#it’s about the original sin it’s about the cursed from birth

[rawliverandgoronspice]

behold: my least favorite string of words in the entirety of Tears of the Kingdom.

[vagabond-umlaut]

every rose and its 'twin prickles'

Or: you and the two fearsome monsters, your knightly husband must wage a war against everyday, for the sake of a glimpse of you.

▸ dad!gojo satoru x mom!reader; 1.45 wc; fluff, fluff, gallons and gallons of fluff; a pair of cute, possessive and too-wise-for-their-age babies who love their mama wayyy too much; poor miserable deprived 'toru; sprinkles of humor too added in there; implied no curses!au

▸ i dump the blame of this on @afortoru's shoulders. A, look what you made me do ▸ writing this genre for the 1st time! characters, image or divider used aren't mine. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Do you know what’s the best thing about work? 

Every evening it ends early. 

Do you know what’s the best thing about home? 

Every evening you’re there.   

Walking into the barely-lit flat, a soft smile lights up the expanse of Satoru’s face as the quiet sounds of snoring float over from the bedroom. Dumping the bag on the sofa and shrugging off the coat, the man moves silently further into the apartment – weary mind conjuring images of you in an oversized black tee [of his], curled into yourself in the king-sized bed, the cutest little pout on your lips as you babble in your sleep – then pauses, a hand on the doorknob.  

Two pairs of blue eyes sparkle at him from the almost-darkness of the room.  

Satoru closes the door behind and slumps against it.  

Two matching grins aim at his heart from the human blanket over your form. 

Sharp. Shrewd. Cruel. 

You wrap an arm round each of those two monkeys – the latter back here from their grandparents', two days before schedule.  

Ten years ago, were anyone to tell Satoru there would be a day in the future when he would have to fight for you, only to taste defeat, again and again and again, the man would have emptied his glass of champagne on their clothes, then kicked them out of the reception party. 

Yet, now... as he trudges closer to the door and extends a hand to brush a few wily wisps of hair away from your forehead – only to have it slapped away harshly by a little palm – he can’t help but wonder what sin he committed in his previous birth, to have received an angel like you as his wife, but two demons like them for his children.  

Sachiko, the older of the twins, glares up at her father. “Papa, no!! Mama’s sleeping,” She whisper-yells, eyes darting from him to you than back to him, lips tugged down in a scowl, the likes of which he has only seen in a mirror. On your other side, a mop of white hair nods, albeit not without a tiny yawn – Sachiro’s definitely inherited your sleepiness in a rainy weather.  

Satoru lifts an eyebrow in return. “I can see that, you two. Now go, play with your toys or something. I wanna cuddle with my wife.” 

“But we too wanna cuddle with Mama,” Sachiko retorts as she slips out from under your arm and sits up on the bed. The tiny ponytail on her white head stays in a complete disarray; your husband watches your daughter tug at it a couple of times, frowning, before she gives up, returning her glower to him as she continues, “So, you can’t cuddle with her. Mama is ours now.” 

Your son again gives a small “yes” at her words, followed by a yawn – a reaction which Sachiko doesn’t deem to be enough, apparently, given how she throws a glare his way next. “Hey, whose team are you on, dumbo? Mine or Papa’s?” 

The answer arrives in an instant, in the most matter-of-factly voice possible from a five-year-old. “Yours, obviously. I don’t want Papa to steal Mama away. She’s ours.” 

The smug grin directed his way next makes Satoru want to flick two foreheads pretty hard – but he doesn’t. Any rash or impulsive action can only do him more harm now, driving him further away from his goal.  

So, cogs whirring in his brain, he crouches down to his kids’ eye level and smiles.  

“What do you think of a compromise, kids? Why don’t you make a deal with me?”  

Two pairs of blue clash with the original pair of blue for a while, suspicion in one, suspicious curiosity in the other, while challenge swirls in the last; before a huff breaks the staring contest and your daughter folds her arms across her chest. Exchanging a glance and a nod with her, your son too sits up and announces, “Okay, we’re interested. What’s the deal?” 

Your husband lets out an internal whoop of victory. 

“Belgian chocolates in exchange for a cuddling session with my wife.” 

“Bleh!” Sachiko makes a disgusted face – something which takes him back to his younger days when Suguru and Shoko used to imitate his expressions – and whines, “They are so bitter, yuck! Suggest something better.” 

“A doll house for you and a car for Sachiro, if that’s the case.” 

The latter is the one to turn down this time. Tone brimmed with disappointment – something he can only ever learn from you – he says, “But you just bought us one last month, Papa! Mama always asks you to save money... why don’t you ever listen to her?” 

A knife of guilt lodges itself into his heart and twists. Satoru sighs. “I do... I try to, always, but you two make it so difficult for me to! Why are you like this? Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her? She is as much my wife as much she’s your mom.” 

“We know,” The addressed two answer in unison with sage little nods of their head. The girl continues with a grave expression matching her brother’s, “But we can also ask you the same, Papa. She is as much our mom as she’s your wife. Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her?”  

“Besides, you spent five extra years with her, before we were born. We just want to make up for the time lost,” Sachiro chimes in with a pout. “Tell us, Papa,” The two again speak in a heart-wrenching chorus, “Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her?” 

“The kids are right, y’know?” A mumble pops the gravity of the situation at hand, and Satoru looks down to find you awake, cracking an amused smile at them. He huffs, rising from the floor and plopping on the bed next to you, arms folded against chest.

“Can’t believe I am so unloved and unwanted in this world. My kids don’t love me. They don’t listen to me. My wife too doesn’t love me. She never supports me. Welp, got to be the unluckiest to be in my shoes right now, I guess.” 

Your husband pauses, giving a small break for the words to sink into everyone, before you let out a long exhale and send him a minor twitch of your lips. Sachiko moves to pat his head, the same moment Sachiro reaches over to clasp his small arms around his neck. You too rise and embrace him from behind, placing a small kiss in between his shoulder blades.  

“Y’know, it’s not like that,” You say, placing your ear on his back, “Just ’cause the kids love me more doesn’t mean they don’t love you. And it’s not even your fault – my personality is so awesome, everyone can’t help but adore me the moment they see me – isn't that right, babies?” 

“Right, Mama,” A pair of wonderstruck voices ring out in reply to your jocular question – you continue in the same note, with another kiss, this time on the nape of his neck.

“And because your awesome Mama’s asking you now, will you two be good babies and let Papa too sleep here with us? Look at him: he’s so tired and sad. You don’t want your dearest Papa to be sad and tired, right? You will let him cuddle with us, won't you?” 

Satoru watches the twins look at each other for a second, then the younger acquiesce, “Papa can cuddle with us. That’s okay, maybe.” The two then proceed to shoot a particularly sharp look at him; one he responds to with a cheeky smirk, which disappears into a soft smile when he feels you manoeuvre his face towards yourself, a light grasp on his chin.  

“See, the kids agreed. Now, are you feeling loved and wanted?” 

“Infinitely more,” He replies with a peck on your lips – however, before he can deepen the kiss a tad more, you bring him into a sleeping posture beside you, the kids immediately piling on top of the two of you. You offer him something between a cute pout and a sorry smile, which earns a wink from your husband. 

Turning to one side, Satoru drags you, Sachiko lying on top of you and Sachiro lying in between him and you, into himself, letting him be lulled to sleep by the melody of your laughs and your kids’ half-hearted harrumphs.

  

Do you know what’s the best thing about life? 

Every tiniest bit of it he gets to spend beside you, the light of his life, and the two imps, your and his love brought into this world – even if he knows he’s going to get kicked out of bed the very microsecond you fall asleep again. 

▸ masterlist

[devildomwriter]

Satan Birthday Special 100 Fun Facts

1. Satan was born from a combination of Lucifer’s intense wrath and him tearing off his wings, this gave Satan flesh for a body

2. Physically, Satan is the youngest but he is ranked fourth as he is fourth strongest of the seven brothers

3. Satan often fears he is nothing but a lesser copy of Lucifer

4. Satan’s wrath was so out of control after his birth his brothers did anything they could to stop his rages, including tying him in chains and stuffing him in a locker, knocking him out, or holding him underwater until he passed out

5. When Satan discovered cats he burst into Levi’s room demanding to know more about this

6. Satan believes Leviathan is mature in the way he focuses on other people’s opinions

7. Satan has always been a demon and accepting wrath as part of who he was so he did not struggle with his sin like his brothers did

8. Satan treasures the first things his brothers ever gave him

9. Satan’s tail is spiky and you can be injured touching it if you aren’t careful

10. Satan gets angriest over petty inconveniences

11. Simeon believes that Satan always only wearing one sleeve of his jackets is his way of rebelling

12. Satan has a tendency to overthink things

13. Satan does his best to avoid arguing with his brothers even when they annoy him

14. Satan is compared to a cat by his brothers due to his tendency to show up in completely random places when you least expect

15. Satan has connections in almost every industry as he’s easily able to socialize and make friends

16. Satan claims his books are organized in a way he understands

17. Once Satan’s books collapsed on him and he stayed there for several days relaxing

18. Satan enjoys the fine arts and likes going to art museums

19. Satan enjoys theatre and the opera

20. Satan easily gets his hands on rare and cursed objects to the point it impresses Lucifer

21. Satan has successfully cursed Lucifer several times. The worst of them being when he transferred his pain from Solomon’s cooking to Lucifer.

22. Satan originally looks down on manga but changes his mind after reading a bunch of manga Levi switched out in his room as a prank

23. Satan loves watching dramas and mysteries, especially Mid-Fall Murders

24. Due to watching crime shows regularly Satan believed that when dining in the human world you tell the waitress you’d like “the usual” and they’ll know what you mean

25. Although originally Satan complains he’s never beat Diavolo in chess, it’s implied he finally beats him in season 3

26. Satan has a major inferiority complex when it comes to Lucifer which causes him to often doubt himself

27. Satan is subscribed to Monthly Devil Architect’s Digest

28. Satan was once cursed to see everything as cats, he wasn’t the least bit bothered

29. Satan gifted Lucifer a scarf that was cursed to grow eternally

30. Satan doesn’t seem to realize how terrifying his anger is when he is visibly confused as to why his brothers are hiding

31. Satan has hoarded cats in the past and is no longer allowed to have any

32. Satan feeds a local cat he has named Sir Cat

33. Satan gives MC instructions on feeding many of the cats who come by serenity manor

34. When attempting to turn Simeon’s cafe into a cat cafe he “borrowed” a bunch of cats from witches. He was distressed when they were all returned to their owners.

35. Satan once fell asleep with a cat in public and ended up covered in Hell Zakura petals. Solomon thought it was cute.

36. Satan cursed a pizza deliverer for putting pineapple on their pizza

37. Satan desires to be on the receiving end of a loving headbutt by a cat in full force

38. Satan checks cat blogs before he goes to bed as they give him energy for the next day

39. Satan has to be told to stop using cat stickies as he puts them everywhere

40. Satan covered his and Belphegor’s laptops in cat stickers

41. Satan enjoys classical music, symphonies, and Ska music

42. Satan prefers food chunkier than smooth because it has more bite to it

43. Satan enjoys the bitterness of Dark chocolate

44. Satan has said his type is someone he can have a mutual understanding with when it comes to anger

45. Satan has had things thrown at his head multiple times in the game, some of these items include a pillow, a piece of trash, and a pile of pancakes

46. Satan hates baby talk, more specifically when Asmodeus uses it

47. Satan has inherited some of Lucifer’s memories and emotions

48. When Satan was cursed to stay close to Lucifer he would just stare and growl at Lucifer from the corner of the room

49. Satan’s antagonistic behavior towards Lucifer is somewhat compulsive as even he wishes he didn’t dedicate so much time to Lucifer but cannot stop himself

50. Satan let’s Belphegor sleep on his lap even though it annoys him

51. Satan learned how to read ancient human text from Solomon

52. Satan considers Mephistopheles an ally since they both dislike Lucifer

53. In a love survey on B’s Log Satan says he wants to “bind and monopolize” his lover and is the active one pursuing love

54. Satan cherishes relationship anniversaries and special dates of remembrance

55. In a relationship with obstacles, Satan chooses to face the difficulties with passion

56. When it comes to a lover, Satan said he would get jealous easily

57. Satan originally did not understand humans and assumed they’d all be fine receiving expensive items and gems as gifts and was angry when MC did not

58. Satan has ranked his favorite cat positions as stalk-straight tail, slow blink, making biscuits, head butting, and bellyflops

59. Satan secretly dislikes Green Peas

60. Satan is annoyed by the RAD Newpsaper Club account and has the notifications for it turned off

61. Satan says he tends to sleep on his stomach to avoid being hit in the face when his books randomly come avalanching down on him

62. Satan starts all his baths by washing his left arm

63. Satan’s daily activity is petting a cat

64. Satan’s dream is to have a cat

65. On sleepless nights, Satan calls MC because he finds their voice soothing

66. Satan’s motto is “Wisdom is the treasure of all generations.”

67. Satan’s rage emits so much energy it’s too much for humans to handle and can shake buildings and break things without getting near them

68. Satan sends cursed chain mail to Lucifer daily

69. When Mammon could only speak cat, Satan was called to help and he spent the day happily playing with cat toys with Mammon

70. Satan became enraged with Raphael when he was compared to Lucifer

71. Satan is very knowledgeable when it comes to the constellations and the specific stars among them

72. Satan believes Easter is the perfect excuse to throw eggs at Lucifer

73. Satan looks forward to fall as he believes it’s the best season for reading

74. Satan has trouble eating something if it looks like a cat

75. Satan always has a bag of cat treats with him wherever he goes

76. Satan seems to remember exactly where he left off in a book when he falls asleep reading. In an interview with B’s Log he says “Yesterday I was in the mood for The Complete Book of Cat's Paws, but I fell asleep on the Havana Brown page, around line no. 27.”

