too predictable, don’t you agree? just you wait, my filthy girl… in a few seconds, that camera is going to display everything we’re doing to the entire facility… those hungry, hungry boys are going to see you bouncing up and down on my cock, and they’re going to see every second of me filling up that little hole of yours with my cum.”

you don’t want to accept this ridiculous truth. this has to be a bad dream, a manifestation of your nightmares that you just can’t wake up from, and yet the painful aches at your thighs and inside your pussy tell you otherwise. this is the reality you’re trapped in, and you can’t run away from it.

“you’ll be all mine forever,” ego whispers as the cameras buzz to life, sealing your fate entirely. “i just have to make sure the entire world knows it.”

if you enjoyed my writing and would like to show appreciation, you can do so by donating to the humanitarian cause in gaza!

[no-saints-around-here]

Yesterday's Cage for Tomorrow's Prison: Chapter 1

Yandere Shiba Family, Yandere Sano Family with BabyShibaSister!Reader

Masterlist

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heavily inspired by @sinreader 's Promise, and many thanks to @trashybandit for the bigbrain ideas!

tw: heavy incest, pseudo incest, explicit smut, yandere, drugging, sexual assault, heretic religious themes, afab reader, female pronouns, dead dove do not eat

“Our Father who art in Heaven.” His words bounced off the ornately decorated walls of the church, echoing back amidst the crackle of flickering lit candles dancing carefree atop their wax prison. At this time of night, it was only his single large figure that towered over the pews, his head of slicked-back blue hair bowed respectfully in prayer. Despite it not being Christmas quite yet, Taiju found himself having wandered back to the familiar, comforting environment of this holy place. Maybe it was in search of divine guidance through these difficult times, or perhaps it was somewhere he could think and ponder without distraction; God only knew he could use whatever help he could get.

Silence fell once more back over the otherwise lifeless building, blanketing the atmosphere with a heavy grandeur as the figure of an angel simply watched on from the altar, stone eyes devoid of any mercy of the inner turmoil Taiju was going through. The man sighed, dropping his clasped hands, yellow tiger-like eyes turned up towards the ceiling, a silent plea to the heavens. Where to even start? 

You were gone, missing from the penthouse he had called home ever since he had parted ways with Hakkai and Yuzuha twelve years ago. You - their baby sister, the single knot left that still held their broken family together - had vanished during his watch, and had failed to turn back up at the Shiba family home like you usually did. You, the only reason why your three older siblings were still in contact despite everything that checkered their past, the one person they would move the sun to keep you safe and secluded away from the harsh outside, the sole being Taiju held above all else in his heart right next to God. 

And you had abandoned him. Left him and his protection for a godless world. A dark and violent reality.

“Forgive me, Lord, for it has been a-” His usually formidable voice cracked, though the hitch in his tone was quickly swallowed. “A long day.”

The soft silk scarf wrapped around large shoulders was lightly perfumed with the fragrance you always wore, the gentle scent only serving to remind him of your equally kind touch. The last of the Shiba siblings to be born, Taiju had been the one to raise you from the beginning, though you were spoiled rotten by all your older siblings. And having promised his mother on her deathbed to always watch over you, he had always allowed you to do as you will, with you never once having been the target of his discipline. Was it his softness towards you that led you to decide to rebel? Was it his reluctance to ever discipline you like he did Yuzuha and Hakkai? Were you taking advantage of his continued goodwill?

Tai-nii! Up! The memory of your giggle from a time past reverberated in his ears, and if Taiju closed his eyes, he could still see a younger, tinier you - arms raised towards your oldest brother, insisting on being picked on and swung onto those broad shoulders. Your chubby, happy face as you dug into a burger he had bought for you, stopping to offer your big brother a bite of what was supposed to be your treat. Tai-nii, stop moving! You’re going to ruin it! Adorable doe eyes that held all the innocence of a lamb furrowed in concentration as you braided his blue-streaked hair into many tiny braids as he laid there and let you thread flowers right before his gang meeting. And any anger towards you that had begun to surge up into his chest instantly melted away, replaced with a nagging emptiness that felt wrong. He needed to find you, and soon.

But where could you have gone?  “She’s out there, all alone. Cold, hungry, dirty-”

That was an answer he still lacked after a week despite his best efforts, though perhaps all the search parties he had sent out would not return empty-handed this time. After all, Yuzuha, Hakkai and him had been so careful that you were allowed to see, meet and know all your life - he couldn’t think of anyone that you would be able to seek shelter with off the bat.

All his life, every second he had watched over you, your oldest brother had worked so hard to keep you pure, both of mind and body; it was what any good Christian father would have done for you as the Bible had demanded within its blessed pages, and in the absence of their own who was too busy working, Taiju had done it in his stead. And you had been so good for him as well when you were younger, listening obediently to everything he told you and learning eagerly from the person you looked up to the most in all the world, that bright and unsullied gaze filling him with joy. But then you grew up, and with your growth came the questions. The doubt. 

“Tainted.”

He couldn’t keep you home from school, not without arousing unwanted interest from the authorities, but with every passing day, Taiju could only watch as your once pure eyes were clouded over. Fouled, dirtied by filth spewed forth from dirtbags. He had tried his best to keep them away from you in the only way he knew how; the blood of sinners that coated his hands, that splattered across his face and stained his clothes was a low price to pay to warn everyone else away from you. Yet you still continued to stray from the light slowly but surely, first asking why you couldn't watch the television, to why your siblings were so insistent on keeping you at home and in sight when everyone else could ‘go and hang out with friends’, and then slowly progressing to why they were 'ruining your life’. 

Sighing, Taiju stood, dusting off and adjusting his tailor-made suit, handcrafted Italian shoes barely making a sound as the giant of a man made his way across carpeted floors towards the empty altar. It hurt him as much as it hurt you, but he was just doing what was best for his baby sister. Coming to a pause right before the wooden candle-laden table, those beastly eyes turned up longing to gaze upon the angel sculpture. Virtuous, sinfree, divine; you were once his little angel. “I pray that you lead me to my lost lamb, Lord, like how you shepherd your flock to the promised lands.”

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Despite all his protection, you just kept getting older by the day, and the day that he caught the gazes of scum lingering on your behind as he walked you out from the Shiba family compound was the day Taiju had had enough; mere beatings dished out to your unwelcomed company weren’t going to keep you on the right path. The time had come to solve the problem at the root. And even in his memories, Taija had to remind himself that it didn’t feel good. It couldn’t feel good, because it wasn’t like Taiju wanted to do it to you. But he had to do it to you, for your sake. 

Just the sheer thought of some sinner would have their slimy hands touching your delicate skin, fingers dipping into your panties as they touched your lips with that dirty mouth, soiling the purity that your brother fought so hard for- Such a detestable thought that he had to shower again just to remove the ick from his skin. No, he would never let you be taken advantage of, to be tarnished by demons. 

He remembered that he had kept you home from school that day without explanation, instead dressing you up in his favorite white dress and taking you to church. You didn’t question it of course, your head bowed as you listened quietly to his prayer, before compliantly following him home. Neither did you question the drink that the oldest of the Shibas passed over to you, simply drinking it down, washing the glass and putting it away. The sleeping pills didn’t take long to take effect, and it was the first time in a long while since Taiju had seen you in such a peaceful state, your face relaxed as you cuddled into the warmth of his chest, bundled safely in his arms as he carried you upstairs to his room. 

A twinge of guilt prinkled at his chest as the unusually silent man lifted your skirt up to reveal the pristine pair of panties, framed between your silky thighs, though it was mercilessly squashed down - there was nothing to be ashamed of. Because there was no pleasure to it, he told himself: a union under the eyes of the Lord. His unglamorous task of taking your virginity that your oldest brother was undertaking was all for your sake, Taiju reminded himself again and again. To preserve your virtue, to save his little angel from the sinners of the earth, he must.

You were wet between your legs, Taiju had grimly noted, the sticky liquid stretching to form a glistening trail that snapped as he finally peeled your underwear off, the cloth surreptitiously slipped into his pocket instead of being tossed to the side with the rest of your clothes. It was a worrying sign to your god-fearing brother of your slipping righteousness. Where have your thoughts been going? What have you been doing alone? Was he already too late? His distress was somewhat alleviated when he pressed your lips apart to find an unengorged clit, and a quick dip of his finger into your slit alleviated his concerns as you tried to wriggle away from the intrusion into your privates. Good, you weren’t used to the sensation.

Pulling his erect cock out from his boxer, the man lined himself up between your spread legs. But for all his mental preparations, for all the praying he had done in the week leading up to this day, every last thought was lost, ripped away in a sudden violent wind in his mind as he finally slipped the thick head of his cock into you, as he could only concentrate on biting back the satisfied groan that threatened to rip from his throat as he forced himself past your tight muscles. He was stronger than this, stronger than the immediate siren’s call of your warm walls that instantly began to squeeze around his member, adding to your tightness that surrounded him like the demons of the earth. Pressing through and deep into the tunnel of muscles, he finally bottomed out in you, the hairs that decorated the base of his cock like a halo tickling your soft skin.

He didn’t remember it being a particularly hot afternoon, the memory of a cool wind that gently brushed drawn curtains still strong. Yet the beads of sweat clung to his forehead as he began to thrust, pulling out slightly before gently pushing himself back in as far as he could go - a small mercy he granted you for you to be able to adjust to his size. Even in your sleep, you winced, your brow furrowed as tears welled at the corners of your eyes, your legs subconsciously attempting to close around him in an effort to push away the pain though you failed to wake, the sleeping pills keeping you pliable.

“Shhhhhh,” Taiju had soothed you, running one big hand through your hair as he bounced you on his lap, your bare skin barely making a sound rubbed against the cloth of his shirt and pants. 

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A soft soft chime of his phone, and Taiju was shaken from his memories. The gaze of the angel seemed more ominous as the night grew older, surrounded and swallowed at the edges by the shadows as several candles expired. The blue-haired man turned, adjusting the silk scarf around his neck as he left, his footsteps thudding across the worn wooden floor. “Amen,” he mumbled, as the double doors of the church swung close behind him.

