#it pleases the most human aspect of his desires

[crishayle]

Part of Fortune in the houses

Part of Fortune is a point of happiness in your natal chart. It is on it that you can see where and how to look for your luck. For a more accurate interpretation of this placement, please see the sign and aspects of your Fortune.

Part of Fortune in the 1st house:

Your luck lies in your independence. If you need to make a decision, don't listen to anyone. You really attract good luck when you are in full control and accept your life. Luck turns away from you when you start to envy others or compare yourself and your successes with someone else.What is the secret of luck? In independence, focus only on your life and yourself. It is important to learn to appreciate your desires and not put them below others.

Part of Fortune in the 2nd house:

Your luck lies in finding a balance between material and spiritual values. When you focus only on one thing, you may notice how your resources are being cut off in this area.What is the secret of luck? In the ability to be content with the small and enjoy the big. Appreciate every little victory you have. Keep a balance between the material and the spiritual.Think about your career, but don't forget to text to friends and family :)

Part of Fortune in the 3rd house:

Your luck lies in communicating with other people. I don't know if you believe in fate or not, but I do. I have repeatedly met people with Fortune in the 3rd house who said that talking to other people radically changed something in their lives for the better. Simply put, share your thoughts and ideas with your friends. You will definitely find inspiration!What is the secret of luck? In communication with other people. Also, the 3rd house is responsible for thinking, so most often such people can really attract positive/negative into their lives with just the power of thought. Don't be afraid to discuss your ideas and motivate yourself more and then everything will work out :)

Part of Fortune in the 4th house:

Your luck lies in caring and kindness. Here the rule "give and get twice as much" applies. Luck can turn away from you because of greed, avarice and evil. Also a little advice from a man with Fortune in the 4th house:clean the house more often so that more things, food and money come to the house. What is the secret of luck? In generosity, care and kindness. This person always gets his good back because of the boomerang effect.

Part of Fortune in the 5th house:

Your luck lies in creativity. Stop, I know that everywhere the 5th house is associated only with creativity, but please read on. Creativity in the broadest sense of the word is the ability of a person to create something of his own. It may not be related to art. I have friends with Fortune in the 5th house who have opened their own business or those who are engaged in science. In general, these people create something unique of their own. What is the secret of luck? In creating something unique. Such people achieve success when they reveal their abilities and are not afraid to be themselves. Don't be shy, try and experiment.

Part of Fortune in the 6th house:

Your luck lies in your health. One of the coolest placements.Of course, human health needs to be looked at throughout the natal chart, but whatever you get infected with, you will recover. This is one of the indicators of strong immunity, physical endurance, successful operations, and sometimes longevity. What is the secret of luck? In human health and his ability to wait. The 6th house is responsible for discipline and patience. For such a person, success in his career or personal life may come later than he expects, but it will definitely be worth it.By the way, try to create your own ritual or good luck charm.

Part of Fortune in the 7th house:

Your luck lies in other people.No kidding, career successes and other good things start to happen when you work in a team. Some of my friends with Fortune in the 7th house, thanks to friends, found a good house at a bargain price or had an internship at their favorite company. What is the secret of luck? People nowadays are the most important resource. Communicate more and get to know people. The 7th house in astrology also represents the soul mate. If Venus and the Moon are also in good placements in your natal chart, then Part of Fortune in the 7th house can speak of a happy marriage:)

Part of Fortune in the 8th house:

Your luck lies in the risk. You know, the case when a person doesn't need to do anything to find good luck. The catch is that he gets lucky only at the VERY LAST MOMENT. At the same time, people with placements in the 8th house feel their karma very subtly. Do not be arrogant and do not use your luck for selfish purposes.What is the secret of luck? In the ability to appreciate the gifts of fate. For example, I have a friend with Fortune in the 8th house who complained that he could not buy a new iPhone (although his current phone worked fine) and it was stolen the next day. Fortune in the 8th house is really cool (I'm a little jealous even), just always appreciate what you have and then get 2 times more.

Part of Fortune in the 9th house:

Your luck lies in curiosity. The 9th house is the ability to know the world. People with Fortune in the 9th house can successfully change their profession, get a second higher education or fly to another company for an internship. You have endless potential, so being in the comfort zone only moves luck away from you.What is the secret of luck? In change and curiosity. I understand that sometimes it's scary to leave your comfort zone, but Fortune in the 9th house even encourages mistakes. Luck seems to be trying to teach and add more life experience to a person with this placement.

Part of Fortune in the 10th house:

Your luck lies in discipline and patience. I have not yet met a single person with Fortune in the 10th house who would just be so lucky. These people achieve a successful career or a happy relationship as if climbing a mountain.What is the secret of luck? In diligence and patience. Every time the hope leaves you that all your labors are in vain, remember that you have already passed half the way and the rest is quite a bit. The 10th house is a very long time house in astrology. Yes, it takes a lot of time, but after all, luck will be with you for a long time as well. Saturn (the planet of the 10th house) is very fair!

Part of Fortune in the 11th house:

Your luck lies in the development of spiritual skills. It is very important to keep order in your head. I noticed that such people tend to attract events with words and their thoughts. It is important to maintain a balance between heart and mind.What is the secret of luck? In balance. The 11th house is actually not as crazy as many people think. As soon as a person with this placement finds inner peace and realizes what is really important to him in life, luck begins to patronize him. Listen to your heart and be friends with your mind and everything will be fine :)

Part of Fortune in the 12th house:

Your luck lies in the secret. It's like you're lucky while no one is watching. The very case when you don't need to talk about your plans and dreams to people and then everything will come true. A little more advice:listen to the signs of fate. If the other placements of Fortune achieve success through people, time, karma, self-development, then you are lucky alone.What is the secret of luck? Happiness loves silence. Don't brag and don't share your plans.Less words, more action and everything will work out :)

You can write what questions about the Part of Fortune you are concerned about. I plan to write 2 more very interesting articles about it, so wait :)

[tomriddleslove]

Forgotten once again.

✩Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Tom isn’t capable of love, but you thought you could change that. Alternatively: Possesiveness and Love become the same thing.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one because Tom’s character is sm fun to write. It’s interesting because despite my delusions I couldn’t ever imagine him being capable of loving someone, and if he did it would be like this. Also this is probably the last time i’ll post for the next three weeks!

Warnings: Toxic Relationships, mentions of manipulation, violence (towards others). Generally about a very toxic and unhealthy relationship so please do not read if you’re triggered by anything to do with this! My inbox is always open if you ever need someone to talk to 🫶🏼.

Songs: Leaving Tonight - The Neighbourhood

Spectre - Radiohead

Tom Riddle was many things.

For one, he was ambitious. He would achieve whatever he so desired. If he had the means to do it, it would be done immediately. If he did not, well...

He would find the means to do so. Because Tom Riddle achieved whatever he so desired.

He was also charismatic.

Tom had a natural charisma that drew people to him. Whether through his charm, intelligence, or a combination of both, he had a magnetic presence that captivated those around him. This charisma played a significant role in his ability to influence and manipulate others to further his ambitions.

Tom Riddle was brilliant. Gifted with a sharp mind and a keen understanding of magic, he excelled in his studies. His intelligence, coupled with his ambition, allowed him to delve into dark magic and ancient mysteries, seeking knowledge and power that others might shy away from.

Tom Riddle was many things, but there was only one thing he lacked.

Perhaps it was karma, some form of divine intervention, his hamartia, that it was this very thing that would be his downfall in the years to come.

Tom was many things, but loving was not one of them.

Tom Riddle was not loving. No - he was not capable of love.

Tom Riddle, was incapable of experiencing genuine love due to being conceived under the influence of a love potion, not true love. The circumstances of Tom’s conception were marked by coercion and manipulation, as his mother, Merope Gaunt, used a love potion to attract and bind Tom Riddle Sr. to her. It was artificial and devoid of true affection. This was a concrete and inexplicably tragic detail that meant Tom Riddle simply was not physically capable of reciprocating love.

Key word, reciprocating. For, it was very much possible for someone to fall in love with Tom. A cruel thing it would be, for one cannot simply love Lucifer himself and expect to be loved in return. Tom Riddle's incapacity for reciprocating love stemmed from a profound emotional void rather than an inability to elicit affection from others.

This fact was a cruel truth that you only chose to accept once it was too late. One does not simply get involved with Tom Riddle, and come out unscathed.

Tom never cared for love, really. To him, it was just some sort of transaction or tool, something to be manipulated for his own benefit. Love, in Tom Riddle's eyes, was a means to an end rather than an intrinsic value. It was a sentiment that he observed in others but never truly felt himself.

Love, however, seemed to be the most raw, human thing in existence. It was everything we hated, yet also everything we loved. It unravelled our deepest insecurities, it brought things to the surface that we had long pushed to the side. It required us to lay ourselves, bare, for the other to see. Love made us tolerate the very worst of things, love made us hate the very best of things.

Many things can be complementary in life. Love was not one of them. It was overpowering, consuming. It changed who you were.

Love was the beginning of life and the end of it. Love was part of being human.

Tom lacking this fundamentally crucial aspect of the human experience may have been the very thing that led him to despise his humanity.

When Tom had met you, it was slightly different. A puzzle piece that didn't quite fit but intrigued him nonetheless.

You were undeniably talented, a mind that had its worth. You had this air of arrogance, and whilst Tom hated unbacked arrogance, you had the means to justify it. You were self-assured, and he found it to be somewhat refreshing compared to the other people he knew (who unashamedly sucked up to him.) You didn’t fall for his tricks immediately, which made him all the more agitated, and intrigued. Rather, you seemed to enjoy being with Tom most when he’d drop the ‘perfect and polite’ facade he had. You valued honesty and bluntness, two things Tom did not do (After all, how would he gain the trust of others if he truthfully told them he planned on using every single one of them?)

However, the more time he spent with you, the more he found that he fed into what you liked. And somehow, to his dismay, he found some sort of sick satisfaction in it. He enjoyed seeing you actively seek out his presence, and as much as it went against what Tom believed, he liked the validation of having people want to be associated with him. It was a testament to how he longed to be known, to be admired. He observed, learned, and dissected your intricacies, seeing you not as an individual but as a canvas upon which he could project his desires.

He soon grew very used to you, and he didn't absolutely loathe you. As the days unfolded into months, and the months unfolded into years, a semblance of tolerance took root. He played the part, masking his true intentions beneath a veneer of charm. Tolerance morphed into a twisted form of acknowledgement — an acknowledgement that you held a role in his future ambitions, his ultimate goal.

After all, that's all he ever did anything for, right? His goals, His desires. His needs.

The evolution was subtle but insidious. What began as a detached fascination transformed into a possessive need. Tom, driven by an insatiable hunger for control, found satisfaction in manipulating the threads of your existence. Obsession seeped into every crevice of his thoughts. Your every action became a challenge to him, something for him to understand, something he wanted to have control over. His infatuation stemmed from a desire to have control, to claim your very being, to possess you like some sort of artefact in his prized possessions.

Whilst you may have been immune to Tom’s charm when you first met, you certainly weren't without your weakness. After all, Tom always got what he wanted, and if he didn't have the means to do so, he'd find it.

He became fluent in his ways of understanding you, observing every little thing you did. He dissected the very core of your being till he was sure there was nothing he wouldn't know. Casual conversations about schoolwork in the depths of the library turned to confessions about your life as the hours passed. Tom preyed on your vulnerability, sowing seeds of doubt into your mind.

He agreed with you when you expressed your frustrations at your friends, he encouraged your rash actions. He told you what you wanted to hear, and made it seem as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

As everything he did, each word he spoke was carefully calculated, a thread sewn in the fabric of your fucked up relationship, binding him inexplicably closer to you without even realising.

He pointed out things, seemingly from a place of concern, making you distance yourself from your friends. He highlighted instances where your friends might have let you down, carefully framing himself as the only steadfast pillar in your life. Tom was everything you could have needed; he understood you, and he made you feel seen.

He was selective about what he let you know. He let you know he had grown up in a children’s home, and that his mother had died. Trust was a two-way thing, and you were smart enough to detect when it wasn’t being reciprocated. He let you see what he wanted to see, for no human was perfect, and he needed you to see he had his imperfections if he wanted you to trust him.

He needed to make it seem as though you made him feel seen too.

Tom had been sitting in your room, working with you on a transfiguration assignment you both had been set. Cross-legged on your bed, he still remembers how you had sat down next to him, visibly frustrated.

Tom, ever attuned to you, asked whether you were ok because that's what someone who cared for you did. He didn't care greatly though, not in a selfless way. Rather, he needed you to know that he was the only person who knew you, the only person you needed.

You opened up about what had happened, explaining how your friends had betrayed your trust, and how they seemed to misunderstand you, leaving you feeling isolated and vulnerable. Tom, feigning empathy with expert precision, listened intently, absorbing every detail like a sponge. You began crying because it all became too much.

You never thought Tom would comfort you. You believed he'd perhaps pat your back, or assure you it was all fine. What you didn't expect, was for Tom to draw you in, to wrap his arms around you, and pull you into his chest. You didn't expect him to soothe you, and rub your back as he uttered words of comfort into your ear, seemingly shielding you from the emotions that had been weighing you down.

You didn't expect to feel safe, to feel protected. If only you knew the only thing you needed protection from, was Tom himself.

You felt special. You knew it was not in Tom's nature to do so. You had no idea how vile of a person he truly was, but you understood he was avoidant of sentiment or affection. For him to have been so tender, made you feel loved.

It was only ever bound to go downhill from there.

It was only natural that you had fallen in love with him. From there it all somewhat became a blur. In between the lines, the illusion of love was beginning to waver. Graduating from Hogwarts, you no longer held those ambitions you once had. Your plans seemed now to be a distant memory, a past life. You had Tom, and that was all that mattered.

Tom had gotten his job at Borgin and Burkes. You moved in with him. You ignored the pleas of concern from those who were near and dear to you, who Tom hadn’t managed to isolate you from.

Tom convinced you that they did not have your best interest in mind, that they didn’t like him because he was a poor orphan, working a salesperson job. He had earlier convinced you he had his insecurities about his past, and he used that to make you believe the people around you were prejudiced, that they didn't care for your happiness but rather their status being affected by who they associated with. No one would want to be acquainted with the girl who loved the charity case.

You believed him. You couldn't fathom why they didn’t like Tom. You shut them out.

It was rather terrifying seeing how quickly Tom could snuff out your fiery flame, and reduce you down to someone who became dependent on him. You rarely left the house, your life revolved around what Tom wanted, and how Tom felt.