77. Satan sometimes hums the theme song to mid fall murders

78. Satan’s compliments often sound more like insults

79. Satan originally took Levi to be a nobody with no powers.

80. Satan once used Diavolo as a hostage

81. When Satan wanted to get MC a gift he offered to kill someone for them

82. Satan enjoys a railroad building mobile app

83. In the baseball game in the anime, Satan’s team lost 0 to 666 but Satan still claims it’s the game where he trumped Lucifer

84. Satan owns a book that can enter the memories of whoever first opens it

85. Satan built a life like snow sculpture of Lucifer out of spite, knowing Lucifer would feel uncomfortable

86. Satan once decorated the backyard with cat towers hoping it’d become a cat colony

87. Satan is the secretary of the RAD student council

88. Satan is the one who introduced the idea of second-hand/used bookstores to the Devildom.

89. Satan has a collection of priceless jewels that are rare in both the human world and Devildom. It’s not stated how he got his hands on them but he is alluded to being very wealthy by Leviathan

90. Believing they were lost deep in the forest, Satan initiated sex with MC but they were immediately after found by Beelzebub

91. Satan said if he was in a horror movie he’d be the silent killer “helping” the detectives and frame Lucifer for all the murders

92. Satan once got into a fight with Beelzebub over who liked Devilcat most

93. Satan once went to a riddle event with Solomon and MC

94. Satan bribed Barbatos with rare tea to let him go to the human world alone

95. In an interview with B’s Log he said his everyday small happiness is gaining new knowledge

96. Something Satan believes is absolutely not allowed in front of him is disrespecting cats and is quoted saying “Dare to make disrespectful remarks about cats in front of me. I’ll **** and **** your ****.” — B’s log

97. Satan’s three rules for his daily life are — Read books, play with cats, and make time for yourself

98. When asked if he prefers mature or child-like people, he states he prefers mature people and then immediately references Simeon

99. Satan is skilled with cooking stews and enjoys working with the variety of spices and herbs Barbatos gives him

100. Satan believes his composure makes him “cool” and that he only “very, very occasionally” loses his temper

[yanderes-galore]

Scenario with platonic yandere Itachi and a daughter darling he never knew about? Like, maybe he was yandere for her mother too and she escaped, gave birth in secret, and then the two of them meet for the first time years later on not so friendly terms.

Sure! Just letting everyone know I am not finished Naruto so I apologize if I get Itachi's character wrong in anyway. I watched a "The Life Of..." video and made the plot of this take place at any time.

A/N: UGH, Now I really want to see an interaction of Itachi's Daughter and Sasuke meeting!!! They'd probably be the Itachi hate club, ngl. "We collectively want this guy dead" kinda vibe.

Sins of The Father

Yandere! Platonic! Itachi Uchiha with Daughter! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Guilt, Lucid yandere, Manipulation, Angst, Itachi was yandere for your mother, Slight mature themes, Overprotective behavior, Kidnapping implied, Forced relationship (Your mother)/companionship (You).

Itachi had a feeling you wouldn't like him when he met you. He's a man who has done many hurtful things to those he loves in order to protect them. He really should've stayed at a distance and continued to observe others without interfering.

But your mother had driven him mad.

Itachi had once had a girlfriend before his many sins, yet when she passed he had found a new love. Your mother had managed to catch Itachi's heart. Even though he should've stayed away...

He couldn't.

He always wanted the best for her. He wanted to protect and love your mother. He wanted a family, to be her one and only.

He had even gotten close to the point of bedding her, a guilty pleasure he knew he shouldn't have indulged in. However, he and your mother were originally in love. He loved every second of it...

Then she learned the truth.

Your mother had learned he slaughtered his original clan. That he was a criminal. No matter how much he promised to protect her, to love her, she hated him.

But he kept her to himself no matter what.

Itachi felt bad deep down. It was a similar feeling to when he had to leave Sasuke to his own devices. Those he loved resented him... that was his curse.

He promised your mother the world. It was as though Itachi was searching for redemption within your mother. Unfortunately, while she loved him once...

She'd never love him again.

One day after a mission he came home to see her gone. His love had run from him, yet Itachi didn't give chase. He knew it was probably for the best. Even if his heart ached it was probably deserved.

Years pass by and Itachi feels his heart clench. He's stoic but he can't help it when he sees a mirror of his love in front of him. You have such angry eyes...

Your hate reminds him of Sasuke....

Itachi couldn't bring himself to fight you. Even after all of his sins he stays a pacifist. He just knows you're the daughter of his love.

Itachi wishes he knew his love was pregnant. He knows she never would've told him, yet he would want to help you the best he can to grow. However... without any of his help...

You stand in front of him, a strong Kunoichi, a dangerous hate burning in your eyes.

When you attack and he defends, Itachi can see your eyes clearly. At some point in your life you had even received your Sharingan. His heart throbbed for a moment, you really were his daughter...

Yet your mother was most likely deceased.

He stuck to the defensive when you attacked him. You had to have known you were related. Your mother must have told you about him....

He couldn't tell if you were attacking him because he was Akatsuki or because he was your father. It didn't seem to matter to you. He could tell from your rage you just wanted him gone.

It hurts... yet he's used to it.

He hates that you had to meet like this. Even when he wasn't around you, he still managed to harm someone he loved. For that reason... you don't deserve anymore pain.

Itachi was careful to only use Genjutsu when fighting you. He knew he should run from you, silence his emotions and leave. Although... you wouldn't let him leave...

He didn't want to leave you either.

Itachi whittled down your strength slowly. Even though you were his daughter, your power could not compare to his. He wondered if you ever met Sasuke... or what you both would do if you ever did....

When Itachi sensed your strength leave you, he made things quick. The older Uchiha is quicker than you, restraining you with a mix of tools and Genjutsu. He can see your eyes widen, trying your best to read him. You may even fear death.

Only for Itachi to find himself tugging the restraints to pull you closer.

He can see you freeze when he holds your face up, looking into your eyes. He observes your Sharingan, a thoughtful gaze in his eyes. Then... a ghost of a smile is on his face.

"I'm sorry we never properly met." He sighs, "Your hate for me is justified, In fact you'd get along with my brother just fine."

You stare at the older Uchiha, he can see your hate simmer for a moment. He sighs softly, releasing his grip on your chin to sit beside you. You're all he has to remember his love by....

"I never meant to harm you or your mother." Itachi admits, pain evident in his eyes. He's slowly dying yet life still managed to give him you. "I wish I could've been a father to you... I'd love you forever."

He finds himself tapping your forehead, amused at how tired and shocked you look.

"In fact..." He whispers, ignoring the ache in his heart. "I love you now. That will never change."

"You don't know me." You hiss, snake venom in your tone.

"I know..." Itachi murmurs. "But I loved your mother."

"I'm not her. She didn't love you." You respond back, Itachi going silent. He wasn't delusional. He knew you spoke the truth.

But he hugged you anyway, even if you hated it.

"I'm glad I met you." Itachi sighs, proud of you even if he only ever hurt you. "You're all I have to remember what I could've had."

You almost feel bad for him. Itachi didn't cry, but his tone was depressing. You could barely believe you were related....

Before you're able to say anything else, be that something spiteful or genuine... Itachi knocks you out. He makes it quick, carefully catching you when you slump against him in your restraints. Itachi is a man of many sins...

Yet he couldn't leave you... not when you brought up memories of more pleasant times.

"I'm sorry..." He apologizes to your limp body, holding you close. "Please allow me to stay like this a bit longer, my daughter."

It's then Itachi stays still, embracing you tightly...

If only things were different... if only he didn't hurt all those he loved.

If only he stayed away from your mother.

[epicfroggz]

Would love to see more of your Messmer/Abyssal takes, it’s just really, really fresh and interesting!

Thanks y’all for the asks, I’ll be answering these under one roof since they work for a broad thematic post! On the subject of Messmer’s

Disorder

(long post ahead!)

Definition 1: “The disruption of peaceful and law-abiding behavior.”

If the law is the Golden Order, then the Abyssal Serpent represents the opposite of that, Shadow and Disorder. Seen in the contrast between his two phases: phase 1 Messmer is disciplined like his army, a little bit dramatic, and tired of his role in this charade. His lines are practiced and the way he says his own name worn out. Yet, my purpose standeth unchanged… Phase 2 Messmer, on the other hand, drops all such pretense, his strikes and movements becoming wild and exceedingly violent as he thrashes and twists and crawls upon the ground like the base serpent he is. He sheds all regard for his own safety, like Guts donning the Berserker armor—and the similarities don’t end there. Messmer’s beast of darkness may take on a serpentine shape, but it certainly still represents his hatred, bloodlust, and desire for revenge. Revenge, in this case, against the mother that imprisoned him—a curse upon thee. All his suffering and pent-up negative emotions that he has pushed aside for her sake have been concentrated into one being, and now he will inflict that pain upon you. Embrace thine oblivion, as shall I.

So no, the Abyssal Serpent is certainly not peaceful nor law-abiding; Messmer has forsaken the Order, and embraced his natural state of disorder. Become wild, and free. Returned to the shadows from which he draws his true power—that which made god herself fear him.

And that begs the question—why? Why does he exist? Why did Marika birth such an accursed child, the antithesis to everything she is trying to create?

“A curse upon the strumpet’s progeny, upon Marika’s children each and all.” (Hornsent Grandam dialogue)

“The seduction, and the betrayal. An affair from which Gold arose. And so too was Shadow born.” (DLC Story Trailer narration)

The Hornsent believe Marika’s ascension a betrayal. Their suffering, alongside Marika’s own suffering at the fate of her people, both coalesced into the twisted immaculate conception of a son. Messmer, son of Marika, who carries the burden of all their curses and despair, and keeps company with the original sin. This was the Greater Will’s “gift” to Marika upon achieving godhood—and so too was Shadow born. A painful reminder of where she came from, what it took to get here—and, since with his flame he could destroy everything she built, a reminder of her place. She is, as much as Miquella would have been, a divinity caged. (Reason #326 why Marika had Messmer sealed away in the Land of Shadow…)

Definition 2: “An illness or condition that disrupts normal physical or mental functions.”

Does the Abyssal Serpent have a personality—yes, Messmer’s! But more specifically, it is the personification (snake-ification?) of Messmer’s personality disorder. Before the seal, his behavior would have certainly fallen outside the norms of his culture and caused problems, as such disorders are defined. He had strange habits, was prone to violence, and often acted upon primal instinct. His overall experience was quite different from that of everyone else. Between his own serpentine nature and the winged serpents, his senses were sharper, he felt emotions (especially negative ones) more strongly, and occasionally transformed into a gigantic viper when he got too excited. As one does. This viper’s thoughts were essentially Messmer’s without the filter—just like him, it cares about the people that care for him, and wishes to hurt those that hurt him. Sometimes towards his mother it felt both, causing friction between them.

What may have just been the growing pains of his unusual existence, Marika saw as a sickness that needed to be cured. She was of the belief that the Abyssal Serpent was not an extension of Messmer, but a parasite clinging on to and ruining her beloved son. Her efforts culminated in the seal. She implanted grace into a being inherently graceless, and like some kind of conversion therapy, suppressed his true self. But that part of him did not and cannot just go away—there it writhes, behind his blinded eye, for only him to witness. For only him to hear its screams, to feel its pain. An eternity of suffering. As it thrashes, its hatred grows, manifesting as constant intrusive thoughts and vivid nightmares—symptoms not at all helped by Messmer’s inherent PTSD (this one I will diagnose outright—in my timeline, he was enlisted as a pre-teen and then the wars kinda never stopped).

Although she sealed the Abyssal Serpent, Marika recognized that Messmer’s drive to burn consume destroy everything could not be quenched. A drive that she herself caused and cultivated, and now feared. Hence, she gave him a target, the Hornsent, and while he was not looking, abandoned him with no way to return home. (Potentially at the behest of Radagon now that he is Elden Lord, who for ages has been wanting to excise the sinful impurity that is Messmer from his Golden Order.) Can you imagine what that does to a person?

I think I will never run out of things to say about him, but that is where I will leave it for now. The whole mental deterioration of Messmer and his army after being abandoned is worthy of another post (or, I think I may write a fic about it).

I will say, if you want more of my personal characterization of Messmer and the serpent within, you may wish to check out my fic! It’s in his POV and I really try to get inside his head (it’s so interesting in there)!

- Froggo

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: The story of how you, the bastard daughter of the Hiiragi clan, gain power in a country at constant war — and how, just as quickly, you lose it, too.

Chapter Synopsis: An introduction to you, Y/N L/N, the unwanted daughter of a serving maid and a daimyo.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Otoya x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.2k

Content Warnings: sengoku period au, character death, angst, sad ending, implied abuse, lots of political content, violence and war, the characters will probably be ooc a bit (as is to be expected when you put a bunch of soccer freaks into the warring states period), they are all morally questionable AT BEST, i promise i don’t hate your fav if they act heinous it’s just that someone has to, the prose here is so purple you might confuse it for reo mikage, i may or may not include original characters, i do try and do a bit of research but this is a bllk reader insert fanfic so please keep your expectations for historical accuracy and whatnot at a minimum, possibly a bit suggestive eventually

A/N: erm…hey guys…this one’s for the three otoya stans out there 🤞🏻 listen i don’t even like him that much (prefer his bff tbh) but for some reason i can’t stop thinking about him and i had this idea for a fic that just wouldn’t let me go so uhh here we are!! but this is one i really don’t know how i feel about so lmk if you liked it/think i should continue

On the day you were born, a star died. It was like a great gash in the sky, supposedly, a bloody smear of fire against the blue of the afternoon, which flickered to the rise and fall of your wails and only vanished once you had been taken to your mother’s breast. The story was told to you so often that you could picture it as vividly as if you had been there, though of course your recall of the event was non-existent. But your half-brother, who had barely been more than a child at your birth, took a particular pleasure in reminding you that you were the star-killer, the ill-portended bastard who was a curse on his family.

He was relentless like a hornet, that half-brother of yours. A better man would’ve ignored you completely, would’ve taken satisfaction in his own supremacy and left you, who were no threat to his position nor his ego, alone. Yet it remained that it was your half-brother’s favorite pastime to follow you around and whisper things in your ears, striking you swiftly if you dared to respond.

“You’re a monster,” he’d murmur when he wanted to amuse himself. “Little witch-thing. You were just a babe when you murdered your surrogate…I wonder, is it truly the same blood which runs in both our veins? No, I am sure that you are just a demon who has taken the place of my sweet half-sister. Did you kill her, too? May she rest in peace. Greedy child. Devil child. A star and a woman and a little girl — how many more until you are satisfied?”

Though you had learnt long ago the value of your silence, there were still occasions when you would tell him no, that it was not the case. It was a meaningless form of retribution. He knew the truth, knew it as well as you did or maybe better, but he did not care. It was a little play of yours, this argument and its various other forms, and if you were to deviate from your script, you’d be met with the consequences of displeasing your audience of one.

“You killed her,” he would say, your cheek stinging where he had slapped it, his pale irises gleaming at the tremble of your lower lip, which even after so many years you could not quell completely. “You killed them both, didn’t you? Apologize for it. Repent for the sin.”