He needed to find you, and soon.

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You let out an eep as you were yanked backwards by the strap of your bag, though you never did hit the floor like the scrunch of your body and outstretched limbs had prepared for, instead finding yourself being caught and slowly lowered to rest against a warm wall of muscles. “And where do you think you’re going?” He whispered into your ear, hot air tickling the nape of your neck as Izana’s unblinking violet eyes glanced down at you.

Letting out a sigh, you opted to allow yourself to relax, slumping back against the tanned man as his arms moved to wrap gently around your waist: caught again. Your dreams of a quick jaunter shattered once more. “I-I was just thinking of popping out for some snacks,” you admitted sheepishly. 

You hadn’t even seen him there despite his white, wavy hair being a perfect contrast against the black sofa and dimly lit room, and you could have sworn you looked several times before attempting your getaway. Yet against your mind still screaming for you to move, to flee, to grovel and beg for mercy like you always had to in the not so distant past, it was sheer relief that surged through your veins as you realized that his disappointed tone was all you had to deal with now. Receiving nothing more than a hum for your rebellion still came as an unexpected relief to you where formerly you would have had to bare your buttocks for a spanking, two thick unlubed fingers forced into your tight pucker to make the punishment that much more painful. You shuddered, forcing those foul memories back. Come to think of it, you were definitely glad that your older siblings had remained unaware of your secret…excursions out from under their noses - you would have never gotten to know Izzy if you didn’t, and you would have nowhere to go.

Izana pulled you closer to rest his chin atop your head while you pouted at your foiled outing attempt. No words needed to be exchanged: those empty eyes gazing down at you said everything that needed to be said. Even just across the road was too dangerous alone given what was at stake for you.

The glimmer of the polished front door just a stone’s throw away mocked you from where you now sat amidst the grandeur of the reception room, though you knew that nothing looked like it seemed - that door was heavy, much, much heavier than its wooden facade gave away, and almost too hefty for you to pull open yourself. And it didn’t open straight out into the world you knew, instead leading to the lift that would bring you down to a concealed door hidden within an inoperable freezer in the backroom of a Toman-owned club; it was a when, rather than if, you would have been caught on your escapee.

But still, you tried. "It would have been five minutes tops, just there and back."

The white-haired man barely blinked at your plea, cocking his head to one side. “You want to go back there?”

Wincing at his question, his usually harsh gaze seemed to soften on you; you didn’t quite need the reminder that you were just across town from where you had run away from, nor that your siblings were scouring the city for any sign of you. The four walls of this luxury apartment were where your safety and security was guaranteed, protected from your former Shiba family who seeked to return you to your cage, though the same guarantee couldn’t be extended should you choose to wander out alone. “No,” You mumbled, burying your face into his black jacket, his tanned hand soothingly running through your hair. “M’ sorry Izzy.”

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“Don’t worry about it,” Izana reassured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he cuddled you closer. You smelled…soft, a hard-to-describe yet addictive scent that he couldn’t get enough of. He imagined it would be much like what a newborn would smell to its mother. “What was it you wanted to buy?”

You were the fresh spring rain to his cold, hardened ground, new life to his tainted world like the first seedlings of the year. It was a well-kept secret that Izana had always wanted someone to dote on after the tough life that he had led, someone unblemished by the horrid world who he could lavish his love on and in return receive unconditional love. Someone he could latch onto and leach off and pass on the burden of a purpose to keep living. 

No pet would make the cut, nor would the hassle of maintaining a significant other be worth the risks or cost. And the crime boss had also known exactly what he needed, the same thing that the rest of his adoptive family (no matter how much he resented them at times) also craved for deep down, but it was exactly what they lacked in every regard: a baby sibling. Someone to spoil, someone to light up their world with their innocent doe eyes and toothy smile, someone to simply appreciate their existence and their presence without expecting anything in return. The youngest of them, Emma, was way too old and hardened, and there were no untainted hands left. 

So when you turned up after all these years, anxiously loitering outside one of the many clubs he owned on that stormy night looking like a lost puppy, soaked with nowhere else to go and no one to turn to, Izana knew he had struck gold. Who better to fill that hole in his chest than a new baby sister who had been so sheltered from the dark, despairing world? But you were his, and he so despised sharing.

“I was- I wanted to buy ice cream.”

Izana raised an eyebrow. ‘Ice cream? Do the kitchens not have any more?”

The corners of your lips pulled down further, your voice dropping to a whisper as if to keep a secret. “I wanted to try the one I saw on the TV,” you admitted, burying your head further into his coat in embarrassment. “The kitchens didn’t have that brand.”

He had known you briefly all those years ago, Izana recalled, as he propped you up better in his lap; you had bumped into him outside of your school, striking up a conversation despite him being dressed in his Black Dragon uniform, only to turn white and hurry away abruptly as if realizing something. And it was those innocent eyes, the same that still looked back at him when you blabbered to yourself, that Izana could never quite scrub from his memories every time he convinced you to sneak out to see him, not even after he lost track of you for all these years. Learning of your family explained much of your disappearance for all these years, but still; he supposed he’ll have to thank them for keeping you this pure just for him. You hadn’t even realized you were simply trading one gilded cage for another.

Trailing one hand up your creamy thigh, slowly inching further and further beneath your skirt, it was a complete wonder that you failed to react negatively, if at all. You didn't register it as wrong or weird, Izana mused, violet eyes watching as you enthusiastically described the advertisement that so caught your attention, the solid gold tag engraved with his name hanging from the equally pricy collar around your neck jingling away merrily with each wave of your arms. But he stopped before he had wandered too far up and retrieved his hand - that was for a more suitable time.

Any sane individual would know better than to approach the insanity that was the Sano family, yet you had waltzed into their - his - lives without a second thought, recklessly trading one jail for another all for the possibility of the real family you craved. Bundling you into his deceptively lean arms, Izana stood, setting you carefully back onto your feet. “Come on, I’ll bring you to the store.”

Your expression changed in a moment, the sheer joy at such a simple request being fulfilled amusing to the white-haired man. “Really? I mean, I don’t need it…”

One tan hand came down to gently rap you on your head. “Unless you don’t want it anymore.” 

“No no!” You did a little jig, before shyly slipping your delicate hand into his. “Thanks, Izzy.”

“Just Izzy?” 

“Izzy-nii-san.”

He let out an approving hum, free hand reaching into his pocket to lightly touch the cool metal of his pistol, the other tugging you to walk with him. “Good girl.” 

Those doe eyes of yours were priceless, but he couldn't help but wonder if they would look any different broken.

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Send help. Send a therapist I don’t know I just need some form of mental health assistance.

Relationships: Typhus/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW (god save me), Disgusting Nurgle stuff, Fingering, Like 72 degrees of unsafe sex, Implied sex pollen/aphrodisiac, Noncon, Stockholm syndrome, Tentacles,

It’s a massive room, at one point it might have been a cathedral; To Mortarion, to the Emperor, or who else else the Death Guard worshiped before falling to Nurgle. Slime leaks from the walls and rusts away at the metal, eating holes in piping and supports alike. Tentacles, spores and other types of biomass litter it, with little botflies fluttering about. What they're doing you don't know, but they catch your eye every now and again.

It's not as if you can do much else. He's taken your hope, your energy, your home.

In the center of all this rot and decay is your place; A flowerbed of sickly blossoms and blooms, moss and mushrooms all infected by Nurgle.

A beautiful flowerbed for his own little Isha, Calas had said. Though he’s no longer Calas, is he? Typhon has become Typhus, and you've become prisoner.

You now lay on your bed of rotten blooms, picking at flower petals. You can’t escape him- even if you escaped this massive rotten cathedral, where would you go? This ship is his, and you’re deep in what is now heretic space.

He won’t let you die; He won’t let you leave. Bare skin lays against the sticky moss, spores brushing against you.

He’d taken your clothes after the last time, other than the thin cloth that serves as a near useless, dress. You suppose he finds a sort of elegance to it- a maiden in white amidst a pit of disgust. Another parallel to Isha. He's been meticulous in recreating it all so he has his own glimmer of light betwixt a defiled cathedral and a ship of the most putrid diseases.

You can only lay hopeless, displayed on your flowerbed underneath corruption forming a mockery of trees with budded flowers, rotten petals falling to the floor. Typhus’ own altar to whatever desires he has in his head.

Suddenly movement causes you to raise upward, restoring your sanity and consciousness. You’ve never heard even close to this much noise before, not even when the Death Guard were forming up to invade a poor, hopeless planet.

“In here!”

You turn your head to the massive cathedral doors, watching them shake before giving way and pushing apart with loud creaking. Your heart pounds in your chest with more hope than you’ve ever had before, at the sight.

It’s Astartes! A squad of them. You don’t know where they’re from or what they’re doing here, but they’re here to save you from this. Save you from him. To finally either pull you from this rotten ship or kill you here, and finally end this state of undeath Typhus has you lingering in.

One of the Astartes comes closer and reaches for you, and you weakly reach out a hand for him. You try to touch it, but you don’t make contact; it’s like your hand nearly falls through.

“What happened?”

He says, and you wish you had the ability to explain. How Calas has changed, the ship becoming nothing more than a vessel of disgust and disease.

“Help me,” You weakly say, but it feels like you’re trying to speak underwater.

Where did the other Astartes disappear to?

The marine’s armored hand reaches down to grasp your bare arm, and you think you hear him say your name. But how would he know it?

He says it again, and again…

And then your body jolts, legs straightening as your eyes open. Your lips part as you gasp, taking in so deep a breath you almost choke on the air.

“There you are, my girl.”

The man once called Calas looks over you while on his knee, the grill of his helmet hiding what is left of his face.

You’ve seen it; How the Nurgle infection has eaten away at his skin, changing was left to sickly yellow, green and purple. His armor seems entangled with his flesh, becoming one and the same. His appearance horrifies you, and makes you yearn for what once was.

