#ensuring he cannot escape it on his own

[lucky-traveler]

Yandere Chance thoughts again. This time, it's post-forsaken.

Death used to be one of the ways you can escape obsession, but now that death is no longer permanent, you'll be stuck with a gambler who will never leave you alone. Even though they have lost their life from before, they could still pretty much be as terrifying as pre-forsaken in their own way.

Luck, of course still sways their way, and it almost seems to double when you're around. Why so? The Specter, the being that thrives off of misery, a needed factor to keep them alive and their abilities strong, cannot pass this up. They will manipulate the rounds to pair the two of you more often, they will even switch your cabin placement to be close to Chance's. You can think of the Specter being a twisted version of Cupid, feeding Chance's obsession much to your dismay.

You can try to tell the other survivors, but Chance is good at keeping a poker face and managing their own emotions. So, 9/10 times, the others won't believe you much, and the best they can do is comfort you and try to ease you up. Although, Two Time could be one of the few to see through the act, or maybe 007n7. Builderman can be the one to talk to Chance about it, but he will just tell the gambler to be more easy around you.

Does he listen? Somewhat. He can't let the people around him lose trust in him fully after all. However, he'll just get more creative in ways to be around you, to continue overstepping your boundaries. Reason with him, yell at him all you want, it doesn't change the fact that you can't escape them.

Stockholm syndrome can form if you don't figure out a way to save yourself, or at least keep your distance. No matter the reason for their obsession, it's still wrong. You shouldn't cave, for your own sake.

Sure, complying and accepting is fine, saves you from the late nights that you wake up in your cabin, only to see Chance on your bed with you, arms wrapped around you, or the way they are constantly hovering over you. But, you'll drive their unhealthy mindset even further, affirming that what they are doing is right.

Now, if you accept and decide to be in a relationship with them, they will be doing everything in their power to keep you safe. Your personal bodyguard whenever you two are in a round. However, this protectiveness can apply to the other survivors. Don't you see how Two Time can be dangerous when they hold a knife? Don't you see how careless Shedletsky can be with his sword? What if either of them hurt you by accident?

He won't kill anyone, since it's pointless as death is not permanent. No need to waste his time on that. They'll just isolate you from everyone, ensuring that will be the only one to have your attention and your love.

Don't you worry dollface, you won't break under their love. Not entirely. Just enough for them to have you all to themself completely.

[szarina]

POSITIVE TEST RESULTS

ft. gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, geto suguru

content warnings ─── pregnancy, babytrapping, noncon, dubious consent, stockholm syndrome, implied abuse, breeding kink, mentions of abortion, allusions to suicide. dead dove do not eat.

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ a baby! the excitement and the incomprehensible joy they felt when they are expecting from you. a blessing or a curse? anyways, no matter what it is to keep you in place with them.

GOJO SATORU

the six eyes are everything. it can see the unknown and the forces that dwells that is invisible in the naked eye. satoru is grateful for the power he wield and it is the most useful in also keeping an eye on you. he knows it first before you can. the breath you take, the first step you make and the rhythm of your heartbeat. wether it was racing from the fear or the continuous pleasure he gives to you while he pumps his fingers into your tight hole.

there's nothing the six eyes he possess can't see and it's no different when he hears the first heartbeat of his child formed into your womb.

his child. he is having a child with you and satoru was over the moon when he found out.

long arms encased your soft form in his lap. your back in his chest while he hums a song. his lips ghosting on the expanse of your exposed shoulders. playfully nibbling on the skin when he hears the tiniest of whimper from you.

large palms drapes in your stomach. kneading the layered flesh like a cat making biscuits. satoru hums in delight. contented at this domestic bliss without too much fuss from you. you could be such a handful at times but it was fine to him. you were still adjusting to this life. a new environment for you and for him.

after numerous of escape attempts, he declares the staff and servants alike in the gojo household to be incompetent. it wouldn't happen if they were doing their job. he founds it useless and he took the matter in his own hand.

a penthouse to keep you. luxurious it was for one's taste. equipped with the latest security and glasses so thick that a bullet cannot dent it. money was no problem for it. gojo has an endless wealth to spend it especially for you. the safety and welfare of his wife always in the top of his priorities and it was worth every single penny of it. you cannot be bored taking the view of the city lights in the night time. overlooking the streets of tokyo.

pleasant it is but to you, beautiful the penthouse is but no matter how gilded it is, it is still a cage and you were the bird.

he breathes into your scent. it has been days since he touched you and satoru savors every second of it. your body a wonderland to him and he must be the only to explore it. satoru doesn't shy away from touching the parts that you didn't like. giving it the most of attention to prove it to you how much he loves it. particularly your stomach. lately, he's been obsessed with it. the talks of getting you pregnant and seeing you with child sparks the joy deep inside him.

satoru's patient. waiting for the result of the labor and love you both had poured in creating a life and he knows it is not that fast but he made sure you were properly bedded every chance he can get. now, all he had to do is wait. he may or may not been activating his technique to ensure you are with his child.

it happened in a blink of an eye when he first felt it. it was like an explosion of tiny molecules and forms into one. a dew rolling from a leaf and creating a ripple in calm waters. then he can hear the small “thump” of a heartbeat and you were rewarded by the sweetest of kiss and the next words he uttered were static in your ears.

“i'm not. it's my body. i'm the first one to know it.” you mutter. reasoning the most obvious truth and it was just a lie your ears want to hear.

“why would i lie to you, i can see and feel everything and that includes you, my wife.” he confidently counters to you. his voice never faltering in enthusiasm as he reveals the newfound joy to you.

your lashes are clumpy and the familiar stinging sensation makes way to your eyes. there is no way you will be carrying this man's child. you can't. you can't bear it. you can't carry this child. not with this man. you already feared the day it would come and now. you didn't realize the first drops of tears came cascading down you cheeks. placing your hand in your stomach and clutching the flesh like the fetus inside of you will magically disappear. this child wasn't even born yet and you're dreading you would become a mother to this one.

“don't cry, (y/n). i promised you didn't i? i will take care both of you.” he ever so sweetly convinced you to carry with this pregnancy and you felt manipulated again and then you were just a puppet.

“you've been a good wife to me. what's the difference of being a mother to our child.” he says, consoling you in his way that would only matter to him. you're carrying his child and as your husband and him being a father in the next months, you would be provided with the utmost care from him. starting on how he's going to worship this body of yours. pregnant and sensitive.

he's already kneeling in front of you. his blue eyes all of it's glory. staring at you with such adoration while he kisses the roundness of your stomach. pressing his cheek in the flesh. wanting to hear the faint thump of the heartbeat of his unborn child.

you tried to push him away. pressing your thighs together to avoid further ministrations from him but gojo effortlessly pried your thighs open. easily diving to get closer to you while his hands holds your wrist.

“satoru—ahhh” a moan accidentally slipping past your lips. his nose nudging the slit of your cunt before taking a lick from it. his hold on your wrist tighter as you tried to stop him.

“satoru, no—ahh” he chuckles. hearing you moan again and gojo takes pride of that. he ought to make you happy. furthermore increasing the success rate of you giving birth to a healthy son or maybe a daughter. frankly, he don't care. a child with you is better than none. a baby would eliminate all the problems he used to have with you and all the fuss will decrease.

such sweet cries for me, my adorable wife. he thought. your grip getting weaker the more his tongue laps up the slick coming out from your sweet cunt.

submit to him and let him do all the work. he did promise he will take care of you. for now, let him taste you. claim his reward for all the efforts.

you wouldn't deny him of his happiness, eh?

NANAMI KENTO

it's not everyday you can see a man with a built like nanami looms and searches from every rack of the pharmacy looking for a pregnancy test.

he's not getting his hopes up but rather ensuring that you are just fine and well though deep inside he's hoping that you are expecting. nanami had been dreaming of a domestic bliss lately. a child with you. hopefully one that looks and takes after you. he would be so happy.

nanami sighs, adjusting his glasses and shaking his thoughts of you being pregnant with his child. your welfare comes first before any others.

he's gone in the day before he comes home in the evening and the very first step he took in his home, he knew something was up.

the bathroom lights was on and there he sees your plush form kneeling in front of the toilet, spilling the contents of your stomach.

by the sound of his footsteps getting nearer he noticed how your body turned rigid.

“uhmmm.” flushing the toilet and standing up to turn on the faucet. letting the cold water run through the drain and wipe your mouth stained with vomit. trying to hide the evidence of you being sick.

“are you okay?” his stern voice cutting through the nervousness creeping up on you. large palms cupping your cheeks gently. you nod. “just a bit tired, actually. i'm going to bed.” you excused and with the furrows of your brows and that frown in your lips. nanami is sure what you're trying to hide.

he grabs a multiple of test kits. it's better to be sure before checking it out along with a few necessities for him to bring home.

when you see the pregnancy test kits being handed to you. you gave him a puzzled look. “i'm not. it's just the bug or something.” you reason to him. shielding yourself from the possibility of what he's implying.

“i know. better be sure than never, my love.” he managed to convince you and with that you took the test.

“why, ken? why would i be pregnant? i never missed taking the pills!” you asked him. sobs racking throughout your body as you look at the multiple pregnancy stick resting in the sink. all positive.

cruel and heartless and beyond him, nanami may or may not have tampered your pills. he never did intended to do this but lately you have been being stubborn than you are. his choices leading him to this unwanted pregnancy for you but to him he was happy. always wanted to be a good husband and a father to his child with you.

“accidents happen. we're in this together, okay?” it was never be fine with you. you can't be pregnant. “no—no!” your voice raising into a pitch. “i can't carry this child.” you could never. if kento was willing to shackle you with those cuffs, what's the difference it would be to your child. already chained to this man.

it took him a few minutes to fully calm you down. you're settled in the bed with him behind you. “i would be present throughout the duration of your pregnancy.” he assures you. bundling your hair in fist and putting it aside. kissing your nape and the gesture sending a shiver down your spine. “you are going to be a good mother.” peppering kisses to your shoulder blade and his other hand wanders until it reaches you belly. plump and squishy. in the next months it's going to be rounder and firmer. swollen with his child.