The relationship between you and your half-brother was of little consequence to your father. If he hurt you or if he loved you — what did it matter to the man whose adoption of you was so reluctantly done as to be all but forced? Your half-brother was the one who shared his name, who was his perfect heir, who had twin moons for eyes and was born at the stroke of midnight. You were the one who had killed a star and a surrogate alike, whose name was common and plain, as was fitting for the daughter of a dead serving girl. Certainly, the sacrifice was easy to make, and likely it was not even a sacrifice in the first place. The closest he ever got to reprimanding your half-brother was letting out a heavy sigh when he walked past your frozen form, reminding him that ought to keep better company.

You could not say the same about yourself. You lived in the Hiiragi manor only on account of your father’s charity, and so you were expected to conduct yourself in a manner that invited the highest praise — though you never received this praise, naturally. If you were behaving in an exemplary way, then you were only doing as you ought to, and anything lesser was met with cold correction.

According to your father, you were an embarrassment, but one he had to display as if he were proud. He was a daimyo, the lord of your province, and so he was meant to be the perfect example of an honorable man. Nobody batted an eye when he lay with his own servants — it was typical, anyways, especially since his own wife had died in the service of his first and only son — but when the stomach of the maid who swept the kitchens began to swell, the whispers abounded. What would happen to the child, who was undoubtedly of the Hiiragi line? Would he acknowledge her, or would he throw her to her death in the streets?

Well, it would’ve been worse if he cast her away, so reluctantly, your father watched over your mother, caring for her until you were born. That day, he snatched you away, your lips still wet from milk, your thin hair plastered to your tiny brow, and he handed you to the waiting surrogate. After that, he had your mother killed, taken to the back and burnt alive when she was too weak to fight back.

It was easy for him to disguise the murder by claiming that she, too, had faced the same fate as his beloved wife. Hiiragi blood claws at the womb. Though of course you were no Hiiragi — you were Y/N L/N, undeserving of a nobler address — it was true that, despite your circumstances, you were still half a lady, a daimyo’s daughter as much as you were a maid’s. So your father blamed her death on you, and only a select few knew the truth, all of whom shared blood and two of whom shared a name.

Though it was impossible for him to remember it, your half-brother would describe the gray of the smoke to you, the way your mother’s ashes had swirled into the air and her screams had faded into the crackling of embers. Only when your eyes welled with tears would he snicker and leave you to your own devices, ruffling your hair fraternally, though the gesture was anything but.

“What cause do you have to cry?” he’d call out over his shoulder. “You hardly knew the woman. At least her death at Father’s hand was quick; were she left to you, she would’ve suffered for longer and longer. It was a mercy, though I am sure you know not what that word means.”

Once you had grown older, you began to understand, in pieces and then all in a rush, what purpose you served for your father, why he had kept you at his side so many years after propriety demanded. Your father, who had never had any other children bar your half-brother…if he wanted to secure an alliance with one or another of the neighboring daimyos, who were ever clamoring for more territory, more land, more wealth, more more more, what was the best option? It was you.

Mere days after you turned of age, the men began to arrive at the Hiiragi manor. These conversations were like dancing with snakes for your father and half-brother, each word a baring of their fangs, each sly remark a biting challenge, each exchanged glance a seeping of their poison. You were relegated to pouring tea and keeping your gaze lowered, a showpiece more than a participant.

The more foolish of the supplicants, in their earnest desires to appease the serpent-kin Hiiragis, would seek to compliment you, claiming that no more beautiful woman existed in all the world, insisting to your father that, were they given your hand and thus the support of the Hiiragis, they would build a palace grand enough to contain even one such as yourself.

This was when your half-brother would make himself known, his expression coy and playful, his voice a smooth hiss as he reminded the suitor that you were a bastard. The daughter of a maid, he’d say with a laugh, the sound jarring and devoid of mirth. You find her so lovely? You must not have very high standards, then.

Their faces would go white, and the corners of your father’s lips would twitch as he commanded them to leave at once. The Hiiragi would not ally themselves with those who had such lofty but baseless aspirations, not when they themselves had their own goals which they pursued so staunchly — only an equal or greater would receive the honor of their support, of their only daughter, who was barely classified as such but nevertheless had attained at least that much in her lifetime.

“There’s a suitor coming to see you,” your half-brother said, the painted screen door pushed aside, his arms crossed as he peered into your room. “Hey. Shitty Y/N. Get dressed; Father seems to think this one might have some merit to him.”

“Might you send a maid to assist me?” you said, your voice catching in the back of your throat when he raised his eyebrows. “Reiji, you must realize that it is difficult for me to ready myself to that extent.”

Reiji’s lip curled as he regarded you, but finally, to your relief, he nodded at you. “Very well, though only because this meeting is of import and it would not do for you to have a shoddy appearance.“

“Thank you,” you said, pressing your forehead to the floor until you heard the whoosh of the door as it slid shut. Curling your fists, you pushed yourself up until you were kneeling in front of your dressing table, staring into the mirror and wincing when you noticed that there were dark hollows under your eyes.

“Miss L/N,” a soft voice called from the other side of the screen. “Shall I enter?”

“You may,” you said. You recognized her gentle intonations; she was, after all, the only maid in the manor who treated you as if you were a true-born Hiiragi and not some other, accursed thing.

The door opened once again, but she stood alone, her tiny figure such a contrast to Reiji’s boasting frame. Her bright hair was tied back, her eyelids lowering in disappointment when she glanced at you.

“Ah, Miss L/N, you must endeavor to sleep earlier,” she said, crouching behind you, her clever fingers beginning to weave through your hair. “Are those terrors plaguing you anew?”

“Is it so obvious?” you said.

“Rather, it is that I know you so well,” she said. “So, that is the reason?”

“It is,” you said, pursing your lips. “But that is enough questioning on the matter, Anri. I should not like to speak of it.”

“Perhaps it would be helpful if you did,” she suggested. “Do you not agree? Recounting them could ward them away.”

“It has never worked in the past, so why should it work now? I think that you are disguising your curiosity as concern,” you said.

“I—I—I would do no such thing! Miss L/N, how could you even suggest it?” she sputtered.

“It was only a jest,” you said, fighting back a smile. “Anyways, I suppose that this terror is of a different nature, so it may yet vanish if I speak it aloud.”

For as long as you could remember, you had had fitful episodes, lasting a week but never longer, in which you dreamt of terrible things that haunted you even in your waking hours. None of these visions ever had much coherence, but there was a sense of doom interspersed throughout, a personal doom, as if they held a sort of significance to you that you were too naive to understand.

“This time, there was a man,” you said. “I saw him vividly, though I cannot recall him any longer.”

“A man!” Anri said.

“Yes, and I believe a comely one, to answer what I know you will not speak aloud. His face has been lost to me, but I was frightened of him, or perhaps for him,” you said. “It is the first time I have watched someone other than my mother die in the fire. He embraced her as it happened, but despite their familiarity, I am certain it was not my father.”

Every single nightmare ended in the same way: a woman’s immolation, flames licking up her dress and lashing against her face, which resembled yours so greatly that you knew she could be no one else but your mother. Her expression was stony and set, though her eyes danced with a wild sort of panic as she burned, her jaw twitching from the efforts of silencing the screams that Reiji had claimed he had heard.

This was the first time that she had not been alone, her taut muscles releasing as the man appeared. Though your mother’s face never left your mind — you could not escape it when a facsimile stared back at you whenever you gazed at your reflection — the man was out of your grasp, a slippery sort of person who you wanted very badly to remember but simply could not.

He had had his back to you, facing your mother at her end, and then he had gathered her in his arms, clutching her tightly and allowing the fire to take them both. And though tears had dripped from her eyes, though she had shivered from the pain of their shared death, you had noticed that for the first time, your mother had seemed happy, as if her impending doom meant nothing in face of what you got the sense was a long-anticipated reunion.

“Did your mother have another lover?” Anri said.

“How should I know?” you said, harsher than you had intended. Anri flinched from surprise, and you frowned. “I apologize.”

“No, the error is mine, Miss L/N,” she said. “Please forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to be forgiven. You were merely expressing your interest in the subject, and I had the gall to snap at you for it. To tell you the truth, he did hold her in the way a lover might, but I have never heard much if anything about my mother’s past, so that does nothing to solve the mystery of his identity. Anyways, if ever he did exist, he’s likely long dead, so it does not warrant further investigation,” you said.

“Of course not,” she said, pressing a cake of powder against your face, blowing the excess away. “Do you think that this discussion has assuaged you?”

“That’s a question I can only answer after tonight, you know,” you said.

“Oh, I have spoken hastily,” she said. “Forgive me.”

“You needn’t apologize,” you said. “I am not Reiji nor my father. It isn’t possible for you to wrong me. For if you could, then I would not be Y/N L/N but Y/N Hiiragi, and as I am not, you ought to worry less.”

“You are still Lord Hiiragi’s daughter, and as such, I will give you the respect that that position demands,” she said.

“Am I?” you said. “What if I am that man’s daughter?”

“Were there even a hint of uncertainty as to your parentage, I do not doubt that Lord Hiiragi would’ve long ago sent you away,” Anri said. “Without question, you are his. A name cannot change that.”

“It is a reminder better given to my half-brother,” you said. “Reiji believes me to be a devil, one of the star-killing variety.”

“Well, that half-brother of yours—” Anri began before silencing herself. “Regardless. Not even the Shogun himself could take your inheritance from you.”

“Thank you, Anri,” you said, recognizing that she had put herself into danger just for the sake of your reassurance. It wasn’t fair of you to demand, so you mustered a grin in the hope that she did not continue to worry. “Am I ready, then? Reiji said that Father believes this suitor to be a genuine prospect, so I do not wish to tarry.”

“You are as lovely as ever,” she said. “The hollyhock of the Hiiragi.”

You could not see that supposed beauty, not in yourself, but if Anri said it, then it was definitely there. Clasping your hands, you nodded at her, your face warm at the comparison to your family’s flower.

“Thank you,” you said. “You may go fetch Reiji now. I am sure that he wishes to escort me, as is proper.”

“I will return at once,” she said.

You inhaled and exhaled, counting the seconds in between to calm your nerves. Your father had never once spoken favorably of a candidate for your hand until now — did that mean this was it, then? Had he finally found the family that he wished to align himself with? Which would it be, and would their son be cruel? You did not mind running the household, but if your husband were unkind or overly interested in your affairs, then you were unsure of whether you could handle it. And children, what of children? Would you be expected to have many? Would it be a demon which you carried, a star-killer like yourself or a Hiiragi which clawed at your womb as it left? All of these things and more you considered, the endless loop playing as you waited for Reiji and Anri to return.

“You look acceptable, sister,” Reiji said, his charade well-perfected at this point. If your marriage was meant to unite two clans, then you could not be referred to with the usual indignity. Of course, you could not be a Hiiragi, but you had to be considered the sister of one, or else your father’s efforts would be for naught, and given the instability of the country at the moment, that would be a fatal mistake.

“Thank you, Reiji — brother,” you said, correcting yourself when you stumbled over his name and he shot you a dark glare. The iciness of his eyes, which might’ve entranced anyone else, seemed sinister and dull to you, and you did everything you could to ensure that they were not settled upon you for too long.

Your father sat across from a boy with dark, wavy hair, who turned to look at you when you entered. He had wide eyes that were the burnished color of a gourd, and his face was appealingly structured, his shoulders broad and a sword strapped at his waist. When he noticed that it was only you and Reiji, he dipped his chin in acknowledgement.

“Mister Reiji Hiiragi,” he said. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Your father has spoken highly of you.”

“The pleasure is mine, sir…?” Reiji said.

“Kenyu Yukimiya,” the boy said. On closer inspection, he was nearing the cusp of manhood; several years your elder and likely even wiser than Reiji, he was hardly a boy at all anymore. “My father is daimyo of the neighboring province, and I am his heir. Am I to assume that that woman is your sister?”

“Y/N L/N,” Reiji said, maneuvering you in front of him so that your charms could be on display for Yukimiya. “Greet him, sister.”

“Welcome, Mister Yukimiya. It is an honor. Would you like some tea?” you said.

“I should not say no, I think,” he said. “In the face of such generous hospitality, who could refuse?”

As was traditional, all three of them quieted, contemplating and meditating on their woven mats as you prepared the tea, pressing your whisk against the powdered leaves and boiling the water. It was a soothing ritual, the billowing steam clearing your head of the migraine which threatened to build behind your temples, the easy motions of the preparation allowing your hands to work mindlessly and simply at the task.

After the tea was prepared, you bowed before Yukimiya. He raised his cup for you, and you filled it carefully, ensuring that you did not spill even a drop. Holding the pot steady until the liquid reached the rim, you bowed again and then repeated the actions for your father, after which came your half-brother. Then, you stowed the pot and the tea-making materials away; it would be improper if you, as the official host of this meeting despite contributing almost nothing to it, partook as well.

“That was elegantly done,” Yukimiya said as you returned to your place at Reiji’s side. “I’m impressed. For only being half-highborn, you have taken to the customs quite well, Miss L/N.”

He said it bluntly. Half-highborn. This was, after all, a person who did not have to fear your father’s rage, not when his own family was of a comparable status. The Hiiragis could not raise a hand against him, not if they wished to avoid a war with the Yukimiyas, and as that would be costly, your father could not respond to an insult even when it was so plainly given.

“She is a quick learner,” your father said, and instead of offense, there was interest twinkling in his mien. Yukimiya took a sip from his cup, mulling over the taste and your father’s response alike.

“Might I inquire why she has the name L/N, and not Hiiragi? If she is your daughter, then surely the latter is her birthright,” he said.

“She is a bastard,” your father said. “You know that already.”

“I was aware,” Yukimiya affirmed.

“Her mother died upon her birth; my daughter chose to take her name instead, as a way to keep her memory alive,” your father said.

“I see,” Yukimiya said. Whether or not he saw through the obvious lie was irrelevant; your father had given him a weapon with which he could defend himself to those who might question his future wife’s parentage, should he choose to take you. That was all that he needed. “She must be of a more sensitive temperament.”

“As a lady, it’s to be expected,” your father said genially.

“I confess I grew up without a sister, so I am not used to the inclinations of young women,” Yukimiya said. “I shall take you at your word, Lord Hiiragi.”

“I thank you for your trust,” your father said. He might’ve seemed indifferent, but in truth there was a great joy to the heaviness of his forehead and the set of his cheeks, which only you and Reiji could detect.