“Were you having a nightmare?”

His rusted gauntlet scrapes across your skin, nicking your cheek. You try to avoid shivering, hands pressing against the ground below you.

It wasn’t a nightmare, it was the brightest glimpse of hope you had since Typhus doomed all of the Death Guard, and it was little more than your imagination.

“My sweet girl, you were asking for help.”

His hand drifts from your face, you wonder why it smells sweet, down your neck then the rest of your body and you whimper, trying to move away from him. His armor feels warm like it's almost alive, and perhaps it is- they're one and the same now.

His massive gauntlet slips between your legs, armored fingers diving between your folds as you writhe and attempt to pull away from him.

“I can grant your every desire much like grandfather does with Isha, you only need to let me in.”

He already is in; You feel his rusted gauntlet prod at your entrance. Your whimper and push at him, in some futile attempt to escape.

“Stop, please stop,”

Calas- Typhus, forces his armor finger into you and feels the way you tighten, pressing your hips down into the mossy flowerbed. Tears prick your eyes as you feel him sink into you deep, cold armor pressing against your cunt.

“You don’t want me to stop; I can smell you. The honey you’re making.”

You want him to stop, you want your skin to stop buzzing and heating up, as you feel your body begin to betray you. The flowers, the spores, Typhus himself, you don't know what he does that makes you lose control over yourself, but you hate every moment of it. It makes tears roll down your cheeks as your stomach tightens in knots over the feeling of his now two fingers deep inside of you, the palm of his gauntlet pushing against your clit.

“Please…. Stop…”

You try to turn away from him but his other hand grasps your jaw, turning you right back. Your body feels so hot, you can feel the brushing of little tentacles across your inner thighs, your breasts, your neck. Whether they’re from him or the flowerbed you don’t know, but they only serve to spark trails of fire as your body heats up like a furnace.

Typhus removes his hand from your cunt to push your thighs wider apart, the bottoms of your feet almost touching. They stay fallen apart, and your hands reach down to grasp at his decayed gauntlet as he pushes his fingers back into you.

Just finish, give him what he wants and then he'll leave. Ignore how good he makes you feel.

He hears you let out a whimper, finally broken. He laughs, the fingers of his other hand stroking your cheek.

“Good girl, just let me gift you all that you desire.”

You can hear the wet squelches of your own cunt as you leak over his rusted, decayed armor, weeping for more without your permission. You can hear in the back of your mind the no no no no no, but it's so chained by whatever sweet scent had filled your nostrils that you can't touch it.

You just want to be filled, by anything.

Your thoughts become your own for a moment as you feel how much you hate when he does this; It’s like your body and mind detach and you can no longer control yourself.

Your hands grasp his gauntlet tighter and try to pull him closer, arch closer to him, begging for more. The disgust of mushrooms and slime and rotten petals falling on your skin fades as he fills your mind with nothing but forced desire for him.

“It took Isha many years to realize Grandfather was her savior,” He pulls his fingers from your tight heat to tease your clit and make you gasp, before sinking them into you again. Your hips jerk upwards, tears in your eyes from how much you want this and how much you don’t want this. “And now you see, as well.”

You feel the tickle of flies landing on your skin, it makes you want to vomit. They always hover around him like he has a gravitational pull.

You cum against his hand as he thrusts his armored fingers deep into you, crying out with a voice now hoarse from your whimpers and cries. He hums pleased behind his helm, as you lay limp in front of him. Your inner thighs are slick, and you feel something tickle against them that isn't his hand.

He pulls his soaked hand from between your thighs, putting it on your stomach as his other hand slips underneath your shoulderblades. He raises you slightly up off the flowerbed removing his hand from your stomach to take off his helmet.

You want to look away, to preserve the memory of Calas. But he’s gone, rotted away. You feel his hand cup your jaw to force you to look at him, your lips brushing against his dried, rotten mouth.

His hand returns to your stomach again.

“My beautiful little flower in her beautiful little garden; Begging to be pollinated.” You feel your mind returning from its foggy state and you weakly kick your legs wanting to get away.

“You are in bloom, my beautiful little flower. I can’t wait to make so many more.”

[chaoticbardlady99]

Yesterday I Felt like Dancing (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: You have burnt both ends of the candle and haven’t been taking care of your mental health. Unable to get yourself out of bed, Astarion begins to worry about you…

Author note- I have been hardcore struggling with my mental health lately and writing my silly little fics has been the only thing pulling me along. I thought it might be therapeutic to write about my current feelings (I have ADHD, MDD, and GAD so it’s a party up in here). I hope you enjoy!

CW- Suicidal Ideation, symptoms of depression, brief outburst, mentions of mental health diagnosis and poor medical advice.

Title inspired by song “Into the Walls” by Griff.

*not my pic, could not tell you where I found it so I apologize in advance. If you think it might be your picture, please message me so I can give proper credit.

Your last day before backtracking from the Mountain Pass to the Goblin camp is a difficult one.

Not for the group as a whole- just you specifically.

Days before a Mindflayer kidnapped you, a healer back home had told you your brain was sick. You had been devastated- resigned to your miserable fate.

You had been struggling for years at that point with inconsistent motivation, exhaustion, nightmares, and irrational thoughts for months. You have been functional for the most part, but then an overpowering wave will hit you like Warhammer in the ribs and you are rendered useless until it passes.

The healer suggested sunlight, exercise, eating healthy, and spending time with friends to help your affliction when you hit rock bottom. You were wildly unimpressed with her. At the time, you preferred to self isolate so you stayed by yourself in the woods trying to find peace there. You would have to let her know that her “going out and enjoying the sun” message is not always wise- you may get a tadpole shoved in your head. You can’t be that mad though- the tadpole helped bring your pep back.

Anyway, you have been doing all of that for weeks now, you even felt great, but today? You could not have hit rock bottom harder even if you tried.

You woke up that morning unable to get yourself out of bed. It was a rest day so it wasn’t a big deal, but you also know that your companions are going to have things they need to talk to you about and favors they need you to take care of.

Gods you had tried to get up. You are grateful that your past self had the gumption to wash off and change into clean clothes last night, but your armor is still disgustingly sitting outside your tent and your hair is long and wild. You had wanted to braid it, but it all felt like too much work.

Everything feels like too much work right now- even staying awake- so you drift in and out of uncomfortable naps throughout the morning. No matter how many times you fall asleep, begging for relief from the painful brick wall sitting on your brain, it never leaves.

You can feel the midday breeze rustle your tent. You’ve been laying here for hours now. You are crying and you honestly aren’t sure why. You feel completely paralyzed by all the things you need to do to be ready for the Underdark.

You need to clean your armor, go over the Goblin Camp’s map with Wyll, find Gale a magical artifact, and probably comfort Lae’zel since she’s been branded a heretic- but you won’t. The shame and self loathing continues. You are a silly, worthless little human being.

Every person who knocks on your tent gets a simple, “I’m just not feeling well,” and then they walk away. You don’t know why it makes you more sad than appreciative. If you were in their shoes- you would be bending over backwards to make sure they had everything they needed and you wouldn’t let them feel alone. Then you resent yourself for feeling that way towards your companions- they don’t owe you anything and you were the one who chose to help them- you didn’t ask for anything in return. This is all your fault.

The only person who hadn’t come to visit you was Astarion- which hurt your heart just a little, enough that the numbness coursing thickly through your body wavered for a moment. You are quite smitten and he is obviously not. Another mistake to add to the swirling black hole your mind has fallen into.

You knew it was stupid to want his comfort and affections- you had merely slept together a little less than a week ago. Astarion has been quasi avoiding you ever since and when he does talk to you- he’s awkward. You constantly look for flying pigs- Astarion feeling awkward or being awkward is unheard of.

You have come to accept that you were just some tryst and obviously he hadn’t enjoyed it as much as he said he did.

Astarion isn’t to blame and the situation itself certainly didn’t contribute to the sudden lack of emotions. You knew that you were on the verge of a mental collapse sooner rather than later, but you had foolishly hoped you wouldn’t be alone through it. It feels less all consuming when you try to find a reason. It’s more comfortable to know than it is to give up and say, “my brain is fucked and there isn’t a damn thing I can do so I guess I’m stuck here.”

You are jolted out of your thoughts by another knock on your tent.

“I’m sick,” you say flatly.

“Ha- you act like that will deter me. I can’t even get sick, Darling.”

Before you even have time to register that Astarion is on the other side of your tent- he pushes his way through the flaps and stares down at you in confusion. And… concern?

Astarion steps inside and kneels down next to you- scanning you for evidence of illness or injury.

“I suppose I had been worried for nothing,” he smiles sweetly at you, “you are totally fine. Come on Darling, you have to get up and eat. Wyll is fumbling with that map.”

You look at him and begin to cry. Astarion’s face lights up with alarm.

“What- what did I do!?”

“Please don’t make me,” you sob, “I just want a break. I’m so tired. I want to lay in this bed forever and never leave, but there is so much to do and it’s paralyzing.”

You continue to cry and you cover yourself with the extra blanket- successfully hiding your face.

“Go away,” you whisper, “I need to be left alone.”

You say it, but you are far from meaning it. You want him to stay- to hold you- but he doesn’t want you so it will only make everything hurt worse once the numbness fades away.

You wait for several moments and then you hear him leave. Your silent cry turns into choked sobs and your body is shaking from the pain you are in. The numbness hurts. The numbness tells you that you shouldn’t be alive.

Maybe you shouldn’t be.

Everyone here would be able to figure it out on their own (eventually) and you would finally be free. Free of your uncomfortable brain, free of your ugly body- free of the expectations of others. You would no longer be holding them back like you are today- like you will again in the future.

You are sure they would temporarily grieve you, but that was the deal with this whole journey. You had all accepted that one of you or all of you could die at any moment. You will just put them in more danger by being here…

You shake the thought from your head, violently- your head is pounding from the growing tension headache and dehydration. The tears eventually stop and you just… well, lay in bed again. You stare blankly at a book over in the corner. You keep trying to convince yourself to get up and read the damn thing- do literally ANYTHING else than just stay here in your bedroll.