“i'm unfit to be a mother.” you whisper and nanami murmurs to your skin. “you're not.” pressing a tender kiss in the spot of your pulse in your neck. “i will harm this child.” you warned. “i will keep you confined to bed if needed then, but set aside those thoughts for me. i won't allow such things.” holding a firm hold to your jaw and then he whispers to you.

“allow me, my wife.” your body jolts in response. his index finger prodding your hole while rubbing your clit. “let me reward you for such wonderful news.” the gravel in his voice getting mellow. nanami won't allow you to harm yourself or the child you are carrying.

if it means of complete submission coming from you. nanami would not think twice of doing it over and over again. for now, he's happy you're gracing his home with a child. hopefully, it would take your mind off from the trivial things.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

it wasn't a surprise when toji received the news of you being pregnant. he did breed you well. mounting you every night like you were nothing but a fleshlight and his cumdump.

you were only given a raised brow and a cocky smirk coming from him. oh, how did he love the look on your face. scared and bothered of the reality of you being a mother to his child. toji wasn't that interested in becoming a father either but now it's a thrill. thinking of the ways he can control you without you resisting him.

“is that so?” he asks bored. disinterested even before breaking into a smirk. “now, you won't even think of opposing me.” patting your round belly in a degrading manner. once the spotlight for mockery and humiliation he used to hold you. “my brat spawning in to you. i did give you plenty of it.” he says amused.

a invisible leash wrapped around your neck for him to pull as he pleases. with the presence of the baby in your womb it looks like the future of yours is getting bleak with no hope for you along with the little one growing inside you.

it would curse you for being the mother and the father it will grow up with.

your body feels like lead. stuck in the mattress and every time you move, you sink deeper and maybe it was better until it swallows you whole. you wished it was that easy.

“spread your legs wider.”

you bite back a whimper. bile rising up in your throat as your body moves in autopilot. listening in what he orders to you. “geez, all those troubles i had to deal with and you're only this obedient when pregnant. maybe i'll just keep you pregnant all the time.” licking his lips before leaning closer to you. his breath in your ear.

there's a stinging sensation in your cunt while his cock slowly bullies inside you followed by a groan coming from him. his teeth nibbling in the shell of your ear and you bit your lip. silently taking him while he relishes on the feel of your tight hole spasming around his length.

“you're tight as ever. you don't mind me filling you up again, wife?” you remained silent. his power overwhelming you and toji chuckles. “then, don't mind me”

GETO SUGURU

there's been quite a commotion in his own little family and geto paid no mind to it. having a cult to run that requires his attention every now and then. seriously, stupid monkeys can't be trained without him and there's also those who can't keep their money running stable. quite trouble.

anyways he had to know what is causing those commotions that keeps everyone in high spirits. there he meet nanako and mimiko gushing over his chubby darling. seated in one of the chairs while the twins surrounds you. mimiko brushing your hair while the other twin, nanako holds your hand. soothing and assuring you of a situation he have yet to learn.

“geto-sama.” the twins greeted him. bowing their head a little before giggling a bit of the news they recently learned. “(y/n)-sama received news from the doctor earlier. they said she's expecting.” they broke to him and geto sees you in the corner of his eye uncomfortably shifts in your seat. “leave us.” he instructs the girls and they oblige. scurrying to leave the room in glee.

by the gods above, he worships you more. if only you knew that. it would be a weakness if he shows how much he adores you. he's in control. he's above you. you could never surpass that.

his lover on front of him shifts her gaze away from him and geto grasp your chin in his index and thumb finger. forcing you to meet his steely gaze in the purple abyss of his eyes. “i'm sorry.” you first speak up to him. biting your lower lip to hold a sob.

he can see you're scared. “what for?” he asks. searching for those gleaming eyes of yours, now misty. “for being pregnant.”

geto scoffs playfully at you. “there's nothing to be sorry. a wonderful news for us.” he assures you and you swallow the invisible lump in your throat. “is it?” you reply to him and he smiles. “it is.”

“i lay with you every night. made sure you are properly bedded by me.” no shame of that and there's a deep rumble of his laughter upon seeing your flustered expression. it's almost real how he looks so happy.

he is. when suguru decided to eradicate non-sorcerers he thought of how he's going to fill a country with sorcerers then you came to his life and he would be the creator of the new era. a bloodline. it would be his. yours and his. children that would carry his will and would be the part of a country where they are safe for him.

the news of you expecting. he can see the cogs being place to each of their respective places. already fulfilled.

his palms rough against your skin and yet it brings comfort to you. warmth. long gone he replaced the uneasiness in your heart with his and all the doubts you had of him. now, you're ready what he is about to make use of you. no questions. no qualms. all for him.

“you're mine.” he reminded you once again and you fall harder for him than the last time. “yours.” you whisper.

you were rewarded by a kiss. divinity touching you and warmth blooms all over you along with his hands wandering. to your round cheeks. squishing your chest and his palm in your round belly. imagining all the things he is already to do with your growing body with his child and geto is ecstatic.

his long and thick fingers finds the back of your obi and pulls the hem with no hesitation.

“mmm, suguru~” you mewl and geto smirks at how fast it takes for you to submit to him. “lay with me again tonight.” hands pinching to your supple flesh. fingers rubbing the spot between your legs and with a need. you grind your hips against them.

“as you wish.”

[peachdues]

At fifteen, Tengen Uzui is a groom thrice over, yet none of his weddings are alike.

There are commonalities threading the three ceremonies together, of course. Standards and expectations, like the attire (stiff and colorless), or the drab recitation of vows (prewritten, emotionless). Such rituals are set in stone, as archaic as they are unquestionable. So much so that even someone like Tengen can’t be bothered to argue against them.

But in every way his weddings are the same, they are also as different as the women — the girls — who become his brides. And, he finds that he wouldn’t trade one for the other.

His wedding with Hinatsuru is soft. Awkward, as he’s fifteen and she’s thirteen, and this affair is more for their families than it is for them. A formality; the execution of the contract reached between their fathers years before, when Tengen could barely say the word marriage, let alone understand what it meant.

But Hinatsuru’s smile is as gentle and as warm as her hand squeezing his, and the familiarity of it lessens the tension in his shoulders. They are both children, and children too often end up pawns in the games played by adults, but children know how to love. And Tengen loves Hinatsuru; loves her quiet strength and soothing nature. She brings out a softness in him he’s fairly certain his father believes was beaten out, and he loves her all the more for it. For years, he’s managed to cling onto his sense of self thanks to her and the quiet moments they shared, sitting side by side in the grass, enjoying the beauty of a world their heritage rejects. With Hinatsuru, Tengen feels like the man he wants to be, rather than the weapon his father has molded.

Tengen seals his vows with a chaste kiss on her cheek and an affectionate tap on the tip of her nose. Even when tradition demands he escort her out to make their first debut as husband and wife, he finds himself distracted by the blush in her cheeks and the pretty mole beneath her eye. The way she looks at him and really sees him, Tengen, the man and not Tengen the killer.

His wedding to Makio takes place a month later, and unlike the formal perfection he’d endured with Hinatsuru, this one kicks off with a literal bang.

Though trained in stealth, the Shinobi still have a flair for the dramatics. Explosives and smoke screens were a tried and trusted distraction, the perfect means of escape when things got tricky. Fireworks in particular were a useful tool, flashy and mesmerizing in the way their booming colors could command the draw attention from any and all watching eyes, yet innocuous enough not to raise suspicions.

When Makio approaches him the night before their wedding with a box of stolen fireworks and a handful of matches, he doesn’t dare turn her away. Instead, he meets her daring grin with a mischevious one of his own. He helps her into the early hours of dawn, carefully setting each firework and trigger, ensuring maximum flash and extravagance would take over the ceremony the second the priest lights the ceremonial incense.

Tengen’s second bride-to-be is twelve and precocious, and she’s made it clear that she cannot tolerate stuffy formalities. Her clan is wealthy and proper in every way she despises, and their uppity sense of self-importance and propriety suffocates her. For years, Tengen has sat by and watched as they tried to cage her, and every time she neared her breaking point, he was there to assure her that freedom was only a few years and a tired ceremony away. He would not chain her, not when her spirit and fire was what he adored most about her.

So, Tengen is as much to blame as new bride when an explosion of colored fire and smoke is set off inside the shrine just as their clans gather for the pair’s union. It’s a wonder the ancient structure is still standing by the time the Red Dragon — an aptly named firework that spreads its great, fiery wings — roars its way through the entrance, incinerating half the shoji to cinders.

Her father lays a heavy hand on Makio’s shoulder, his knuckles white and his ire, hot. Tengen can see the fear flash across her eyes, can practically taste the dread rolling in her gut. He’s experienced his own father’s wrath too many times.

Except, Makio’s father doesn’t own her anymore. The contract signed with his clan guaranteed that. He has no business laying his cruel hands on her, and Tengen will cut them off if he tries, as is his right.

Makio’s father pretends not to be cowed by Tengen’s threats. He’s seen the same fire in Tengen’s eyes that blazed in his own daughter’s, and he’s too used to stamping it out. Except, he forgets that Tengen is bigger and stronger, not to mention twice as vindictive as his new wife, and that has him wrenching his father-in-law’s arm painfully behind his back, until the joint pops.

Tengen’s grip strengthens around the old man’s forearm, no longer in warning, but in promise. “I will handle my wife, now.”

Makio’s shoulders relax, and the thin line of her lips soften into a furtive smirk. The battle is over before it can be waged, and the ceremony is held outdoors.

And handle her, Tengen does: by handing her off to Hinatsuru after the celebration ends. The three of them are now bonded in blood and ink, and they’re howling with laughter as they recount the screwed-up, pinched faces of their clansmen watching the shrine crumble under the dazzling force of the fireworks that celebrated the new union.