He left you teetering on the precipe of unhappiness, fulfilling your needs to the point where you couldn’t complain for fear of seeming ungrateful, unloving.

He would neglect you, coming back from work to lock himself in your bedroom, pouring over books and writings. He wasn’t who he used to be, caring, affectionate, loving.

Shame on you for assuming you could make Tom capable of love.

His neglect pierced your soul, and when you mustered the courage to voice your needs, he snapped at you for bothering him. Tom's transformation into an emotionally distant stranger left you in a state of perpetual uncertainty.

At times, you resolved to leave him, but Tom had a knack for sensing your unrest. As though he could read your mind, he returned with offerings and apologies, painting himself as the troubled victim and casting you as the ungrateful perpetrator. Guilt became the shackle that bound you, and his apologies only deepened the wounds.

Tom, in those fleeting moments of remorse, would momentarily embody the man you had fallen in love with. You cooked dinner together. He’ d play with your hair as you read, and he fucked you as if he truly did love you. Yet, the morning after, the bed would be empty, and the reality of your entangled existence with Tom would once again sink in.

He began leaving for work earlier and coming back later. You began to doubt whether it was because of work, the day he came back reeking of dark magic.

You were undeniably clever, after all, that was what had sparked Tom’s obsession with you in the first place, and so it didn’t take long for you to connect the dots. Tom’s friends back in Hogwarts seemed more like devotees than anything else. This, coupled with him spending countless hours reading through books he wouldn't let you see, and his sudden late hours suggested to you he was dappling in dark things.

You weren't wrong, per se, but Tom was far beyond dappling in dark things. He had become the image of corruption itself.

The cycle persisted, a disheartening repetition of highs and lows that left you questioning your worth and the authenticity of the connection you had with Tom. His intermittent displays of affection, punctuated by periods of neglect and manipulation, became the norm. The more you yearned for stability, the deeper you sank into the quicksand of your toxic relationship.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly where neglect turned into heated words. Arguments turning more and more intense. Slammed doors became broken porcelain, yet the remorseful embraces remained the same.

The outside world, once filled with friends and dreams, now seemed like a distant echo. Tom had successfully eroded the foundations of your past life, isolating you from the support systems that could have provided a lifeline. His poisonous whispers had convinced you that only he truly cared for you, painting the rest of the world as indifferent or antagonistic.

The empty mornings and hollow apologies continued, and you slowly began to realise the love you once believed in had become a warped caricature, and the person you had fallen for had let his obsession manifest into your relationship, seeping through the feeble foundations.

The crisp air of Hogsmeade offered a welcome escape from the suffocating atmosphere of the shared home with Tom. As you strolled through the quaint village, a familiar face caught your eye – Elizabeth, your closest friend from Hogwarts. A twinge of nostalgia mixed with apprehension as you approached her.

"Hey, Elizabeth," you greeted, attempting a smile.

Her response was guarded, her eyes revealing a mixture of concern and wariness. "Hello. Long time no see."

You sensed a tension in the air as you tried to engage in small talk, but Elizabeth's words soon cut through the facade. "Look, What happened? You dropped off the face of the earth, and it's like you vanished after graduation. In our last year, you completely ignored all of us."

A knot tightened in your stomach as you fumbled for an explanation. "I... things have been complicated. I've been busy."

Elizabeth's expression softened, and she sighed. "Busy? More like completely consumed. We all missed you, you know? But you acted like we don't even exist. What happened to the person we used to know?"

You frown, crossing your arms. “Missed me? I only stopped talking to you because you all acted weird around me.” You respond, defensively.

“No, we didn't. You got angry at us when we told you we were worried for you. You rarely went out with us, you were always too busy elsewhere.” She corrected, and you felt a frustration bubble within you.

“No, it didn’t really seem like that. You all isolated me and the only person I had left was Tom. It was only natural that I wouldn't want to go back to being friends with you after that.” You snap.

Elizabeth's eyes widened, sympathy replacing her earlier frustration. "Tom? Are you serious? He's the one who isolated you, not us. We've been worried sick about you. You're not the same person anymore."

Who did she think she was? She knew nothing about the two of you, let alone what your relationship was like. Tom was right, these people had it out for you. They didn't care for you, not at all.

“You don't know what our relationship is like Elizabeth, so I suggest you stop making assumptions.” You hiss, glaring at her.

"We cared, but you pushed us away," Elizabeth explained gently. "You were so wrapped up in whatever was going on with Tom that you stopped caring about anyone else. It's not healthy, and we were genuinely concerned."

Elizabeth reached out to comfort you. "Listen, I know it's tough, but you need to reevaluate your situation. Staying with Tom isn't healthy, and you're not alone. My door is always open if you need somewhere to stay or someone to talk to.” She says, fumbling around in her pockets. She pulls out a receipt and hastily scribbles down an address, thrusting it into your hand. She gives you one last look of pity, and you feel enraged. You immediately apparate back home, you didn't have time for this foolishness.

You apparate back home, the confrontation with Elizabeth leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. The hastily scribbled address clutched in your hand feels like an unwanted invitation, an intrusion into the carefully constructed reality that Tom has woven around you.

As you step into the shared home, the atmosphere is unsettling. Tom is hunched over a dark tome, his eyes flickering up to meet yours as you enter.

"Where have you been?" he questions, the softness of his tone belying the underlying intensity.

You toss your coat aside, frustration boiling beneath the surface. "Out. I needed a break from all this," you retort, the words laced with the anger that has been building up.

A dangerous glint enters Tom's eyes, his composure slipping. "A break? Is that how you see it? Is it a burden to you?"

"Yes, Tom! I don’t know what’s gone wrong? One day you’re fin and the next you’re acting as though i’m a nuisance to your being," you snap, the resentment in your voice cutting through the room.

His posture stiffens, and a quiet threat laces his words. "Oh really?"

Your anger flares, a defiant fire pushing back against his dominance. "Guess who I saw today, hmm?" You seethe, venom lingering in your tone.

A momentary confusion flickers in Tom's eyes. "Who?" he questions, wondering how this could be relevant to the conversation.

"Elizabeth," you declare, watching his reaction closely.

Tom's expression darkens, and a cold tension settles in the room. "What does she have to do with anything?" He retorts, stepping closer to you.

"She told me a few things, Tom. About how I've distanced myself from everyone, how they were worried, and you know what struck me?" you press on, your anger finding a new target.

His eyes narrow, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "What?"

"That I believed it was my friends who had abandoned me, but in reality, it's been you isolating me all along," you accuse, the realization fueling your rage. You jab your finger into his chest as you speak.

Tom's composure wavers, but he quickly recovers. "I've been protecting you. You can't trust them. They're trying to pull you away from me."

"Stop. Stop it, Tom. Have the decency to acknowledge I'm not that fucking stupid. I know what you're trying to do,” You say, voice cracking. You resist the urge to shield your ears, his words burrowing their way into you as he attempts to trivialise your worries, making you out to be the irrational one.

Tom frowns, and the sight of you beginning to doubt him had bile riding in the back of his throat. H reaches out, hands holding onto your shoulders as he urges you to look at him.

“They’re lying to you. They’re trying to pull you away from me again! Can't you see this? Why do you believe them over me?” He says, voice pleading with you in fake desperation, the lengths he was willing to go to to ensure he could continue to possess you were unthinkable.

“Enough. Im fucking done. You’re so fucked up, Tom. You never loved me, did you? You only ever wanted to own me, to control me. Tell me, was it worth it? Was it ever fucking worth it, spending 5 years of your life weaving this tapestry of bullshit just so you could keep me locked up in here?” You snap, grabbing your coat.

Tom's pleading expression transforms into a cold mask, and a sinister calm settles over him. "You think you can just leave? You're mine, and you'll stay. I won't let you go." He utters.

The realization of his true nature, the toxicity of the relationship, fuels your determination. "Watch me,” You hiss.

As you move toward the door, his grip on control slips further, and an unsettling mix of rage and desperation flashes in his eyes. "You'll regret this. You'll come crawling back. You always come back." He says. You take a single look at him before slamming the door and walking off.

One cannot simply dance with the devil, and change him. He always changes you.

Tom Riddle was far beyond the devil.

You wondered if for once in your life God had been on your side when you had that chance encounter with Elizabeth. Despite your harsh words, she had accepted you into her home with open arms. The weight of the past five years settles heavily on your shoulders, and the enormity of what you've lost becomes painfully clear. You were young, so damn young, and you’d been living as a glorified prisoner, trapped by the very thing that was meant to liberate you.

But love was ugly, wasn't it? It made you tolerate the bad, it made you irrational. Love could bare its teeth into your neck, and you'd let it, for love was ugly.

It was ugly, but it was not macabre.

Tom knew where you were. Tom always did. It was already established that Tom always got what he wanted. He wanted you, and he found a way to ensure that.

At first, he did not bother you.

He believed you would come back to him, as you so often did. But when a week had passed and you had not reappeared as you always did, beautiful face flushed red, eyes glossy with tears as you wordlessly stepped in and fell back into normality, he began to worry.

If it came to any relief to you, which it might have, Tom believed he loved you. What you had was a far cry from love, an echo of what it should have been. But in the mind of he who cannot love, this is what he believed it to be. One could only wonder whether everything would have been different if he actually knew what love was. But he didn't, and he never would, so he was left with some sort of fucked up obsession that he believed was love.

Tom felt a gnawing emptiness that only intensified with your departure.

Again, he loved you, if one could call it love. It was a sick, twisted version of affection that demanded ownership. In his distorted reality, your existence became an extension of his own, a possession he couldn't bear to lose. The mere thought of you breaking free ignited a desperate panic within him.

He needed you like a drowning man gasping for air, clinging to the last vestiges of sanity.

Schopenhauer believed that the will, a blind and irrational force, dominated human behaviour. Love, according to Schopenhauer, was an expression of the will's desire.

Tom felt this indescribable gap in his life without you there, as though he simply wasn’t complete without you. The old him would have hated to admit it, but he needed you, and his need for you grew from a sickly infatuation to a desperate yearning. Love, in his distorted reality, meant ownership, and he was losing his grip.

It was a rather bleak evening, and you had a horrible feeling in your stomach as you sat on the sofa of Elizabeth’s living room, where you had been presiding for the past week.

How cruel it was, that you and Tom were so attuned to one another.

You somehow knew it was Tom without needing to see them.

As Tom had resonated with the words of Schopenhauer, you had resonated with the words of Plato. For you, love could not be controlled. Instead, it was a divine madness that took hold of individuals, transcending rational thought and choice.

You had often thought that was a beautiful thing. However, when it was love that was causing your demise, it no longer felt beautiful.

Elizabeth comes down the stairs and raises a brow when she sees you perched on the edge of the sofa, staring blankly off into the distance. She eyes you apprehensively as she opens the door.

That voice. It simultaneously sent dread coursing through you, and butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Come back now. It's been far too long.” Tom says, his voice oh so tempting.

“Seriously? You think you can get her back with that bullshit?” Elizabeth snaps, standing at the door.

Tom, however, remains fixated on you, as if Elizabeth's words were mere background noise. Ignoring her comments, he continues, his eyes piercing into your conflicted gaze.

"Stop this. Come back. It's where you belong," he urges, the words carrying a persuasive weight that had once held you captive.

Elizabeth's frustration peaked as she turned to face you, pleading in her eyes. "Don't listen to him. He's toxic, and you don't need that in your life. You deserve so much more."

Tom's eyes bore into yours, his tone silky but insistent. "You don't belong in our business, Elizabeth. You’re as meddlesome as you were in school. She knows where she belongs."

You remain silent.

"He's killing you. Can't you see that?" Elizabeth's voice held a mixture of concern and frustration.

But Tom's voice slithered through the air once more, persuasive and relentless. "Come to me.” His words echoed a twisted sense of possessiveness, yet held such allure, spoken tenderly, enough to convince you it would be fine.

You clench your fists, nails digging into your skin. You stand up, letting out a shuddery breath. You walk towards the door.

“Fuck, stop! You don't need to go! Don't act like you have nowhere to go! I've given you my home, I’ve let you stay. Stop going back!” Elizabeth says, frustration laced in her voice.

How easy it is to claim you simply need to just “stop”, and it would all be fine.

It was never that simple. Tom's presence was poison, yet it was also the air you breathed. You had only known Tom for what felt like aeons, and you had shut everyone who questioned you out. All you had was Tom, all you ever would have is Tom.

He was home, a twisted kind that keeps you warm while slowly suffocating the life out of you.

As you walked back into his outstretched arms, a sense of numb acceptance settled over you. The outside world ceased to matter; the only reality was the one with Tom.

It wasn't love as the poets wrote or the philosophers pondered. Yet, in its ugliness, it was the only reality you knew.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around. Like a serpent, his embrace constricts around you, possessive and suffocating. You lean into him, feeling the coldness of his touch seep into your skin. It's oddly warming though, as paradoxical as it seemed.

"Where else would you go, my love?" he whispers, the sweetness of the endearment masking the toxicity beneath.

The serpent and its prey, bound in a perverse waltz of dependence and decay, disappear into the shadows, and the world outside is forgotten once again.

[samwisethewitch]

What Non-Pagans Need to Know About Fiction Featuring Pagan Gods

In light of Marvel's Loki show dropping a second season and a new Percy Jackson series on the horizon, I want to say some things about how fandom spaces can be respectful of real-life pagan religion.

Let's get one thing out of the way: literally no one is saying you can't enjoy fiction that uses pagan gods and heroes as characters. No one is saying, "Stop writing stories about our gods." In fact, many ancient cultures wrote fiction about their gods -- look at Greek theater or the Norse Eddas. The act of writing fiction about the gods is not offensive in itself.

But please remember that this is someone's religion.

The gods are not "just archetypes." Their myths are not "just stories." Their personalities are not a matter of artistic interpretation. For many pagans, the gods are very much real in a literal sense. I don't think Thor is a metaphor or a symbol -- for me, Thor is a real, autonomous spiritual being who exists outside of human perceptions of him, and who I have chosen to build a relationship with. Even if you are a hardcore atheist, I would hope you could at least be respectful of the fact that, to many modern pagans, the gods are both very real and very important.

When authors are not respectful of this fact, they reduce the gods, these very real objects of worship, to fictional characters. And here's the thing about fictional characters: they are fundamentally tools for authors to use to draw a desired emotional response from an audience.