Instead, you fall asleep.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up to someone knocking on your tent post. You grumble incoherently, covering your head and you hear your unexpected guest sit down next to you. The smell of food fills the tent and your stomach grumbles.

“You need to eat, my Dear,” Astarion says softly.

You are stunned to hear his voice grace your ears. You slowly pull the blanket down to just below your eyes and look at him. Astarion looks distressed, like he doesn’t want to be here. Why would he? You’re a nuisance.

You sit up gingerly and grab the bowl from him. You manage to give him a lopsided smile.

“Thanks. You don’t need to stay, I will be fine on my own,” you say apathetically, staring into the broth.

“I want to stay,” he says, “if you’ll have me.”

The expression on his face is unreadable, but he seems genuine. You nod, your lips pressed together tightly. You eat as much as you feel like while Astarion studies you.

Usually your anxiety is at an all time high (in maybe one of the better ways) when you are around Astarion- he gives you butterflies, butterflies, and even more butterflies. Usually your heart is racing in his presence, but right now you just feel empty.

“Where is your hairbrush?” Astarion asks.

You frown with confusion, “it’s in my bag, why?”

Astarion gets up and goes over to the bag- digging out a few items. He pulls out a lantern, your hairbrush, and a hair tie. Astarion comes over to you and sits down behind you. You feel him gather up the stray pieces of your hair and get to work.

Astarion runs his fingers through your scalp and your tangled hair- the feeling is soothing and it opens something inside of you. Your body shakes silently with sobs and you feel the worm behind your eyes wiggle as Astarion asks for access. You aren’t sure.

“I want to understand,” Astarion says, “please.”

His voice is so raw and desperate- you swallow thickly before allowing him to explore your current emotional state. The silence in the tent is palpable and you feel tense, uncomfortable even. No one has ever cared for you while you are in this state before.

You feel him continue his hairbrushing after he exits your mind. Astarion leaves soft kisses on your shoulder as he gently pulls apart every knot. It helps- you realize- to feel cared for. The numbness still hurts, you still hurt, but it’s nice to not feel so alone.

After Astarion is done brushing your hair, you feel his delicate fingers begin to intricately braid your hair. You wonder when he learned how to do hair.

“Leon’s daughter, Victoria, used to ask me to braid her hair all the time,” Astarion says in a bittersweet voice as if reading your mind, “I picked it up so that she would stop bugging me about it. She said and I quote, ‘you have the perfect braiding hands!’”

You smile to yourself tenderly, “That’s very kind of you, Star. I am sure she appreciated it as much as I appreciate it now.”

You feel Astarion’s hands falter at your words and you are unsure if you have upset him or not. A pregnant pause occurs before Astarion finally clears his throat and goes back to braiding your hair.

“I’m glad that I can help,” Astarion’s delicate, vulnerable words hang in the air, “I’ve… been worried about you today.”

You feel positively flustered and bad for making him feel that way.

“Oh you don’t need to worry about silly ole me! This happens sometimes” you make your voice chirpier than it needs to be, “This is actually the longest I’ve gone for a long time without this happening. I have theorized that the tadpole might help which is kinda cool- I think?”

You laugh awkwardly- desperate to ease his worry.

“How often does this happen?”

Shit. That was the winning question wasn’t it? Astarion will surely never see you as anything less than broken now.

“I’m not really sure,” your voice comes out in a whisper, “I usually always feel a bit of it all the time, but it’s manageable. I function very well regardless.”

“But this one isn’t manageable and evidently you aren’t functional right now.”

You sigh, “No, it isn’t and no, I’m not.”

“What changed?”

“Nothing,” you say, maybe too harshly, “that’s the part that drives me crazy. Yesterday was incredible- I was on top of the whole world, felt like dancing and screaming from the rooftops, but today!?”

You inhale and hold back the muted scream that wants to fill the air.

“Today,” you hiss, “I don’t even want to deal with any of this shit anymore. I’m so fucking tired. There is too much to fucking do and too many people depending on me. Then everyone gets irritated with me if I ask to push off their problems so I persevere through it despite knowing I’m getting bad again. I’m a giant stinking trash heap that everyone keeps adding more to.”

Astarion finishes braiding your hair and presses your back to his chest, pulling you into him. He puts his arms around your waist and settles his chin and face in between the crook of your neck.

“I just feel like such a nuisance all the time- no matter how hard I push myself to prove I’m not. Sometimes I think everyone would be better off if I just… went away.”

You both sit there quietly. At some point he had taken one of your hands in his and he was tracing shapes into the back of it with his thumb. Your omission still hangs heavily in the air.

“I wouldn’t be better off,” Astarion says hotly, “I’d be stuck with all these weirdos by myself. That would be truly miserable, Darling.”

You shake your head, a half smile on your face.

“And besides- you are not even close to a nuisance,” Astarion states, leaving a kiss on your cheek, “at least you aren’t in constant need of magical objects to eat or blood to drink. Oh and you don’t require a painstaking amount of searching to prevent you from literally burning everyone alive.

“Oh and did I forget to mention, we have not one, but two women who despise each other and follow hateful Goddesses which was a fun choice for whatever sick bastard twisted our fates this way.”

You laugh breathily, closing your eyes and letting the sound defrost some of your insides.

“What I’m saying is- I think you are the least of everyone’s ‘nuisances’, my Darling,” he says, squeezing you tighter to his chest, “despite how little you think of yourself. We ne- no, I want you to stay. I know everyone else would say the same, but I must emphasize that I would be horribly distraught if you disappeared. Hells I’d even pay to have you resurrected.”

You gasp playfully, your voice falling slightly flat, “You? The most frugal man I have ever met would pay 200 gold coins to ‘Strike thy name from the record’?”

Your impression of Withers gets Astarion to genuinely laugh- the sound vibrating in your chest. You lean into him and he guides you back to laying down. Astarion entangles his legs with yours as he holds you tightly- your faces are mere centimeters apart. You love the way Astarion smells- rosemary, bergamot, and brandy. You wish you could be wrapped up in him forever. You are still in pain- everything still hurts and feels too difficult, but right now it feels a little less heavy.

“I would throw bags of Gold Coins at that corpse out of revenge, my Dear,” he teases, “you couldn’t possibly think I would ever let you rest peacefully in your grave- I would be far too angry with you and unhappy without you to let that happen.”

You lay there and despite yourself, you lean forward and leave butterfly kisses along his cheeks with your lashes. Astarion scrunches up his nose reflexively and smiles at you. You plant a sweet, short kiss on his lips.

“Thank you Astarion- for everything.”

You close your eyes as he traces circles along your lower back. Your eyes begin to droop, and you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When you wake up the next morning- you are disappointed to find that you are all alone in your tent. The heavy numbness is still there and you sigh. At least last night made it more bearable.

You look on the side where Astarion had been sleeping and find a note with a bottle attached to it. You pick it up and begin to read.

Tav,

Astarion had asked me about herbs for some relief regarding mental discomforts. I unfortunately don’t know many, but this is a mixture of St. John’s Wort, Valerian Root, and Ashwagandha. Historically, I know these have been used to alleviate emotional and mental pain.

Astarion didn’t tell me why he was asking, but I deduced it was you pretty quickly when he began shooing everyone away from your tent this morning.

I hope this helps- we are all here if you need us. May Silvanus light your path as you navigate this difficult time.

-Halsin

You sit in your own stunned silence for what feels like hours. Halsin knows and he wants to help? Halsin doesn’t think you are screwed or a nuisance? The man barely even knows you!

You are a bit embarrassed, but you can’t help but laugh at the image of Astarion telling everyone to leave you alone.

You open the bottle and a pleasant, earthy smell fills the tent. You drink the mixture (that definitely does not taste anywhere near as pleasant as it smells) and you do feel a slight bit better. Your apathy feels even more tolerable now. You will have to thank Halsin.

You slowly rise from your tent and look around. Everything is packed up neatly in the corner- your clothes from the previous day are folded nicely and you notice all the holes are sewn up.

You jump when someone enters your tent abruptly- the midday sun warming your skin. You turn around and Astarion is smiling at you, but looks nervous.

“I cleaned off your armor and your weapons,” he says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, “I also packed up your stuff- as you can see. We have to start leaving unfortunately, but I’ll help you get on your armor like I usually do- I might still need help with mine though, but I can ask someone else if it’s too much for you right now. Lae’zel and Karlach offered to pack up your tent. Wyll and Shadowheart figured out the map- Wyll is going to be our ‘fearless’ leader for the day. Gale has some food for you to snack on while we travel- which you will be eating, by the way.”

Astarion is looking at you with a vulnerable expression on his face. He plays nervously with the gold coin in his hands.

You can hardly believe what you are hearing.

“Did- did you do all this for me?” You say with disbelief.

You never thought Astarion was capable of smiling shyly until he had admitted to you that you had been his first thinking creature- you certainly never thought you’d see him become shy twice in your presence.

“I did and it wasn’t a nuisance so don’t even begin to worry about that,” He walks over to you, gently cradling your face in his hands, “I hope this is all okay.”

You smile- the first genuine feeling of happiness you’ve felt in the last 24 hours gently sparks in your chest as you stare up at him. You get up on your tiptoes and bridge the gap between your lips.

“Thank you Astarion, this is perfect- you are perfect,” you are crying tears of joy, “this is the kindest gesture anyone has ever made for me. So just, thank you.”

“Of course, Darling,” he says smiling in between kisses, “I won’t let you lose to yourself. We’ll get through this together from now on- no more hiding.”

And for once? You actually believe someone.

-if you guys like this, please let me know if you would want a part two written from Astarion’s perspective.