Suma’s wedding is joyous. Not that his other two weddings were lacking in it; more that Suma’s beaming happiness is infectious, and though Tengen cannot wait to be finished with stiff ceremonies and the dour, drawn faces of his clan, he also cannot help but share in her elation. She bounces toward him at the altar with a smile brighter than the summer sun, and she leaves her family behind without a single look back. Her eyes shine brighter than the stars as they exchange their vows and sip from each other’s sake cups. Even the bitterness of the alcohol isn’t enough to dampen her smile, and the twitch in her eye as it slides down her throat could just as easily be chocked up to the strain in her cheeks.

Afterwards, she hurls herself into Hinatsuru’s and Makio’s arms with equal fervor, laughing and crying and singing with excitement and promises that she will work just as hard as they do, will become strong and dependable, and together, they’ll be the best kunoichi the Shinobi have ever seen.

The honeymoon is spent near the sea, and for one week, they are not shinobi and kunoichi. They are not even a husband and his three wives. They are children, laughing and running freely along the shore, splashing each other with cold water and digging their toes into the sand, anchoring themselves against the waves that lap at their shins. No death, no bloodshed, no darkness; only the sun, bright and warm, and their hands linked together as they jump into the water as one.

At night, Tengen sneaks into their shared inn room so they can talk and play cards and stifle giggles behind hands lest the innkeeper discover a man among girls. Nothing marital takes place, though, here — not yet, anyway. They’re all too young, too silly, and too in love with the newness of their own freedom to think about that. The time for bedroom activities will come in a few years’ time, and they’ll deal with it then.

For now, this new family has nothing but time to learn each other. To love each other. And in a world that demands they give more of themselves than they have to spare, it is here, together, where they each find themselves whole again.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Fluffy Headcanons 🧡 | Johnny Storm

My Marvel Masterlist

Note: Y'all they just released new photos for FF:FS and I'm sorry I cannot get over the damn blue contacts they gave JQ 💀💀 his brown eyes are so beautiful I wish they kept them because all the contacts remind me of are Twilight with how obvious they are. JQ baby you're still beautiful don't worry I'll endure and still simp.

Being the partner of Johnny Storm would look like:

Romance. Absolute romance that makes your heart swell like a balloon, volcanic level heat in your stomach, and have you screaming to the world you're in love. Johnny ensures you never have to claim your spark is dimming because he ignites the flame every second of every day. Flowers on your nightstand, love notes in your lunchbox, warm baths drawn after a long day of work, and holding you so close you practically mold to his form.

Johnny comes to you for advice or to check calculations for approval before moving forward on a project. He values your opinion and if something feels off on your end, he's not the type of person who will dismiss it because he believes it's his way or the highway. You're a team after all. "Honey, does this make sense to you or fuck everything up?" 

He's a cheeky bastard. You knew this going into the relationship that there would never be a dull moment and Johnny constantly attempts to swoon you or get under your skin at an inappropriate time. Playing footsies under the table during a press conference. Winking and blowing kisses when you're giving a presentation. When he gets bold, for example, you'll be in the middle of discussing something with his sister and the man will latch himself onto you from behind like a damn koala. "Johnny, I'm busy. Now is not the time."  Then he'll grumble and lightly pinch your hip or slap your butt as he departs causing you and Sue to shake your head at his antics. 

During breakfast you guys like to complete the daily crossword in the newspaper. Most days you do it together leisurely. Nursing your coffee/tea and filling in the blanks in between bites of food. But because you two are competitive, it becomes a competition on days where you'll grab two newspapers so you can each have your own and race to see who completes it the fastest. 

On quiet nights where you both are not in the mood to talk per say, but still desire quality time, you'll both pick out a book from your immense collection and sit on opposite ends on the couch to read. Johnny will make tea or grab a bottle of wine for you to share with a snack plate of cheese, fruits, and meats or crackers. Then when it's time to head to bed after a few hours of reading, you'll have discussions about the book as you change into your night clothes and settle into the mattress. 

Expect jazz music to be playing on the record player when Johnny beats you home or when you two take your day off to clean the apartment. And when you do clean together, it only lasts an hour before Johnny is pulling you into his arms to dance. "Baby, we are never going to get anything done if we keep this up," You'll playfully scold with a smile, not moving to escape his hold by continuing to sway along to the beat. Johnny will chuckle, pulling you closer as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, "A few more minutes, darling, then we'll get back to work. We hardly get to do this so let's enjoy it while it lasts." 

Johnny has to have some part of his body touching you while you sleep at night. His foot on your leg, head nestled in the crook of your neck and shoulder, or your pinkies entwined, skin and skin contact of any sort is a necessity for him to sleep through the night. It makes him feel safe and secure, knowing you're right there and no one has broken in to take you. 

You both have a dog and a cat. A golden retriever and an orange cat to be specific because let's be honest, Johnny has both golden retriever and orange cat energy. Put them together and you've got your hands full. And boy do those animals love him and vice versa. No doubt Johnny has multiple photos of you on his work desk, but you're competing against the shrine of photos he has of your pets. You joke about being envious the two have a bigger place in his heart, but c'mon, you cannot help the eruption of love that fills you when you enter the bedroom to find your man taking a nap with the dog cuddled in his arms and the cat lying on top of his head. 

There's an unfinished puzzle in the living room that slowly makes progress every day. Anytime you or Johnny get a free moment to sit down and rest, you'll work to get several pieces done and then return to it at a later time. "That's 500 down, 500 to go?" 

[gaza-giving-tree]

Imagine dedicating your life to helping others, selflessly pouring your time and energy into saving lives and easing suffering. Suddenly, the home and way of life you knew is destroyed by bombs raining from the sky, and the roles are reversed—your family’s survival is suddenly in the hands of others.

Image: Samy Abu-Shawish, his wife Nariman, and their four children: Lulu, Emad, Mohammed, and Adam.

@Samy_abu_Sh

Story by @rumiandroses

This is reality for Samy Abu-Shawish, a nurse in Gaza, whose career has been spent saving lives—yet now, he must face incredible odds to save his own family.

Samy, a staff nurse at UNRWA, and his wife Nariman, also a nurse, are parents to four children: Lulu, Emad, Mohammad, and Adam. They are seeking help—a chance to escape the unfathomable nightmare that over a year of bombings and death and starvation has brought to Gaza.

With the violence escalating by the day, Samy and his family live under constant threat of attack. Samy and Nariman do their best to shield their children from the horrors unfolding around them, praying that the kindness of strangers will allow them to escape to safety—an opportunity the family otherwise cannot afford.

“The cost of leaving Gaza is beyond our means,” Samy shares. “Without your help, our dreams of a safe and peaceful future for our family remain out of reach.”

Currently, the only viable route out of Gaza is through Egypt, but it comes at a staggering price. Adults are being charged $5,000 to $10,000 for safe passage, with children’s fees at roughly half that. For Samy and his family of six, that would be a cost of approximately $40,00.

Despite completing a master’s degree in public health in June 2023 and dedicating his career to the service of others, Samy now finds himself with limited resources after funding his own higher education. The blockade of goods and aid into Gaza have caused the prices of everything—even the most basic of necessities like food, medicine, and clothes—to skyrocket, making basic survival incredibly difficult, and rendering saving for safe passage nigh on impossible.

Samy’s wish is simple: to find safety for his children and give them a future free from fear.

"As healthcare professionals, we have dedicated our lives to caring for others, and now we humbly ask for your help in ensuring the safety and well-being of our own family," Samy writes on his GoFundMe page.

Every donation brings this family one step closer to safety. With your support, Samy, Nariman, and their children can escape the violence and begin to rebuild their lives in safety.

If you cannot donate, please share this post to help Samy find people who can financially assist.

You can donate to Samy’s GoFundMe campaign [HERE].

[merakiui]

2025 to-write list.

* halloweenie and the law of magnetism are the main priority fics at this moment!! after both are posted, i’ll start working my way through this list (in no particular order)! :D thank you for your patience!!!!

* (color references: purple is series; red is oneshot.)

✧ death row undertow

✧ 3M:3S

✧ the test of faith

✧ bittersweet secret

✧ my sweet monster

yandere!jade leech. your family takes in a mute, orphaned boy with mismatched eyes after he’s washed ashore. “a child spared by the sea can only carry with him the worst of curses,” they say, but you disagree. unbeknownst to you, your “friend” is as welcoming as the shallows and as deceptive as its depths.

✧ havfruens forelskelse/azul thought 2 sequel

yandere!azul ashengrotto. in an effort to conceal a growing secret, you lie to your husband leona. but a lie this devastating cannot be kept hidden forever, and as aquatic danger lurks you’ll eventually have to make a choice. between a lion and an octopus, the decision is obvious. so then, why do you hesitate?

✧ heartache hospital

yandere!scaramouche. kunikuzushi has never known love. for the many years he’s been alive, he’s only ever experienced countless heartaches. luckily, his admittance to the heartache hospital grants him the chance to meet someone who soothes the unending pain in his chest.

✧ the crocodile’s dilemma

yandere!riddle rosehearts. riddle leads a perfect life. he owns his dream house in the woods. he has a good job and makes an enviable salary. he is a law-abiding citizen…until he isn’t. it takes one night to ruin everything he’s striving to maintain, and with consequences mounting he sinks deeper into something criminal.

✧ the harvest maiden

yandere!skully j. graves. seeking shelter from the harsh elements, you enlist the aid of an eccentric pumpkin farmer. though there’s something inherently unsettling about him, you choose to favor his benevolence and kindness. but that is a line worn too thin, and when you announce your departure what is a besotted pumpkin farmer to do?

✧ eternally ever after

yandere!rook hunt. trapped in a gruesome time loop with a crazed stalker, you familiarize yourself with what it means to die. he claims he can save you from this repetition, but how is that possible when he’s the one responsible for your death(s)? if he is as inescapable as death, then perhaps your fates have always been intertwined.