Dracula's personality and behavior is wildly different depending on who is writing him, because different authors use Dracula to create different reactions in their audiences. In the 1931 film starring Bela Lugosi, he's equal parts alluring and disturbing, a symbol of America's mixed desire and disdain for foreigners. In Nosferatu, he's more strictly frightening and disgusting. In Francis Ford Coppola's movie, he's a tragic, romantic figure clinging to the last scraps of his humanity. In Netflix's Castlevania, he's an incredibly powerful being who has grown bitter and apathetic in his immortality. All of this is Dracula, and all of it is fine, because Dracula is not and never has been a central figure in anyone's religion.

Let's take a look at what happens when authors give this same treatment to real gods:

In Hellenic polytheism, Apollo is one of the most beloved gods, both historically and today. Apollo loves humanity, and humanity loves him back. He is the god of sunlight and of medicine, but also of poetry and song. He is one of humanity's most consistent defenders when one of the other gods gets wrathful. And while he does have dangerous or wrathful aspects of his own (he's also the god of disease, after all), he's also kind and soft with humanity in a way other gods often aren't, at least in some historic sources.

In the Lore Olympus comic series, Apollo is a villain. He's characterized as an abuser, a manipulator, and a violent man child. LO!Apollo is downright hateful, because the author wants us to hate him. Lore Olympus is a retelling of a myth about an abduction and forced marriage. Lore Olympus is also a romance. In order to get the audience to sympathize with Hades and root for his relationship with Persephone, Rachel Smythe needed to make someone else the villain. Apollo is the most obvious and extreme character assassination in Smythe's work, but several other gods (notably Demeter) also get the asshole makeover to tell the story Smythe wants to tell.

Here's where this becomes a problem: Hellenic polytheism is a fairly small religious community, while Lore Olympus is a massively popular webtoon with 1.3 billion views as of August 2023, print books available from major retailers, a TV adaptation in the works, and a very active online fandom. Rachel Smythe currently has a MUCH bigger platform than any Hellenic polytheism practitioner. Smythe and other authors are shaping how modern culture views the Hellenic gods, and that has a very real impact on their worshipers.

This means "Apollo is an abusive asshole" is becoming a popular take online, and is even creeping into pagan communities. I've personally seen people be harassed for worshiping Apollo because of it. I've seen new pagans and pagan-curious folks who totally misunderstand the roles Apollo, Hades, and Persephone play in the Hellenic pantheon because of Lore Olympus and other modern works of fiction.

There are tons of other examples of this in modern pop culture, but I'll just rattle off a few of the ones that annoy me most: Rick Riordan depicting Ares/Mars as a brutish asshole hyped up on toxic masculinity; Rick Riordan depicting Athena as a mother goddess; Marvel depicting Thor as a dumb jock; Marvel depicting Odin as a cold, uncaring father; DC depicting Ares as purely evil; whatever the fuck the Vikings TV show was trying to do with seidr; the list goes on.

All of these are examples of religious appropriation. Religious appropriation is when sacred symbols are taken out of their original religious context by outsiders, so that the original meaning is lost or changed. It requires a power imbalance -- the person taking the symbols is usually part of a dominant religious culture. In many cases, the person doing the appropriation has a much bigger platform than anyone who has the knowledge to correct them.

When Rick Rioridan or Rachel Smythe totally mischaracterizes a Greek god to tell a story, and then actual Hellenic pagans get harassed for worshiping that god, that's religious appropriation.

Religious appropriation is a real issue. This isn't just pagans being sensitive. To use an extreme example: Richard Wagner and other German Romantic authors in the 19th century used the Norse gods and other Germanic deities as symbols in their work, which was a major influence on Nazi philosophy. Without Wagner, the Nazis would not have latched onto the Norse gods as symbols of their white supremacist agenda. To this day, there are white supremacist groups who claim to worship our gods or who use our religious imagery in their hate movement. We are still reckoning with the misinterpretation of our gods popularized by Wagner and other German Romantics almost 200 years ago.

Again, no one is saying you can't enjoy fiction based on pagan mythology. But there are a few things you can do to help prevent religious appropriation in fandom spaces:

Above all else, be mindful that while this may just be a story to you, it is someone's religion.

Recognize that enjoying fiction based on our gods does not mean you know our gods. You know fictional characters with the same names as our gods, who may or may not be accurate to real-life worship.

Do not argue with or try to correct pagans when we talk about our experience of our gods.

Don't invalidate or belittle pagan worship. Again, this mostly comes down to recognizing that our religion is totally separate from your fandom. We aren't LARPing or playing pretend. Our sacred traditions are real and valid.

If you see other people in your fandom engaging in religious appropriation, point out what they are doing and why it isn't okay.

Please tag your fandom content appropriately on social media. Always tag the show, movie, book, etc. that a post is about in addition to other relevant tags. This allows pagans to block these fandom tags if we don't want to see them and prevents fandom content showing up in religious tags.

For example, if I'm posting about Athena from the Percy Jackson books, I would tag the post #athena #athenapjo #percyjackson #pjo. You get the idea.

And if fiction sparks your interest and you want to learn more about the actual worship of the gods, you can always ask! Most pagans love talking about our gods and trading book recs.

If you are writing fiction based on real mythology, talk to people who worship those gods. Ask them what a respectful portrayal would look like. If possible, include a note in your finished work reminding audiences that it is a work of fiction and not meant to accurately portray these gods.

[fuumiku]

They’re really interesting foils in many ways. I’ve always thought that Marcille & Mithrun have underrated dynamic potential. Give me the cringefail dungeon lords. Give me the elves with ears-centric metaphorical self-image issues. Give me the academic elites whose deepest strongest desires will always remain unreachable and the only option is to turn to the corrupt forbidden fruit of a demon pact. I am so so normal about Mithrun and Marcille

I wonder if the resemblance between captain Mithrun and general Hagreus aka Marcille’s fave in Dalclan is intentional… They definitely look very alike. It could represent idealization vs reality? Something something the romanticization of elves and their societal drama in their fiction vs a very real and imperfect product of their military system. The canaries certainly aren’t glamorous next to whatever Hagreus is the general of. I feel like she never had the opportunity to notice the resemblance herself bc within seconds of meeting him he was wrestling her on the ground but. If she had… She would so think he should have been his actor in the tallman stage play of Daltian Clan in that new extra comic hehe. I love the little details like Hagreus’ lips being drawn with extra details because they’re full and pretty while Mithrun’s lips are drawn with extra details because they’re chapped lmao.

This art is all silly and surface level but in my head mithrille is like so dramatic and I make up daltian clan level big plots with them gbdgd. I made a spotify playlist for mithrun if y’all interested, rn it’s mostly centered around cravings that consume and losing yourself and illusions inspired from his time as dungeon lord but it’s branching out. Varied vibes, levels of intensity and degrees of confusion and await you ✨ I would emotionally rant about Chainsaw Man ost lyrics and how they tie in with Mithrun and the winged lion’s relationship but this post is already a monster

I want more of these two please please please pleaseee just one or two interactions in the new canon content coming up… All they ever did was debate philosophy on desires and human self-fulfillment and try to murder each other, please… I never get to gush about them and I can’t shut up so if you want more thoughts I talk about them more below

To get a girl to peacefully accept arrest follow these simple steps: in private, ominously stand above her and forcefully interrogate her, while in public, tell her you’ve met before (untrue and also not a pickup line, you’re just face blind) and interrogate her with a thin veneer of decorum. If all else fails, threaten and follow through on said threat. My guy needs more than just physical therapy I’m afraid

Sorry if most of these were Marcille-centric with Mithrun standing there looking cool, if I were doing these more from Mithrun’s pov things would be like "She’s a bit much but I guess I don’t mind hanging around her." or "Oh you’re a half-elf? -insert elven supremacist rethoric-" or "I have to keep her from becoming demon stew." immediately followed by "Did someone say demon? Kill kill kill kill kill" since these are set prior to like really knowing another. Then things would be more like "huh she has bad tastes in novels but her magic research is pretty interesting" and "I’m lonely and don’t understand myself— Oh she loves talking about feelings? Oh shi-" That last one is an aspect of why I like Marcille and Mithrun’s potential dynamic lol. She’s very… Emotionally intelligent alongside being impulsive. You think you have no feelings because the world has beaten them out of you? Think again!! Marcille be upon ye! -In a therapy sort of way but mostly in a connecting with people and your own self through interpersonal relationships and talking kinda way. I just think a lively, upbeat, annoying friend way too interested in your personal life would do him good, the canaries are nice but like if Marcille went to prison and was a sort of extra new bunkmate I think that’d be interesting and fun to read is what I’m saying

Unlike Kabru she wants all the useless messy filler of his backstory, eating chips while listening. Like two chibi sets side by side, "me and my fellow canaries, name name and name-" "Hold on we don’t need to know that." Vs "Then we were to sleep on the third floor of the dungeon, which had the look of a mausoleum, and name and name got into a fight over the campfire placement." while Marcille is like uh-huh what next what next while kicking her feet. She thinks of pre-dungeon pompous Mithrun and is like omg you went through a character arc and become better as a person- and then he opens his mouth and she’s like nevermind let’s keep working on that. She would also go "ew ur hair is greasy" and give him a full hair care treatment. What I’m saying is I need them to be forced to spend time in a dungeon together and become besties through a life or death roadtrip

Marcille is insecure about her ears, long, like an elf’s pride should be, but rounder, inelegant. Seeing Mithrun though, the epitome of beauty, with his half-cut ears make it a sillier thought. Not sure if Mithrun is the best person to reconnect with ur elven culture with but it sure is an option Marcille would so appreciate being around someone both cool headed and kind, I genuinely think they’d get along, like not that Senshi isn’t that too most of the time but I think Mithrun would be in a way that’s more refreshing to her. I’d be so curious about them discussing Dalclan, I doubt he’d have read it but she could make him read it, maybe post-canon with the excuse that they’re trying to find him a new hobby hah. He’d tear into the writing and everything but it’d be a fun time, I like to think that it’d make him a bit less prejudiced. Marcille @ Mithrun "👉👈 Soo maybe you don’t know these books they’re pretty recent having come out 50 years ago but…"

I’ve been in a Mithrun phase I want to make and read Mithrun-centric fics and angst so baaad. I razz him a lot here but he’s literally a traumatized military man that became obsessed with revenge due to bad coping and neglects himself in the process idk not much for him going on and some of it is because he has to work on himself, but hey no one’s perfect it all comes from a place of love and relating though I prommy. He’s the one ungodly angsty squeaky toy blorbo with brain damage rep I have don’t take him from me

[devildom-moss]

Ideal threesomes headcanon (the others)

Who pairs best with each character in a threesome? Who brings the best out of them or shows them the most enjoyable time? (none of the brothers are paired with each other - or with Simeon)

(NSFW)

Diavolo

Diavolo is incredibly versatile, and he’ll adapt to anyone he wants to bring into his bed (library, office, garden, kitchen – much to Barbatos’s disappointment and annoyance). A threesome with Simeon brings something otherworldly out of Diavolo.

It isn’t the first time Diavolo has taken interest in an especially beautiful angel, and he still isn’t over his first angel. Maybe he has a corruption kink, or maybe – at least in the case of Simeon – Diavolo just wants to use sex to deepen his understanding of another person. Diavolo finds Simeon confusing, and his desire to unravel his mystery extends to physical intimacy.

For all the effort it takes to get Simeon to agree to join the two of you, Diavolo brings twice the effort into pleasing you both. The fact that the experience is an exemplification of his goals – the three worlds cumming coming together in unity – and an opportunity to bring some small aspect of his dreams to fruition is not overlooked. As such, he is determined to perform to the best of his ability. If Diavolo seems giving in normal conditions, his hospitality is almost saintly in the presence of you and Simeon. He wants to show you what the Devildom has to offer through his body.

Diavolo can get extremely frustrated by Simeon in his day-to-day when he can’t seem to read Simeon’s expressions or intentions – in part because he wants to know everyone he cares for inside and out but also because it makes him doubt his worldview. If he can’t read Simeon, maybe angels are so fundamentally different that they can never see eye-to-eye perfectly. Diavolo holds that worry and frustration deep and hushed in his heart. Instead of voicing it, he takes out his frustration on you both sexually (in his own way), which often takes the form of making you both cum over and over until you’re too immersed in pleasure to think of anything. He gets drunk on the feeling of pride that swells in his chest when you and Simeon are moaning his name desperately.

Barbatos

As much as Barbatos can get annoyed by Solomon’s antics, he is still bound to him. Overall, he’s fond of Solomon, though – enough so that he probably would have sex with him without you (although, typically, that would be just so either of them can blow off a bit of steam).

The appeal of a threesome with Solomon is two-fold in that it depends on whether Barbatos is feeling more dominant or submissive.

If Barbatos is feeling dominant, he gets joy out of watching the man who tamed him crumble and submit to you both. The sadistic pleasure of watching Solomon the Wise reduced to a moaning, senseless mess at the hands of his apprentice and a demon under his control delights Barbatos. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Barbatos adores watching you take control of Solomon, and he finds himself increasingly attracted to you every time he watches you handle the great sorcerer with ease.

Furthermore, it gives Barbatos the opportunity to showcase his sadism and dominance for you to some extent. He usually hides these sides of himself – often opting to submit to you. While any threesome might bring that out of Barbatos, Solomon encourages the most extreme reactions out of him (he would torture Solomon for a few days if he could).

If Barbatos is feeling submissive, he essentially switches positions with Solomon. He adores being used by you two. Between his pretty face and his eagerness to serve and please, you and Solomon have the perfect little doll to toy with. Even without forming a pact, Barbatos occasionally thinks of you as his master in a way. Submissive Barbatos threesomes elate him; the very idea of serving every sexual need of two people he is indebted to – especially two humans – clouds his head with lust. He does such a good job that Solomon can’t resist showering him with praise.

Simeon

Initially, having sex with a demon is daunting for Simeon. How far is he willing to fall for you? Far enough to lie with a demon? Apparently so. The first demon who comes to mind is Barbatos, and his intuition is perfect.

Simeon gets so flustered over how quickly he considered Barbatos that he tries to justify it. If Barbatos hadn’t placed his hand on the small of Simeon’s back the other day when he needed to pass behind him, if he hadn’t held his hand so he wouldn’t get lost at the market when it was busy or offered to help carry part of Simeon’s groceries when Barbatos already had a few bags, if Simeon hadn’t seen how gently Barbatos pat Luke’s head as he congratulated him on how delicious the new cake he made turned out – maybe if Barbatos hadn’t proved himself to be so caring and sweet, Simeon wouldn’t have been so receptive to sharing you or himself with the demon.