Update- I did the thing you silly geese

https://www.tumblr.com/chaoticbardlady99/735969926279528448/i-took-all-this-love-i-found-and-i-hope-that-its

Tag-list: @spacebarbarianweird @domainoflostsouls

[bonefall]

are there any differences when it comes to starclan worship and beliefs among the clans? considering how you’re taking a christian-flavored approach to their religion, there’s gotta’ve been some kind of “great schism” or “protestant reformation” religious discourse. especially when it comes to wind “we-sleep-under-the-stars” clan and sky “gone-for-the-past-50-years” clan

The most significant difference is between SkyClan and Forest Four worship. Between the four, it's mostly superficial ritual differences.

Traditional Forest Four religion is centralized. Clerics are both healers and religious leaders. There is a stricter concept of both blasphemy and dark magic that discourages personal worship of StarClan, so when you're given a strange dream or omen, you are supposed to bring it to your Cleric to interpret it.

By contrast, SkyClan has lived several generations on the lam. The closest thing to a Cleric they had was the Hub like Skywatcher, who was more of an "official networking expert" than anything. The Leader is the strongest spiritual authority and a Cleric is more of a doctor than a priest, so SkyClan cats nurture a more personal connection to Skypelt than Forest Four do with Silverpelt.

SkyClan's practices do not sit well with Forest Four. It's no wonder they have a demon like Brokenstar in their pantheon. Heretics, the lot of them.

As for Forest Four...

ShadowClan will surprise you with how pious they are. They have a deep connection to the Dark Forest with Ripplestar, Brokenstar, and Tigerstar in their recent past, so they fear the influence of demons more than other Clans.

So, their warding rituals also tend to be the best, and they're the most vocal about blasphemy. Clan cat AU of The Exorcist would have the priest come from ShadowClan.

WindClan is loud. The wind howls and so do they. They sing songs, chant as groups, and act notably performative about their piety. Visiting the Cleric regularly is a social expectation-- else you must be hiding something!

They have this practice of "counting their blessings," (Clanmew: "Pos shayu shai Laalha; For starlight I-lather") which basically means they like to point out the blessings StarClan has given WindClan. Usually this has to do with glowworms, an abundance of snails or rain, shiny things in general, a bountiful hunting week, etc.

ThunderClan does a lot of honoring. Sacrifices, dances, feasts. They have the most productive territory and make use of that. You'd think they'd get along with WindClan best, but they both find the other insufferable lmao

Leaftail: "bunch of shineless tailtasters over there-- they think they can just EAT FOOD and that means they're devoted to StarClan? I do that ANYWAY."

Shellfur: "maybe if they ate some more food over there they wouldn't have to visit their Cleric every 3 days. Your stomach growling isn't an omen bitch you just don't partake in StarClan's earthly delights."

Leaftail: "RICH coming from a TUNNELBUN BITER"

Shellfur: "MAAAAAAD that I eat YOUR food BETTER THAN YOU"

"SHUT UP"

"AND IM DATING YOUR COUSIN AND THERES NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT"

And, lastly, RiverClan.

They take things slow and try to recognize the blessings present in their world. When something is acknowledged as having "personhood" in Clanmew, it's given a warrior name. RiverClan gives a lot of things warrior names.

They have a lot more rituals than other Clans, but they're little ones. Superstitions, really. Like saying prayers before meals, putting an intentional flaw in their crafts, throwing every 5th fish of a hunting patrol back in the river. Stuff like that.

[sainamoonshine]

Okay so I saw that @foxy-alien made art of a TLT house swap AU and it started me thinking about how I’d do a similar AU… I did that instead of sleeping last night btw.

So here’s what I have so far:

Ninth House: Ianthe, Corona and Babs. Once upon a time a woman and a baby fell on their planet. When they saw the woman’s red hair they thought “ugh what Third House bullshit is this” and while they kept the corpse, they sent the baby back. We don’t want this keep your trash. They have their own drama to deal with anyway; the tomb needs its keeper to be a necromancer. Corona, while officially the heir and Reverent Daughter, is not one. Ianthe and her started hiding her lack of talent before their parents explained the whole “unbroken chain of the tomb keeper’s necromantic bloodline” thing. So long as Ianthe is around, the twins expect that everything is still fine. Still, their house hovers on the edge of breaking a promise of ten thousand years once their parents die and Corona inherits the duties of the tomb… unless they find a way to make Corona a necromancer, either by turning her into a lyctor, by making Ianthe a lyctor and then Ianthe makes her necromantic (?), or they just straight up ask Jod for a boon.

Eight House: Abigail and Magnus. Everyone is surprised when they meet them, as they do not meet the traditional pattern of their house; especially when you know the fact that Abigail’s cavalier was supposed to be a cousin but was replaced by Magnus when he married Abigail — their blood type was, luckily (or unluckily?) compatible. Like, who the fuck would want to be an Eight House cavalier??? (Magnus would. He think going into the river is exciting. He also trusts his wife.) It’s usually only when Abigail starts actually doing necromancy that people remember she’s scary AF. Through her interest in ghosts, she has developed her own custom safeguards against Magnus getting possessed when she siphons him… or if he does get possessed, she is a quick and extremely brutal exorcist.

Seventh House: Palamedes and Camilla. Pal decided on his medicine focus due to his house’s propensity for weird necromantic cancer. He firmly believes that if he can just find a way to either stabilize or treat it, the inhabitants of the seventh house will live more comfortable lives. He is considered something of an heretic due to this, but house leadership is willing to ‘let him cook’ -> they’ll wait to see if a necromancer with a stable cancer is still powerful before they decide whether to censure his research or not.

Sixth House: Jeannemary and Isaac. They’re still young, but very good at getting into places they’re not supposed to be, particularly by breaking wards and then rebuilding them better. Both of them keep trying to apply into the cohort but the scholars of the Sixth see Isaac’s skills with wards and want him to pursue academia instead. When the summons to Canaan House came the council all looked at each other, remembered they still had to appoint a new master warden after the last one passed, figured that nobody wanted to abandon their current study/experiments to go participate to what would be sure to be a tedious dick measuring contest with the other house heirs, and decided to invoke an obscure emergency clause in a law book somewhere in order to appoint Isaac to the title. He and Jeannemary really were the only ones who actually wanted to go to Canaan.

Fifth House: Dulcinea and Protesilaus. It is a shame that her health is so poor, because she would otherwise have become a hell of an ruler. While she has an ease with history and academia, her true skill is diplomacy. Dulcinea can get a very accurate read on most people, and she knows how to use their own psychology against them to make them agree to her ideas. She looks nice and fragile, but she is cunning. Meanwhile, Protesilaus is surprisingly good at paperwork for a guy who looks like he eats skulls for breakfast.

Fourth House: Judith and Martha. This AU version of them is less cocksure, but just as proficient at gathering information, profiling people, and writing down ample notes. Their rank in the cohort is lower than in canon, and they often get assigned to the tasks nobody else wants. Such as: overseeing security on ships bringing prisoners to the Ninth House prison installation… and this is how Judith and Corona met.

Third House: Harrow and Gideon. Once upon a time, the Ninth House sent them an orphan they claimed was theirs. The King and Queen didn’t pay the mystery much mind and stuck the baby in an orphanage. They had their own troubles to deal with: the royal family had not been able to produce a necromantic heir yet, and the vassal families were closing in. They figured that they couldn’t let a lesser branch of the family inherit the Third; it had never been done, would discredit them in the eyes of the other Houses, and would cause political instability. So in order to ensure the necromantic potential of their latest vat baby experiment, the King and Queen sacrificed the children in one of the lesser orphanages. They claimed that an hull breach in the space station caused the poisonous air of the planet’s upper atmosphere to get inside the ventilation system… except there was one survivor. The King and Queen were weirded out by that seemingly unkillable toddler but public opinion was heavily positive towards the ‘miracle survivor’. Not to mention having at least one person survive the incident helps make the ‘it was an accident’ excuse sound more credible. So the King and Queen brought the child to the palace and decided to do some PR by giving her a place to live and an education, and eventually made her the Cavalier of their (powerful) new daughter.

Second House: Silas and Column. Duty-bound, fanatic, no fun allowed Silas is a bit young for military service, but that doesn’t stop him from climbing the ranks. Column is still used as a battery, even in this AU, except his role is to start killing people to produce the initial necromantic boom to give Silas something to work with when they deploy to new battlefields. He hates doing this btw.

[loving08]

Blue Sky

Damon Salvatore x Y/N

Summary: Is Y/N feelings for Damon gonna hurt her or will they have a happy ending?......

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Y/N walked into the boarding house and heard music blasting throughout the house, she furrowed her eyebrows and followed the path to find where the music was playing. when she entered the kitchen, she understand what actually was going on and just shook her head. with a smile on her face she asked "what are doing Damon?".

Damon looked up hearing her voice and smirked at her and said "what do you think I'm doing. I'm making breakfast so that I would not starved to death". Y/N smiled and sat down in front of him and said "and since when did you started eating real food to survive Mr. Vampire?". "Since you have been coming to have breakfast that is made by me Ms. Chuckles" said Damon looking at her. Hearing his nickname for her she let out a small chuckle and Damon smiled hearing her. It has became a routine for her to have breakfast with him.

Y/N lives in Mystic falls with her grandparents, both of her parents are at Edinburgh, Scotland, her real hometown. she wanted a different environment so her parents let her live with her grandparents and complete her schooling in Mystic fall. she came just a year after Stefan and Damon came into the town. Y/N knows what Damon and Stefan really are. since childhood she had been told that there's a different world and that is the Supernatural world. she has been told by her parents and family about Vampires, Werewolfs, Witches, Hybrids, Heretics and many more. she herself was a witch, a Rosewood witch. Living in a Supernatural world is dangerous but she was not worried about herself that much as firstly the Rosewood witches are very powerful even more than the Bennetts and they are treated as Royalty in the Supernatural world and secondly her and her family are very friendly, kind and sweet in nature, and that is known among every supernatural community. Her parents has always told her that to never judge someone before knowing them herself as she doesn't know what they have been through so she never made a conclusion or judged someone based on other thoughts and opinion, and maybe that was the reason she and Damon gets along so well, can be said as best friends.