✧ cobweb compulsion

yandere!sunday. you have always trusted sunday. but as plans are underway for a very important ceremony, you begin to look past years and years of lies to see the unpleasant truth that rests just beyond.

✧ homebound

yandere!azul ashengrotto. it is said that an ancient deity will awaken and bring ruinous misfortune to the island you call home. accompanied by your closest friends ace and deuce, you’re determined to uncover the mystery and stop a ruthless god before it’s too late.

✧ moonbroch

yandere!octavinelle. sequel to sea glass. they tell you the sea has always been your home, but something doesn’t feel right. an overwhelming sense of loss tugs at you whenever you spy your aquatic features in the mirror. if words won’t get through to your trio of captors, then disobedient actions certainly will. to ensure your escape goes well, you can only look to the moon and hope—but even that’s beginning to feel less and less like a comfort.

✧ meiri

yandere!rollo flamme. rollo would be inclined to welcome death if it was given to him by your graceful, gentle hands. seeing as that’s not the case and he has been made sacrifice to a most petulant being, he’s going to do the one thing a sacrificial lamb has never done before: live.

[lyragoth]

As a child, Celebrimbor was utterly captivated by his father.

His young eyes watched in awe as Curufin adorned himself with shimmering jewelry, each one meticulously crafted by his hands.

“Why do you wear so many jewels, atya?”

Curufin glanced down at his son and offered a smile.

“These jewels are emblems of our family’s talents, Tyelperinquar. I wear them not merely to shine, but to honor our legacy and the unique potential we have to create.”

Celebrimbor didn’t fully grasp his father’s words, but a deep desire stirred within him to craft something just as wonderful by himself.

“One day I shall create jewels as beautiful as yours.”

“You shall speak Quenya as a highborn prince first,” Curufin chuckled. “Now, what is more beautiful than beautiful?”

Celebrimbor thought for a moment. “...Glorious.”

“Indeed,” Curufin replied, lifting Celebrimbor into his lap. “In time, you shall surpass me and create your own glorious works. But remember, beauty alone is not enough." (...)

"But how can I be as good as you?"

"Well, what is greater than good?" Curufin prompted.

"...Fantastic?!"

“Fantastic." Curufin declared. "The fire of our house already burns within you, Tyelperinquar. The light in my eyes is reflected in yours.

Now, come, let us attend to your hair,”

As Curufin began to brush his son’s long hair with gentle, practiced hands, Celebrimbor’s thoughts drifted to the evening’s festivities.

“Tonight is the Starlight Festival,” he said with earnest intensity. “I must adorn myself with a multitude of jewels.”

“And why is that?” Curufin inquired with amusement.

“I wish to be more beautiful than you so Finrod will dance with me instead!” the child replied with determination. Then, anticipating his father’s correction, he added, “Not only beautiful—more beautiful than beautiful: magnificent.”

A warm laugh escaped Curufin. “Then I shall make you magnificent to ensure he cannot refuse you.”

[quarterlifekitty]

Imagine an AU for cod— inspired Haunting Ground, but with a few twists.

Like a princess, you were born in a castle— one with many secrets. You didn’t know it then, but your father was a homunculus— the first to successfully be made with the alchemical essence of life, azoth. This gift was passed down to you, born when he fell in love with a human woman. When you were young, your father and mother fled the castle with you, and from then on you lived the normal life they’d wished for, losing almost all memory of the castle as time went on. Eventually, you regard it as a dream. Until the day of the accident, you and your parents in the car. You wake up in that same castle, with no escape in sight.

Phillip Graves fills Ricardo’s role. He’s the one that kidnapped you from the scene of the accident. He grew up with you for the short time you lived in the castle, feeling robbed when your parents took you away. In his mind, you were always promised to him. He’s a homunculus without azoth of his own, a failure. But now that he has you again, to keep at his side and breed, he can use your azoth to ensure his line continues.

König takes the role of Debilitas. A homunculus made with both human and a bit of wolf dog— he’s never been quite right in the head, but has more than enough mass and muscle to make up for it. He has precious little in this life, as a lifelong servant to the castle, but he does have a small cloth doll he carries with him everywhere. One you happen to resemble. He pursues you relentlessly— wanting to take you in his arms, precisely where his doll should be.

Ghost is in the role of Daniela. He knows not what he is, only that he is incomplete. He is not a full man, he cannot feel things the way a man should. He views you with a spiteful jealousy— you are a complete, beautiful being. You got to live outside, when he has spent his life in service of this castle, never knowing love or companionship. He sees how full of life you are— the glow of your skin and the shine of your hair and the joy in your rare smiles. He wants that to himself. If he is not complete then perhaps owning, mating with a complete being will make him so.

Soap is your Hewie. A man captured, like you, but for the purpose of alchemical testing. (He’s got some dog in him now because it’s my AU and I get to be insane). You see him locked up when you awake, and come across him later in the courtyard, his leg snared in a bear trap— his pain and weakness from being kept prisoner make him unable to free himself. You help him, and he becomes your loyal companion, shoving himself between you and any danger, defending you with his new teeth— those of a predator. The dog in him is in love with your scent, and easily bonded to you from your compassion. You’re his mate now— and he’s going to keep you safe at all costs.

Which leaves Price as Lorenzo. Watching you go through the castle, helping you and giving you warnings, ensuring your survival. He is another iteration of the alchemist who built this place, keeping himself alive and reborn through alchemy over centuries. He seeks eternal life and the endless pursuit of knowledge. He sees your intelligence and quick wit through how you solve the puzzles, navigate the labyrinthine castle, and evade capture again and again.

He was there when you were young, and even then he knew you were special. Now you’ve blossomed into something perfect and beautiful. You’re not meant to live outside of these walls, among the ordinary. He wants you here, with him, nestled into his side and apprentice in his research. He’ll even let you keep Soap, since you’ve grown so fond of him. Being born into this castle made you a part of this family, and he’ll be damned before he’ll see you separated from him again.

[tomatopers]

Childe who spends every waking moment tracking your killer, ignoring everything else to find the culprit, the one who had the audacity to think they could take you away from him and escape with their lives. He travels all across Teyvat, yet cannot bring himself to stop and see any of it though he knows you would've wanted to- hell, he can't even bring himself to sleep, instead passing out in alleys when he can no longer escape his own limits.

Childe who follows every clue, who ensures every dead end has no gaps, who finally, finally tracks down his target. They are stronger than he expected, but even without the rage boiling in his blood he could still beat them. He jumps into the fight without hesitation, fighting like a feral dog out for blood.

Childe who is sloppy with his attacks, not sloppy enough to miss but enough to leave openings for his opponent. He knows its on purpose. He wants to hurt. He fights and he fights, drawing it out, sustaining more and more injuries until, in a whirlwind of steel and anger, weapons meet their marks.

When the dust settles, your murderer lays dead on the ground. Childe stands, victorious, but the win brings him no joy. His opponent's dagger is embedded deep in his chest, and he had seen it coming. He couldn't bring himself to dodge it. This is a blatant betrayal towards you, towards your memory and your love. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "Don't be mad."

From his pocket, Childe holds a wooden fish; A trinket, the product of your first attempt at whittling. It doesn't look like a fish at all, but holding it is the closest he can get to holding you. He's so tired, and the ground looks so inviting. When he succumbs to the temptation, he can almost feel your warmth, as though you are lying beside him. "Did I do good, Angel? Are you... proud of me...?"

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Dispater, Lord of those Below

No Kings Beyond Death

A god of riches and horrors beneath the earth, protector and jailer of the departed souls, grim Dispater rules many realms with a stern hand and an iron will. Often cursed and seldom praised by mortals, it is this god's cosmic lot to keep order in the underworld, where the caverns of the mortal plane intersect with the labyrinths of the underdark and the shadowed halls of the dead.

While his worship overlaps with many other gods of death, few pray to Dispater as his heart is thought to be as cold and unmoving as stone, hardened by the grim work of keeping the domains to which psycopomps and other terminal forces deliver souls, ensuring that they neither have the chance to escape nor that they are picked off by fiends or other malign spirits.

Judges and other arbiters sometimes swear by him, especially when handling matters of life and death, as do miners, bankers, and others who work in precious metals or stones, as Dispater has a connection to caverns and other buried places. His clergy collects tribute in the form of those soft, perishable things that cannot be found below the earth: grain and livestock, flowers and wine. Their sacrifices of these things are said to pass on to the dead themselves, after their lord has taken his due tithe.

Adventure Hooks:

A monstrous bat haunts the countryside, endlessly harrying a graverobber who pilfered from a cemetery consecrated in Dispater's name. The exhausted scoundrel just so happens to have taken refuge in the same country inn as the party, passing himself off as a peddler who was shaken down by bandits. When the bat attacks that night (as he knows it will) he hopes to use the chaos to shift some of his plunder into the heroes' packs, diverting the creature and the divine wrath it represents.

Rumour is, if you find a trail of archaic coins scattered along the road, following it will lead you to one of the mysterious grey merchants, traders from the underworld who deal in memories and mementos cast off by the dead. Woe to anyone who attempts to harry or cheat the merchant though, as they travel under the protection of the lord below.

Shortly after a resurrection of a partymember (that may or may not have gone wrong), the heroes are approached by a dour devil in clerk's garb who insists that they need to follow her into the underworld to help clear up some post-mortality paperwork, or else their friend's soul might be held in litigation for a literal eternity. "Clearing up" in this case involves helping to clear out a field office somewhere in the shadowfell overtaken by the unquiet dead, fending off hostile spirits while the devil and the deceased do a lightninground of signatures on the relevant forms.

Behind the scenes: Hades has fascinated me since I started learning a mythology, and that fascination has only grown as I've traced the idea of him through history and popculture.