The main appeal of Barbatos and Simeon is that they adore doting on you (and others), and they get along better than most. Even in moments of silent interaction, they’re in tune, relying on their intuition and inherent understanding of one another to navigate. Their awareness and caring nature make for intimate and mind-blowingly fulfilling sex.

They’ll take care of anything you want – no matter what demands you make. Similar to the Beel and Diavolo threesome, Simeon and Barbatos primarily focus on your needs and pleasure (sans some of the playful goofiness or unintentional overstimulation due to an eagerness to keep going).

If you want to dominate them, they compound the other’s obedience and submission. Separately, they may show signs of brattiness and tease you back, but when they’re in each other’s presence, they are both quietly competing to prove how good they can be.

Barbatos mindlessly initiated physical intimacy between him and Simeon in your presence. For a brief second, Simeon’s moaning suggested shock before quickly adjusting to the pleasure of Barbatos’s mouth on him. After the initial shock, Simeon relished the opportunity to touch and be touched by both you and Barbatos – a sentiment that Barbatos shares.

Solomon

Solomon may not be able to secure a pact with him, but he relishes in the opportunity to at least get intimate with Lucifer, especially if he’s able to fuck that powerful demon senseless or watch you do it – anything to watch Lucifer get taken down a peg.

Solomon and Lucifer are extremely competitive, and when you’re involved, they start to get aggressive. Even the suggestion that you and Solomon are being affectionate is enough to trigger Lucifer’s possessiveness. There are even times that your involvement with Solomon makes Lucifer start to hate Solomon to some degree. Solomon knows this and loves it. Lucifer must respect him to get so obviously jealous, right? Similarly, though, Solomon starts to get aggressive when you spend too much time with Lucifer. At the very least, he will cover your body in love bites. This competition follows them into the bedroom.

Getting caught up in their sex-fueled feud is intoxicating and electric. Both of them are torn between a desire to please you and a need for one-upmanship. The tension in the room hangs thick and heavy – almost suffocating everyone, and you are the only one with the power to diffuse it.

Initially, it was embarrassing for them both to have to acknowledge how weak they are for you. However, they find comfort in the fact that the other is just a susceptible to your will. The first time Solomon realized this was the case in a sexual setting, he started to laugh, which was a complete turn-off for Lucifer (or so he claimed with his cheeks still flushed pink and his dick still hard in his pants).

You or Solomon will have to bring up the threesome, and even then, Solomon probably only brings it up as a joke to tease Lucifer.

Thirteen

Thirteen and Asmodeus make for such a fun and carefree threesome. In addition to being pretty, both Thirteen and Asmo tend to focus on exploring sensual pleasure. Thirteen does as she pleases, and although she can find it troublesome that Asmo is the same way, she respects him for how he prioritizes himself. Asmo has mutual respect for her for the same reason. Their personalities and that respect add to their sexual compatibility.

Neither of them is subtle about how much they care about themselves, and their confidence calls for (sometimes excessive amounts of) flirting. When you’re alone or in front of a few people that Thirteen wants to make jealous (all of the romanceable characters – but especially Solomon and the demon brothers), she will openly admit how much she wants you. If she’s feeling wicked, she’ll tell you exactly what she wants to do to you – which is how the Thirteen/Asmo/MC threesome came to be.

“You should come home with me tonight, MC. I’d like to test the acoustics of my bedroom, and I’m not loud enough without you.” / “Um, absolutely not, Thirteen. If you think you’re getting MC alone, you’re out of your mind. However, the three of us might be able to test the acoustics.” Thirteen casually agreed, feeling as if she received a free upgrade.

Where jealousy could arise in both Thirteen or Asmo, they drop it in favor of being open and easygoing. Instead of trying to reign you in and keep you to themselves, they ask to join in when they feel jealous. Using you as a focal point in the relationship, especially given that they already enjoy each other’s company, can blossom into more intimate feelings between Thirteen and Asmo. This is one of the few threesome pairings that could become a healthy polyamorous relationship where all members are involved with each other.

Just because they both prioritize themselves doesn’t mean that they aren’t gentle and caring with you. Getting those two together will have you drowning in sweetness: whispered words of admiration, loving caresses, stares overflowing with adoration. No one will leave that interaction without feeling worshiped and desired.

Raphael

Raphael feels a lot of sexual guilt – much worse than Simeon does. He can’t avoid feeling dirty and wrong for desiring you in that way; every perverse thought he has weighs heavy on his chest. As odd as it may seem (since a threesome might be considered more deviant), having Simeon there can ease his anxiety and unburden him to a degree.

Simeon is a calming presence for Raphael; he’s carefree and gentle, which can balance Raph’s uptight, rigid, and violent personality. Simeon has a way of smoothing those edges out that even you have trouble with. Although Raphael does his best to show you his softer side, he never showcases it more than he does when you’ve got both of those angels in your bed.

An “if we fall, we fall together” mentality is a savior for Raphael’s guilt – it even eases some of Simeon’s. Neither one wants to be alone in damnation – if, indeed, loving you in every way would damn them. As long as they have you and each other, both of them (especially Raphael) feel more prepared to handle whatever will happen as a consequence. Simeon was prepared to fall for you alone, but knowing Raphael would be by his side helps.

Furthermore, Simeon is pretty, so it’s not like Raphael minds. In fact, he’s stunned at how gorgeous Simeon truly is the first time he sees him arch his back and moan your name. Raphael almost gets overwhelmed when he realizes he’s going to be pleasured by two of the most beautiful creatures he had ever laid eyes on. Simeon, likewise, finds Raphael handsome. Moreover (although he’d never admit it), Simeon gets turned on knowing he can contribute to the pleasure of someone who has historically been so cruel to him. The idea that just a bit of touching could make Raphael so sweet and pliable brings Simeon a wicked joy. As such, he has a tendency to tease Raph excessively. It’s an additional perk for Simeon on top of getting to be with you.

Raphael is grateful to Simeon for granting him the opportunity to experience so much pleasure with you both without such crushing guilt – although he can occasionally stomach the guilt if it means he gets you to himself. Still, when he’s with you and Simeon, Raphael will come unraveled, messily switching between your lips and Simeon’s and moaning sweetly as if each sound he made was simultaneously and offering and a plea for mercy.

Mephistopheles

Mephisto and Mammon are the only two who are most compatible with each other. Mephisto’s personality can be a bit too abrasive to meld well with other characters. Satan and Diavolo would be decent matches, and if you don’t mind feeling like you’re being caught up in the middle of a hate-fucking, Mephisto and Lucifer have some appeal. However, Mephisto and Mammon in a threesome have the most to offer each other.

While Mephisto offers a good match to Mammon’s high energy, Mammon pulls the fun, playful side out of Mephisto more. The way Mammon thoughtlessly smiles and leans into your touch when he’s praised encourages Mephisto to relax and indulge in his own neediness. Additionally, Mammon’s submissive nature can affect Mephisto’s own role more than he wants to admit. Mephisto’s ego makes him want to prove himself as the better sub for you some days. Other days, it drives him to showcase what a good dom he can be, tending to you and Mammon so sweetly that most would never believe that was the same demon.

Initially, Mephisto gets a sick, twisted pleasure from fucking (or getting fucked by) Lucifer’s favorite human and his favorite brother. He strives to make you both call out his name. The way Mephisto gets such a sexual kick out of harming or irritating Lucifer, you’d think he wanted to fuck Lucifer (and he sort of does, somewhere deep and repressed). Nevertheless, Mephisto never expected to find himself thinking Mammon was so adorable, which makes him enjoy the threesome more and begins to overshadow his initial intentions.

He enjoys the challenge of simultaneously focusing on the pleasure of two other people. Mephisto is too embarrassed to admit it, but once, he likened the sex to an interview panel with conflicting personalities, and he was the reporter who was going to deliver the interview of the week. He’s such a nerd, send help.

(demon brother version)

A/N: I don't know how these came out even longer because I like the other characters a bit more probably and also the angels have me acting a fool probably. Anyway, I hope that you all enjoyed this two-part headcanon. Also, since I got them all up, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this idea.

[cozymoko]

Tw EATING DISORDER

what would the sakamakis+tsukanamis do when they realize their s/o is developing an eating disorder?

:3

S/O WITH EATING DISORDER — SAKAMAKI

Note: I can only put a certain amount of pictures in per request so if you still want the Tsukinamis' please feel free to request again once my ask box is open!

Pairing: Sakamaki Brothers x gn! reader

Format: Headcanons

WARNING(S): eating disorder, force feeding, insensitive comments

Want more Diabolik lovers? → Masterlist! ★

SHU SAKAMAKI

Though not the most well-informed, he's far from being an idiot. He was already suspicious when you either faked eating during dinner or attempted to force the food down your throat. It was painfully evident. And when he found you bent over a toilet, retching out the remains, that was all the proof he needed.

Shu can't force you to do anything and he's aware of that, but he will still encourage you to do so. Frankly, he'd rather not have you starve to death due to your own stubbornness. Shu will follow you to hell and then bring you right back. He'll even try to play therapist and listen to what kick-started your god-awful eating habits.

“Haah, what a piece of work. You must really want to give me a heart attack, hm? Learn to rely on me, don't make me worry so much next time.”

REIJI SAKAMAKI

Out of all his brothers, Reiji will be the most understanding. Most of the Sakamaki has very limited knowledge involving the human body but he does not. After plunging his head in many books on the matter, that much should be clear. Thus it's likely you won't have too much trouble confining in him because of that.

There's no need for you to go hungry in any way while living in the manor. Despite how annoyed he may come off, Reiji is willing to go through all the potential solutions to lessen this burden on you. However, he does still remain the same in some aspects, threatening to punish you if you don't put forth some effort to eat.

“I've noticed your eating habits have become rather strange. Very well, I will create a new diet for you to regain your strength. It would be best that you follow it.”

AYATO SAKAMAKI

Unfortunately, he's pretty insensitive to things like this. He has no knowledge of mental health (though having plenty of his own) so Ayato won't try to act as he does. He'll probably say something terribly ignorant or even try to shove food down your throat, then turn around and wonder why you're so pissed at him.

It will take someone to smack some sense into him so he understands the severity of it. Even then he lacks the sentiments to truly comprehend what you're going through. But realistically, he'll probably push it off onto Reiji in the end. Of course, he cares, but such a "detailed" condition isn't his forte.

“Geez, just how long were you planning on keeping this from me? You belong to 'yours truly', and it'd be such a pain if you get any weaker. So rely on me, got it!”

KANATO SAKAMAKI

This is the last person I'd want to be stuck with in a situation like this. He's an absolute idiot on things like this, hands down. (I hate Kanato) In his mind, dolls don't have to eat so you must be perfectly fine, right? Expect you aren't a doll, nor a vampire at that so, of course, you need to eat.

As the days go by you grow noticbly weaker with no desire to do anything but wallow in your despair. Only then did he begin to take things seriously. The triplet has the most insufficient approach ever, it's not even comforting. Kanato will attempt to feed you and then get mad when you reject it. Despite his apparent concern, I highly doubt it'd make up for his thoughtlessness.

“You've grown so weak...Uu...why won't you talk to me? Uu...Don't you care for my feelings? I won't allow you to die on me; you can't leave me! I'll make sure of it!”

LAITO SAKAMAKI

He knows what an eating disorder is as Laito's been with his fair share of women. But that doesn't mean he's educated on the matter. Laito notices your standoffish demeanor right away, carefully eyeing you as he immediately puts two and two together. Yet, he won't act on it until he can find the root of your eating disorder. After all, we must start from the source~!

It'd be a shame if his favorite toy grew terribly ill so he offers to help you. Spending several hours arranging a new diet for you, feeding you small portions, and certainly boosting your confidence in the late hours of the night. Though he doesn't show it, Laito truly cares for your well-being and will do just about anything to ensure your recovery.

“You've been looking at your reflection for quite some time, little bitch. Have I not been tending to you enough~? Fufu, that won't do! Shall I fix that for you~?”

SUBARU SAKAMAKI

Once he found out about your eating disorder, Subaru loses it. His anger is in some way directed at you for not telling him; but also at himself for being so clueless about it. As you'd expect, his first course of action is intimidating you into eating, but a quiet whimper will stop him dead in his tracks. This calls for a different approach.

Subaru looks to Reiji for guidance, which comes as no shock. The vampire is in no place to be taking care of a human in any mental aspect, regardless of them being his lover. Even with this newfound information, it will do very little to decrease his snappiness towards you. But he's just worried and sure as hell doesn't wanna lose you!

“Don't push yourself too much, alright? Tch, 'worried?', it's not like that so shut up, damnit! I just...don't want you to leave me in the dark anymore...”

[2af-afterdark]

🦩anon asked for Leviathan and prompt 7 “Be a good boy/girl and swallow for me” along with some others but I saw my boy and decided to chew on him

Please keep in mind that the game is still not out, so when you ask for this you are asking for a bunch of random headcanons sort of put together.

Content: Dom!GN!MC (they/them) x Leviathan (whb), aphrodisiacs, mentioned humiliation, no actual sex

They throw themselves onto the sofa beside him, all of their weight pressing down on the the frame simultaneously as their butt digs into the seat cushion. They reach into their breast pocket and pull out something which they pass to him with a smile.

"Be a good boy and swallow this for me," they whisper into his ear.

Leviathan takes it as he reclines against the sofa that currently holds them. He stares at the dubious bubbling vial they've handed him, swirling with shades of pink and purple and reeking of magic. He can smell the stench of Abaddon wafting from whatever is inside, even contained securely by the small glass container.

"I refuse," he says as he tries to hand the vial back to them.

"Oh, Leviathan," they reach over only to pull the cork out of the vial and push his hand back toward him, "that wasn’t a request."

The overwhelming scent of lust, no longer held at bay by the seal, burns his nostrils and sends blood flowing straight to his crotch. It's pure and concentrated and definitely illegal (not that devils cared about legality in the same manner as humans) outside of any kingdom but Abaddon itself given that lust so powerful is barely distinguishable from madness.

The muscles in his face scrunch up in a mixture of disgust and concern for who would give them something so clearly dangerous, but the worry starts to fade and make way for his own desires as he feels their hand gliding over the bulge growing in his pants. He knows it's whatever is in the vial controlling his body, which is why -- if this is how potent it is by smell alone -- he tries to hand it to them yet again before it can invade his senses more than it already has.