“If you are not opposed to me asking for your trust in return, and if the lady agrees to it, then I would like it if she might show me around your gardens,” Yukimiya said. “It’d allay any misgivings of mine if I could speak to her in private before I make a decision one way or another.”

“Neither my daughter nor I would deny such a gently given request, especially not coming from a guest,” your father said. “Y/N, please see Mister Yukimiya to the gardens at once.”

“Yes, Father. Please follow me, sir,” you said, standing and bowing at Yukimiya once more. He stood as well, walking purposefully after you. He was careful to pace his longer strides with yours, so that you were not gasping and racing to keep up with him, as you often were with Reiji. The casual tact warmed you to him, and as the two of you entered the gardens, you took a moment to sneak a glance at him.

“Your innocence is fascinating,” Yukimiya said when he caught you peering at him. “At first, I was convinced that it was an act you put on in front of your father, but it seems to be genuine.”

You cringed. “Forgive me, sir. I meant no disrespect by it.”

“It’s really interesting,” he said. “Do you think I mean to hurt you?”

“If you did, I could not stop you,” you said. “Our families are not on the best of terms, are they?”

“Who told you that?” he said in alarm.

“It is commonly known that the daimyos do not get along,” you said. “Why should your father and mine be any different?”

“The relationship is awkward, but it is not as bad as it could be, or as some are,” Yukimiya said, relaxing. “Were it any worse, I’d be a fool to come here alone in the pursuit of a mere girl.”

“A mere girl?” you said. “But is the alliance not what you are truly after? If so, then it would have been in pursuit of that which you rode, not of me, and so it would’ve been far less foolish and more pacifistic in nature.”

“True,” he admitted freely. “You are only an additional benefit, but one I am not opposed to. I would have accepted your father’s proposal regardless, but I must confess I am pleased to find you so agreeable.”

He meant to win you over with his kindness, as surely as he had won over your father with his stoic maturity. Reiji had instructed you in these things, told you to be wary of men who treated you well, but you could not help the fluttering in your stomach at the unprecedented tenderness Yukimiya was showing you.

“I find you agreeable as well,” you said. He let out a laugh, full-bodied and musical, suiting him exactly.

“Take me to your favorite place in these gardens. You must wander them often, yes?” he said.

“When I am given the opportunity,” you said, leading him down the path, past a copse of camphor trees and towards a low wall where hollyhocks burst from the ground, profusely flowering in shades of red and pink. They were towering, some arching above even Yukimiya, and a few bees darted around their blooms, paying you both no mind as you admired their work.

You preferred this location above all others, for the curve of the route and the height of the hollyhocks meant that you could, for a moment or two, be hidden away from Reiji and the rest of the Hiiragi household.

“And which flower do you find the loveliest?” Yukimiya said. You cocked your head before pointing at one so pale it was almost white, its petals reaching towards the sun and a butterfly resting at its center. Abruptly, Yukimiya drew his sword, and before you could cry out from shock, he brought it down on the stem of the blossom. The butterfly fluttered away, and the flower fell into his waiting palm, which he then extended to you.

“For you,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, though your heart was still pounding from how quickly it had all been done. He tucked the flower behind your ear and stroked your cheek.

“We should return before your father grows worried about how long we are taking,” he said.

“Father wouldn’t worry,” you said, with only a tinge of rebelliousness.

“Oh?” Yukimiya said. “Is that so?”

“Er, I mean, well, it’s only that I’m in good company, and he is likely delighted by our camaraderie, so, ah…” you stammered when you realized how dangerous that simple misinterpretation could be. Thankfully, he only smiled at you.

“Of course, but fathers get protective over their daughters, and I would not like to fall from his favor when that very favor is so important to our success,” he said.

“It is sound reasoning,” you said. “Let us be off at once.”

You were dismissed to your chambers as the terms of the marriage were set, and this time Reiji did not come with you, so you allowed yourself to feel giddy. How you had been so frightened! If only you had known that Yukimiya would turn out in the way that he had, you would not have feared so greatly.

Anri came to help you undress that evening, and though she did not inquire, you knew she could tell from your uncharacteristic jumpiness that you were thrilled at the course of events. Being wedded to Yukimiya was not only a livable fate, it was one you could genuinely look forward to — if you were his wife, then you’d command a far greater respect than you ever had in the Hiiragi manor. You would no longer be the bastard-born Y/N L/N; instead, you’d be the next Lady Yukimiya, whose ancestry did not matter nearly as much as her progeny did.

As you settled down on your mat to sleep, pulling the duvet up around your shoulders and facing the window so your face could be bathed in the light of the moon, you hoped that you’d have a peaceful night. Whether your conversation with Anri or your joy at the engagement with Yukimiya…one or another of these things, you prayed, would have been enough to chase off your nightmares until the next week of fits came about.

To your eternal gratitude, it was a dreamless sleep you fell into, and indeed when you awoke to darkness, you could not discern what had caused you to stir. Sitting up and rubbing your eyes, your duvet falling in a puddle around your lap, you yawned, contemplating the notion of going to fetch a glass of water before attempting to return to your earlier state.

Before you could make up your mind either way, you became horrifyingly aware of a firm presence against your back. An arm wrapped around the side of your face, a gloved hand covering your mouth and a kunai pressing against the skin of your neck, angled so that it could pierce your throat if you moved even a centimeter. You did not even scream for fear of its wicked tip, and your breath came in harsh, short pants, the taste of linen washing over your tongue as you shuddered in the deadly embrace.

“Shh,” your invisible assailant murmured. “I’m good at this. It’ll be quick, young Hiiragi. You won’t even know it happened.”

Young Hiiragi. Not once in your life had you ever been called that, and before you could stop yourself, you were shaking your head, pulling back from the kunai, though he did not let you get very far.

“Plead all you want,” he said. “Go on, then. It’s late, so no one else will hear us. I don’t mind if you want to try; maybe if you offer to pay me more than my current employer, I’ll consider sparing you. Don’t think about calling for help, though. I’ll kill you before you can make a sound.”

He parted his fingers, though he still held you in place, staring ahead at the wall. You squeezed your eyes shut. This wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t, it wasn’t, you just had to go along with it and then you’d actually wake up and things would be fine.

“I’m not a Hiiragi,” you said. “I’m Y/N L/N. The bastard — the bastard girl. What good comes of you killing me? No one will care.”

He stiffened, you felt it against your body, though he tried to disguise it the moment that it happened. His voice was low and cold when he spoke next, as if you were the one who had wronged him and not the other way around.

“You’re the fucking girl,” he said. “That incompetent piece of shit. He told me he knew exactly which room the Hiiragi heir slept in before sending me, and you’re telling me he got it wrong?”

“Who?” you ventured to say. “Who wants to kill Reiji — my half-brother?”

“As if I’d tell you,” he said, and then the hand holding the kunai was balling into a fist and knocking against the top of your head lightly, almost teasingly. “Maybe if you think about it hard enough, though, you’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t — I don’t — are you going to kill me?”

You wished that in these last moments, you could’ve kept some kind of composure, could’ve held your head high the way your mother had, but you were nowhere near as strong as the woman in your dreams. You were a bumbling mess, tripping over your words, clinging desperately to a life you had never cared for in the first place.

“What to do, indeed?” he mused. “If I kill you, it’ll be ten times as difficult for me to come back to this place, but then again, you know of a plot against your half-brother, so how can I let you live? It’ll be a real weight on my conscience.”

“What conscience?” you said. “If you are a murderer-for-hire, then how can you claim to have anything resembling that?”

“I prefer being called a ninja, though as you please, lady,” he said. “By the way, this is generally when you would beg for me to spare you.”

“Will it matter? Will the course of your deliberations change if I beg?” you said.

“Give me something,” he said. “Something that makes letting you live worth it.”

“I have nothing of the sort. Only my own life, and even that is not so precious. I want to live, I cannot deny it; I want to live more than anything. It is a miserable life, yet it is mine, and I cannot bear to let go of it quite yet, so if begging is enough, then I shall fall to my knees gladly, but that is all I have to offer,” you said.

“Hm,” he said.

“They won’t believe me,” you tried. “Even if I tell them. Everyone knows I’ve been having nightmares this week. This is just another one of those terrors, isn’t it? If you think Reiji or my father would take me seriously in the best of days, then I’d call you delusional, but at a time when I am prisoner to my own visions, they are more likely to seek counsel from a quail.”

“How sorry,” he said. “To think that they would ignore their own daughter’s warnings. It’s only that kind of clan that could be killed by its own neighbors.”

“Yukimiya,” you breathed, the realization like a bucket of ice water over your head. This earned you an amused exhale.

“Smart girl,” he said.

“They sent you? But what about—”

“An excuse,” he said, before you could complete the inquiry. “For the son to come to the manor and grow familiar with its layout, so that he could direct me to Reiji Hiiragi’s quarters. It was a plan not without risk, but in this world, isn’t that the only way to succeed? Ah, I really should get rid of you now. I cannot believe that incompetent dimwit has put me in this kind of situation. I hate killing women.”

The kunai was back at your throat, this time the breadth of it resting against your pulse. You swallowed.

“Then don’t kill me,” you said. “Hurt me or take me hostage, but let me live.”

“A hostage?” he said. “Hostages are generally people who are wanted, Miss L/N. Taking you as one would bring me far more trouble than anything.”

“I don’t want to die,” you said. “What do you want from me? You said if I could give you something that makes letting me live worth it, you’d spare me.”

“There’s nothing,” he said. “That doesn’t exist. I was being cruel to you, lady, for no other reason than my personal entertainment. It’s like how a child might pry off the wings of a butterfly, causing it to suffer just because they can.”

“I won’t betray you,” you said. “Please, sir, I won’t. I really won’t.”

“Sir? I’ll admit I’ve never been called that before,” he said. “Would your opinion of me be lower if I said that I liked it? On second thoughts, don’t answer that. It’ll only hurt my feelings.”

“Have you no empathy?” you said. “You are joking around as if my life is not in your hands.”

“Empathy? For you and your kind, I feel none,” he said. “Hiiragi or not, you have spent your entire life in a walled off manor. We are so different as to be entirely separate species. Asking me to feel empathy for you is akin to asking me to move the sun a degree to the right. I cannot do it, I am not capable, and furthermore I think of you as grossly ignorant just for making the request.”

“Please,” you said, long ago having run out of anything else to say. He scoffed.

“That’s enough,” he said. “Let’s get on with it. I’ve wasted enough time here.”

“I’ll take you to my half-brother!” you said, the delicate flesh of your neck smarting from the shallow cut he had torn into it. “Reiji’s quarters. I will show you where they are.”

“You would trade his life for your own?” he said, pulling his kunai back, voice lilting with interest.

“Yes,” you said. He was silent for so long that, were it not for the crush of his chest against your spine, you would’ve thought he had vanished. Then, suddenly, he chuckled.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” he said. “Here I was, thinking you’d be the self-sacrificing type.”

“Kill him if you must,” you said. “But release me.”

Live. Live. Live. It was an imperative in your mind — you had to live. You could not die yet. You could not die here. If that meant latching onto your half-brother and draining him of his own existence, then you would do just that. If it meant you could survive, then you’d do it again and again, as many times as you had to.

“Close your eyes,” he said. You did so promptly, and your obedience was met with a condescending pat on the head. “Do not open them again until dawn. I shall let you live on the assumption that you are true to your word — but mind you, I will come to collect. Not today, but someday, I will kill Reiji Hiiragi, and you will be the one who gives me leave to do it.”

[rouge-fox-expanded]

I love Hazbin Hotel, the story, lore and the songs! And like many of us I was drawn to Lucifer like a moth to a flame, which incidentally is what many of us are projecting onto Valentino. Now Hazbin much like Good Omens is taking much of the theology surrounding the old testament to be the point of origin of heaven and hell along with all the old lore from hell. We see this in Helluva Boss a lot with three out of seven of the sins revealed, Beelzebub being the sin of Gluttony, Azmodeus being the sin of Lust and Mammon being the sin of greed with I believe mentions of Satan (wrath), Belphagor (sloth) and Leviathan (Envy) and Lucifer being the apex (Pride).

Now behind every great man there tends to be a great woman, and this seems to be especially true with Lucifer as we have the enigmatic Lilith, the woman that came before Eve. She was made from the same dust as Adam, made to be his equal and yet things didn't go so well, she would leave the garden and be punished (I don't have all the theology but I think she was cursed to give birth to demons or couldn't have children herself) and so eve was made from Adam's rib to be more subservient. Now in terms of Hazbin lore Adam and Lilith were created equal but Adam tried to assert dominance and Lilith wasn't accepting, yeeted out of there and that was the start of her meet cute with Lucifer whom from what we have been told was a bit of a trouble maker, but in the sense of being a creative and imaginative soul who's ideas didn't fit the mould of divinity. This is the first instance of what I love about the show: NUANCE. The angels believe everything is black and white despite the plot and characters proving time and time again that this is not the case, Lucifer from what we have seen of him is blantantly not evil. Lilith on the other hand, well that's where the theories start pouring in.

(warning long theory post)

I will admit I have been using the canon scraps from both the show and the interviews to project an image of Lilith as the Morticia to Lucifer's Gomez and I share Vivzie's head canon that she would be voiced by Lady Gaga. Seeing Lilith and Lucifer as a power couple, disgustingly in love whilst sticking it to heaven and rallying up hell using Charlie's hotel as a form of malicious compliance/lawful defiance would give me so much serotonin. However this is just a theory and imagining based on limited information and holds as much water as the other theories which paint Lilith in a much darker shade. Lilith's screen time in Hazbin hotel is less than two minutes and most of that is flashbacks (one of which is dubious) and she has no spoken lines and no insight into her motives or feelings and given that season 2 is coming at us at 2025 at the earliest the more ravenous of us are already making ideas of what kind of character she is going to be.

Now quite a compelling theory is she could be very similar in attitude and personality to Adam, yes you heard me right. Adam is essentially the poster child for toxic masculinity coated in so much narcissism, the fact that for 90% of the show has him wearing a mask is pretty symbolic of this as it means he never has to worry about anyone seeing him as weak because his mask can literally keep him covered (even if it slips, looking at the court scene in episode six). Now Lilith being similar in personality to Adam would certainly explain why they didn't get along, both thought they were the apex and wanted to be in charge. Whilst Adam is the epitome of toxic masculinity Lilith could very well be the avatar of toxic femininity and yet she is limited by her own humanity and the whims of divinity...until she meets Lucifer, someone whom also has big ideas, a lot of imagination and most crucially doesn't feel like he belongs amongst the other angels. Lilith probably thought God had answered her prayers.