Like all the other Greek gods, Hades gets a roman makeover in Pluto; god of earth, the underworld, and wealth. One of his titles "Dis Pater" literally means " Father of Riches", as the earth contains both mineral wealth and the wealth of good harvests.

Because of his association with the underworld Pluto/Dis Pater starts to get adapted into emerging Christian Mythology as the devil, as his realm of of Tartarus (and its punishments reserved for the most wicked) likewise becomes Hell (which exists to torture anyone who sins and doesn't believe).

Fast forward about a millennia and a half and you have the creators of d&d making all the different names for the devil into a rogue's gallery of different fiends. With Dispater's connection to greek mythology completely forgotten he gets sectioned off as the extra schemey member of hell's boyband, at once brilliantly adept at making plans and driven mad with his own paranoia. While this makes him a little more interesting than some of the other devils, it just wasn't enough for me in the end, so a revamp had to ensue.

I wanted to take things full circle and use Dispater's name to bring my own Hades analog into my game's mythology, a god not of death but specifically the underworld, fully drawing on the connotations of both afterlife and underground. Playing with motifs of kingship and a "death and taxes" sort of legalism also makes for unique themes when it comes to the subjectmatter of mortality: Dispater as death is owed tribute by natural and divine law, but that relationship also grants protections to the tributary. Imagine a paladin of Dispater saving someone's life from unlawful execution because they are owed a righteous death.

Thanks as always to @5ecardaday for the monster stats

Artsource

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

05 Collaring

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / SAGAU / Set after the events of Fontaine Archon Quest / Not Canon-Compliant / Reader is Creator Primordial God 2.0 / Mentions of romanticized death and suicidal ideation / Starts out light & kinky and ends up dark and angsty as with everything I write

"Your Grace?" The old god's voice trembled as he approached you.

Stagnant emotions stirred to life in the depths of his amber eyes. There you stood in front of him, like a resurrected phantom from his distant past, familiar yet so unrecognizable.

A warm smile spread over your lips. Out of all the faces in Teyvat, you looked forward to seeing his the most.

Zhongli had always been your favorite of the seven Archons. From the moment you laid eyes on him, he had a certain hold over you. That had always been the case for the past four years. It was no different now that you were no longer separated by a screen.

The moment you spawned, curled up in that oversized marble throne up in the sky over Teyvat, they all felt it. Memories flooded into your head, causing you to nearly vomit from the overload. Just your luck. Instead of some unknown adventurer, the role you had been thrust into was that of the game's final antagonist, the Creator of Teyvat, which had been asleep until you appeared.

"You've finally returned." He said gravely.

"You don't sound happy to see me, Morax." You took a seat in the lacquered chair in front of him, sipping on the tea he had brought you. "Or should I call you Zhongli now, since you've abandoned the post given to you?"

You couldn't let him onto the fact that you weren't the same person who had given him his divine title, not without ensuring your own safety first. You might be down bad for this man, but your braincells were still alive and well. Out of the seven archons the original Creator appointed, only two remained. Most have given away their gnosis and one even managed to destroy their divine seat and return sovereignty to a dragon. It was needless to say, Celestia's control over them had been slipping long before you stepped in.

"I have not, your Grace. My exit was necessary for the people of Liyue. If I did not leave, I fear the erosion I am subjected to under the Heavenly Principles will cause undue harm to them, which I cannot bear to see."

"If you wanted to leave, why are you still mingling with them disguised as a funeral consultant, hm?" You couldn't help but prod him a little. "You're quite attached to them, aren't you?"

"I am." He admitted after a pause. "Anything will grow on you given enough time."

"I guess we've grown distant then. You even threw away the gnosis I gave you."

"Forgive me, your Grace. There was no indication that you would ever return otherwise."

"I'd understand if we're speaking about the Anemo Archon, but you? I never took you for the impulsive sort. What would you have done if the Cryo Archon failed? I left you with all of my wishes and you gambled everything on an experiment to bring me back."

The ex-archon drew in a deep breath. "I don't expect to escape the consequences. Punish me as you see fit."

"Oh, I'll punish you." The corner of your lips curled slightly. "Not too harshly though. You're my favorite afterall."

You didn't miss the ripple of shock that lit up his eyes momentarily. The Creator he remembered would never have said such a thing. Maybe you should tone the favoritism down a bit. Morax wasn't dumb. If he found out the Creator had been hijacked, you might actually be in trouble.

Well, that part didn't exactly pan out as you imagined. You were spending way too much time with him even though you deliberately told yourself to avoid him when you could. Even with the original Creator's memories to skim over, you were ultimately not the same person. Of course you would slip up, repeatedly at that. He kept popping up in places you happened to be at unannounced, drifting into his spot beside you like you had willed it to happen in your head. It was like all the forces in Teyvat, the earth, the wind, the rain, everything was giving its utmost efforts to fulfill some sort of unspoken demand of yours.

"Are you following me?" You finally couldn't take it anymore and blurted out your suspicions. "You're like my cat. I go to the bathroom, she's there. I go to the kitchen, she's there. Bedroom, there. She's like sticky rice. I know she can't leave me alone because she's obsessed with me. Are you obsessed with me?"

Zhongli stood there awkwardly, trying to articulate an explanation for his incessant appearances. He didn't even get the chance to process that you were talking about a cat that didn't even exist in Teyvat, but rather in your homeworld.

"It certainly seems that way, doesn't it, your Grace? I assure you though, I was simply on my way to purchase some tea."

Maybe he was telling the truth. Two things could be true at once. There must be a reason, you stubbornly thought. This wasn't normal!

You had to get down to the bottom of this, or you'll definitely drive yourself crazy. As a logical person tossed into a fantastical place like Teyvat, you were sorely out of your element. Trying to exercise common sense here was like trying to measure water with a ruler. It made no sense, but you persisted. You'd conduct experiments and find answers.

As the Creator of Teyvat, the first descender, your will was said to be powerful enough to rival the world. Your feats included sealing away its original sovereigns and rearranging its landscape. You also created life and implemented the heavenly principles that gave order and structure to the world you willed into existence. All who belonged to Teyvat succumbed to your will to some extent.

Your gaze landed on a stray cat pacing back and forth under a food stall. There was a morsel at the edge of the counter. You narrowed your eyes on it, focusing all your attention at it.

"Fall." You uttered under your breath.

A gust of wind knocked the inconspicuous piece of food off the edge, sending it spiraling to the ground. The cat picked it up and happily sprinted off. You were left speechless.

Once, it could be a coincidence. Twice, it might still be a coincidence. Third time, it had to be divine intervention.

After the lucky cat had its fill, you accepted the uncanny possibility that as the Creator god of Teyvat, you might have some say in what happens in it. Maybe, just maybe… you were the reason Zhongli couldn't leave you alone.

If you liked him a normal amount, he would have no trouble escaping your gravitational pull, but your love for him was a little bit extra. If you wanted him to kiss you badly enough, he would probably have to. Whether he trips and falls on you at exactly the right angle for your lips to accidentally meet or he suddenly gets an unreasonably strong urge to push you against a wall and smother you was more-or-less a matter of execution.

Zhongli was a patient soul. His kiss was gentle and unrushed like he was, savoring the taste and sensation of your lips as he caressed them. At that moment, your respective identities melted away. His arms held your body against his chest, his hands cradled the back of your head, and his fingers buried themselves in your hair. The streets of Liyue faded from your ears. All you could hear was your rapidly beating heart.

The kiss repeated itself inside your head for hours on end, stealing your sleep even after you had retreated into your bed. It hadn't happened out of nowhere since you willed it to happen, but the question still plagued you. Did you take advantage of him? Could that kiss even be considered a kiss? How much intention was invested on his end and if you weren't the Creator god of Teyvat, would a kiss have ever happened between you? Probably not, you dejectedly concluded.

"I'm not the original Creator, Zhongli." You finally confessed to him after months of indulgence and pretending. He hummed softly as you drew circles on his skin.

"Your Grace…" Zhongli gazes at you with overflowing adoration. "I've known there was something different about you from the moment I laid eyes on you."

"You did?" You asked, shifting your weight as you laid on him. "What gave it away?"

The two of you had definitely gotten a lot more intimate following that first kiss. You felt at ease in his arms and so you found yourself constantly glued to him. His presence was magnetic to you and yours to him.

"You do a rather poor job of concealing your true self, I must say." He chuckled.

"I was half-expecting you to kill me or something as soon as you knew I wasn't the original Creator." You closed your eyes, letting your face rest against the curve of his neck as his fingers combed through your hair. The last of your worries were expelled with his words of reassurance.

"Now why would I do something so uncalled for? You've done nothing to warrant such harsh retaliation."

"I don't know. What if you saw me as a threat to Liyue? I saw what the Tianquan Ningguang did to the Lord of the Vortex when he reared his head. She definitely learned that from somewhere."

Despite Rex Lapis being dead, you could still feel the intense residual devotion this place had for their past archon. You wondered if he felt the same reverence for the Creator before you arrived. From your inherited memories, the original Creator had a habit of dropping pointy things from the sky.

"I will not harm you, nor will I ever allow the others to." He whispered, his every word carrying weight.

Upon arrival in Teyvat, you had made your rounds visiting the other nations and meeting with the other archons. To their disappointment, you never stayed for long. Your favoritism was undeniable. You had practically taken up root in Liyue. The only place you skipped was Fontaine, since it was probably a good idea to avoid the resident Hydro Sovereign in case he opted to take out his justice on you. You wondered if he'd believe you if you said you weren't the original Creator who sealed away his kind.

"Of course you won't." You murmured against his ear. "Even though I'm not the same person, I'm still the Creater and you're still an archon. You're bound by my will. If I tell you to go left, you're not able to go right."

"I am not a puppet, your Grace." He disagreed. "Neither is your will a leash."

"Kiss me." You ordered him. "Let's see if you've got it in you to disobey me."