When Damon came into the town, he had made himself a reputation that he was the bad guy, gives bad vibes and is a very evil and selfish person and everyone believed it. Y/N was the only one who didn't believed it, she always thought that he tries to portray to be the bad guy but the real him is nothing like that and as for selfish, isn't everyone selfish to a certain range. It was very frustrating for Damon at first, he wanted every single one to think that he's the bad guy, the evil one and everyone did believed him even his own brother did but not Y/N. He was not happy about it but as time goes on and as he started to get to know her he realized that it was her nature to treat everyone kindly and she's a good person with a beautiful heart. she was the first person who had looked at him warmly and treated him kindly without feeling any disgust towards him and he is forever grateful to her for that and as their friendship grew he become very close to her and protective over her.

Damon put the food in front of Y/N and arrange some for himself and sat beside her. Y/N took a bite of her food and said "Mmmm.... see that's why I always came here to have my breakfast, you makes the best pancakes Damon". He smiled at her and took a bite himself and asked "so what is today's agenda?". Y/N turned towards him and said "Bonnie called this morning and said that she still can't find out why Jeremy still seeing Conner so I'm going to her house to help her with that and Caroline said she and Stefan are gonna help practice Jeremy and Matt to defend themselves better. we don't want what happened yesterday to happen again. It is already hard to help everyone when they are in danger so it's better if they learn to defend themselves". Damon nodded his head and took their plates to the sink. Y/N turned to looked at him, and feeling eyes at him, he looked over his shoulder and at her. she continued to looked at him and asked "Are you alright...? Everything's okay with you?". Damon dries his hands and turned to face her with a questioning look . Y/N shook her head a little and said "Its just.....you didn't ask me about Elena, your first question would always been about her and her whereabouts but I have been seeing that you have stopped asking it for sometime now so.....".

Damon looked at her for a minute and pushed himself from the counter and walked towards her. He came to stand in front of her and tugged some hair behind her ear and said "Everything's okay and No I don't always ask about Elena so don't worry your little head about it" Y/N just nodded her head but didn't believe him, maybe they had a fight or something she thought. Damon would always question her about Elena this and Elena that and everyone was aware of his feelings for her. Thinking about this Y/N felt a little sting in her heart. Damon loves Elena and everyone knows that but what nobody know was that Y/N also love Damon not just as friends but more than that. she knew having feelings for him is wrong and so she never wanted to accepts those feelings and always denied them to herself but as she spends more time with him she realized she can't stop those feelings anymore so she never told anyone, keeping it one sided, even if it hurts her.

Y/N walked to the front door with Damon behind her and opened the door but turned towards him and said "I'll be at Bonnie so if you need something or even if wants to spends some time together come find me there and....umm... Elena she.... she's at her home that's what Bonnie told me so if you want you can go see her too" and without waiting for any reply from him she left the house. while driving towards Bonnie's house she thought about her feelings, she can't go on like this anymore, not only it was hurting her but it might become a problem later, she need to do something about it. A while later she reached her destination and parked her car, walked up and knocked on the door. The door opened and she looked at Sheila Bennett and gave her a small smile. Sheila Bennett did died a while ago using all her magic power to open the tomb and Bonnie was so miserable from that and Y/N felt very bad for so she requested her mom to do something. It was the first time Y/N has ever requested something like that so her mom agreed to her and pulled some strings on the other side so Sheila Bennett can come back and it worked. when Sheila came back, she thanked both Y/N and her mother for their efforts and for doing that for Bonnie.

Sheila gave a big smile to Y/N and hugged her and said "Hello my dear, Bonnie is upstairs waiting for you". Y/N nodded her head and walked upstairs, upon reaching Bonnie's room she knocked once and walked inside and looked at the grimoires and books all over the room and said "Goodness, What have you done to your room Bonnie". Bonnie looked up at her and let out a tired sigh and said "as you can see I was looking for the information we needed and I didn't realized I was making a mess, and when I did realized it, it was too late and now I'm not being able to clean it" and gave a sad pout.

Y/N laughed at her and said "that's why I told you to not to start on your own and if you do, ask Sheila for help because I know how messy you can be" and set some books aside. Bonnie looked around her bedroom and nodded knowing Y/N was telling the truth, she can be very messy if she want, then she looked towards Y/N and a smile formed at her lips, how everything has changed, before she always had to help everyone and had so much pressure on her and all her friends expected her to have every solution for their problems but after Y/N came nothing's the same, she would always help Bonnie with everything and that lessen so much pressure from her shoulder and she was thankful to her for that but that was not the moment they got closer, the day Y/N came to her house with her grams alive was the day Bonnie realized how much someone's heart and soul can be so pure and that was the day she started to think of Y/N as her sister.

Y/N looked up from the work and noticed Bonnie was lost on her thoughts and slowly she walked up to her and gently puts her hands on her shoulder and said "Hey you okay? you look a little lost there". Bonnie shook her head a little and said "Yeah its just... I was just thinking how everything's has changed, 2 years ago I can't imagine myself having a best friend other than Elena, or how I would have someone to depend on other than my grams". Y/N smiled at her and said "well my mom says whatever happens, it happens for a reason, so let's just hope good things continues to happen even in the future". Bonnie returned her smile and they both started to clean the room. After a while they both laid at the bed when Bonnie turned towards Y/N and said "so how was your morning?". Y/N looked at her and said "just like any other day, why?", "Ooh I just thought there might have something happened between you guys as you know, your breakfast date with Damon".

Bonnie was the only person who knew about Y/N feelings for Damon and its not like she wanted to tell her but it just happened, one day they were just talking when she had a slip up and at the end she had to tell Bonnie everything. Y/N rolled her eyes at her and said "It was not a date and..... its not like anything will happen between us, you know Bonnie that he still loves Elena and maybe he will always be in love with her", she let out a sigh and sat up.

Bonnie also sat up, turned her body towards her and said "sometimes I really think that your brain is full of nothing but trash" and rolled her eyes when Y/N let out a offended 'Hey' and said "What, its true, are you really that blind Y/N, don't you see the way he looks at you, when you walked into a room his eyes lit up like literally, and whenever he talks about you there's a sparkle in his eyes and gosh his voice, he always has a fond and a soft voice talking with you or about you that he never uses with anyone not even with Elena, not anymore". Y/N understand what Bonnie trying to say, hell even she hopes that's the case but she's afraid, she doesn't want to get her hopes up and later get it broken and feel the pain, that's something she doesn't want to experience at all.

Y/N turned to look at Bonnie and said "I know what you are trying to say Bonnie but I just...don't want to get my hopes up, if he has any sort of feelings for me, I want him tell me himself, I just don't want to get my heart broken". Bonnie nodded her head and took Y/N's hands and said "okay let's just not talked bout love life and find the things we need....hmm". Y/N knows Bonnie trying to distract her so she just nodded her head and they both get back work.

[thewisaaaaad]

I HAVE A CONTINUATION TO "Narinder is forgotten"

to clarify something I dont think i quite got across in the last post, when Narinder talks about his past from before he was usurped, it isn't just that his lips flap and no one can hear him. The entire world gets muted for anyone within earshot. Birds stop singing, the wind stops blowing. The best way for anyone in-universe to explain and describe the phenomenon is "Speaking in dead air." It is extremely unsettling, but it would be funny for Narinder to use it in combat to disorient his opponents. Just rambling about how he raised his kids and the heretics can no longer hear the encroaching ambush.

ANYWAY after a while, after all the siblings are rescued and he has a mental breakdown because even they don't remember (except Shamura, but they're crazy anyway), Narinder begins to come to terms with his fate. I know at some point he pleaded to the void to give him freedom in return for anything he had left. He probably assumes that this is the result of that.

The lamb still thinks he's special, because of the aforementioned "dead air" and also because he is immortal. Other followers think hes odd and a bit dour, but otherwise a very chill dude.

So, because of his combat prowess and ages of experience, he gets sent on missionaries very frequently. He is the one most likely to come back alive, after all. This doesn't mean others aren't sent, and when this particular event happens, he is sent with one other missionary on a similar mission to gather food.

(Its yellow cat, known as Brenomar. They are a disciple, but do not yet have a close relationship with Leshy.)

So, while out on another mission in Darkwood to collect meat, he finds something that he never thought he would see again: a statue dedicated to him (like the statues that you can steal fervor from). Unlike the other statues, however, this one represents who he was during his imprisonment: a skeletal, three eyed cat, wrapped in chains that connect to the four corners of the room.

It is still much like him: crown-less. devotion-less. imprisoned by chains of another kind.

He decides that here is as good a place as any to rest, having slaughtered his way through a couple camps of heretics on his way there.

As he sits on a bit of rubble and eats his lunch, the other missionary finds him, having followed his steps for safety. Then, Brenomar sees the statue.

And the memories of who the ex-god was come flooding back. In this place, he can remember. And in this place, He decides to forgive, like the lamb had done before them.

The god had done some horrible things, yes. But the cat before him, his friend, had served enough penance.

Narinder cannot quite understand why they would offer such an olive branch, to forgive a liar like himself.

And Brenomar has to remind him that he did not withhold his past by choice. And it didn't make their friendship any less real. It does not make the lambs concern any less real, either.

It doesn't matter anyway. Once they leave this place, the yellow cat will most likely forget again. But the apology soothes a long ignored wound on his heart regardless.

When they leave the statue, however, they do not re-enter Darkwood. Instead, they step into fog-filled halls, the walls made of a pure white slate, the vaulted ceilings hidden behind a wall of thick, cream colored clouds.

Headless servants wander the halls, wearing white grieving clothes, forever morning some forgotten tragedy and lashing out at the two travelers in their anguish.

Narinder knows these halls. He once ruled from them.

He tries to turn around, to go back to the cult he now calls home, but finds that his body refuses to obey.

He calls out to his companion, telling them to run back, to get help.