Now I personally don't think Lilith is the defacto villain, that would rather fly in the face of the nuanced take Hazbin shows us. Hell isn't forever and Heaven isn't perfect, it's not black and white and we need to look into the gray but let's assume Lilith and Adam were similar in their extreme personalities, does this mean that Lilith is going to be just as bad as Adam? I would argue not necessarily and the reason for that is consequences. Out of the two, Adam doesn't suffer any consequences until the finale of Hazbin hotel season 1 (or at least none that he seems to be particularly showing asides from some hints at the mention of eve and we haven't even asked about Cain and Abel) but for Lilith...she's been suffering consequences for millennia. Now we go back to the lore of hazbin hotel, according to the info dump Charlie gives us in the beginning Evil is it's own seperate and conscious entity, it's even got a name according to interviews and creator bts talk: Roo. And so heaven keeps evil in it's place by maintaining strict control over creation and life on earth (apparently). In the old stories Adam and Eve get kicked out of Eden because a snake offers Eve an apple telling her that it will grant her knowledge of morality. Incidently in the original bible story the snake is just a snake, no mention of it being lucifer but in the hazbin lore Lilith and Lucifer plan to give the apple to Eve so as to gift humanity free will. NOW, here comes the nuance take: was this the wrong move? Because free will is so intrinsic into human nature that without it are we really human? How could someone be good or bad if they didn't choose those actions and by that logic how could a human be judged through a moral lense if they don't have the capacity to act on morality? Yet by giving Eve the apple and allowing humanity a choice between good and evil, well...this gives evil an opening to root into earth. Black mixes with the white and things become gray, heaven is pissed!

And as a consequence for this reckless act, Lilith and Lucifer are sent to hell, where it's all black. This kills Lucifer's creativity and he becomes depressed, Lilith however makes a comeback and establishes herself as the queen of hell and is able to rally up the demons and because of this amass of a power base, heaven is like 'welp, gotta do something about this' and apparently it was Adam who was like 'how about a cull?'. Adam is rewarded for his aggressive, violent and frankly appalling behavior and yet Lucifer and Lilith face the consequences of their own recklessness. If we are to assume Lilith and Adam started out with equally selfish personalities one got worse from being a winner (as we can see what he's like in season one) whilst we don't know what millennia of being a loser did to Lilith. There is of course one character that's very existence shows the light in Lucifer and potentially Lilith and that is Charlie, because if two fallen souls consigned to the worst place in creation can raise a daughter like Charlie Mornigstar then they can't be all bad right? I mean I would hope that Lilith did indeed love her husband and her daugher, because that's what a lot of those portraits/photos in Lucifer's man cave seem to tell us. Perhaps hell and raising a family taught Lilith some humility and she was able to grow in the way Adam clearly did not, having to face the consequences of a clearly broken system would have certainly shaped her ideas and attitudes but how do we explain her seven year absence? Well that's what Season Two will do (I hope) but as a lot of us aren't prepared to wait until 2025 we've all developed some pretty hot takes based on the limited but compelling information we've been given.

-Lilith has been missing from hell for seven years, the same time Alistor has been missing leading many to believe she is the one that owns his soul (a deal he is desperate to get out of now that he's aware of his own mortality and growing empathy)

-Lilith is in heaven due to a deal with Adam, and now that he's dead (for now) she is expected to go back to hell and bring Lucifer and Charlie into line so as not to threaten the foundations of heaven.

And that's all the canon info we have

That's literally all the solid information we have in regards to Lilith and many have used this to assume she is a shitty mom for just hanging on a beach doing god knows what for seven years whilst Charlie has been trying to carry on her legacy through the hotel and Lucifer's depression reduced him to a forced apathetic shut in.

But of course this is Hazbin and Helluva, and the lore is rich with that sweet grey nuance so calling Lilith a villain seems a little presumptious. I am not saying that is incorrect, but given that the main antagonists of season two are apparently going to be the Vees we can hope that Lilith isn't going to be Adam 2.0 for season two. Now I am going to briefly entertain some other theories before making my pitch for how I see Lilith; in episode 5 we see a flashback of lilith taking Charlie away from Lucifer during the song more than anything, and many eagle eyed viewers pointed out that the silhouette didn't have the same hairline as Lilith in the photos (and later in heaven) which lead them to spectulate Eve might have had a hand to play in this. This is a theory I actually think holds some water primarily because Adam is a fucking idiot, and any deal he would have made with Lilith would have had Sera or one of the other higher seraphim pulling it's strings. Adam isn't a schemer, but the other archangels well they know how powerful Lucifer is so keeping him contained and harmless would certainly be on their agenda and having Eve playing Lilith to keep him and Charlie from building each other up would certainly be a tactial move. And let's face it if they were able to kick him out of heaven and cast him into hell then wrecking his marriage wouldn't be that big of a deal for them. But then where does Lilith fit into this picture? We know that Lucifer negotiated that only the sinners could be killed during the exterminations, now would heaven grant him this simply to keep him placid or would he need to offer something in exchange? Maybe Heaven accepted this deal at first but Lilith continued to resist so they were like 'okay, how about this? You get to come back to heaven and stop all this resist and rebel shit?' and the stick to that carrot was 'it's either this or we go after hellborns too', and not prepared to face those consequences Lilith obeyed

Heaven has already crushed Lucifer's spirit, it took them longer to deal with Lilith but getting her in heaven and away from her family certainly solved the problem of resistance and with the exterminations keeping sinners in check everything became routine...until Charlie was like 'erm, redemption?' well that and the fact one of the overlords accidentally killed an exorcist (something Adam and Lute took personally). Now Lilith being in heaven actually affords her a few advantages that being in hell does not, because if it becomes public knowledge she is there then Heaven is gonna have several huge problems so her silence is not just golden but MANDATORY. If Lucifer knows she is in heaven this could explain how he was able to get Charlie that meeting, that kind of knowledge can certainly open doors and Lilith being close behind enemy lines would be privy to a fair bit of knowledge assuming she had any long term plans or schemes. And any of those schemes would certainly be helped by the current state of events at the end of season 1, Adam is dead (and potentially a sinner man in hell), the exorcisms have been made public to heaven, redemption works as proven by Sir Pentious getting a divine promotion and Lucifer is proactively supporting the Hazbin Hotel. The corrupt system that punished her and her family again and again has just suffered some massive pushback, the divine order is unsteady and there is confusion and more importantly: opportunity. And Lilith isn't like Adam, she's had to deal with consequences since the apple was given to Eve, she has had to grow, adapt and take all the shit that was thrown at her and deal with heaven's shit for a long time. It could certainly have made her a better person, or a worse one but I bet you it has made her pissed. And now Lute is sending her home to clean up the mess they made? That doesn't just sound like a spectacular mistake, but a damn good story.

So like the rest of us, I cannot wait to see Lilith in season 2. Maybe she will be a villain, maybe she won't be but I am betting she is going to be spectacular, I have faith in Vivziepop and I believe in Hazbin Hotel. And if she is voiced by Lady Gaga and does a duet with Jeremy Jordon I am going to sqee so hard the neighbours dogs will think it's an attack.

[cabinofimagines]

Last Christmas

First holiday fic coming up! Pairing: Platonic! Bianca and Nico di Angelo x reader Request: Reader showing Bianca and Nico their Christmas traditions? Also yes ik Bianca's not alive, but in this she is (if that's alright ofc) Warnings: None! Ig slight spoiler for the beginning of The Titan's Curse? Word Count: 1.2k - Asnyox

Ever since Bianca and Nico arrived at Westover Hall earlier this year, you’ve slowly been befriending them. Bianca was a little on guard at first, but as soon as you asked Nico to explain the rules of Mythomagic to you he loved you. And Bianca commended you for listening weekly to the multiple hours long explanations that Nico had. Eventually, she had let her guard down enough to talk about her and Nico’s past. 

Whenever she brought up that they came from Italy (how cool is that?) Nico grew quiet. He once admitted he didn’t remember a lot from those times, and got fascinated with what Bianca had to say. It was sort of a story time, you learned more about the Di Angelo siblings as time went by, and sure, sometimes things didn’t line up (how could they not have known of the Cold War? The Berlin Wall? They have lived here for a few years now according to Bianca!), but that could not quell your fascination. 

That’s why, on December 8th, Bianca sat both you and Nico down to talk about how Christmas in Italy used to go. 

“Today is also known as Immacolata Concezione in Italy,” Bianca smiled, “Nico, do you know what that is in English?” Nico squinted his eyes, hesitating a little bit. 

“Immaculate … conception?” He asked and Bianca nodded, a proud glean in her eyes. 

“Exactly. It’s a celebration of the birth of the Virgin Mary, without original sin.” Bianca nodded, “Normally this is when you would put up the Christmas Tree, and when the Christmas Markets would start.” 

“Here some people put up their tree in November,” you sighed, “some even earlier. It’s kinda fun how Italy has a specific date for it.” You smiled, “Did you guys have a specific tradition while putting up the tree? Hot chocolate and peppermints?” 

“I’ve never had Christmas peppermints.” Nico looked at you, “What else do you eat for Christmas? Can we get some?” 

“I don’t think you need more sugar, Nico,” Bianca interrupted him. 

“What do you guys mean? No Christmas crack? Reindeer Chow?” You asked exasperated, “You Christmas must have been subpar. I mean, you never made a gingerbread house? Do Italians hate architecture or something?” You sat up straighter, “That’s it, we’re going to have to break into the kitchen and bake you guys a Christmas.” 

───────────

You thought it would be harder to get everything ready for baking. Heck, you even thought you would have to be sneaky about it! Instead, you mentioned it to Grover, a new boy, who had seemed intensely interested in Bianca and Nico, yet scared to approach them. Poor boy, you hoped he would gather the courage soon. As you asked his opinion on escape routes, so you could get the ingredients, he stood on helping instead. And so, two days later, Grover led you to the kitchen. 

“How did you manage this?” You asked, amazed at all the ingredients that were present.  You even spotted three ugly, holiday themed aprons amongst the food. “A favor here and there,” Grover nervously looked around, “Just try not to leave the building, it’s dangerous.” he looked at you pointedly, until you reluctantly nodded. 

“Of course, uh,” You saw Nico and Bianca approach from the end of the hallway, “Do you want to join us?” You offered. Grover quickly shook his head. 

“No I uuh-” he stammered, “I have duties- deadlines- uh, yes.” and he took off into the other direction. 

“Who was that?” Nico asked, bouncing on his feet.

“Just a friend who helped set this up,” You opened the door and Bianca and Nico gasped. 

“What is all this stuff?” Bianca looked at the table, slight wonder on her face.

“Hopefully enough to make gingerbread houses!” You smiled, elated to find pre-baked gingerbread house kits in the middle of the table, “Let’s get the holidays going!”

After you explained the steps of making a gingerbread house, and assuring Bianca that glue would not make the process easier (it would but where is the fun in that?), you got started on the houses. Throughout the decorating you would talk about different holiday traditions you used to have, elaborating there where it was necessary. You supposed they hadn’t celebrated Christmas after getting to the U.S.A., which was kinda weird but you shrugged it off and kept talking. 

“I mean, Santa Claus delivers presents all over the world!” You announced giddy, only for Bianca’s eyes to widen as she quickly spoke up. 

“Yes, but he gets help by La Befana in Italy, for example,” she laughed awkwardly, “Of course, the whole world by one person would be too much!” You eyed Bianca in surprise, but before you got interrupted before you could ask about it. 

“That is so cool!” Nico jumped up, “I had never heard of Santa, but it makes sense!” He smiled widely. Ah, Nico must still believe in Santa, or whoever the Italian Santa Claus is.  Nico turned around his gingerbread house, “(Y/n), I already made la Befana but can you make Santa too? I want them both in my house, so I get more presents!” 

You looked at Nico’s house, noticing that he made a lady (?) with what is probably a broom. She was standing next to a snowman made out of icing, and there were the smallest penguin looking creatures too. The true stand-out creation was probably the guy, made fully out of yellow icing, holding a staff and having wings on his head. Nico saw you looking, and smiled. 

“I also added Hermes! I mean, the messenger god must have been helping with delivering presents too, right?” His excitement was adorable, and you nodded in agreement. 

“Of course, how else would anyone manage to deliver millions of presents?” You laughed. You grabbed a peppermint and red icing and went to work on adding Santa Claus to Nico’s house. 

───────────

It was getting late, and Nico had already dozed off, half laying on the table. Bianca and you were quietly cleaning up the mess together. As you were leaving, Bianca carrying Nico on her back, Bianca turned to you. 

“Thank you, (Y/n).” Her eyes looked sad, but she smiled, “Adjusting has been hard for us, and I’m really happy that we’re friends.” You smiled back at her. 

“It’s a delight knowing you and Nico, Bianca.” You petted the boy on her back, “I hope we’ll be friends for many years more, maybe make some Christmas traditions ourselves!” 

Bianca smiled, and Nico stirred a little on her back, urging you both to keep walking. Maybe, if things had turned out a little differently, you would have had traditions with the Di Angelo siblings, but as they disappeared from Westover Hall only a few days later, you would never know. You hoped they were alright.

[killerbananas]

Highlight

Erwin is obsessed with eating you out. Can you handle it even when you’re flailing around from the overstimulation?

🔞 mdni | masterlist | 423 wc | afab!reader x Erwin

Warnings: smut; dark!; dubcon/inebriation, rough oral, biting, painful rough, dubcon/cnc/somnophilia, dubcon/ignoring soft stop request from overstimulation/cnc-kink territory (but brief), mating from multiple donors treated cuckingly anonymously, degradation/humiliation

AN: Repost from my old account. Original AN: Erwin gets a little deep in his thoughts about sharing your womb; im probably going to hell for this one too. It’s time to sin, babes.

It may be his day off, but let it never be said that Erwin was ever in any kind of off position unless he was asleep ((even then, we all know just scooting into him as the little spoon has benefits a’fuckin’plenty in dragging this horndog out of a wet dream from you backing your ass up)).

In not knowing an “off” mindset, his “on” applies to a plethora of shades that can affect his mood in the bedroom. Sans a list that could never hope to capture the complexity of a man with a conscience and madness and sadness and boldness like Erwin anyway, examining him in the highest piques of his insanity is where his darkest secrets lay like forgotten shadows cast back from cresting dawn along craggy mountaintops. His love is full of blindingly dangerous caverns, cold shames, and the most beautiful nature you could ever hope to witness.