"I have no interest in it."

Short and to the point. He was a king (even if he barely felt like one compared to the others and was always analyzing which aspects of them were better than him). It was only right he put his foot down every now and again, especially with a human.

That thin resolve of his vanishes in an instant, however, as they place their finger against the base of the horn nearest them and start rubbing circles around it.

"Liar," they tease. "I can tell you want to drink it," they softly squeeze his growing erection, "but you're afraid of what it will do to you. You're afraid that you'll humiliate yourself while under its influence. You're imagining all the worst possible scenarios in your head and wondering how you'll ever live them down. It's the uncertainty making you hesitate."

They trail their finger up the fine, sand-like texture of his horn, stroking between the junction where it splits in two and is most sensitive. His pants have gotten uncomfortably tight and he fears they will burst at the seam from how strongly he's straining against them.

"Allow me to alleviate your fears." Their voice has dropped as low as it will go and there is a sultry tinge to their words. "When you drink that, nothing will matter to you more than feeling good and I won't hesitate to abuse that power over you. Any filters or self-restraint you have will disappear. You'll humiliate yourself in ways you can't even imagine and I'll enjoy every moment of it almost as much as you will."

Leviathan bit the inside of his lip, a slurry of contradictory thoughts rushing through his mind but all of them based on his all-consuming jealousy at the unknown.

It was thoughts of fear and anxiety at potentially being seen in a vulnerable state by others. It was the way he wanted them to focus solely on him. It was how his stomach collapsed in on itself when he imagined people whispering behind his back that he was a degenerate or, worse, a prude. It was the fact that he was nowhere near being a king like the others if he let a human push him around. It was the way their voice made everything sound so tempting, despite his misgivings. It was the desire he had to do whatever it took to have their attention. It was the collapsing of his reason and judgment. It was every voice in his head screaming all at once in a cacophony of different desires, all as equally pressing as the last. It was knowing that if he held strong he would envy what could have been, what he could have gained. It was the opposite, knowing that if he gave in he would envy what he'd lost. It was envying the him from only seconds ago who didn't have to make such a choice. It was-

"Go on," they prompt yet again. "I promise you it's the best stuff in all of hell. After all, you deserve nothing but the best."

He tips the vial back into his open mouth like a shot.

Instantly, he feels every nerve inside of him firing simultaneously and his constrained cock twitches as he cum in his pants after two rapid orgasms -- one from the initialshock of the drink and a second from the embarrassment of knowing he'd just ruined his pants. His skin feels like it's boiling and his clothing is a nuisance at best. Any thoughts he may have still had melt and are quickly replaced by his hands wandering across his own body as they try to make him feel good -- a sisyphean task given that every part of him feels unyielding pleasure from even the lightest of touches, but is left uncomfortably wanting when not under the ministrations of his fingers.

The parts of him that feel the best, however, are where they lay their hands; his cock and his horn. He can already feel that he's going to cum again because, even through the fabric of his suit pants, their hand against his groin is pure ecstasy and the other rubbing his horn is euphoria he could never have imagined in his wildest fantasies.

They laugh; a light laugh that is somehow both irrevocably loving and deeply condescending. Whatever intent they have behind such a laugh is lost on him though as all of his reasoning has given way to whatever Abaddon's magic has done to him. He doesn't want to think or restrain himself. All he wants is to feel good, whatever that takes.

"Good boy," they finally praise as they tug at his horn to pull him into a kiss.

As they slip their tongue into his mouth, he can tell that he has cum again and it won't nearly be the last time for the evening.

[ghul-wein]

A few personal thoughts about Ghouls and Ghoul anatomy, errors and all. Unrebloggable for now, maybe later..

transcription under the read more

JAN 19/24 Friday … GHOUL IDEAS; Physicality/body funciton

Thoughts on Ghoul bodies are many & SO big, but these are clear enough to be made concrete & shared.

Mostly, stimming from thinking on how their appearance is more ‘thought-form’ than solid concept. They are not us, and when willed into humanity (or living “top-side”…there’s a better term for this…PLEASE) they take an appearance to make humans comfortable. So much room & intrigue for off features & uncanny human details (see Swiss and his teeth), but not that full focus..

With this they can alter the form @ will, this extending to perceived sexual traits & anatomy. You don’t think things like nipples are something they need to think to give themselves… baby Ghouls nurse somehow but are NOT mammal; the visual of Spit’s chest being a rib cage w/ skin pulled over it, yes. But they can and do reproduce , both amongst themselves & w/ humans. No dwelling on this and shit of Ghoul sexuality and gender — this is later writing. Ghouls can deny themselves the feeling of things like genitalia while others embrace these things…think a Barbie/Ken when sat beside a real person. This lack of “hardware” does note mean these Ghouls necessarily lacking in physical connections, no. In the same way a doll is not denied its desirability for lacking in these traits either. Some of this, you think, stems from lack of understanding/seeing the purpose in something  innately human; others would made slide under a form of asexuality/aromanticism (you think this suits Mountain). This won;t be the last time is this said…out its so close to Angels finding form and a sense of self in a casing they don’t fully know; piloting something new.

Others see themselves in app aspects of sex and gender and forms themselves to whatever specks suit their comfort. Be it for comfort, fun, or mating purposes, it’s can all be shifted @ will.

All, most Ghouls are capable of carrying kits, it just comes down to ‘hardware’ and how the talk of things go w/ their chosen partner. Also gender is not a Ghoul concept and means little, but they are so very capable of transness. This entire idea is rooted in a form of queerness.

Other Ghouls, like Spitfire, by biological convention would be thought of as falling under the umbrella of intersexuality. Will not repeat the nonchalant, looseness of gender!!! They are this mangled mass of meat built fresh as needed, and the flesh mound grows and writhing w/ the warmth of explorative connection. BUT it is a matter, still, of comfort in expression and maybe too wanting to “be ready” when the right moment comes.

could be worth exploring reproductive structures more internally…is the needed internal work to bear children inherent, built @ will, or something but nothing all @ the same time. But Something not of this world can make something that is of it.

[a-hermit-pining]

So it Begins

Pairing: Mahoraga x Reader

Genre: idk I wrote this because Mahoraga is glorious

Summary: Formless, yet terrifying to witness. You found a scattered spirit in your realm. A feast for the Void. His wrath, his pain, his desire encompassed the emptiness around you.

AN: Please let me know if I got anything wrong but this is just made up non cannon.

Beyond realm of humans and curse users exist many worlds. Independent of each other these worlds align only in few aspects of existence.

There remain many mysteries. Things unknown. Divine General Mahoraga is one of them. Who is he? A shikigami? A curse? A deity tied to the wheel of dharma? A monster perhaps.

No one the world of mortals may ever know. A monstrous form, untamed by any. The origins of Mahoraga remain deeply veiled in mystery, leaving unanswered questions about who bestowed upon him this formidable form and what force propels his unyielding fury.

Eons ago or rather in the past flow of time, there existed a spirit, a weak tattered soul. Some say it was the soul of a fallen king, betrayed by his kin, while other state it was of priest devoured by sin, no one knows.

The spirit of a human who dared venture outside the realm of it's existence. Into the unknown that hosts secrets of the world.

Beyond the laws of good and evil, right and wrong. It ended up in the Void. A world of nothingness at the same time a world bubbling with the hunger for everything. Your world.

Formless, yet terrifying to witness. You found a scattered spirit in your realm. A feast for the Void. His wrath, his pain, his desire encompassed the emptiness around you.

Intrigued and perhaps entertained by this newfound distraction, you bestowed upon him a form—a warrior with eight hands, a general endowed with the power to annihilate worlds. Unbound by the laws governing the universe, you placed the wheel of dharma on his back, granting him the agency to forge his own destiny. Mahoraga, you called him, your voice ringing loud in the Void.

Thus, your own form emerged from the first emotions of your existence—a shape akin to his, destined to bring about the end of days for all life. Even in their existence, these forms held a certain ethereal beauty. The delicate feathers framing his eyes and the golden anklets adorning his feet became symbolic manifestations, a gift or a testament to your prowess. And for the first time, it held the substance beyond the nothingness of the Void.

Mahoraga, your only companion in the worlds across universe. Untamable. Yours.

Deep in the recesses of your realm you feel it. You hear it, the clatter of the Wheel of Karma and the unbothered smile on your face is frozen for the first time.

The nothingness of your realm was broken. Mahoraga was gone. Someone had dared to harm your creation without your divine consent. Someone had erased your creation challenging you.

The Void, renowned for its impartiality, responds to this breach with a profound shift in its essence.

In eons, your form is unchanged but for a flickering moment it glimmers with a light so bright that the Void is changed forever. The balance of the worlds was tipped and so was your restriction to your realm.

Your eyes gleam red with rage. You feel what parts of Mahoraga had once been contained in the Void now unbound. Rage, pain, and greed you get to know them better than any.

For what was taken from you, you were ready to burn the world. But most of all the curse that dared to challenge you. And the Void was no more.

[andy-wm]

Why Jungkook made an explicit version of SEVEN, and why we should be thanking him for it.

The answer to the first question is short:

Because he wanted to.

THAT'S IT, AND IT'S ENOUGH.

It's his song, his career, his voice, his time. It's his choice. He doesn't need OUR approval and he certainly doesn't need our permission.

I think we should be thanking him frankly.

Not just because he made a sexy song although I think it's more sweet than sexy personally but also because it's started so many conversations that I think we need to have.

And that's what is really on my mind, The conversations we need to have, not just about JK and his artistry and his choices, but also about ARMY. About us as human beings.

Let's start with him...

JK's Adult Life:

First thing for me is that JK is UNQUESTIONALBLY an adult. But he's a (relatively) young adult in an industry that's very judgemental, controlled, and tightly scheduled.

He may have money coming out of his wazzoo and millions of adoring fans, but he has limited personal freedom. It's sure as hell not an exchange I would make. I'd choose an average income and the freedom to walk down the street hand in hand with my guy without making headlines - every day of the week.

The fact that he has any kind of personal life is cause for celebration in my eyes. And like the 19+ version of the song, it should be his choice.

I hope it is what he wants it to be. I hope he does have s3x every day of the week if he wants it (and I'm quietly cheering him on) but I don't need to know. I'm not going looking for any information (gossip, let's be real) about that aspect of his life because it's none of my business.

JK's Artistic and Creative Choices:

The songs he sings, the photos he poses for, the choreo for his dances, the words he speaks... these are his creative expression. To an extent they reflect who he is as a person, but largely they reflect a concept or story he wants to tell with his music. I would really hate it if he started creating work with the aim of pleasing someone else (ARMY, or the media, or any other entity). To me that would mean he had lost his self-belief, and that his spirit was broken. It would be a sign that he was more motivated by fear of rejection than by his own desires and creativity.

Personally I love that he trusts us and shows us so much of himself through his art. If that ever changed, it would be a sad, sad day indeed.

Cool, that was easy

Now let's talk about ARMY - and for the purposes of this discussion, I'm talking about ALL OF ARMY but mostly in relation to JK.

ARMY - Our Diverse Fandom:

The fandom has a beautifully broad demographic. I love that about us. Of course it means we have differences, but if we acknowledge that and we respect each other's right to those differences, we are all good.

And because we are all fabulously unique individuals, it's a given that not everything JK (or BTS) creates will appeal to every one of us.

BUT...

We can support their right to make creative choices without engaging with the things that don't work for us.

If some ARMYs are uncomfortable with explicit lyrics, they can scroll past/skip/block songs that are outside their comfort zone.

If some of ARMYs are minors, their parents can supervise their media consumption (because that's their job as parents).

If some ARMYs feel that songs about making woopie aren't their jam, they can instead listen to other songs that are more to their taste.

Magic! Problem solved!

Not really...

We really do need to talk about S3X

ARMY, we are humans:

Most humans have s3x. As adults (hopefully), when we are ready (hopefully), and if we want to (hopefully).

So what's the big deal about an adult making a choice to sing about that? We were all fine with him singing about 'loving you seven day a week' but when he clarified what that meant, suddenly there was a crisis.

Is it the word F**K? Because if it is, that word is everywhere and it's honestly just a word. He's sung it before. RM sang it, YG sang it, JM sang it. And let's be real, Letto's lyrics were far more explicit and she didn't say that word once.

WARNING: REAL S3X TALK COMING UP.

Is it because he's explicitly telling us that he's sexually active? Did we forget he's an adult? Where do we think he learned to move his hips like that... yoga?

For the ARMYs who are shocked that JK is sexually active, where do you think you came from? We humans don't reproduce like flowers. You were also concieved. Your parents, your grandparents, your great grandparents, have all had s3x... probably many, many times because s3x isn't only about reproduction. It's also about human connection, pleasure, stress relief, and being an adult.

In his live, JK told us that he doesn't consider the explicit lyrics to be 'dirty' and that's awesome.

S3x positivity is healthy both physically and emotionally. Seiously, considering how much of our humanity is linked to this instinctive need, it would be so much better if we weren't conditioned to feel shame about it. If we were instead taught to talk about it comfortably, to express our desires, to understand our bodies, and to protect our rights.

I could go on and on about this (and about control, the patricarchy, and body autonomy) but let's just say that JK is right. It's not dirty, its not immoral. When consenting adults choose to do it with someone they trust it's f**king awesome.

If the term sex positive is new to you and you want to find out more, please do. It could make all the difference in the world to your happiness as an adult. There are many websites you can look at to get more information. This is just one.

Even if nobody else is going to, I am going to say THANK YOU JK for this opportunity to talk about s3x. It's an important part of being human!

*I'm censoring my language so the ratings police don't block this post.

*as always, opinions expressed here are my own.

[writingsfromstarfleet]

[TNG] Worf - All Along

♫ Thousand Years - Christina Perri

Klingon culture has long since been recognised as one of the most violent cultures to the outside. In every aspect, it seemed some form of shouting or fighting was at the heart of everything they did. To outsiders, perhaps it seemed that way. There was always a softer side to Klingons, however, one not many people saw in some. 

On away missions, it was handy to have a Klingon with you, and Worf was the perfect one to go along. He was knowledgeable and cautious, and always willing to protect should danger occur. However, he could fight too, far better than anyone you had ever seen. His skill in battle and in leadership made for a great away team leader.