Brenomar tries to help him, to turn him around, to save a friend he has just remembered so much about.

But nothing stops the shaky steps taken by his traitorous legs.

The other cat runs, trying to escape the faded memories, and finds their way back to the cult by some miracle.

But when he tries to explain what he saw to the lamb, to tell them of the danger that Narinder is in...

All that comes out is dead air.

[katyspersonal]

Hey so, i kinda am a little confused at how things make more sense now, (referring to the post with tigers) how does it makes sense now?

Okay, this is a reference to this post:

I am cracking up at this meme format every time hdfshsdg I assume you both are referring to the last part and not just anon, since the first one is kinda simple: Marika's reactionary paranoia towards any subspecies that believes they are divine has backstory, former deifying of Crucible was part of her clever plan to screw Hornsent over as soon as she can since they mention her "betrayal" and snakes are seen as traitor of the Erdtree as Messmer and his simps were thrown under the bus blablabla we heard all this

As for Ensha: My friend @val-of-the-north made a better post on the topic here ( x )! I recommend simply reading it, but I will summarise anyway!

So, the gold of the Erdtree and Scadutree are connected as they're two sides of each other, for starters! Ensha's bones are strangely golden too, and they even share the same passive power of slowly healing the wearer as gold of the Erdtree with their stones of tailsmans depicting the Erdtree sap! It is now very likely to suggest that he was a warrior blessed in a similar way, but brought back since he was a king, a very important figure!

The term 'soulless' is otherwise used exclusively for the Demigods that died in the Night of the Black Knives; Godwyn and those who are now buried in Mausoleums and guarded by their headless knights! Ensha is not only called that, but also his "weapon" is a literal skeletal arm latching onto him 🤔 Him having been one of the warriors blessed upon death, but having his death somehow disturbed after Shattering works naturally! Maybe other corpses instinctively crawled towards him because the healing power still lives in him. I also like to think that this golden energy was what deceived D's radar x) Besides, Roundtable Hold welcomes not only Tarnished because Dolores, stated to once have been a part of the Roundtable Hold, wasn't one for example:

Radiant golden eyes are not the thing that happens with Tarnished, with the exception of Anastasia who became monstrous upon eating many people ( x ) Hers are closer to the effect of eating Dragons' hearts on the eyes than grace

(P.S. Mentioned already, but Ensha can't talk and Alberich, who was driven mad by people talking shit about him, coincidentally drops a Tainter's Tongue which is also golden! Alberich was heretical from the Golden Order standpoint, so Ensha's backstory being linked with it would explain speaking not kindly of him.. and paying I guess 💀 )

As for Dung Eater: Apparently, sun-face is connected with the Fell God!

I need a button on my keyboard that just says 'sorry I forgot to copy a screenshot' fdshdfhsd Okay so, I did kinda think that 'the guidance he once saw' was supposed to refer to being called by Grace, especially since Gold has subtle connection with the sunlight. But even back then it didn't make much sense because all Tarnished depicted in the intro were shown to be raised from their deaths by Grace (except for maybe Fia but overall it is complicated how deathbed mechanics works)! And so he already had the sun symbol before:

Besides, according to Boggart, who shared jail with him (weird flex to put a thief together with a serial killer but sure), he was already doing.. whatever he was doing. So I decided I didn't have enough braincells to understand and left it for later, and I was right I guess fhhdfsd

Apparently, Fell God has connection with the horns, so, Crucible! It is like a missing link in why two of Marika's children were born Omens and why Leonine Misbegotten, the ones with red manes, are internally known as 'children of radagon' ( x )! Also, one of the Leonine has Radagon's sword!

Omens also are haunted by Wraiths, who are both fire creatures and have horns:

^ a kind of 'fire' Omens with uncut horns can summon, fire Morgott explodes into upon stage transition, and also Dung Eater can summon wraiths too! The wraiths do respond to the bells of wraith-callers as well!

The nature of these spirits is for another tangent (and yes I do have a guess fdhfds), but yes it seems like that the "guidance" he envisioned was actually about Fell God, and not Grace! His goal is and already was to curse everyone with Omen stuff, whatever is the reason. He might have came in contact with a weird power and decide it was a good goal to pursue, much like Gowry and Shabriri (Flame of the Fell God states that Fell God still lurks even after death). Or maybe he was strangely in contact with the wraiths despite not being an Omen himself, and their own yearning for curse upon everyone descending from Marika rubbed onto him? (could also explain why he feels like he should have been born an Omen) Or maybe he himself just researched a lot, in simple terms, he is Just Like That xD In any case there is finally some extra context to it!

[sexhaver]

i wanna prod at ur catholic confession post actually. like yes, murder and child rape is obviously bad and there is an inherent problem with how the catholic church shields abusers. but i think removing some of the restrictions of what a priest can or cannot say about a confession could cause some problems. like, for example, how a lot of priests considerer LGBT people to be child abusers/predatory! hypothetically if the cath church made it so preists could openly condemn confessions guilty of child abuse, and if the church considers identifying as LGBT as child abuse, then that could cause problems if someone confessed to IDing as gay/trans. or alternatively, what if someone confesses to killing a rapist/sexual abuser. a priest could use that confession to testify against them and get them imprisoned. is it ok to imprison people for murdering their abusers? idk, but i dont like the idea of the catholic church having that power having a blanket statement that priests cant mention ANY confessions makes it *slightly* more immune to corruption IMO. obviously i dont think this solution is perfect, but my alternative would be to dissolve the catholic church entirely, and i dont think thats happening anytime soon.

well as you point out there isn't really a good solution to this, and that is because the idea of confession is inherently dumb as fuck. everything the catholic church considers a sin falls into one of three categories:

failing to be pious enough (forgetting to pray, missing church, taking the Lord's name in vain). keeping these secret is fine because they aren't, like, actual crimes, and in small + devout enough communities there are definitely priests who would gossip about to their neighbors if not for the confessional seal.

really cool and good activities that are only an issue if you were raised to believe that they would send you to eternal neverending torture after death (jacking off, being gay, having premarital sex, getting/considering an abortion). these should obviously be kept secret because they're embarrassing and potentially dangerous. however, this is kind of a moot point, because any decent person (priest or otherwise) would understand this without needing a confessional seal making it official. so these need the seal to stop the average priest from tattling to a kid's parents when they confide in them.

actual literal crimes with prison sentences and everything (rape, murder, manslaughter, assault). you should not be telling anyone about these if you can help it. what the fuck guys. this isn't even an ethics thing, this is a "don't be fucking stupid" thing. if you murdered your abuser and got away with it, good for you! now shut the fuck up about it because murder is still illegal. is the guilt eating you alive so badly that you need absolution from God about it (cringe)? do what Protestants figured out centuries ago and cut the middleman out of the equation by talking to the J.C. directly via personal prayer! yes i am aware this is heretical. if you care about heresy more than getting caught you are stupid.

so looking at the three points above, the best argument in favor of confessional seal that i can formulate is "sure, it allows murderers and abusers to literally have their actions condoned by God with the explicit guarantee of never being held legally accountable or even changing their behavior (just say a few Hail Maries), but think about the consequences of removing it! priests would be even MORE bigoted than they already are! some of them might even GOSSIP!" like hm, okay, i hear you, you make some excellent points, i think we should nuke the Vatican

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hello 👋

How do you feel about the basilisk from "HP and the Chamber of Secrets"? How do you like the book? What do you think of the theory that the Chamber of Secrets is something like the Temple of Salazar with columns and a huge statue?

The Basilisk

That ain't no basilisk son.

JKR does this a lot, pretty much with every magic creature she's got in her arsenal, but the basilisk might be the most egregious that was also extremely plot relevant.

A basilisk isn't a snake.

It's a rooster, dragon, fuck off lizard, toad thing, with maybe, maaaaaaybe, a hint of snake. It's king of snakes for... reasons.. but it's usually not just a big snake. I have never, in any other media, seen it not looking like some ridiculous rooster lizard/just be a big fuck off snake.

Then we have the movie where it's... an eel?

It's one of the funniest things in the franchise to me.

As for it knowing who to eat and who not to eat... I personally smell that it was carefully directed towards/coincidence helped out in it picking the right victims.

I do not trust in the ability of a basilisk to know the difference between Muggle-born and anyone else/care about the difference when it's been starving in a gutter for who knows how long.

Otherwise I have 0 thoughts on the thing.

The Book

The book was... the thing about HP, especially as I'm now going back to reread them, is it's not good. Now, to my hazy recollection, books 1-3 were worlds better than books 4-7 where JKR a) tried to get very serious b) the plot started falling apart as we had overarching mysteries/events that were supposed to last multiple novels.

What I'm getting at is Chamber of Secrets was one of the better books in the series but it still suffers what most HP books suffer from.

The mystery isn't all that good or presented well, as it's not something you can actually figure out, but it's engaging enough compared to some of the other mysteries of the series that it at least keeps you going.

Most of the book is filler nonsense we actually don't care about and no, Harry, I don't care about Quidditch and I never will so quit spending multiple chapters on your stupid games and I don't care that your school rival Draco is now Seeker too but we're made sure to know he's complete shit compared to you.

We also get the start of... house elves...

Its strengths are typical Harry Potter strength: the shenanigans the gang gets into are hilarious and insane (not limited to Hermione accidentally turning herself into a cat only to almost immediately after be petrified, Harry and Ron trying and failing to impersonate Crabbe and Goyle because they know nothing about them and then learning that 'oh, it wasn't actually Darco :/', Ginny going mad offscreen somewhere and nobody giving a flying fuck, Hagrid's desperate plea for his innocence 'follow the spiders boys' in which he nearly gets two schoolchildren eaten for which he would be imprisoned in Azkaban for that crime and had they been eaten he would not have been exonerated from his current crime, Dumbledore somehow arguing that the ghost of the Dark Lord was possessing a little girl and that's how the Chamber of Secrets got open and therefore Hagrid's not guilty and... winning? Off screen? Dumbledore still not getting sacked, ever, etc.), the magic we get is typical Harry Potter magic and is delightful, fun, and insane (we get Polyjuice and that debacle, evil haunted diaries, flying cars, and more), Dobby showing up just to wreck shit then leave multiple times in the book, and it's just the fun madness people love and are nostalgic about in HP.