Marijuana for this man is the undoing of every safeguard between his cock and his mouth and anyone on the receiving end of this experience should say a prayer to whatever god deity or lucky rock they beg to before getting blindsided with the obsession that is Erwin. He will go down on your cunt until your grabbing hands try to shove his mouth away, but he keeps suckling the right spot to stammer your muscles into submission, driven to silence you with every inky desire that drips from his cock.

You simultaneously curse and bless the interruptions when he spits filth against your folds, for the breathy puffs of air are still assaultingly stimulating on your swollen labia and he pauses between moments of intense arousal by biting where it pleases him. But, fuck, what he says throws you for loops.

“I have half a mind to tie you down and keep you like this for hours. What do you say to that, kitten?”

“What if we got one of my friends over here, blindfolded you, and made you try to guess what cock you’re getting fucked with? Sounds like a fun game to me. We could get you so dickdrunk you can’t tell the difference when we switch back and forth. You could be such a pretty comeslut.”

“Wonder if we should even worry about keeping up with your birth control, honey. Let’s get you off that and then see which one of us could fuck a baby into you faster. I wouldn’t mind trying a few times with the right person. Oh, are you coming, you fucking broodslut?”

Taglist: @aotwarriorsimp @alexpro-nwn @animediplomat @antoxsmith @armoredpotato @aviinnit @beffjurky @blondeboyfriend @casuallyck @cherrxs @dearbaji @erwinsbaby @eyesucket @fairypiku @fandomficsobsession @fujoneshi @holographicceo @hinasakuino @interfectio-mortales @kenryug @koulakoukoula2003 @kxkyuu-main @lavenderdaisyhoney   @mybadluckshouldmakemefamous @chaotic-nick @nathalunalune @notgoodforlife @arsonszn @pockcock @poursomesunaonme @scouts-stuff @seychellse @shigarakiapologist @soaringmirror @sparklekitteh @stigandr-the-cat @syrma-sensei @reiners-milkbiddies @tiffanyy-21 @tonaken @torapologist @touyyes @we-are-so-close

[sylver-drawer]

I’m working on a AraJen mini comic rn so I’ve been thinking about how Arabella fits in the general plot/AU/her relationships with others—especially since she’s based off/AU-ified of one of the noble tea party girls.

Arabella dislikes Ijekiel and Roger, in a way where she judges them but would be able to bear with them if she had to.

Arabella was jealous of, but still interested in, Athy at first because of how much Jen unconditionally loves her as well as the fact no one has actually seen or met Athy aside from a very rare and quiet few.

Arabella grows to dislike Athy (jealousy aside) after meeting her a few times via tea parties

Arabella hates Lucas

To Arabella, Lucas is some sort of Magic purist, a hypocrite, someone who has no qualms about using the black magic he himself condemns so fervently (in this AU, black magic originated from human desire and desperation just like normal magic that fluctuates based off of emotion—people just started calling it black magic because human desires become ‘dirty’ and ‘uncontrollable’ when pushed to their limit and this often happened with commoners and those of ‘lower’ birth. Necromancy began by the urge to see dead loved ones again, curses began as cries of lament and justice, spells involving memory and heart originated from wanting to protect themselves from manipulation and pressure from those of higher status and power, etc.)

This is why Mana Beasts are emotional with strong personalities despite being ‘creations’—they’re basically physical manifestations of human emotion

Arabella especially hates the way Lucas treats Jennette and the way he makes it as if being born with black magic (the manifestation of human emotion) is a sin. She always knew something was weird with Jen which is why she stayed around, and only finds out she’s a ‘Chimera’ later on but it doesn’t change anything at all

In fact, it probably makes Arabella love Jennette more—because of course black magic that stemmed from raw human desire and emotion would result in the most lovable emotionally intelligent human she knows.

Which is why she finds Lucas laughable, because of course the hypocritical magic purist who hates black magic but still uses it is the most apathetic and inhumane person ever. Of course the one who constantly shames the only person he personally deems as ‘inhuman’ is more monstrous in comparison.

The reason why the heart freezing curses screwed up Claude and Lucas is because they are both men in/with power. Giving men in power the ability to not feel simply enables their psychopathic tendencies.

This explains Anastasius too—he’s screwed up, but unlike Lucas and Claude, still has his humanity and emotions because he never froze his heart

This also explains Aeternitas

Arabella meets Blackie only briefly, but loves them a lot

[burning-academia-if]

1k Follower Celebration: ???'s short story

Word count: 4k

Summary: Snapshots from the life of a child who was never supposed to survive.

CW: lots of discussion around death, brief mention of animal death, violence, blood

A/N: Once more, sorry this is late! I hope you enjoy the final story!

Once, an infant died. In an old manor, secluded from the rest of the world, a mother couldn’t weep for a child lost. It was a miracle, really, it had lasted through the week. Torn and sickly from birth, the mother cradled its small body. Maybe a hospital might have saved them, had they been allowed such a grace.

            There was nothing in her eyes. She stared, vacant, out towards the window. Her lips mouthed the words of a lullaby and her husband guarded the door. Knuckles white against the frame, he kept his head bowed and did his best not to weep. If he fell apart, then so would she.

            Outside, shadows curled around the windows. It wasn’t like them, to be so curious. The sensation made memories come back in spades, a collection of what they once were. A death of a newborn, unnatural in more ways then they could grasp, attracted them under the moonlight.

            ‘Ask us,’ they sang, ‘And we’ll bring back the child.’

            ‘Save us and we’ll save them.’

            Their voices crept forward, and the woman paused. Her grip tightened around the infant, fingers digging into the cloth. Her husband stepped forward, a warning on his lips. She ignored him and rose, stumbling towards the window. An invitation. They became a swarm.

            “Don’t—!” Her husband’s voice was lost as the darkness in cased her. There were so many, but one took a step forward. A body with a vague human form, hands reaching out. She clutched tighter at the child still.

            ‘Return to us what we desire, and thus we will return back what you desire.’

            “What…what do you want?”

            ‘Our memory. Our humanity. Our souls.’

            It was taboo, for one to return a wraith to their original selves. But truly, playing by the rules had done nothing in their favor. They were both casted out and cursed, and their newborn child had paid the price. Even if the wraiths lied, it did not matter. She couldn’t imagine living, not any longer.

            She held the child out. An offering for the first sin.

            The shadows rushed forward, all at once. The woman cried out, ice running down her spine and spreading through her body. As weak as she was, she sank to her knees, vaguely aware of her husband’s arms wrapping around her. The windows rattled, the darkness became one, and her child cried once again.

//

            They grew fast, both in size and understanding. Their father taught them reading, history, arithmetic. Their mother the sciences and magic theory. Neither her nor their father had magic in their veins, but their mother had said there were other ways to be able to use it.

            It was the wraiths who taught them about life and death.

            Although they were never supposed to go out at night, they snuck out often. They’d go past their parents’ garden and out towards the trees that laid beyond and call for them.

            Every time, the wraiths would chastise them, ‘Never call for wraiths.’

            ‘What if they answer next time?’

            ‘They’ll hurt you, they’ll hurt you.’

            And they would tilt their head and glance between their various forms, “But you’re all wraiths and you’d never hurt me.”

            ‘Not wraiths, ghosts! Ghosts.’

            ‘We are wraiths but we are special.’

            ‘Ghosts!’

            The little ones, as small as them, would argue with the bigger ones. Then they’d grow bored and ask them to play and so they’d run through the woods until they were tired. Arms would wrap around them and when they opened their eyes next, they were in bed and sunlight poured through the window.

            Those were peaceful days. Yes, they were trapped in a world very small, but there was comfort and friends and family. Days the same as a favorite blanket, the only place they would ever want to exist if they could make the choice again.

            Time, however, can only ever press forward.

//

            The first time they found a dead thing, they wept. It was a small bird, likely attacked by another, resting at the edge of the garden and the forest. They sank to their knees, hands shaking as it hovered over its small little body. It was hard to see anything, so blinded by their tears.

            “Oh, little one, what’s wrong?” Their mother wiped her hands on her apron, coated heavily in dirt and grime.

            “I found a bird. A dead bird.”

            Their mother’s arms wrapped around them and they turned and buried themselves against her. She cuddled them close, tucking them under her chin, “It’s alright, dear. All living things will eventually die.”

            “The wraiths say it’s the end for most things. And when it’s not, it’s…it’s…they’re wrong.” They tried to think of what they were told but the words were lost on them and they didn’t want to think, they wanted to cry. They thought they might cry forever, as they hiccupped over their words.

            Their mother stroked her hands through their hair, long and past their shoulders now, “Yes, death is an ending. It does not mean we can’t honor them. Come, let’s bury it and wish it well onto the next life.”

            As their mother gave them gloves and a place to bury the bird, they found themselves asking, “Why do some dead things stay and others vanish forever?”

            “They’re not gone forever.” She placed the body in the ground, hands moving the dirt over to cover it. “They’re merely gone in a place we ourselves can’t reach.”

            “But they’re gone forever from us…” Their voice wobbled, seconds away from tears again and their mother reached an arm out. They let themselves collapse into it, eyes squeezing shut as they took comfort in her.

            She carefully took off her gloves, and ran a hand through their hair, “Not forever. Never forever.”

            She let them stay there, in the midst of a garden. A child learning grief, and a mother only ever steeped in it.

//

            The father paced in his room, the never-ending confinement and the stubborn march of time sinking into his arteries. The mother watched, perched on the edge of bed as though ready to flee at a moment’s notice. How long has it been since this place became the only thing they knew?

            “We can’t let them know about the child.” He started, coming to a halt. “We’ll have to hide them.”

            “But…” she hesitated, eyes downcast as she folded her hands in her lap. “This place bears the marks of my actions. Even if we hide the child, we can’t hide what we’ve done or what we’ve become.”

            He turned his eyes towards her, a thickness in his throat, “How do you suppose this will end?”

            “It was never going to end well.” She met his gaze. “It’s why I don’t regret the choice I’ve made.”

            “I don’t either. Watching our child grow is the only thing that’s managed to keep me going. If they lay a on hand on—”

            “I’ll kill them.” The mother raised to her feet. The light of the full moon spilled over her form, casting a glow to her hair. She looked more specter than woman. He knew she was serious, because he’d do the same. It’d been a promise from the beginning. Whatever life they had, had ceased to be theirs. It did not mean their child needed to live out the same fate.

            He took a deep breath, “We have much to do in the coming days. For now, we’ll rest.”

            They guided each other to bed, body folding over body. One racing heart wrapped around the other, easing it into tranquility. Sleep came, and washed away the unease for one more night.

//

            “Wait Mira, where are we going?” It was strange, for any of the wraiths to be out during the day. Mira was the smallest one, something once a child and now forever doomed to be one. They were older than her now, a skip away from their tenth birthday tomorrow.

            They’d been in the garden, though the winter laid many plants to rest. The sight of the wraith crouched by the tree had drawn their attention, and they’d got the feeling she’d wanted them to follow.

            Now, they were farther into the woods then they had ever been. Their eyes skipped over the trees, breath puffing the air. In their ill-fitting clothes, the cold was biting into every part of their skin. The exertion was the only thing keeping it at bay.

            “Mira—” They started again, and felt the whole fabric of the earth shift. A gasp fell through their throat, hand bracing hard against the trunk of a tree. Bark dug into calloused palms, the pain hardly registering. Something was wrong. It made their stomach turn to the point of nearly being sick.

            With all their strength, they shoved themselves back to their feet. They spun, facing back to the place they called home. They needed to get back. Felt the desperation in their bones.

            ‘Sorry.’

            ‘We’re sorry.’

            ‘So so sorry.’

            Wraiths rushed around their feet, emerging from the shadows casted by the branches. They clung to their legs and held onto their arms. Everything felt even colder, the world bleeding color into something gray.

            “What…what are you doing?” Their limbs felt week. They weren’t sure when they came to be on the ground, but they felt the dirt and the twigs and frost press into their clothes, turning it damp.

            A figure came to loom over them. One they’d come to know well, ‘You cannot go, little one.’

            The world was gone, all at once.

//

            When they woke up it was night and there were graves. The moon stared down at them, and shivers clawed into their body. It took all their strength to push themselves up, and when they did all the shadows scattered. Their breathe created a fine mist in the air in front of them, a constant thrum as they struggled to keep their breath even.

            Despite the shakes, they called, “W-why? Why am I here, what did you do…?”

            ‘It was by your parents’ request.’ The largest shadow rose in front of them, and in the full moon light, they could almost see its face. Middle aged, dark eyes, a gaping wound of darkness in their side. The sight stilled even the chatter of their teeth. ‘There are things you don’t know about them, which they will never tell.’

            They wrapped their arms around their body, as though such thins limbs cold protect them against the night’s chill, “Like how they never answer when I ask why we can’t leave the confines of these woods?”

            ‘Yes. It’s for your own protection.’ It motioned towards the place around them. ‘This is outside their confines. When you’re older and steadier, we could finally set you free. For now, this place is the only place you’d survive.’

            “I…I could. Survive out there.” They had never met another living soul besides their parents. Now, their eyes searched past the graves and old wrought iron gates as though they could find a hint of life waiting for them somewhere. It was as dark and empty as ever.

            ‘Child, you weep for all things. There’s only a cruel world waiting beyond this cage. When I return you, you’ll understand everything I’ve told you about violence.’ A chill zipped down their spine, and this time not from the temperature.

            “…What do you mean?”

            ‘You’ll see. Take hold, and I’ll lead you back home.’ And so they let it take their hand and lead them back through the trees.

//

            They didn’t want to go through the doors, left open and creaking back and forth in the wind. There were no lights on inside, nor was there a sound. When they peered through the door, the house peered back. Wounded, cracked. The entrance they knew well was contaminated with the markings of intruders.

            It was in the air. They could feel it on their skin, skittering across their veins. It wasn’t the same kind of feeling they felt from the wraiths, it was something different. New. Bitter. The shadow beside them waited, sensing their brief hesitation.

            They took a deep breath and walked through the door. The feeling was stronger inside, choking their lungs. It made it impossible to call out, and so they stumbled forward. As long as they followed the trail, they’d be able to find their parents. Wherever the cursed path led.

            While all the wraiths crowded at the door, the one remained by their side. With it, even with their sudden clumsiness, their movements didn’t make a sound. It felt like years of walking, longer than the trek through the woods, before they came upon the old study. Cracks shot through the wall around the door like lightening. It seeped color, a bright bright red. Bright enough to hurt their eyes.