His leadership and skill was also the reason you started having feelings for him, and that made you very uncertain. You were a human, and he was a Klingon. Interspecies romance was not uncommon, particularly now in the universe where infinite diversity in infinite combination was at the heart of most of the galaxy. But, you weren't sure of how Worf would react. He hadn't shown any interest in anyone, let alone yourself, and it left you wondering just how awkward these feeling were about to make the rest of your engineering career.

"Lieutenant Y/N? Are you alright?" A voice snapped you out of your daydream in Ten Forward, your drink long since watered down as the ice had melted. It was your friend, Data, and you shook your head at him.

"Yes, of course, thank you Data. Please, have a seat."

"Are you sure? You do not seem it. You have been staring at Lieutenant Commander Worf for five minutes. I am sure he will start becoming uncomfortable soon."

Your put your head in your hands and sighed. You hadn't even noticed you were looking right at his table the entire time you were zoned out. Laughing to yourself, you sipped your watery drink.

"Ahh, I didn't even know, I guess I'm hung up on a few things, Data. I can trust you, can't I?"

"Absolutely." He nodded and seated himself, sitting curt as always, ready to listen.

"Somethings changed between Worf and I these past couple of weeks. We started off merely away team companions, and it was fine that way, but now I feel like I want to know him better, even court him, as it were. But, I wouldn't even know where to start with that. I mean, just last week, he was reciting a poem he wrote to me before we said goodnight after a shift."

"Perhaps you should try throwing a vase at him, Y/N."

Your eyebrows shot up, utter confusion on your face.

"I.. I- huh?"

"Allow me to explain. When Lieutenant Commander Worf was reciting his poetry to you, he was expressing an interest in courting you. When Klingons find someone of which they would like to court or marry, one recites poetry whilst the other expresses interest in a violent manner, such as scratching, fighting or throwing things at them. This way, the intentions are clear for both parties."

You stared at Data, dumbfounded. "That is in no way, shape or form, clear. But, that is interesting to know, thank you."

Data stood, nodding. "Should you need me, I will be in the science bay. Good luck with that, Y/N."

As he left, you were left with much to ponder, and your eyes drifted over to where Worf was sat, and as you did so, his eyes met yours too. You smiled and nodded, and he nodded all the same. You noticed him leaving, and quickly jumped up to do the same. 

"Hello, Worf, uh.. would you care to meet me tonight in my quarters? I have some music I wish to show you, I think you would be interested. It's okay if not, I-"

"I will be there, your company sounds desirable. Until then, Lieutenant." And with that, he hastily made his way back to work.

The night rolled round and you were in your quarters, pacing. Nerves weren't your sort of vibe, and being a Starfleet officer meant they were pushed back on the job. But tonight, you were making up for all of that by experiencing every bit of nerves you could at the exact same time. The door chimed and your heart jumped, but you opened the door nonetheless. 

"Good evening, Worf, thank you for coming." Your voice was shaky, the uncertainty jumping right out. Worf wasn't fazed, and strolled in, awaiting the music.

"Good evening, Y/N, thank you for inviting me for the music display, I am looking forward to it."

A solitary voice in your head comes out. 'Ahh, fuck it.' 

As Worf turns to find a seat, you pick up the vase closest to you, one that stood on your tableside, and launched it in his direction, and it smashed right by his feet. As the security officer turned, you jumped at him and started to fight him. Worf swiftly changed the playing field and switched you around, and you dodged his attacks with surprising ease. The fight grew more tense as the two of you made it to your feet, his batleth out and you defending with a stick. Nimble and small, you manage to swoop round and trick him every now and then, and when he thought he had you, your legs took his out and you knelt down over him, sitting on his stomach almost, with your phaser at his neck.

"Y/N... that was incredible." Worf was slightly out of breath, but did still sound impressed. 

"Likewise, I hope Data was right about this," you started to look nervous, as you helped Worf up from the ground, a hand he graciously accepted. 

"Right about the vase?"

"Yeah, he-" you stopped. He knew? "How do you know about the vase?"

"I told him to tell you about a vase. I had a feeling you were interested in me, as you humans might say, and so I knew that if you were, you would go to him for advice because you are very good friends. The vase was rather specific, so I realised the moment you threw that at me tonight you had an interest in me."

"That was a very intelligent move, Worf. How did you know?" you inquired, puzzle on your face. You couldn't believe this was happening, no more than you could believe that Data had been playing cupid and wingman for Worf. 

"I can sense it, Y/N. You look at me differently, and when you are around me, you act different, too. It is not hard to tell."

You raised an eyebrow. "Am I that obious?"

Worf sighed. "No, Councellor Troi told me."

You laughed aloud, shaking your head. "And here I was, thinking you knew all along."

"I knew I was interested in you," he started, taking your hand and sitting you down with him on your chair. "But I did not think you would be interested in me."

"Why wouldn't I be? You're sure of yourself, strong, and you're great company. Gathering feelings for you was easy, dealing with them was the hard part, and the outcome has been the best."

You shot Worf a a smile, and he gave you one back, to the best of Klingon ability. He brought your hand to his head, pressing his lips against your hand. 

"Will you have me, Y/N?"

"I've wanted you all along."

[yamcha-thelonewolf]

What do you want Yamcha’s role in future works to be?

Nothing extremely relevant, really. Not because I don't desire it, but because the current path taken by Dragon Ball can never bring him to prominence as it once did. So, Yamcha has always been a supporting character, and not just in battle. This is enough to accept that his role in the whole story is simply and genuinely to be there. That would be something, and in fact in DBS we have seen a few appearances from him. Better than not seeing him, I guess, although I would have avoided some gratuitous humiliation. Yet any Dragon Ball fan knows that, fool or not, Yamcha cannot be missed. He was one of the first characters to come alongside Goku in his adventures, that friend we could all use, the one who with a dumb laugh gets us out of a bad mood when maybe he is down on his luck even more than we are. That's the point. Yamcha is a hidden character, there is a song by Toru Furuya that tells us about him in a different light, and I think this aspect is the most characteristic and fascinating element of the former bandit. Sadly by now the world knows him as the idiot of the team, the loser, the clown whose antics occasionally dampen the tension of the plot, but he is not just that. Well, basically this is what I would like. A little more respect. I don't demand that he be given an entire chapter in which he finally makes his point (although I wouldn't mind that!), but at least that he be returned to his own identity, the one that was perhaps naively given to him at the origin of Dragon Ball and that made him one of the most interesting and intriguing characters. Unfortunately, his characterization has been lost over time. Yamcha, like so many others, has been outclassed by other priorities, and that's "okay". The only thing I wish is that he would be recognized a little more, and I wish that in those little appearances he now makes he might say or do something intelligent, something useful, just as he used to do once between jokes. I mean, Yamcha was a living encyclopedia. He knew everything about everyone, he was an adept connoisseur of the martial arts, and that hinted at how captivated he was by them. There are so many signs to prove it, such as when in the filler he was quivering to punch during the baseball game or, more recently, when he helped out in the Moro arc. I simply wish he would also continue his training, perhaps with Tien, or Gohan and Piccoro, and above all believe in himself more since it seems that others don't do it as much. What Yamcha has always needed was recognition, and I'm sorry to notice how few times someone laid his hand on his shoulder to tell him he's a great guy.

From Dragon Ball FighterZ.

He is not like Tenshinhan who, despite the knowledge of his own inferiority, still manages to train and surpass himself. Yamcha is much more human: he has his own limitations, his weaknesses, his uncertainties, his sense of failure that does not keep him going. Nor is he like Krillin, who has managed to find a wife stronger than him who can spur him on and keep him active in training. For example, it would also be great if he perfected his style, deepening his wolf side or even better inventing a new technique, even more beautiful than the Spirit Ball. Well, anyway, if Yamcha cannot be made a better fighter, at the very least I would like to see him fulfill his wish: marrying a woman (or an alien) who does not make him feel wrong or inferior, but on the contrary can motivate him and chart a path for him that he has somewhat lost [I think I should also talk about Vidro, but not here]. Anyway, I know that love relationships are not the focal point of Dragon Ball, but it is also true that it was often, if not always, love that moved the characters. So why not please the one character who has officially declared over and over again that he only wants to fall in love and get married? It is sadly ironic as well as unfair. In conclusion, I think that giving him someone to love is the best gift that can be given to Yamcha. Yeah, even more than superhuman strength and satisfaction in battle. Then he would finally be a complete character and he might even go out of the picture... but at that point I'm sure many would miss him. Me for sure.

Just... Give this poor lone wolf a reason to not feel lonely anymore.

thanks for asking! 💕

[elysiansparadise]

Hi, I have a doubt with regards to astrology. I have my Sun in Taurus, Saturn, Jupiter and Mercury all in my 11th house in the sign of gemini. I've never had a lot of friends, never been community oriented and been a loner for most of my life... This is why I can never take astrology seriously. Cause my chart doesn't even resonate with me at the most basic level...May I have your thoughts on this, please?

Chart type: Western, Placidus

Hello, I would like to give you my point of view on this.

The first thing is to understand the basics. The 11th house is the house of Aquarius, so the energy is similar in some aspects. Aquarius energy, although it’s said to be extroverted, is a sign that is independent par excellence and usually needs time alone. 

A house covers different aspects of the native's life, so summarizing the 11th house to be the house of friendships or communities would be leaving various aspects aside. The next thing would be to understand that other aspects govern the 11th house. Here are some other themes that are attributed to this house:

🟫The internet and technology: This house can represent from how much time we invest in the internet, to how we project ourselves on the internet. A stellium in this house could indicate a person who tends to spend a lot of time using social networks or whose hobbies are related to the use of some technology.

🟫Our long-term goals: Being a house that is not only originally ruled by Uranus, but also by Saturn, the issues of both houses are mixed, in this case the plans [Saturn] and the future [Uranus]. This house can represent what your long-term goals are, how you feel thinking and planning in the long term, or what your criteria and priorities are when making a plan.

🟫Aspirations, ambitions and desires: It represents those things that you want to achieve, create or even be out of your own conviction and not because of what someone dictates to you.

🟫Earnings, wealth and sources of income: That's right, money is not only a matter of the 2nd house, this house usually represents both in Tropical astrology and in Vedic astrology what your main sources of income can be.

🟫The causes you support: In this case, they are the ones that you fight the most to support or the ones that you fervently defend, it can even indicate charity.

🟫How do you perceive humanity: It is a general vision of society as a whole, it indicates your opinions regarding the society in which you operate, the people and the world.

The next thing is to understand what effects having a Stellium in this house can have. It should be clarified that the Stelliums are neither good nor bad, rather they tell us about a sector of life that defines the native a lot or something in which the native focuses a lot throughout their life.

Feeling like an outsider: The native may feel that he does not fit in with people of his age, community or any group to which he belongs. A feeling of not being understood or integrated by others.

Ambition and desire to go far: It is likely that they manifest as a person who places high expectations on themselves and on what they want to achieve. They have long-term plans and want to do a lot of different things.

Anxiety and fear of the future: You may feel doubtful about the future and have a tendency to want to know what is going to happen. By having so many planets in a house that speak of the future, the native can focus too much on what is to come or it can happen that they limit themselves to living in the present.

Various economic incomes: These are people who are more likely to have either several jobs or obtain money in many different ways. They can be people who make money very easily [especially if Jupiter, Venus or Sun are involved]. It should be added that this can be when they start their professional life / when they are adults.

Popularity: This can be in their social life or in the internet world, natives can become recognized for some skill, for their charm or whatever they do on the internet.

The last thought that I will comment is that if you feel that you don't relate with Placidus, you can use whole signs. If we use whole signs and you have a Cancer rising, your planets in Gemini are placed in your 12th house, which could be more related to you, since 12th house energy is introverted and/or isolated.

Hope this helped, have a nice day ahead.

[blurredcolour]

More Than Words

Summary: The universe has granted humankind with The Great Gift – At age sixteen, the first words spoken by everyone’s soulmate appear on the inside of their forearm. Well…not everyone. Austin Butler is one of the few with an expanse of blank skin, and a hollow heart. Until a chance meeting with an accident-prone person changes everything.

Pairing: Austin Butler x Gender Neutral Reader – Soulmate AU

Warnings: Language, Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Discussion of The Power of the Universe, Mention of Surgery, Mention of Scars, Reader With A Disability, Minor Reader Injury, Eventual Fluff, No Mature/Explicit Details – Rating: T.

Author’s Note: After reading this incredible Top Gun Maverick - Hangman fic No Words by @a-reader-and-a-writer, I have been unable to move on from the incredible concept. All credit for concept and basis for the plot goes to them. Thank you @elvisabutler for your help with this one…and for making me actually write it for Austin Butler.

Full disclosure I am a non-disabled person and part of this is written from the point-of-view of a person with a disability. I do not share this life experience but have done my best to use neutral terms and to portray a human being who struggles with a negative inner voice – something I think is common across the spectrum of humanity. Please do not hesitate to reach out to me if you find any aspect concerning, I am happy to adjust as needed. Thank you for reading!

Word Count: 2256

Song Suggestion: More Than Words - Extreme

Unworthy.

Austin Butler had known that he was unworthy of a soulmate since the date of his sixteenth birthday. While all his peers had experienced a moment of pure magic as the universe scribed the first words their soulmate would say to them upon the inside of their forearm, all he had felt was a mere fizzle and his own skin had remained obstinately bare.

It was a fact that had been difficult for his mother to accept initially, resulting in numerous visits to doctors and knowledge keepers. As a child of divorced parents, it had almost felt inevitable to him when he was informed that this did indeed happen from time to time. The universe, in its infinite wisdom, had decided that he was not meant for anyone…nor was anyone meant for him.

Through his teens and twenties, it had not been much of an issue. The young, rebellious spirit lent itself to buck the traditions of older generations and the dictates of the universe. The desire to exercise one’s free will burned bright in age group. There were even a few years where thought he and Vanessa might truly make it, despite the words ‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes’ scrawled across her skin.

But as his twenties wore on, perspective changed. For one, his adolescent brain fully developed at the age of twenty-five, bringing with it reason, foresight, and a full understanding of consequences. As gradually his friends and colleagues had found their person, falling into their eyes in an unearthly stupor as their connections were made, the ‘great gift’, as it was called, became for him a great curse. It had become increasingly difficult to deny that the universe truly had the upper hand in all things, and his relationship with Vanessa had come to an end as she had decided it was time to find her person and stop playing house with him.