My Theory on the Chamber of Secrets

I'm even more heretical, I don't think it's real/I don't think Salazar built it, I don't even think the founders are real.

[p1nkc4lyps0]

As someone who doesn't know much about classical painting I'm sooo curious about the thought process behind the sifloop drawing, please tell me about it if you're willing to share

Hi! I'm gonna be real it's not too deep (I think), but I will explain!

So the painting referenced is Dante and Virgil by William-Adolphe Bouguereau, and this is what the full version looks like

It's a reference to Dante's Divine Comedy where the poet Dante gets brought through the 9 circles of hell by one of his own favourite poets: Virgil. But Dante and Virgil aren't the people fighting, though! They're in the back watching on while the men fighting are only described as damned souls, with one being an alchemist and heretic called Capocchio.

In this part of the painting, though (often cropped down to its own painting), you can better see the posing, which is where the main influences come in.

Mainly, it's that one of the men is biting the other's throat and Loop. Can't. Do. That. But GOD would they love to, especially shown as in the Loop fight they talk about cannibalising Siffrin and the waking up from a loop message of "you dream of eating your friends whole" in Siffrin's decent. And without the bite... it's kind of not as violent, even where in the original painting where one is clawing the flesh of the other's... Loop is just holding them. Like sure being tugged about and knee'd in the back isn't to nice either, but I don't think Siffrin and Loop are particularly kind to one another.

I actually tried making Siffrin slightly limp, like if I were to pin this in the timeline, it's act 4 at the earliest, Siffrin is MISERABLE. You can only really see them being actually limp in their arm, and their expression is kind of dazed.

Siffrin's neutrality towards all of this at least makes this more of a "Loop very rudely telling him to get their shit together" rather than "Loop beating the shit out of Siffren" I was actually going to make there be a few brightly coloured tears dripping down Siffrin's back to make it almost mournful, like they don't want him ending up like them when he got so close.

OG Post

[iknowshocker]

The downfall to kai was he was more popular than damon if he was a matt or Enzo type they would have kept him around redeemed him and let him date bonnie

you're right and you should say it louder 👏🏼

it sucks because i do like both damon and enzo, but so much of s7/8 became hypocritical around how we're made to feel about them compared to how they expected/wanted us to feel about kai and it's just silly.

damon backslides so horrifically that it's exhausting watching them jump through hoops to pretend he's redeemable and epic, instead of just ... actually allowing him to be redeemable and epic. he was 👉🏼👈🏼 so close !! to just !! being decent !! and that wasn't enough he had to go back to being terrible and selfish, cause where is the fun in watching a character grow and mature i guess ?? if he actually evolved and stayed even just slightly more consistent i don't think he'd lose so many of us. but i can only take so many scenes of watching him go through the exact same arc again and again only to never truly change.

enzo is my #3 TVD man (because i, like bonnie, have a type lmao) but i'll be the first to point out that he was !! eating people !! while being a part of the mfg. like did bonnie just ?? not know about that ?? is it fine because the people are strangers and he's a vampire ?? y'all remember when he just killed fake sarah to one up stefan ?? yes, he grows and starts acting like he's got some sense but it's only really after he falls for bonnie. she never addresses his behavioral changes enough, because if she did, they'd have to admit how hypocritical it sounds. it sucks, because objectively i like them together and i think especially the cabin arc is precious.

but like ... if we'd isolated bonnie and kai in say, a prison world, for more than a cross country trip to portland i think we all know what would have happened. which would mean no red wedding, no caroline incubator gate, enzo isn't dead, the heretics get a chance at being coven members, tyler doesn't have to turn by offing liv and they can be happy, stefan probably also isn't dead because if we had two witches someone could deal with the hellfire in the armory and someone could freeze katherine in place with magic, like !!!! so much could have been different if those two just figured it out lol

bonnie and the witches in general get snubbed a lot, and i know it's the vampire diaries, but don't give me these stupidly interesting people and then be upset when i love them.

i've never recovered from accepting enzo's death to suddenly having kai back within the span of an episode. i was like oooh alright, so you really are just laughing at us this is a game to you isnt it plec lmao

[gauloiseblue]

Aight, I'm gonna ask stuff about heretic König...

What would be their life like after König takes the Angel for himself? I mean she's an angel with literally no legal records, how would that work? What did he do for the old angel hunter since the old guy wanted something in return? Omg, is the old dude an angel hunter?

The old man isn't just an Angel hunter, he's a supernatural hunter 🤔 like, he sells and collects many things from mythical creatures. You can buy djinn, vampire's blood, etc etc from him.

There's actually a missing scene between the moment he met the old man, and the moment he had killed the Fae. König already helped the man before he went to catch the Angel, but I didn't write it bc it's too long. They went to catch a powerful Djinn, and the old man "used" him as bait. Fortunately, he survived because of the Angel's mark. That's when he found out about the mark.

Also, Zero, did you know how easy is it to keep someone without an identity? Especially when she doesn't require basic human needs? Like, how many kids were born without a legal record? How many "missing" people who successfully went under the radar? My point is, it's easier than you think. Not to mention that she's never a human from the start.

I feel like König will have a short life (realistically) because he's addicted to the ecstasy the Angel gives. He'll forget to eat, to take care of himself, etc etc. Buuut, I'll leave it up to your interpretation ^^

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tags @ominous-feychild and @theink-stainedfolk!

OC Deep Dive 🎶

How's about we give Sepo some spotlight? My grumpy siren could always use some love <3

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

Sepo generally lives about two steps from full panic at all times. His years at the bottom of the Trench food chain gave him an acute fear of being hunted or having his friends taken from him. Aside from that, he's afraid of being damned to hell. In book 1, he walks a heretical line with the god he follows. In book 2 and 3, some things are revealed to him that don't help this fear whatsoever. My man has some religious trauma, suffice to say.

Do they have any pet peeves?

Many, in fact. Sepo doesn't like loud noises or bright lights on account of his acute siren senses. People with no manners piss him off. People who think they're superior to him piss him off. People who are too timid also piss him off. Generally, if he's upright and aware, something is pissing him off.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

A leviathan-tooth dagger, a very plush quilt, and a stack of books.

What do they notice first in a person?

How much of a threat they pose. Sepo's eye is trained for hidden weapons, suspicious scars, or signs of sorcery.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

10/10 for physical pain. He's been through the damn ringer and is used to fighting through injuries. As for emotional pain, 4/10. It's hard to hurt his feelings because he really only cares about three people, but hurt any of them, and he shuts down. Or blows up. Depends on what his god is willing to offer him.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? (or freeze and fawn)

Fight. It used to be freeze, but then he spent a decade in prison and learned that those who strike first are more likely to be the ones to walk away. This isn't great for non-threats, as he'll pull a knife for anything. Bird rustling in the bushes? Knife is out. Friend running up to hug you from behind? Knife is out.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

In terms of biological family, it was just Sepo and his older brother Saius for most of his childhood. His mother, Carmira, was a prostitute and his father was an unknown client of hers. When she died of a disease, Sepo and Saius were sent to study as priests of Lamsara Hedandros. Things were fine until they weren't. Years later, after losing his brother, Sepo ended up with a little found family to hold dear to him. Izjik is his oldest friend. She's his soulmate and his other half. Twenari is like a little sister to him. They're the most similar in temperament and enjoy quiet reading time together. Djek is also like a little brother to Sepo, albeit a rather irritating one. But deep down, he loves to argue with the younger man and does his best to make sure he stays on the straight and narrow.

What animal represents them best?

A killer whale, I'd say. A dangerous, vengeful animal, but one with a strong sense of family.

What is a smell that they dislike?

The scent of blood. It means something has gone wrong.

Have they broken any bones?

Oh, definitely. He was running around with a broken arm for all of book 3, broke a wingfin in the Trench once, and has fractured more ribs, fingers, and toes than can be counted.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

"You see that unsettling fellow over there? The tall, gaunt one with the long, wavy brown hair? I think he's a siren. Those eyes don't lie - as black as the starless night they are. And he has skin that looks like it's just been introduced to the sun a week ago. ...I don't like that look he has."

Are they a night owl or an early bird?

Very much a night owl. Sepo would rather eat glass than get up early.

What is a flavour they hate and a flavour they love?

Due to the fact that he's missing his tongue, Sepo has a limited sense of taste and relies much more on texture to differentiate between foods. His favorite texture is that of caviar or couscous. Anything small, grainy, and soft. His least favorite texture is bread or anything similarly spongey.

Do they have any hobbies?

Despite the painful memories it can bring, Sepo loves music. He loves listening to it, writing it, and playing the fiddle. He also enjoys reading, usually nonfiction, but he does enjoy a good mystery from time to time.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Immediately draws a knife. Once he notices it's his friends, he'll calm down a bit, but still probably snap at them for startling him. After that, he'd actually be quite touched by their care. Not that he'd ever deign to express such a thing, of course.

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Only on special occasions. Sepo can't afford much in the way of fancy things, so he saves anything he has for days that deserve it. He prefers silver jewelry and usually goes with some sort of hair piece.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Incredibly neat. He only learned to write Janazi characters rather recently, so he still makes spelling mistakes, but his letters are impeccable.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Terrified rage and protective love.

Do they have a favourite fabric?

Probably silk. He has expensive tastes at heart.

What kind of accent do they have?

In my brain, he's upper-crust British. Canonically though, he has a very thick Llanaodan accent when he's using his telepathy ring. It's very sing-songy and all the words flow together. The closest Earth equivalent would be one of the romance languages but more musical.

I'll tag @mk-writes-stuff @theprissythumbelina @witchy-shortcake @thecomfywriter and anyone else who wants to play :)