            Their companion shielded away, ‘This is as far as I can go.’

            Despite their desire to ask, they couldn’t. So they swallowed the sick in their throat and stopped in front of the door. It hung, kept on by a single bolt. Even with the awkward angle they could see inside. The room was a mess, books scattered and torn and pages in various directions. They could just make out their parents’ form. They were covered in red.

            Without a second thought, they ducked through the door, feet almost tripping over themselves as it landed on the pages. The light of the room was still on, flickering in it’s attempt to hold on. The red on their parents was not just blood but whatever the strange essence at the entrance was. It wrapped around them like webs, and they collapsed on their knees.

            “M…mom? Dad…?” It hurt to talk, their hands hovered the two’s bodies, unsure what to do or where to touch.

            Their mother groaned, her eyes fluttering open, “Oh…you’re not…supposed to be here.”

            “What happened? Why is there…all this?” The word came a second later. Magic. “What can I do?”

            Before they could do anything, their mother jerked away from them. Her hands dug into it and tore it away. It burned bright, searing at her hands as she did so. More blood spilled, running as free as a river as it cascaded from her body.

            Her voice was stern, “Don’t touch me. This will only hurt you.”

            “There must be something I can do—The first aid kit. I’ll bring it to you. I’ll be back, I promise.” They scrambled to their feet, still off kilter and ran out. They heard their mother call their name but it was so far from them. They just needed the first aid kit, they needed to help. They needed to not think about their father not waking up.

            It took too long to get everything and to make it back. When they returned their mother was tearing the magic netting off their father. Tears wet her face, the pain obvious in each of her movements, but it didn’t stop her. Each red thread dissolved to nothing as it was taken off his skin.

            They placed everything on the floor, desperate to help but deterred by the harsh look their mother sent their way, “Thank you, dear. Now there is one more thing I need you to do for me. In our room, tucked away in one of the floorboards, is a box. The wraiths will show you were. Inside there, is your gift.”

            “My gift, but—”

            “It’s after midnight, is it not? This is both for your birthday and your protection. Now go.” Protection from what? They wanted to know what had happened and if it was for the same reason they were trapped here. They wanted to know if their father was still alive. They wanted to know why they could cry whenever they stumbled upon a dead animal, but didn’t feel even moisture in their eyes at the sight of their parents.

            Their eyebrows pinched together and they stared at her, “Mom…”

            “I’ll tell you everything, I promise. For now, will you do this for me?” They nodded, numb, and her lips twitched into a smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry for all of this. I thought we’d have more time.”

            They rose, head still spinning. Worse than before. Every moment that passed made them worse. They were sure their mother, so steeped in it all for so much longer, must be suffering. But if there was nothing they could do, then they could only do what she asked.

            The wraith was waiting for them this time, as though sensing their mother’s words. It pulled them forward, the only thing keeping them upright now. The two ascended the flight of stairs and here they could see endless damage. Doors open, furniture tossed. Whoever had been here had been looking for something. What if they’d found whatever their mother had told them about?

            ‘Focus.’ The wraith instructed and they did. They made their way down the hall and into their parents’ room. It was the worst place of all. The indoor plants, the paintings on the walls, the mattress on the bed. Everything in pieces.

            There were marks here too, although they didn’t glow with red light as the ones from downstairs. They stepped over shattered glass and broken bits, following the wraith as it indicated a spot on the ground.

            ‘Careful.’ It whispered, as they dug their hands between the cracks. Even with all the strength slipping away from them, they used their whole weight to pry it up. It stuck and they pulled, and the wooden splinters bit into their skin. The pain rushed to their brain and cleared the dam.

            Tears fell. It burned out and blurred the world around them. Still, they kept going, until the floorboard finally heaved. Until their raw hands were pulling out a box. It was a deep blue, trimmed with silver. The latch glittered at them in low light, scattered further by how they cried.

            It took a moment to fumble at the latch to get it open. When they did, it was a sudden light. So bright it hurt their eyes. Despite its blinding radiance, the wraith did not shield away. It stayed by them as it poured out. Burrowed into their skin and wrapped around their heart.

            It stopped. All of it stopped.

//

            Their father had always called them a bleeding heart. They weren’t sure if it was true. Sometimes, they were drowning in emotions, unable to claw their way out. Other times, they felt like it all burned away.

            In every memory they held, was warmth. But the older they got, the more the questions spilled forth. They asked about everything, and when their parents refused to answer they went to the wraiths. Sometimes even they held their tongue. It made the reflection warp. What had they missed, in the cage of their childhood? And would knowing have changed anything at all?

            The years after the attack shifted everything. The wraiths vanished without a trace. Their mother had dropped all kindness.

            “You need to survive.” She’d said. “Even if it’s without us.”

            Once, they’d snuck out on a summer night. There was only one thing they wanted, and it was to find the graveyard the wraiths had taken them to the night everything changed. Despite their best efforts, they never found it. All they succeeded in was knowing the woods better than even the animals.

            The bigger they got, the smaller the world felt. In instances they’d usually accept their mother’s answers, they’d push back. They needed to know everything in the world. If they did, then maybe they could find a way to free all of them.

            “Why can’t you leave?” They asked once, letting their mother braid their long hair. It was one of the few displays of love left in her.

            Her fingers carefully threaded the braid together, “It’s because of the same magic that nearly killed us. It binds us here, and they hoped it would cause us to die. From starvation or dehydration or illness.”

            “It doesn’t bind me though, does it?” Their eyes traced the scars on the walls. The damage from the house could never fully be repaired. “I could leave, and find a way to free you both—”

            They felt her tension, the involuntary clenching of her hands. It did not hurt but it made them flinch, “They would kill you. When you finally leave, you are never to come back.”

            It was an impossible idea. To let their parents go. They were the start and ending of their world. A fear wormed its way into their brain and made residence there. They would lay awake in bed, listening for anything wrong, wondering if tonight was the night the intruders would come back and finish the job.

            If they did, they would have to be ready.

            But there was no magic in them, they were just a child. They’d take a spare knife and practice throwing. Once, when their aim was nonexistent, it caught the wing of a stray bird. It squawked and fell and they rushed forward as a ringing echoed in their ear.

            They collapsed over it, cradling it in their hands, forgetting their mother’s warning of disease.

            “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they sobbed, cradling it to their chest. When they saw blood, they saw their parents. When they thought of violence, it made them sick. How would they ever protect anything, when all it did was make them ill?

            Their mother had found them, later. The bird was content in their hands, despite its own blood marring them. She brushed a hand through their hair, and they stirred from an endless half sleep.

            “You are too kind for such violence.” She whispered, and it was the first time they had ever seen her close to tears.

            As they shifted, the bird hopped away and they looked at their hands, stained with its blood. They thought they might be sick. They thought they’d cry again.

            Instead, they swallowed it all back, “This violence is born from my kindness.”

            Their mother threw her hands around them, and squeezed them in a tight hug. For a moment, they were suspended. She did not cry, and neither did they. Instead, they sat there in the fading light. A mother forced to be cursed with her doom, and a child whose path only led to such an ending.

//

            It was always going to be a futile fight. Even still, they fought it. Even as their parents’ bodies hit the ground. Even as hands grabbed them, hard enough to bruise. They fought and screamed, and the wraiths answered.

            The intruders yelled, and they wrenched themselves away. They weren’t sure where they were going as they ran. Into the woods, as they always did. To a place where they would never be found. Their feet hit the ground hard, lungs burning, and an endless panic coursing through them.

            If they finally made it past the woods then—

            A pain chocked them. They felt themselves collapse, staring down at their body. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red—

            “Got ‘em.” A voice called.

            “Jesus, did you really have to do that to a kid?”

            “It’s fine. It’s not like anyone knew the bastards had a kid anyway, right? What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

            The intruders’ footsteps crunched in the snow. They'd been left to die. As their eyes squeezed shut, trying to drown out the pain, they wondered. Would they become a wraith? Would their parents? Or would they simply move on to whatever was waiting for them in the unknown? Their thoughts echoed.

            The snow wasn’t cold. Their body wasn’t warm. It hung, suspended, outside of time itself. Their mind was a blur of white and shadows. A voice sung a lullaby somewhere, far away from their reach. They were alone. Suddenly and violently alone. A fragment of a forgotten memory now, instead of a real person. Arms sank under their body and lifted them up.

            “It’s time to rest, now.”

            They felt their consciousness slip away to nothing.

[catcas22]

What do you think Shabriri's motivation was for doing The Thing? Was he depressed Allant ass motherfucker that decided for everyone else that annihilation of life was a better outcome? Was he a fundamentalist that gone mad and decided to actually turn Law of Regression to results? Did he just find Fingerprint Shield and said 'yes king' like instant +99 Insight? Was he just too curious to NOT touch the thing he knew was dangerous? Did he believe he could somehow control this power and took the risk (that of course went wrong, since it "destroys all thought")? And all this under assumption that he knew that being accursed would unleash Frenzied Flame- that I think is reasonable, but still there are various ideas

First off, sorry for the delay. I got hit with a deadly combination of too many other projects and no motivation for any of them. But I've had this in the back of my mind, rotating.

I'll start with what we know for sure about Shabriri.

Shabriri's Woe

Disturbing likeness of a man whose eyes have been gouged out. The corners of his mouth are upturned in an almost flirtatious manner.

Constantly attracts enemies' aggression.

It is said that the man, named Shabriri, had his eyes gouged out as punishment for the crime of slander, and, with time, the blight of the flame of frenzy came to dwell in the empty sockets.

Howl of Shabriri

Incantation originating from the maddening Three Fingers.

Releases a maddening shriek that causes madness buildup in foes nearby. This incantation also causes madness buildup in the caster and makes enemies more likely to target them.

It is said that the sickness of the flame of frenzy began with Shabriri, the most reviled man in all history.

What we know for sure: The FF indwelt Shabriri after his slander and subsequent blinding, and the sickness that is the manifestation of the FF began with him. The wording isn't 100% clear here -- he could be literally patient zero, or he could be the originator/creator of the sickness.

Now, on to what we know for sure about the Flame of Frenzy.

Via Hyetta's questline, we can hear the FF's description of itself. Surely quite biased, but a look at the FF's beliefs and goals should be illuminating.

[Hyetta relaying FF's words] "All that there is came from the One Great. Then came fractures, and births, and souls. But the Greater Will made a mistake. Torment, despair, affliction... Every sin, every curse. Every one, born of the mistake."

"And so, what was borrowed must be returned. Melt it all away, with the yellow chaos flame. Until all is One again."

[Hyetta speaking] "Those who gave me grapes howled without words. Saying they wished they were never born. Become their lord. Take their torment, despair. Their affliction. Every sin, every curse. And melt it all away. As the Lord of Chaos."

"No more fractures...no more birth..."

Frenzied Burst

Releases concentrated blasts of the yellow flame of frenzy from the caster's eyes. Charging enhances potency, enabling the blasts to penetrate the enemy's guard.

In times past, every single person who attempted to control the flame of frenzy succumbed to madness after a desperate internal struggle. This incantation is testament to a meager victory.

Nomad Ashes

A member of a tribe that was entombed in the earth so as to bury the maddening disease that followed them. Able to emit the terrible flame of frenzy from his eyes, but has low HP and is frail, unable to take much in the way of punishment.

Nomadic Merchant's Set

These merchants once thrived as the Great Caravan, but after being accused of heretical beliefs, their entire clan was rounded up and buried alive far underground.

Then, they chanted a curse of despair, and summoned the flame of frenzy.

Fingerprint Stone Shield

A great stone shield with an intricately carved fingerprint design. One of the heaviest of all greatshields. Part of the tomb of an ancient god, the Readerless Fingers relayed their message through these imprints, said to be the very seeds from which frenzy first sprouted.

Note: The Lord of Frenzied Flame

"Beneath Leyndell, at the very bottom lies our lord, lord of the frenzied. The Three Fingers who holds us in thrall."

This is where I start to get my wires crossed. The Fingerprint Stone Shield is found in the catacombs leading up to the Three Finger, and it is specifically said to be a part of the FF's tomb. It seems reasonable to assume that after being walled up alive, the nomads found the tomb and, in their desperation, came to worship the FF. However, the Nomad Ashes description states that the caravan was entombed because of the sickness (presumably the effects of Frenzy) that they were afflicted with.

My best guess is that the nomads were not originally afflicted by the FF. They were instead falsely accused of such by Shabriri (his infamous crime of slander).

There's also the distinct possibility that the nomads worshipped or were at least aware of the Three Finger before their entombment and subsequent fall to Frenzy -- one of their notes describes the Three Finger as "our lord," while in the same breath saying that it holds them "in thrall." There's also the fact that the nomads chanted a specific curse to summon the FF. It was a deliberate act, not simply a byproduct of their despair.

So, my proposed sequence of events:

Shabriri finds the tomb of the Three Finger, reads the shield, and for whatever reason decides that this is a good avenue to pursue. He accuses the nomad caravan, who might have already been associated with the FF or might have just been an easy scapegoat. The caravan is buried alive, and in their despair they summon the FF. When Shabriri's slander is discovered, he is blinded, after which he is indwelt by the FF.

That leaves us with the question of Shabriri's motive. If my timeline is correct, he did not fall to despair and frenzy until after his blinding, and therefore after his slander of the nomads. So why was he originally trying to manufacture a situation that would lead to the summoning of the FF?

I think we can rule out his stated motivation right away -- he doesn't care about saving Melina or any other maiden. If you follow his instructions, Hyetta burns. Even if you use Miquella's needle to purge the FF, you still have to sacrifice at least one innocent life to follow Shabriri's path.

It's possible that Shabriri shares the same motives as the FF itself -- namely, freshman-philosophy-student nihilism. According to the FF, speaking through Hyetta, life itself is an abomination. Existence will always entail a degree of suffering, and therefore it would be better if nothing existed at all. Never mind all the people who believe that their lives are worth living, regardless of the suffering involved.

This is probably the most straightforward answer. Shabriri strikes me as the r/im14andthisisdeep type who would be taken in by such a philosophy.

There's one other option, one that I don't quite feel I have all the pieces to. The line about eye-contact being the highest form of intimacy sticks out to me. And despite my reasoning above, something about Shabriri's temptation feels more personal than the corrupted nihilism of the FF.