He had done his best to make connections with other people…trending towards those younger than him, those still in the throes of hormones and revolt against the pre-ordained. But these relationships all came to their inevitable end and more and more he found himself alone.

And so, work had become him most consistent companion. He dedicated all his efforts to flying all over the globe on job after job, filming part after part. With Bikeriders wrapped, he now found himself pulled in all directions in the heat of an Oscar campaign. At yet another party with another crowd of people fawning all over him. He managed to seize a lull in conversation to escape, finding his way to the bar and procuring a whiskey on the rocks.

He took a deep, soothing sip. The heat of the liquid scorching its way down his esophagus to briefly fill the space beneath his sternum. A space that was as empty as the skin of his arm.  He tilted the glass back to finish the last mouthful and set it back on the bar. Turning to survey the room, looking for Baz, his eyes came to rest on the form of someone he had never seen before. So, it was bewildering when his eyes seemed to snag upon them, refusing to be torn away.

He chalked up the fluttering of his heart, and tiny, sipping breaths, to the after-effects of the sudden influx of alcohol on an empty stomach. Yet he continued to watch as they took a step into the walkway just as a server was flying from the kitchen with a heavily laden tray of champagne for the toast Baz was supposed to deliver in a few minutes. He strode forward, trying to call out and warn them. But it was in vain.

With a dramatic clash, two people and twenty glasses of champagne were splayed on the floor. He hurried forward, inexplicably draw towards them.

“Are you ok?” He asked quickly.

Damaged goods.

Born with laryngeal atresia, a closed trachea and voice box, doctors had immediately made an incision in your throat and input a tracheal tube just to keep you alive. Your family was not particularly wealthy, and the surgeries needed to save your life had been an overwhelming financial burden that left no surplus to dedicate to giving you the ability to speak.

As a small child, aside from the constant surgeries, you had no concept that you were different than anyone else. But the cruelty of the school yard had been very effective at outlining that no one else was non-speaking. It was just you. It was impossible to not internalize at least a fraction of the prejudice directed your way.

A defective product for which there was no refund process.

For the most part, you had a normal life and high self-worth. The advances in technology made it easy for you to communicate in other ways. There was always pen and paper, and then with the advent of the smartphone and screen readers your options has only increased. But, in a world where everyone was eagerly searching for their soulmate, ordained by the powers of the universe, the idea of being found filled you with dread. Brought out the darkest thoughts you struggled to overcome, filled you with concern for what their reaction might be.

Perhaps if there had been an element of free choice about it, like before the granting of the ‘great gift’, then maybe you would have felt less trepidation. Less of a burden, one that was first foisted on your parents, and now waiting to be foisted onto your preordained person.

The words that had appeared on the inside of your forearm on your sixteenth birthday did nothing to quell your fears.

‘Are you ok?’

As if your soulmate finding out you could not speak was not intimidating enough – something bad was going to precede it. Bad enough for them to show concern.

You endeavoured to set it out of your mind. To get on with living your life, building your career, discovering and solidifying who you were as a person. Brilliant, successful, thriving. Fiercely proud of what you had accomplished in this ableist society.

You were also, unfortunately a bit of a klutz, able to trip over the pattern of a linoleum floor, and prone to misfortune. Aside from a plethora of bruises, fifty percent of an unknown origin, it had the unpleasant consequence of presenting you with those three words on your skin delivered by countless lips. A constant reminder.

And while your friends and family, as they found their soulmates over the years, assured you that it was more than words – it was a feeling – that tiny, cruel voice inside you continued to insist ‘or they just ran when they found out who you are.’

So, as you stood in the midst of this party in LA, armed with an alcoholic beverage in hand, you could not help the agonizing feeling that you did not belong here. In town to visit family, you had done your best to protest against your cousin’s insistence that you attend. But the entire extended family had insisted and provided you with an outfit to meet the cocktail attire dress code. Despite their pledge to stay with you, your cousin had been dragged off by friends promptly on arrival, and you had found yourself quite alone in a sea of stunningly attractive people.

After securing said fortifying beverage, you had found a supportive column to put your back against, not unlike prey in an exposed space needing any sliver of cover possible. It worked for the most part, and the few people who happened your way, trying to strike up a conversation, all turned to leave after you placed your fingertips against your throat and shook your head. Not even waiting for you to type out a reply on your phone. Quickly moving on to someone else.

Frustrated and more than ready to leave, you turned to take your now empty glass back to the bar when the blunt edge of something collided with the side of your upper arm. There was a string of curses, the chilly drench of freshly poured champagne, and the bulk of a body that followed, sending you into a dripping puddle on the floor. A minefield of shattered champagne flutes littered the ground around you, and the buzz that had filled the room was completely snuffed out as it fell utterly silent.

Aside from wet and cold, you felt mortified. The server began struggling to their feet, a flurry of apologies pouring from their lips as they frantically tried to clear the glass to prevent further injury to you. You turned onto your hands and knees, careful to plant your skin on the glass-free area of the floor that had been shielded by your body, before a pair of polished, leather boots stepped into view. You looked up and were stunned by the intensity of the brilliant cerulean blue eyes shining down at you in concern as their very lanky owner crouched down and outstretched a hand to help you up.

“Are you ok?” His honeyed Tennessee twang made you shiver as you somehow managed a nod.

Acutely aware of the fact that all eyes in the room were now gazing down at you, reveling in your misfortune, you quickly set your hand in his proffered one and gasped sharply at the feeling. A rather absurd image of a Christmas pudding, soaked in brandy, and lit afire came to mind. The way the luminous blue flame caressed the surface, without harming the dessert itself, was precisely how you would have described the feeling that erupted across your skin.

As his firm hand helped you to your feet, you straightened to see him staring at you in hushed awe. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as it felt like his fingertips were tracing along the words on the inside of your forearm, and you had to fight against the fluttering of your eyelashes to maintain eye contact.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He murmured, looking you over and tsking as he found blood pooling your palm. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He placed a hand on your lower back and guided you smoothly through the crowd to one of the single-stall washrooms. Leading you to the sink to rinse off your hand before he carefully inspected the cut to be sure there was no glass imbedded.

“Who are you…” He breathed in confusion, eyes frantically tracing the curves of your face, before shaking his head. “I’m Austin Butler, it’s nice to meet you.”

You offered a tremulous smile before fumbling to pull out your phone and quickly type your name before holding it out to him to read.

His brows furrowed and he looked at you slowly. “Can you not…speak?” His eyes suddenly widened as all the implications of that crashed into his consciousness.

Your fingertips landed on the scar on your throat, and you shook your head. You hesitated a moment before slowly stretching out your arm to expose the words imprinted there.

You noted how his fingers shook as they reached out to brush against the question, looking to you sharply as the air shuddered from your lungs.

“But I’m not worthy, I don’t get a soulmate I…” He rambled, quickly rucking up the sleeves of his suit jacket and button-up shirt simultaneously to bunch at his elbow, revealing a blank, tanned space where the words should be…

You shook your head stubbornly and grasped his wrist, pulling his hand to lay against your throat before you mouthed the words ‘I’m right here.’ There was, of course, no sound, no vibration. But you did a very good job of forming the shapes of the vowels and consonants, making yourself clear with the addition of hand gestures.

“I’m right here…” He gave voice to your words in a hushed whisper before his fingers twitched around your throat, fingers tracing the edges of your surgical scars before holding you in place as he dove in to press his trembling lips against yours.

The sensation of shimmering flame flowed across your skin once more, and you quickly gripped his bare forearm for balance. You heard him inhale sharply through his nose before he pulled back to look you over intensely. Licking your lips as you eyed him thoughtfully, it was your turn to surge forward and kiss him fiercely.

He tasted of the whiskey he’d been drinking, with perhaps a hint of tobacco, and pure electricity. The salty tang of the tears stealing down both of your cheeks mingled into the kiss as his slid his arms around you to pull you closer. With the last functioning portion of your brain, you managed to recall the state of your clothing and you quickly planted your hands on his chest, locking your elbows to keep your distance.

You felt him tense and pull back to look you over quickly, sniffing. You smiled reassuringly, if a bit tearfully, and gestured at your clothes before collecting a bit of the fabric between your fingers and wringing out some champagne onto the floor. He immediately relaxed as the droplets sounded against the tile floor and kissed your forehead tenderly.

“Let’s get you some clean clothes. Then we have a lot of catching up to do. And I, I need to get a tattoo.”

You tilted your head, eyeing him curiously.

“I’m right here.” He murmured tenderly, trailing his forefinger along his, for now, blank skin.

Post-script: If the spelling of ‘whiskey’ gave you pause, you’re not alone! Whiskey is the spelling for grain spirits distilled in the United States and Ireland. Whisky is the spelling for grain spirits distilled in Canada, Scotland, and Japan. Because the top grain spirit for 2022 is an Irish Whiskey, I have chosen this spelling for Austin’s beverage. Thank you for coming to my alcohol nerd talk.

[sinfullyrosey]

Smut Headcanons - Malleus

Disclaimer: Some headcanons listed may go against what is typically expected of fan interpretation of the character, so unpopular opinions and results may vary. Also, these headcanons are written with a GN!Reader in mind, so Malleus’s partner can be male, female, or other.

To start things off, our dear ‘ol dragon fae prince is a Sub/Switch, meaning that he’s willing to give or receive and play whatever role his partner desires of him. But, in his heart of hearts, he’s a total sub. He wants to make his partner happy, so tends to prioritize their needs over his own, but secretly wishes for his lover to dominate him, not the other way around. The same can be said for him referring to receive.

Further Notes: Due to his social status and rather domineering appearance, it’s usually assumed by most that’s he’s a dom. And in fact, some of his past suitors outright expected such out of him and would swoon over the thought of the dragon prince of Briar Valley absolutely destroying them in the bedroom.

What I’m trying to get at here, is Malleus just wants his partner to dominate and use him for once. Peg him. Please.

* Sorry to say, but he only has one dick (I’m so sorry my fello teratophilia fans, I swear I’ll make it up to you at a later date). But, on the bright side, his dick isn’t like a normal human one, so there’s that! It’s bigger and thicker than an average, human male’s, and darker in color. There’s these two sets of pointed (but not too sharp!) barbs lined on the underside that hit certain spots in his partner just right. The skin along his length is also thicker, having a texture that sort of resembles his scales in hardness, but is still soft and pliable. 

* His balls are also darker in color and match in size to his penis. He tends to have more semen compared to humans, so some will inevitably leak out of his partner. Malleus also has this very specific musk to him that’s rather strong to humans, but not so much towards other fae due to their heightened senses. It’s thick and is described as being a bit smoky or like burnt wood, yet sweet. Some would describe it as alluringly pleasant, while others gag at the stench.

Now, onto the kinks/fetishes! Overall, Malleus doesn’t have a whole lot of kinks, as he views sex as more of an intimate moment shared between him and his beloved. That’s not to say certain things don’t get him riled up, just that he doesn’t understand the purpose of adding extra details to something that at it’s baseline is about being vulnerable. He’s a softy and prefers to focus on more sensual and intimate aspects, rather than the strictly sexual ones. With that said though...

Size Kink: Gonna get the easy one out of the way here. Malleus loves partners who are smaller than him, which isn’t hard to find ‘cause he’s so damn tall, but he especially loves those that are much shorter than him. It plays into his protective side and awakens something in him when he sees his partner struggle to fit his dick in their mouth or hole. Hell, he can’t help but let out a chuckle when they wrap their hands around his member and their fingers don’t even touch! There’s just something amusing to him about this tiny, little being trying desperately to match him in the bedroom. It especially gets him hard ‘cause it actually works and he’ll gladly let them make him kneel before them (again, he’s a sub). It’s also fun to be able to hold them ‘cause they just so tiny compared to him. Post-sex cuddles.~

Pegging/Anal (Receiving): *Deep Inhale* Malleus wants to get rammed so hard in the ass you have no idea- *Ahem* Anyways, Mal very much enjoys having his asshole fucked simply because it feels so good and he likes when his partner is able to get rough with him. He can take it all and more, and actively encourages his partner to do so to him. It’s also one of the ultimate ways of showing dominance, so the thought of his smaller partner pushing him down on his back, forcing his ass to stick up as they ram their dick (real or fake) into his hole repeatedly and mercilessly, is just delectable to him.

Teasing/Praise Kink (Receiving/Giving): Mal isn’t one for degrading his partner or being degraded himself. Sure, he likes to tease and rile up his beloved, but the moment either side starts hurling insults, he’s turned off. He much prefers loving praises or light teasing to outright insults. This can include his partner poking fun at the fact that the “All powerful Malleus Draconia, dragon fae prince and future king to Briar Valley is taken down by a mere human.” or “Wow Mal, your taking my dick so well, it’s almost like you were made to kneel. Some powerful wizard/prince you are.” They’re not outright insults, and are aimed at to assert his partner’s dominance over him. The same can be said about praise, though he enjoys being the one to do so towards his partner. It’s not uncommon for him to use all sorts of petnames like “beloved,” “my treasure,” “my briar rose,” “darling,” “my child of man,” “little one,” etc.

Kissing: I know this technically isn’t a fetish but I’m 100% convinced that Malleus is the kind of sap to be turned on when his partner kisses him on the mouth during sex, okay! He likes the intimacy and being railed by his partner, only for them to suddenly gently grab his face and plant a big ‘ol one on him, will make him nut faster than anything else. When all else fails, just kiss the big doofus!

Using His Horns Like Handlebars: Horns? I think you mean his partner’s own personal handlebars.~ Go on, grab his horns and use them to guide his head when he’s giving oral. Be rough with him and pull on them so his tongue or mouth delves deeper. He loves it. Grabbing a dragon’s horns isn’t something to think light of as it can be a sign of disrespect or lack of personal space. However, grabbing them can also be seen as something intimate since it’s a way of conveying dominance or affection. The horns themselves aren’t sensitive, but the feeling of his partner grabbing onto them for dear life and using them against him is hot.

Breeding Kink: Ah, yes, the one like 99% of the fandom brings up, but this time around with a bit of a twist! Yes, part of his kink derives from a draconial instinct to make claim to his mate and ensure an heir. However, the actual reason is much more wholesome-ish. Ever since Malleus was little, he felt isolated and alone due to others fearing him due to his species and status (and later on his magical abilities). So, when he met his partner, who showed him nothing but love and acceptance, not fear and disgust, he latched onto that. He wanted to keep this person close to him, forever. He wants his own happily ever after like from those silly, little fairytales Lilia used to read to him. He wants a family to share with his lifelong partner. He wants children, children that are his, who are dragon fae like him, so that he won’t feel so alone anymore. The thought alone fills him with such joy and heat, that his partner will be unable to miss the way his thrusts pick up in pace and strength. That very image is enough to drive him. And when he sees the aftermath, his partner, panting and sweating underneath him, his hot seed dripping out of their used hole, he can’t help but feel that he’s only that much closer to making his dream come true.