He raised a brow at your choice of a challenge. A couple seconds of silence passed between the two of you. You began to wonder if Zhongli really could resist your will. Your eyes fell on his lips. They were relaxed, not pressed tightly against each other. Your thoughts drifted off to the handful of times he kissed you. His lips were always gentle whenever they brushed against yours. What would it be like he were swept up in a bit of fervor? Would he draw your lips harshly between his own, or would he part them impatiently so that he could slip his tongue in?

Your throat suddenly became drier than the deserts of Sumeru. A faint blush began to spread over your cheeks. Zhongli swallowed, but didn't move in the slightest. You were already beginning to feel hot and restless. Who were you kidding? The one with the figurative collar around their neck was obviously you. You knew that since before you got sucked into this game.

"You're really not going to kiss me." You realized.

"I am not immune to you any more than anyone else residing in Teyvat. I simply have self-restraint." He calmly says, which gets your blood boiling.

"Fine, you've got self-restraint. I don't!"

You playfully bit the man on the lip before kissing him with vengeance. He moaned softly as he endured your incense ministrations.

"Well demonstrated." He chuckled when you finally pulled away.

"Tease me again and I'll put a collar on you." You warned.

"If you wish to do so, it's within your divine right." He replied with utmost seriousness.

You treated him so differently from the original Creator. If he didn't occasionally remind himself that there were irrefutable differences between you and him, he feared he'd forget his place. You were most likely joking, but perhaps a collar was what he needed.

"Should I?" You continued on, unaware of what was going on in the archon's mind. "Imagine the esteemed Mr Zhongli, being dragged along the streets of Liyue in a collar and leash…"

"Perhaps we could forego the leash?" He smiled at you, unfazed as if what you had just imagined was nothing out of the ordinary.

You looked into the old god's eyes. In his unwavering gaze you could read everything he didn't say, the depth of his devotion to you, all the outrageous things you could ever think of asking from him and the resounding answer to all of them.

"I'll allow it." You relented.

As the primoridal god of Teyvat, you had to keep your archon in line. Since you said you'd punish him, you had to see to it that he was properly disciplined.

That very evening, you dragged the poor archon to a number of shops, jewelry stalls, and even a petshop. You settled on a black choker with fine gold threading that formed an intricate pattern. It was simplistic and went along well with his current suit. A single cor lapis pendant dangled from the center.

Currently, that pendant was caught between your lips as you straddled him. Since he said it was your divine right to do as you pleased with him, you wanted to see how far he'd let you go with that statement. The silk choker really did look good on him, especially after you've removed every other piece of clothing on his body. Your fingers danced along the edge of it, hooking underneath it and abruptly twisting it so that it tightened around his neck.

"Your Grace—" He coughed from lack of air.

With Zhongli's eyes blindfolded and his arms tied, he couldn't predict your movements nor interrupt you. He was completely at your mercy. You let go of the choker, returning the ability to breathe to him. As if to apologize for the distress caused, you leaned in and planted a kiss at his neck, the tip of your tongue gliding along the skin under the piece of fabric. He swallowed and panted, face flushed.

"See, it suits you." You cooed, tracing his collar with a finger. "Don't you dare take it off. If you do, I promise I'll get that leash. Maybe even a whip."

Zhongli winced in pain as you bit into his neck, drawing the heated skin between your lips. It'd be fine even if you left an unsightly mark. The choker would simply cover it, along with the faint lines caused by your tightening it around his neck.

At times, he wished they had lasted a little longer. All of them had faded too quickly. The burden of your love was quite heavy, but it was one he considered himself lucky to have been chosen to bear. You had chosen him to experience those moments with, each of them preserved in his memories like gilded gems.

In all his thousands of years of existence, the old god never foresaw a day where the missing primordial Creator he had been waiting so long for would return as a completely different person. Furthermore, he could never have forseen this new Creator would be so enamored with him. While he was reasonably honored to receive this disproportionate favor, he had initially suggested you visit the other archons more instead of spending all your time in Liyue with him. That would be fair, he told you. In hindsight, after your departure, he was glad you never listened. Few things in life were fair. Your untimely departure was far from that. The things you were killed for, none of them were your doing, but nobody believed you except him. Zhongli had paid the ultimate price for taking your side, for trying to keep you for just a moment longer. It was barely enough time to utter a proper goodbye. You were gone, just as abruptly as you had arrived.

If you had not given him so much of your precious time, what would he recount and reminisce over now that you're gone? What memories would sustain him until he reaches the end of time?

All he could do was continue living, witnessing, waiting, just as he did the first Creator. Perhaps one day you'd return to him. Perhaps you wouldn't, and yet again, it'd only be a stranger. Perhaps he'd tell them about you, just as he told you about the one that came before you.

His heart would constrict painfully at the thought and he would momentarily lose the ability to breathe just like when you would tighten the choker around his neck. He often found himself absent-mindedly toying with the collar. It remained snugly around his neck like he promised you. It was such a simple request, demanded so casually of him. To you, it might’ve been a joke. Perhaps you had long forgotten about that silk choker you picked out for him. Maybe you had forgotten about him altogether, along with this place called Teyvat. But he couldn't. Even after you had long departed from Teyvat, he had never taken it off. A few times he had to reinforce it with adeptal arts in order to keep it from disintegrating into dust over time. He couldn't possibly allow such a precious gift from you part from him out of carelessness. It was all he had left to remind him of the brief time you spent with him.

He couldn't quite place why of all the memories you had planted in him, those of nearly suffocating by the choker in your hand had seared themselves deepest. Was it because those were the rare moments he felt the sweet release of death was nearly within his grasp? Thinking of you instilled a similar sensation, but it was never the same as when you inflicted him with it. As someone who had lived for so long, who had orchestrated his own death and staged his own funeral, it was a strange obsession to have.

For those who live too long, the faces of those who have come and gone continue to haunt their memories. Even so, he never regretted meeting you, loving you, and eventually losing you. Should the day ever come that he forgets you, or the collar you gifted him finally turns to dust, he only hoped that your memories of him would continue to glimmer like gold.

[aoioozora]

Platonically sharing a bed with the Ghosts

One-bed scenario hcs with the Ghosts, and you get to see their sleeping habits. Enjoy!

Logan Walker:

A little awkward about sharing the bed, but not against it.

Even though he's shared beds with Hesh when he was younger, he hasn't done it in a long time. And with someone of the opposite sex? It's a little awkward.

But he's not awkward in his sleep. He'd probably sleep in a starfish position, accidentally kick your back or put his leg on top of you

And maybe if he's having a nightmare, he might cuddle you for some comfort.

David 'Hesh' Walker:

Also awkward about sharing the bed but tries to hide it and plays it cool, telling himself, "it's just gonna be one night."

But he cannot keep his cool once you hit the bed next to him.

He loves cuddling but since both of you are just coworkers, he's fighting the urge so hard because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. He ends up not getting a wink of sleep for a couple hours

But when he does sleep, he sleeps like he's a dead body in a coffin, fingers intertwined and all, straight and tall like a soldier.

Sleeptalks sometimes, but it's just incoherent mumbling.

Elias 'Scarecrow' Walker:

He gets in bed, says "good night" and proceeds to not acknowledge you unless necessary. He is visibly embarrassed and annoyed by this arrangement, but doesn't complain about it.

He sleeps in a rather loose fetal position, tosses and turns around a lot and it keeps you awake for a while until he finally stops and falls into a deep sleep.

Tends to wedge his hand in between his knees when asleep.

Although he can sleep anywhere, he prefers a completely dark room with minimal light

If there's too much light, on goes the eye mask.

Thomas Merrick:

It's written all over his face. He's AWKWARD. But he doesn't say anything so as to not make you uncomfortable. And you don't say anything to him either.

He even offers to sleep on the floor to escape this ordeal, but you refuse and have him sleep on the bed, since it was big enough for two and you didn't want him to be uncomfortable.

He obliges and gets in bed, but makes sure he keeps plenty of space between you and him (he's at the risk of falling off the bed)

And when you tell him to chill out, he grumbles, "I'm... chill." The hip and groovy slang doesn't roll out of his Millennial tongue very well.

He eventually falls asleep facing away from you, hogging the blanket and burying himself in it like he is a worm in a chrysalis.

Big, strong guy sometimes feels like he needs some protection from the world too.

Keegan Russ:

His face is blank. He does feel awkward about it but neither his face, his voice, nor his body language betray any of what he feels.

He sets up a wall of pillows in the middle of the bed. "Neither of us are crossing this line, alright?" he says, and you nod, not planning on doing so anyway.

Both of you go to sleep. He sleeps in a tight fetal position and hugs the pillow he's sleeping on.

Another position he sleeps in is on his stomach with his knee hoisted up. He won't care if it's bad for the spine, it's comfy.

Give him a few hours and he's already disregarded his own rule, and has pushed away the pillow wall to simply press his head against your back, just to feel a little less lonely.

Kick:

Not awkward AT ALL. He actually digs this arrangement but is trying not to show it. But the amused smirk on his face blows his cover.

He sleeps very comfortably and if he's close enough friends with you and ensures you don't mind his touch, he would actually shamelessly cuddle you.

And you find his cuddling comfortable.

Sometimes sleeps like a Victorian child dying of a disease, having his hand on his head and all that

By the time it's morning, he's on the floor

Alex 'Ajax' Johnson:

Ajax genuinely doesn't care. Only one bed? He'll just shrug and go along with it. He's done this countless times.

In a way, him not caring makes you feel a little less awkward about it.

He keeps his distance from you and doesn't trouble you at all

He's an absolute madman to sleep without a blanket, and it's not just because he's used to it. It's a preference. He doesn't feel very cold.

Light sleeper. But he snores a bit.

Not a cuddler, but he wouldn't mind if you cuddled with him to keep warm.

Riley:

No awkwardness, no shame, only a little baby happy to sleep on the bed with you.

BED HOGGER!

Normally a light sleeper since he's a dog, but in complete safety, he sleeps like the dead, deep enough to dream

On hot days, he likes to lean against the headrest and sleep on his back to support his legs.