I wonder if Shabriri is driven by a need for connection, long since perverted and twisted into something wholly malicious. If all that divides and distinguishes is burned away, if individualism is abolished, what is left aside from togetherness, absolute forced intimacy, the complete destruction of the idea of separation? While this hits a very disturbing chord for me, it doesn't quite feel like a complete thought. Just a suggestion, I suppose.

Once again, I apologize for how long this took. Have a merry Christmas!

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Do Gallifreyans and Time Lords have any active religion(s)? How much do we know about their old and new religions overall?

How does religion work on Gallifrey?

Ooo, fun! Here's a brief whistlestop tour of it because, unlike most things, a lot is known already and I could write an essay.

🌌 The Creation of the Universe

Gallifreyan legends tell of the Universe's birth from a sentient singularity called 'Eru' or the 'Great Old One Azathoth'. The Mother Goddess used the Aurora Temporalis to create Time itself, and in turn, seconds were created by the Temporal Phoenix (who was apparently imprisoned in a time loop by people known as the Philesians).

📜 Old Times

Shobogans were the original indigenous people of Gallifrey, and some say they were immortal until Death's Messenger came to Mount Perdition. (Rather, an ancient species of religious zealots named the Kotturuh brought the concept of mortality as a 'gift' to the universe, limiting the lifespans of other species.)

Shobogans worshipped a pantheon of gods known as the Menti Celesti ('heavenly minds') and made offerings to them in alcoved shrines in their homes, particularly if they'd had good fortune. The primary gods included Pain, Death, Time, and Fate (Osuda). There's also the mystic virgin moon goddess Pazithi, for whom one of Gallifrey's moons is named. The Devil was the Dark God Valdemar.

The Shobogans also believed in reincarnation and said that after death, souls ended up in a mysterious sea, where you can hear them whispering - which is probably their concept of Hell.

😇 The Order of the Pythia

The Order of the Pythia was the central religious institution during these times. The Pythia, chosen by the Menti Celesti, was the supreme spiritual leader, ruling over the Shobogans. This role included responsibilities like being the Mouthpiece of the Gods and the Guardian of the Great Book of Future Legends. The Pythia and her Sisterhood performed sacrifices and rituals to gain favour from the Menti Celesti and foresee the future.

🔮 The Decline and Transformation of Religion

During the Time of Chaos when Rassilon stuck his finger in, the influence of the Pythia flopped big, leading to the collapse of the order. The surviving Sisterhood relocated to the planet Karn, becoming the Sisterhood of the Flame under High Priestess Maren. It was also at this time the ousted Pythia condemned Gallifrey to be barren - this is known as the Curse of the Pythia, which I'm sure you'll already know about.

🚀 Beliefs and Rationalism in the Era of Rassilon

In the era of Rassilon, a lot of Gallifreyans moved towards a more scientific and rational understanding of the universe. The discovery of the ratio 1 to 812, crucial to quantum string theory, reinforced beliefs in a creator but distanced them from traditional worship.

⛪ The Black Council

Somewhere between Rassilon and the 1st Doctor, Gallifreyan religion included the Black Council of Cardinals, Time Priests, and other religious figures, led by the Supreme Pontiff of Time. However, significant reforms thousands of years before the Doctor's time restricted the religious class's power, eliminating their access to Time Travel and genetic benefits. By the time of the Doctor's exile, the position of Supreme Pontiff was abolished, and the monasteries dissolved.

⏲️ Modern Era

Despite all these shifts, about 25% of Gallifreyans in the modern era still worship the Menti Celesti, with private prayers to Time and her sisters. Modern Gallifreyans don't really understand or give merit to the concepts of good and evil, and sins are virtually nonexistent. Allegedly.

Related:

What does the Gallifreyan political and social environment look like?: Overview of the general structure of Gallifreyan society and politics.

What are Gallifreyans’ thoughts on entropy?: How Gallifreyans see and fight the concept of entropy.

What is looming and how does it exist alongside natural reproduction?: Overview of looming and its place alongside natural reproduction in Gallifreyan society.

Hope that helped! 😃

More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[willowthewiisp]

More random thoughts about the lore in the dlc and how I'm trying to murder board it

Messmer and Marika mirror Mary and Jesus but in a fucked up way. Messmer quite literally sacrifices himself for his mother's sins so she could be a saint to the golden order. There's literally a Madonna esque statue of her and messmer as a baby. The name Marika is literally just another version of Mary. I don't even think messmer has a father like there was no player two Marika must have made a deal with either the serpent god or the fell god (and I'm more inclined to say the latter) and in return gifted her a child she could raise to slaughter her hated enemy. It's pretty clear the shaman village and the humans in general were more than likely all women. They were long lived but seldom born. Hard to have babies without men unfortunately. This ties back into erdtree births too and why Melina seemed so confused about how boc actually came from his mother. Now idk about Melina. She's still a big mystery. But it's implied people were literally reborn through the erdtree and through it's sap. The amber egg should be clue enough considering it holds the rune of rebirth and amber is fossilized tree sap so... Messmer was definitely a miraculous conception sort of deal, but I think because he was born of a single god like miquella and malenia, he was born cursed and afflicted too, just by the serpent god. It's why the snake is so reviled and hated. Marika hated what the snake did to him but as she stripped away her humanity she couldn't care less so long as he bathed the belurat settlement in blood. I also think this is why the fell god and the giants cursed "radagon" with red hair because Marika betrayed them and killed their god whom she had made a deal with to have a child.

Messmer was the sacrificial lamb she raised just for the slaughtering, and Melina has the same unfortunate fate as well, reduced to being kindling to burn the great tree. Who her "father" is and when she was born is a mystery considering she was clearly messmers sister, but she doesn't seem to have the same origins, or maybe she does and is also afflicted like miquella and malenia. Another cycle.

The only child she seemed to genuinely love was godwyn. He was perfect, golden, and the scion of her empire. His death drove her insane. Sucks she didn't go mad over messmer who literally took a huge bullet for her and welp we kill him too. She cared for miquella in some way shape or form considering there's an item (I forget the name) that basically says Marika blessed miquellas journey to the lands of shadow and his journey to godhood. Which is odd in retrospect. Also calls into question if godwyn was actually first born or not, but honestly I'm starting to think he still was, mostly because it seems like messmer was apart of the family for some time if he was like an older brother to radahn (I guess that explains why rellana loves him?) so the massacre must not have occured until after godwyn was born because I firmly believe her sins against the hornsent cursed her children with Godfrey and resulted in the omen twins. Godwyn must have been born at the very least because then messmer at least had some sort of chance at meeting radahn and interacting with him since radagon was married to rennala at this point. But that also must mean the war with the giants wasn't the final battle because radagons red hair came from that and kinda need radagon to have radahn so he can be a brother to messmer. I think this may be even confirms radahn is the oldest? Considering the crusades were hidden away from history, it would make sense history would call the fire giant war the last one to solidify marikas rule. Also would make sense why the fucking giants are ALL impaled like c'mon now.... But Marika after seeing how powerful her precious little boy was gave him the singular task of avenging her and slaughtering those monsters. And boy howdy did he. But then she locked him away. Threw him away, threw Godfrey away...she throws the rest of her children away after godwyn is killed. But messmers crusade made the hornsent curse Marika and that's when I think the twins were born. They had to of been while radagon had radahn and after messmer because remember godwyn fought the dragons during the time when the erdtree and golden order was still new. Either way she throws her cursed omen children in the trash, and I'm fully convinced if it hadn't been for Godfrey they would of been killed. Why wouldn't she want them dead after all. Would also make sense after the twins were born she began to have doubts and started to deep dive into how the fuck her perfect order allowed the crucible to come through and how omens still exist. It all culminates in godwyn being murdered and she loses her ever loving mind. But these are just thoughts because I've been up all night suffering side effects of a antidepressant and I'm going nuts

[foreveryourseternally]

Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want This Time

Frankenstein's monster x reader

Part four

The creature recoiled it's hand, almost surprised by your simple question. You said nothing and dared not to move, blinking back tears as you continued to stare. The thing cleared it's throat and appeared to be thinking hard about a response. "I-," began the creature, before trailing off and letting out another throaty sound. It briefly made eye contact with you, yellow eyes still glowing with the intensity of hellfire then focused it's gaze on some unseen point on the floor. "Are you familiar, by chance, with Paradise Lost," the beast finally spoke and again made belief eye contact. You let out a sniffle and shook your head slightly, as you had heard of the story but never wanted to read it. The thing made a grunt in what you could only hope was satisfaction, "Then I hope that this will be easier than I had anticipated."

The creature shifted, sitting down on the floor and relaxing slightly. "There was a man you see; foolish and arrogant. He believed himself to be like God and I: his Adam," the entity paused and glanced at you to confirm you were listening, "Though upon my creation I was cast out; unwanted, hated: I was not Adam but moreover Satan." At this you inhaled sharply, carefully watching the beast, unsure of what any of this meant. It gave you a look at the sound of your breath and seemed almost hesitant to continue but nevertheless pressed on. "I was made through sin and overconfidence; my birth unnatural, my body the product of grave robbery and desecration. I was cursed with life, brought into existence for the sole purpose of one man's pride. No: I was never destined to be Adam, my life is that which is unholy." It's voice rose in frustration it seemed but quickly returned to it's original octave as it went on. "Outcasted and forced to live without love or guidance I was able to become educated and through watching others from the shadows I understood grief, betrayal, and love. I had been shown grief and was betrayed by my creation but love was something unattainable it seemed." Suddenly it's tone shifted to one of anger and desperation, "I've done horrible things because of this, monstrous things. Surely though you cannot blame me? No: it was not my fault but his, forcing me into this lonely existence, dooming me it seemed to a life full of hatred and despair. You couldn't fault me? Could you?" The creature looked up at you and for a second you were afraid that you'd be meeting your demise, but at the realization the the beast seemed to be at the brink of tears you began to soften and feel sympathy. "No," you whispered, "I suppose not," you said making eye contact.

The creature let out an anguished sob before it dove forward, grabbing you and pulling you towards it. This startled you yet oddly you weren't afraid still feeling overwhelmingly sad for the creature. "You are a divine creature truly," it wailed, hugging you to it's chest while you simply sat there and listened. "You do not deserve to have been cursed by my presence. I am a Hell-ish beast and should be left to decay and wallow for my sins. I was foolish to still believe that there was still good left for me. No: I'm sorry divine creature, sweet angel, for bringing myself upon you. I simply could not help myself, you see," it's grip on you tightened slightly as it sobbed. "I saw you once out in the forest, unaware of my presence. I watched you, first in curiosity then in envy before finally being overwhelmed with adoration. A heavenly being untainted by the same hatred and loathsome world it seemed. So pure that I was overcome with the desire to follow you to know more about you, and as it seems I've gone too far. I've tainted you and yet I am still so selfish in my desires that I sit here holding you, cradling you knowing that by doing so I will only curse you to damnation. I beg your forgiveness, please," the thing sounded desperate as you tried to fully understand the words leaving it's mouth. "It's, I-," you struggled to find the words, "Would you like to stay?" You were only met with heavy sobs as the beast hugged you tighter, you couldn't figure out why you had asked such a question, maybe it was the overwhelming amount of information you had just received or maybe you felt bad for the thing's apparent loneliness but you were surely weren't afraid anymore. The thing's sobs subsided slightly and it choked out a thank you.

Note: Apologizes for the long wait on the next chapter, I've been swamped with school and work. I'm writing this on my phone so if there's any formating or grammar/spelling errors I'm sorry in advance

[fated-normal-767]

You ever heard of that myth where the guy royally pisses off demeter and she basically makes him so starved he eats himself? That’s Eris to me .

And also,,,,, so many thoughts about how…. Blasphemous his very existence is? Like how many times has he wondered if he even COUNTS as alive with the way he lives? The way his very birth was considered enough reason to damn him to basically a lifetime of sin . And not to be weird about religions I wasn’t even raised in but ,,,,,, hhhhhh something something Eucharist and the inherent holiness of the most foul thing a person could do etc etc etc ,,,,,,, (yes that is something I directly stole from TMA and will continue to steal idc what anyone tells me)

But also,,,, letalis & phantasm ?

oh exactly he’s so fundamentally fucked up and I love him . because of his skill his blood is actually a dark blue, and I originally chose it because Interesting Colour but. the way the term “blue blood” means royalty or an aristocratic bloodline. Just . this thing is so unnatural and if a god exists I doubt they made xem. but. their blood which is the main thing that draws the line between them and everyone else is the exact same as the idea that describes royalty. yeah I’m normal about this.

“Not to be weird about religions I wasn’t even raised in but” < should literally be at the start of all of my poasts because I am doing that every single day. I think the cruelest thing about eris is that he does not just do this on his own, he doesn’t just kill to live; he drags phantasm and letalis into addictions too. That’s like a form of religion to me. Look at this act condemned by everyone and trust me enough to live with yourself after it’s done. If I am cursed to do this to live, you can do it and live with the curse of the knowledge and then we will be the same. He doesn’t even always eat entire corpses even though it’d be more efficient for him to do so. He wants to leave evidence. It’s not survival, it’s a performance, and a threat.

Right . Phantasm and letalis.

Both letalis and phantasm ‘worked’ with xem at some point, and ended up with handprint-esque burn scars on their shoulders/shoulder blades to prove this, though letalis’ was covered by the explosion scar from the building collapse, and phantasm’s scar was on shimmer as it occurred before they had separate bodies, but shimmer (moderately horrifying concept) scraped it off with steel wool so there was still a scar but it no longer represented anything to do with eris and healed like a normal scar rather than a chemical burn. They had the scar for a while before they did this. Phantasm gets another scar when they get their own body. Though both of them lose the scars at some point, phantasm is willing to let eris do it again, where letalis is much more reluctant, and refuses.

Eris also learnt to design extremely efficient painkillers from chemical compounds found in their own blood, as they developed immunity to other painkillers and also became unable to get them from shops when they were found out to be killing people. They shared these with letalis and phantasm as they did technically work more effectively than market painkillers, but were very very addictive. Letalis has to start taking them after she gets caught in the explosion (“has to”, they already had a small addiction, but the pain from the injuries and muscle trauma meant she developed a reliance). This was at the same time as she was trying to distance herself from eris, but due to the reliance on something only he had, was nearly unable to leave without risking her health. Phantasm is also shown to have an addiction to these, though they’re suffered no particular injury to cause this, and it refuses to stop taking them. It also overdoses a few times as it isn’t used to how much their living body can handle and live. Eris doesn’t seem bothered by this, but does describe both letalis and phantasm as his best friends.