And to finally top all of these off, here are a few extra details about our precious dragon prince when it comes to the bedroom and his partner.

* Should go without saying, but he’s possessive. Not possessive in the sense that he’ll go yandere on his partner or anything. But more so in the way that he views them and how others treat them. To him, his partner is his greatest treasure. They outshine all the gold and jewels in his horde (of which, they stand at the top of the pile, of course~). So, it’s only natural that he’s rather protective of them, especially if they happen to be a magicless human with no self defensive skills what-so-ever. And while it usually goes unnoticed by everyone around them, it becomes rather clear once you witness him wrap an arm around them protectively at a gala, hiding them away from the judgmental, prying eyes of those who disapproves of his partner. This later will translate to the bedroom.

* It’s inevitable, but eventually his more draconial features will slip through in the bedroom. The more pleasure he feels, the harder it is for him to hold back, and soon he’s got a pair of wings sprouting out of his back and a long, scaly tail wagging behind him. His claws sharpen, pupils thinning into slits, and ebony scales painting his body like a canvas. And yes, he has a long, forked tongue, but that’s present at all times. ;3

* Dude never verbalizes it, but he prefers the actual foreplay and buildup towards sex, rather than the actual act itself. He feels more happens beforehand and that most of the pleasure is felt before he blows his load. The same could be said about the aftercare, as he gets to come down from his high and relax with his partner. Pillow talk, cleanup baths, cuddling, that’s his shit.

* His favorite parts of his partner are their eyes, comparing them to glassy jewels that sparkle whenever he looks at them. Doesn’t matter the color, they’re all jewels to him. He also enjoys their hands, finding it charming how so much smaller they are compared to his and will gently hold them in his. For a more sexual approach, he also loves thighs and hips (also bottoms but not quite as much) and loves to run his hands along them. But ultimately their hands and eyes is what grabs his attention the most.

* Listen, you didn’t hear it from me, but a secret erogenous spot of Malleus’s is at the base of his tail, right where it meets his backside. You scratch it and he’ll immediately be melting with a rumbling moan.

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

So in Lycoris Radiata you’ve mention how all the divine warriors had religions dedicated to them so like ceremonies ? Sacrifices ? Or temples ? I mean we kind of witness one of the werewolf cubs being sacrificed to the destroyer. Also you’ve done a very excellent job so far on the details of the different religions.

Tysmm!!! I do try :)

TW/CW: more adult themes mentioned, cannibalism, orgies are referenced at the end, menstruation mention, purposeful burning of oneself or a loved one, fantasy racism, religion talk, specific references to Christianity, animal/human sacrifices, mass death.

if there's anything i missed, please let me know

Worship of individual divine has slowly dwindled over time, still present but not as prevalent. Most divine worship has The Matron as the head of the religion, and treats them as a pantheon as opposed to singular entities. If someone worships a divine, they typically worship The Matron most of all, with the other divine being situational worship. This doesn’t apply to everyone, there are those who worship specific divine, mostly travelling Merchants who worship The Wanderer or scholars that worship The Keeper. In the years prior to LR, it was especially hindered by the introduction of a very eager High Priest.

Worship of The Destroyer is not considered to be an aspect of Divine worship. He is separated from all celebration of the saints, by those who worship him and those who don’t.

they're in colour order because i did it by accident at first and just went 'Fuck it'.

I also didn't proofread after, so... if anything doesn't make sense, whoops.

The Admirer

The admirer is a lesser-worshipped divine, unless done in conjunction with his wife and lover, The Matron. He is often prayed to by star-crossed lovers, or those faced with unrequited affections, in hopes that his blessing would will the pair together. He's also a favourite of incels, due to a number of reasons. Gene's very fond.

His temples are often smaller, held in the gardens of the Matron’s own churches, and most often he is worshipped at hastily built shrines and the statues of him with his other half. His temples are usually white marble pavillions, decorated with red roses and candles.

The concept of worship of him varies from place to place, some areas believing that newlyweds should consummate their marriages upon his altars in order to ensure fertility, others believing that individuals must sacrifice to him their pain, to suffer for their love as he suffered for his own. A more common practice is the burning of a piece of paper with one's lover's (or attempted lover) name written on it, to send a message to the saints for what they desire.

Most newlyweds under the faith of the Matron will kneel upon small, sharp pebbles as their wedding is officiated, in an homage to the tales that The Matron and the Admirer eloped whilst kneeling in the ruins of Scaleswind in the midst of the War. The couple will often keep a bloodied stone and pass it along to their children, as a way for their descendants to boast the strength and longevity of their lineage. Those who keep multiple stones are thought of as overly ambitious, and is usually only done by those of noble or lordly lineage.

Much of his history as a warrior has been lost in favour of the ‘knight in shining armour’ stereotype as The Matron’s lover. Even the creation of the Jury is presented as a gift to The Matron, instead of what it truly was. Only one statue of him presented as a warrior remains in Brightport, beside a statue of The Protector, within the halls of their Guard Academy.

The Matron

The Matron’s worship is often done in churches and Cathedrals, very heavy handed with the comparisons to Christianity lmao. Her religion is the main religion, so all of her laws apply to everyone else, regardless of who they believe in, but most of all they apply under the roof of her churches. Crimes that are ignored elsewhere are punishable by death in the houses of the Matron. because she'd dramatic. Her largest cathedral is in O'Khasis, though many of her followers pilgrimage to the cathedral in Scaleswind, due to it containing the only statues of her that were carved during her life.

Her religion holds no sacrifices, for it is believed that you must sacrifice yourself to her, devote your entire being to her, and so on. Plus, animal/person worship is very... old god-worship coded for them so they avoid it. Or at least they do in larger churches and communities.

Ceremonies are pretty vague, they wanted worship of her to be very ‘accessible’ and so they tried to avoid anything specific, in case certain cultures were turned away from the religion due to it’s practices conflicting with tradition. Ceremonies worship the coming of spring, with bright colours and loud music, the first birth of the season with a community-wide festival and the ‘blessing’ of the newborn with a name ‘chosen by the Matron’. Major life events are worshipped with some kind of song and dance, and decorative garb, but death is strictly avoided. There are private blessings, that’s all. There is nothing to worship in death to them, though back in the ye old days, death was celebrated by her worshippers most of all.

One celebration that is kept by smaller communities but not by larger ones, due to how 'distasteful' it is, is celebrating a period. It's a remnant from older times, and whilst larger communities that worship the Matron looks upon periods as disturbing or a sign of an empty womb, in smaller communities it is viewed as a sign of health. Malnutrition can shorten or even entirely remove the presence of a period, so in communities where food is in short supply, for someone to be so well fed is a blessing. An individual's first period is often given a little ceremony, and a sacrifice is made to 'reunite the blood of the person with the blood of The Mother'. Maybe a little weird, but fuck you, religion is funky as fuck (/aff)

The Protector

The Protector is one of the most worshipped Divine, as he is the patron of the Guards (formerly joined by The Admirer). Statues of him are erected in most cities, and his symbol is worn by most guards and lords as a means of protection.

He has temples in most major cities, though they are less common in communities without heaps of expendable wealth, and they are often kept near rivers, lakes and oceans, due to multiple of his stories relating back to water one way or another.

As for sacrifices to him, they are most often items of protective value. Swords are thrown into the middle of lakes, armour tossed into oceans, shields left to drift down the lake, in hopes that each item would sink down to him, and show to him how little each item meant in comparison to the protection he could offer.

In some smaller communities, guards will smear blood over his altars after they successfully fended off bandits or raiders. Whether it is their own or that of the attacker, it depends. All bloodshed is thought to be a sacrifice for the Protector, if shed in the attempt to save oneself or another.

Obviously some ceremonies under the following of the protector involves coming of age (or, becoming old enough to be entrusted with the defence of your house), becoming a guard, and even your first scar. Scars are celebrated by those who worship the Protector, as it is thought that he himself weaves the scabs and scars over your injuries to keep you safe. That said, if you accidentally tear open a scar, or reagitate an injury, it's seen as a punishment from him for not being grateful enough for what help he had given.

Most of The Protector's ceremonies and celebrations are very low-key. He's not a particularly flashy guy (though his descendants very much are). Most of it includes submerging in water, or having running water spread over one's face/hands/injury. His followers also often wed whilst standing in shallow rivers and streams, so that he may be as much of their wedding as they are, and for this reason weddings also don't tend to be particularly fancy. Nothing worse than getting a super expensive dress all soggy.

The Keeper

The smart-man's saint, he who the scholars swear to when another does not quite grasp a subject quite as well as they should.

All libraries, places of study, academies or archives are his domain, and so it is only fitting that his temples are lined floor-to-ceiling with books and scrolls, and knowledge. The biggest one is far north, in the stretch between Ru'Aun and Yggdrasil, the field of the gods. It's a long-since abandoned area, but the temple stands proud and tall, a tower filled with every shred of knowledge from that time and all times before it. Scholars set out with the intent of finding it, and return broken men or not at all. The Field of the Gods was abandoned for a reason, after all.

keeping everything to Ru'aun, there's not much to say for Ru'auni Keeper ceremonies. There are obviously those which appoint scholars to their towers, but worship of the keeper is generalised to those places which can afford to care about knowledge. Smaller communities worship him little, knowing survival is more important than smarts, and so the only practices for him are the 'savoury' ones that the Church of The Matron support.

Anyone who claims to be truly devoted to him think of him less as a god to worship, and more of a model to follow. They ensure they say nothing but the truth, unless it is in the name of gaining knowledge, and they protect books and information with their very souls. That said, as many of these scholars are under the employ of the church, they will burn whichever books that Zane desires. The will of the Matron overpowers that of the Keeper.

The Wanderer

He is surprisingly well-followed. He is the patron of Travellers and Merchants, of orphans and the homeless. Anyone who finds themselves between places, or travelling for any period of time, they will have some form of worship for him.

He has no temples, temples are too permanent, but travellers will often erect small shrines for him along popular paths and cross-roads, so that, if in need of guidance, one of his followers may find him. Many will carve his symbols into trees to guide the way out of forests, or scribble his symbol onto their maps so that he may never let them get lost. Boats will have it painted on their masts, so that the wind may carry them where they are intended to go. Everywhere is a temple of the Wanderer, as long as it leads to someplace else.

Following the Wanderer is very much a... personal practice. Whatever gets you forward. And that's all he teaches, going forward, getting from a to b, and continuing on from there. Of course, there are generalised practices, but no set-in-stone ceremonies. Some sailors may consider drinking big and making a fool out of themselves to truly savour the success of a trip to be a ceremony to bless him, others may think that travelling in itself is all the ceremony he needs.

The most common practice is dedicating meals to him, when that meal is consumed in the midsts of a travel, or to continue one on forwards. The meal sustains their adventure, as their faith in him does, after all. However, some will go to uncomfortable lengths to ensure there is a meal to dedicate, fearing that their travels may end soon without his interference, one way or another.

The Fury

The Fury, whilst widely worshipped in Tu'La, is a saint with little following in Ru'Aun. The church of The Matron does not support the direct worship of her, due to O'Khasis' long and complicated history of beef with Tu'La, but there are those that worship her anyways.

Immigrants and refugees from Tu'La make up the bulk of her worshippers, and as thus most of her practices are Tu'Lan ones. There are no temples for her, but the statues of her with the other Divine, and the shrines that her few followers are able to put together. There are also some werewolf communities that follow her, due to many Meif'wa refugees being forced out of human cities out of fear that they're just like the werewolves, so they join their fellow misunderstood animal-esque brethren.

Those born into the faith often have to walk over hot coals/sand/etc until there is a visible burn on the soles of their feet, so that they might always be one with her, when they come of age (usually mid-to-late 20s, in Tu'Lan culture, though those in Ru'Auni communities usually bring this to about late teens/early 20s instead.). Those who convert into it often have it done during their conversion, though many like to differentiate between the born-into and the converted, so the burns are put on their hands instead.

There are many ceremonies lost due to it being a religion that relies on the word-of-mouth of refugees that aren't given many opportunities to learn Ru'Auni before they go to the continent, but those that remain are often fire-filled and beautiful. Tattoos are given to show the life events of an individual, scars are burned into their skin for their every holy deed, so they might show off to others just how much they do for their god.

They consider themselves merciful, though others don't. One of their ceremonies is a 'blessing' ceremony, where they tie all of their enemies and prisoners to an unlit pyre, and have their own most devoted soldier be set aflame and walk into it. They believe that she blesses people for a more holy realm after they pass through her flames. Obviously others just go 'ah shit gonna get burnd'

The Destroyer

The Destroyer, Judgement, The Ancient. He has as many names as he does different followers. His worshippers follow most closely to the worship of the old gods out of any Divine (Menphia is a close second), and whilst there may not be many compared to the Matron's followers, they are varied.

All of his temples in the overworld are long-since destroyed, every statue of him defaced or removed entirely from where they once stood. To the people, he never existed, but as a boogeyman to scare children with, but those with any semblance of power, or who live outside of the protective walls of the major cities and towns, know that he is present. always. The few temples he has are old churches of the Matron's, which were either abandoned or taken, and repurposed into a domain for the Destroyer. They hold no idols of him, but they do have an altar. Even if they need to make the altars out of broken tables, or the corpses of those they killed, there *will* be an altar.

Any death to brace Judgement's altars is a good one, whether it be of one of his own followers, a rabbit hunted for food, or even the corpse of something long-dead. Humans, especially those of power, are preferable however. considering, y'know. ommy nommy. They give him these deaths not to ask anything of him, but to give to him more power, so that he might rise again and become their one and true king. That is all they want, all they desire.

They hold celebrations for new births, for coming of age, for first kills and first scars. They worship death beyond what any other religion might, and they view the hunt as the natural intersection between life and death. How they celebrate varies, but it is always at night, to emulate the Abyss that their god is trapped within. They can be as small as gifting jewellery, or as big as huge cannibal-feast orgies. I would love to go into this religion more bc it's my most developed but this is a long ass post as is, i'm keeping this as short as i can lmao. i have other posts on stuff too so...