On cold days, he sleeps in a doughnut formation with his nose tucked under his tail.

He's a warm boy, loves to cuddle. Even when he needs his space, he'll make sure he keeps either his tail or his paw touching you.

He's an early riser and to wake you up, he'll either lick, paw, or nudge your face with his cold nose.

BONUS - Gabriel Rorke:

Like Ajax, he doesn't care. Once he hits the bed, he's conked out.

He has one of his legs hanging out of the bed, a nightmarish thing for a kid who might see this. You tell him jokingly, "The monster under the bed will grab your leg and drag you underneath." And he just says, "I am the monster under the bed," to assert dominance to the imaginary beasts.

Light sleeper, and sleeps on his back, arms crossed like he has a meeting to attend in 30 minutes.

He sometimes has his eyes half-open, which is kinda freaky

And being a light sleeper, you don't know whether he's asleep or awake and trolling you.

Read this next! Romantically sharing a bed

[goodqueenaly]

Why would Theon think that faking Bran and Rickon’s death would be a good idea? He has no idea where they were headed or to whom they might reveal themselves. It’s even said in Theon’s chapter of the search that if they made it to a village, all the people would rally behind the boys. Wouldn’t it make Theon look even more a fool if they showed up alive to Ser Roderick before Ramsey burns Winterfell, but after he killed the miller’s boys? I know Ramsey takes advantage of his desperation under the guise of Reek, but I think even Theon would have been skeptical that the plan would actually work. What is your take on this?

To understand Theon in “Theon IV” ACOK is to examine the simultaneous ego and desperation of a man clinging to a self-made fantasy which is actively crumbling in front of his eyes. Every way Theon turns, literally and figuratively, is wrong - and critically, he has no one to blame but himself. Yet unable to admit how thoroughly he’s ruined the situation, Theon doubles down when it comes to how to handle Bran and Rickon’s disappearance, choosing yet another terrible option in a vain hope of making up for all his other awful choices. 

Theon’s great anxiety in this chapter is what to do about the missing Stark boys - but Theon, being ACOK Theon, only thinks of how he believes this dilemma affects him personally. His first thought upon learning the wolves are gone is to worry what would happen “if [Asha] learns that I have lost the Starks” - a thought so terrible to Theon that he concludes “[i]t did not bear thinking about”. Theon later underscores his fear of embarrassment at the hands of his family, deciding that he’d “sooner have them [i.e: Bran and Rickon] dead” than unconsciously running to Asha at Deepwood Motte, as in Theon’s mind “[i]t is better to be seen as cruel than foolish”. As Theon’s hunt continues with no sign of the boys, Theon ruefully realizes that “[e]very passing hour increased the likelihood that they would make good their escape”, that “[t]he people of the north would never deny Ned Stark’s sons, Robb’s brothers” and “[t]he whole bloody north would rally around them”. Once night begins to fall, Theon’s fear of both crystallizes: knowing that “[i]f he crept back to Winterfell empty-handed, he might as well dress in motley henceforth and wear a pointed hat”, since “the whole north would know him for a fool”, Theon can only contemplate with dread “And when my father hears, and Asha …. [sic]”

Unfortunately for Theon, all the poor choices he’s made up to this point only exacerbate his problem. Because Theon decided to take Winterfell with a bare handful of men, he did not have the spare guards to ensure Bran and Rickon did not slip away. Because Theon seized Winterfell by force, its household sees him only as a usurper and betrayer of his foster brothers; likewise, because Theon has treated the people of Winterfell abominably, no one lifts a finger to intervene in Theon’s plan to hunt them down (until Theon has to literally threaten Farlen with the continued rape of his daughter to get him to comply). Too cruel and despicable to be a successful conqueror-turned-protector, yet too vain about his own momentary victory to abandon it in a typical ironborn lightning raid, Theon’s only advantage had been the fact that he held the Stark boys as hostages - an advantage that had seemingly literally disappeared into thin air.

Theon has put himself in a position where he has no good - which is to say, beneficial to his egotistical fantasy - options. He knows that he cannot realistically recapture the Stark boys, and that every hour that passes makes it more likely (so he believes) the Starks will be out of his grasp forever, and in the helpful hands of anti-ironborn northern neighbors. However, Theon also believes that he cannot return to Winterfell empty-handed, lest he become the laughingstock of his sister, his father, the castle’s household, and the whole North. Stuck in the wolfswood, Theon is as lost as Farlen’s hounds, unwilling either to concede defeat or continue on what is increasingly proving a fruitless search.

This is where Ramsay-as-Reek serves, to quote the late great Steven Attewell, as the devil on Theon’s shoulder, apparently offering him an easy (if no less detestable for it) answer to his problem. Killing the miller’s boys solves what Theon sees as his immediate problem; he can both give up the hunt and go back to Winterfell without being empty-handed, giving (so he thinks) no grounds for his father or Asha to complain. Pretending to have killed Bran and Rickon allows Theon to continue to the fantasy of conquest that began with his moonlit capture of Winterfell: he can spout pompous self-justifications like “Mercy was for this morning … [b]efore they made me angry” and “They defied me!” In answer to Luwin’s pleas and Asha’s criticisms. 

Putting aside how evil this action is on its own, of course, Theon’s decision does not actually solve his problem, as you note. Yet that is precisely the point: obsessed with the idea of successfully taking Winterfell in a daring raid, Theon has no idea from the first how he is going to hold it, nor indeed what the consequences of any of his actions there might be. Caring only about what can fix the problem directly in front of him, Theon simply seizes the solution preferred by Ramsay-as-Reek as a way out of what he saw as a personally humiliating situation. Worries about how he’s going to defend Winterfell from the increasing combined forces marching on his mostly undefended walls, or whether Bran and Rickon might turn up later, or whether anyone within Winterfell has a death wish for him, are not at the forefront of Theon’s mind in that moment; he only wants to get out of the wolfswood, literally and metaphorically, and the bodies of the innocent miller’s boys let him do that.

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (22) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: you and coriolanus adjust.

word count: 1,733

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: fluff, mention of morning sickness, pet name (petal), not proofread

The benefit of being pregnant was that Coryo and Coriolanus have seemed to become the best of friends. The drawback was that they became united in their overprotective tendencies. Coryo would insist that you stay in bed longer, and Coriolanus would sit on your chest to make sure you didn’t try to sneak away. Or Coryo would deny invitations to balls because of your morning sickness, and Coriolanus would attack the skirts of your gown to make sure it was in no occasion to be worn when you tried to convince your husband that you were well enough to be in attendance. It would have been infuriating if it wasn’t also so damned sweet. At least Coryo didn’t become the sort of husband who would keep you from your work. Probably because you were seated beside him and he could ensure that you weren’t doing anything that could potentially harmed yourself or the baby. 

You leaned your head against Coryo’s arms as he shuffled around some papers on the desk. He looked down at you, his brows pinching together. 

“Do you need to rest?” he asked. “Should I get the physician?”

You turned your head to press a kiss to his bicep. “Worry wart.”

“Forgive me if I’m concerned when my wife is entering the most dangerous part of her life—carrying another’s life,” Coryo said. He reached up, his cold hand resting on your warm face. His thumb stroked over the swell of your cheek. “I’m not going to take any chances when it comes to your health.”

There it was again. You knew of Coryo’s anxieties about your eventual pregnancy, but with everything happening so quickly, it was easy to be frustrated with his behaviors. With the exception of his adoration for you, Coryo kept his feelings so close to his chest. Even when it was obvious why he was being so overprotective, you sometimes forgot that part of him was still the broken boy who lost his mother. You took a breath, trying to steady your own overwhelming emotions.

“And I will tell you if I’m over-exerting myself. I may have never been with child before, but I know myself well enough to know when I’m pushing too far.”

A sigh escaped Coryo’s lips. “I just worry. I cannot lose you. In fact, I demand that I be the one to go first.”

You giggled. “I don’t think you get to demand things like that.”

“I am King. The only person who can tell me no is you, so, please, let me be the one to go first.”

You kissed his bicep again. “Very well. But you better live a long, long life with me before you go.”

“I wouldn’t dare sacrifice a single minute of a long life with you.”

“Would you sacrifice a minute to walk in the gardens with me?”

Coryo smiled and nodded. He stood first then held a hand out to you so he could aid you. Once you were standing, your hand slid to the crook of his arm and Coryo led you out of the office. He gave a curt nod to the Peacekeeper who was stationed outside the door and the two of you continued out of the palace and to the gardens.

The moment the sun hit your face, you couldn’t hold back your smile any longer. You had been holed up in the palace for the better part of the week, both because of Coryo and because of the morning sickness. It was nice to finally been the sun on your skin, the breeze in your hair. Maybe pregnancy would be easier if you spend the entirety of it outdoors. You looked up at your husband. Even the weight on his shoulders seemed to be lifted once he was out of the palace. 

You took a seat on a bench, and Coryo sat beside you. You reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s nice to be out here,” you said. 

“It is. We should come out more often,” Coryo agreed. He caressed your face, a soft smile curving across his face. You leaned in, stole a kiss. “I am sorry if I have been overbearing.”

“It’s sweet. I am sure most husbands would only be concerned if the child I had was a boy,” you said. 

“Boy, girl, I don’t care. As long as you and our child is healthy, I will be happy.”

Leaning your head against Coryo’s shoulder, you said, “I probably will take a step back from our public engagements, though. It was exhausting just coming down here, and we haven’t even left the estate.”

Coryo barked out a laugh. “Well, if I knew it would be that easy to get my way, I would’ve taken you to the gardens sooner.”

“Oh hush!” But still, you giggled. “One a month, I think, will suffice. Fewer than that when I am further along, of course, and if the physician advises otherwise.”

“Ah, so I could have also been bribing the physician?” Coryo teases. 

You gave his chest a light smack. “Stop it, I’m being serious here.”

“I know, and I greatly appreciate that.”

“Now, what do you say we shirk our duties and spend the rest of the day in bed?”

Coryo grinned. “I thought you would never ask.”

You sat in the library, legs curled up under you, a book on your lap. Coriolanus sat at your feet, blinking curiously at you. You hadn’t intended for Coriolanus to have joined you, but despite you and Coryo coming to an agreement about your health, Coriolanus seemed to be certain that one wrong move would mean your end. 

“Well, this is a very non-traditional royal portrait,” Coryo said, stepping into the library and up to the painter. He watched as the artist. took delicate care in painting you. 

“This isn’t for my royal portrait,” you dismissed as you turned a page in your book. “We had that done weeks ago. Some finishing touches still need to be done before it can be unveiled, of course. But this is a personal portrait I’ve commissioned.”

Coryo looked over at you. His brow raised. You could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure you out. “Is that so? What do you need a personal portrait for?”

“Well, there will soon come a time when I am too tired and too pregnant to be in the office with you. I thought a portrait hung over the desk would serve as a good reminder of who you must consider in ever decision you make.”

The painter’s brush stilled. You watched as he slowly looked back at the King, undoubtedly waiting for a typical man’s rage—to yell at you for being so audacious, to destroy the painting, and to ensure that the painter never would be able to make art again. But your Coryo only laughed. 

“As if I could ever forget you, petal. I was planning to bring our work into the bedroom—”

“There is nothing less attractive you could say than that.”

The color continued to drain from the painter’s face. Poor fellow. Perhaps you should tell him to take a break while you speak with your husband. 

“Perhaps you are right.”

“No, I am. If you bring work into our bed, you will be swiftly removed to the Queen’s Chambers.”

Coryo smiled still. “Very well. Then I should thank you for being so courteous to not wholly deprive me of your presence.”

You flipped another page in the book. “I’m think of having another painting commissioned in a few months.”

The painter looked to you, his demeanor finally relaxing. “It would be an honor to paint you again, Your Majesty,” he said. 

“Have you done any maternity portraits?” you asked. “I know it is as non-traditional as this portrait, of course, but I thought it would be another nice present for my husband.”

The painter glanced back at the King standing over his shoulder. “I am certain His Majesty will be pleased with anything you present him. Your Majesty.”

“Something in the gardens, I think. Coryo has these beautiful rose bushes. We should incorporate them somehow.”

“I love when you pretend I’m not here, petal,” Coryo said. He patted the painter’s shoulder. “If you continue to capture my wife’s beauty as well as you have been, you will be the official royal portraitists.”

You watched as the painter flushed. “It would be a tremendous honor to be bestowed such a title,” he said. 

Coryo nodded at the painter then stepped around the easel. He walked over to you, bent down, and kissed you softly. “How much longer will this take?”

“Only an hour or so until we lose the sunlight,” you said. “Why? Are you becoming anxious without me by your side?”

Coryo smiled, his pretty blue eyes twinkling. “You know I always want you by my side.” He kissed you again. “I shall return in an hour then.”

“I eagerly await your return.”

He turned to Coriolanus and pointed a finger at the furry baby. “And I expect you to alert me if this ends even a second sooner.”

Coriolanus meowed in return. 

As Coryo left the library, you found the painter staring at you. You expected him to resume painting, but he continued to stare. “Is there something the matter?” you asked. 

“I have painted many couples in my time,” he said, “and I have never seen a husband as devoted as His Majesty. If it would please Your Majesty, I would love to come another day and paint a portrait of the two of you together.”

You smiled. “To add to our gallery of non-traditional portraits?”

“Of course,” he said. “Anything that the two of you wish for.”

Oh, you liked that. You grinned ear-to-ear as you asked, “And if I wished for another portrait of myself, done in the style of the goddess of old?”

He flushed. “Anything you wish, Your Majesty.”

“You are going to be quite handsomely paid by the time we are done with you.”

You turned back to your book, still smiling as you considered the various portraits you were going to gift your Coryo. He could give you a library, yes, but you were going to give him a gallery. If he didn’t appreciate art in all its glory before, he would soon enough. 

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Emperor! x Female! Reader #3:

Continuation of the previous part.

-"I like to see those wounds, because I know that I was the one who caused them to you."- In the event that the yandere emperor is a sadist, and there is a chance that you disobey him or catches you in an escape attempt, of course the emperor himself would punish you and then heal your wounds and perhaps caress them in a moment, kiss or something like that.

-"What's wrong? Do your wounds hurt? Well I'm glad and I hope this reminds you of what will happen if you dare to run away."- It would be the same as the previous case. The emperor would punish you physically and then heal you himself.

-"I wait for you tonight / Wait for me here tonight."- If we see possible historical records of the emperors and their harems, there were what were "night services in bed" for both the concubines and consorts, as well as for the empress (legal wife of the emperor) in which the emperor could have fun with them or just sleep. You would not be the exception; so the yandere emperor would summon you to his room, he would take you by force, or he himself would go to your room and close the doors behind him.

-"Take off your clothes, I want to see that beautiful body. Do it for me; I want to see and touch every area of ​​your body, as well as lick every fold of your skin."- During night services in bed, he will like to have you at his complete mercy. There is no further explanation for this.

-"I will allow your parents to visit you, only if you behave well to me."- In the past, they rarely let the empress or concubines be visited in the palace by their relatives. The yandere emperor would use this to his advantage, as well as keeping a close eye on every visitor you receive.

-"There's only one thing I'd like you to do, and that is have our children."- Many emperors used their empress or concubines to expand the imperial family. There were emperors who expressed love for their empress and the occasional consort or concubine, and children were born from these unions, but then there were women from the harem who were simply used to have babies. Here the emperor loves you madly, and obviously he will want you to get pregnant probably not once, but several times perhaps.

-"Anyone who dares to attack her will be severely punished publicly as a warning not to mess with what I love."- The yandere emperor obviously won't let even his own empress (if you're just a consort or concubine) or any of his other imperial women touch you or insult you. The thing is worse if the person who trates you badly is a guard or servant, but whoever it is, the emperor could punish him with: slaps, whippings, forced labor, capital punishment, capital punishment to his family or clan of origin, etc.

-"How dare you slap my beloved? Who do you think you are?."- Well, that's what the yandere emperor would say when he sees how the imperial women or some other servant hurt you.

-"I want to surrender to your majesty, but only if it ensures the well-being, safety and happiness of my children. You must also promise not to harm my babies or the children of the other women in the imperial harem."- If you have seen a few historical records, as well as some historical palace dramas (especially those that come from China), you will know that there have always been fights and palace intrigues between the harem women and their children to reach the top; for reasons such as favor, family pressure, safety and well-being of their children, etc.; leading to things like: accidents, poisonings, attempted murders, attempted abortions, and more terrible things.

Well, although I cannot manipulate the thoughts of the dear reader, I imagine that if you live in an environment of this style, in which you have children who could be in danger, you will want to take advantage of the loving obsession that the yandere emperor has with you to protect your children and ensure them a happy future, right?

10. -"Try to kill me? You are very naive."- There isn't much explanation. You tried to kill the yandere emperor and he stopped you in time, teaching you a lesson in the process.

11. -"If you have a child with another man, I will have no shame in sending the brat away and killing the idiot."- Just another stern warning.

12. -"Like, what am I doing here? Did I scare you? I think I did because those eyes of yours looking at me with fear… I love it."- It is likely that the yandere emperor is capable of sneaking into your room at night while you sleep, and that on one of those nights you woke up when you felt him lay down next to you and gave you a tremendous scare.

-The End.

[widowmura]

My speedpaint contribution to #mermay with some Bloodweave. Featuring merman Gale and Deep Sea Leviathan Astarion. Each of these pics took under or just over an hour to do. I'll probably redesign / redraw Deep Sea Leviathan at a later stage. Some lore to go along with them: When Gale boards the small vessel barely enough to fit a crew of six, Mystra reassures him that mermaids are not to be feared. He's read of them of course. Alluring, feminine; specimens of beauty and wonder. But dangerous. Enough that should you see the shimmer of their scales in the water, you should avert your eyes immediately and to not let them fool you into thinking their scales are in fact precious gems, just barely out of reach. That when their siren song calls, you ensure your ears are stuffed with enough cotton and you keep away from the drink to retain your sanity.

So when he finds himself and their glorified canoe out in the stretch of the deep sea, fading into an endless nothingness, his mind can't help but wander. What else is hiding in the depths? Mystra doesn't let him find out. When something unfathomably large and dark stirs a wake large enough to rock their ship, the woman shoves him overboard. It turns out the fairytales were exactly that; tales, but the reality is so much worse.

Cast into the depths as a sacrifice for safe passage, Gale cannot help but flounder. He'd never learned to swim despite living in a place called Waterdeep. The irony isn't lost on him as he sinks, down and down like a stone, straining into an eternity of blue as his lungs fill with water and dread. But he isn't empty-handed. The artefact he'd stolen from that gods forsaken cursed fortress was still with him, and with no other choice except to reach for desperation, he plunges it within his chest, hoping, praying for a lifeline.

Aka mermaids are propaganda tales used by sailors. Mermaids are in fact hideously large monstrous creatures, leviathans in their own right that trade safe voyage for flesh whose existence is kept quiet. Gale ends up using the orb and manages to somehow turn himself into a false merman to escape the pursuit of such a creature, who instead of choosing to consume him, keeps him as an oddity of his own. The fact they both glow amuses the monster. Astarion lures ships and takes sacrifices to his master, The Great Old One of the Depths - Cazador. Meeting Gale, which at first turns out to just be a bigger fish tormenting a smaller fish story turns into something more when Gale helps to undo the pact keeping Astarion bound to the Old God. Astarion's design is based off a deep sea angler fish for the luring / lives in the dark aspect and a Dunkleosteus which is a prehistoric fish with boney plating for making him seem ancient / old in appearance.