#it's not an uncommon thing in their world

[devildomwriter]

you said the brother's seven sins are based on their PTSD symptoms can you elaborate on it, please?

I’m not sure how I phrased it but when I mean is much of their personalities can be attributed to PTSD.

Lucifer’s need for control stemming from a situation where something traumatic happened that he had no control over.

Mammon’s need for instant gratification (serotonin) through things like gambling. Hoarding treasure to make sure he has a little financial security. Kleptomania is also a more uncommon symptom is some people with PTSD based on specific traumas.

Leviathan shells himself away in his room and becomes obsessively passionate to the point of blocking out the real world. He’s also self deprecating and afraid of socialization.

Satan’s fits of rage, lashing out before he can be hurt, learning things obsessively to avoid feeling inferior or like a burden. The need to constantly put down the person he feels inferior to.

Asmodeus being obsessed with gratification, validation, and recognition of others.

Beelzebub eating no matter the situation. Food is a big coping mechanism for most people and he’s eaten so much his stomach is a bottomless pitting meaning he needs to keep eating more and more.

Belphegor sleeps to avoid the waking world, school, socialization, generally everything. He also redirected his trauma of the war on humans because he needed something to blame and couldn’t otherwise cope.

Simeon wrote his trauma and loneliness down and created an ideal world with the brothers, one that he could control. He also acts as though nothing has changed since the war, still treating them exactly as he did, even calling them by their old nicknames.

Diavolo is bubbly and friendly because he’s deeply lonely and wants friends. He has people pleasing tendencies not only due to the pressure of his position but because of the rejection and strictness of his own father.

Mephistopheles is prickly and angry towards the brothers because they take Diavolo’s attention and Diavolo was the sole reason he was born and who he was raised to stand by. All that he is is meant for Diavolo.

Raphael is quick to defend himself with spears, likely trauma from war. He’s hyper observant and generally tries not to react to things or give away what he’s feeling. He’s built a metaphorical walls around himself.

Solomon never gives away what he’s feeling, avoids talking about himself, manipulates others before they can manipulate him, and has desire for dominance, power and control. He also seeks validation and praise for his work, especially from a human, since the human world rejected him as a child.

Thirteens’s trauma is based solely on Solomon’s cooking and she does what she can to avoid, lash out, and take revenge through her various pranks.

Michael collects mementos and reminders of his friends, storing them safely away and immediately recognizing when something was missing. He also maintains strict control of the friends left in his life likely keeping an eye on them to make sure he’s not left or betrayed again.

[n0tamused]

First of all - thank u for feeding us wuwa stans🙏 💓 love your blog

Can u do headcanons of Aalto and Scar in a relationship with a quirky/slightly unhinged reader ? Like she is not scared to get into danger and protecc but also attacc even when the situation is suuuper grim ?

A/N: It is my duty to provide food for my fellow WuWa stans. I'm so happy to hear you're enjoying my blog too, thank you for being here! <3 And I sure can. It is my first time writing for Scar, so I do apologize if he may be a bit ooc or if his hcs aren't as long as Aalto's. Feedback is much appreaciated

Contents: Aalto x reader, Scar x reader (separate), a bit of swearing, fluff and crack overall

Aalto: 

-For a man like Aalto, it would take a lot to make him really scared/concerned, and he has ways and more than enough energy to keep up with someone of your caliber and personality 

-He does love that you can match his personality too, and a lot of the time the two of you can end up bantering about one thing and poking at each other, even physical play fights aren’t something uncommon to happen. 

-In most situations, Aalto does end up being that voice of reasons that saves you both some extra bruises or scratches

-Where he does drive the line is where you throw yourself into danger’s way like a sack of potatoes

-"How about we don’t! Don’t do that!"

-Although he may have all lightheartedness in him to soothe the souls of the weary and to trick little Encore here and there, he hardly has it in him to stay so optimistic where you narrowly dodge a hit from the enemy that could have ended you on the spot

-Sooner rather than later he makes it a point to stick to your side at all times so he can pull you out of the way, should something come hurling down at you and you just decide that you can take it on

-In the end you two are stronger together, and Aalto would not want to miss out on your killer moves. He does praise you too, he really does admire you.

-Loves to spar with you too, it gives him a chance to relax with you while also letting you both learn some new offense and defense moves. He does teach you more defense tactics definitely

-That all aside, he does admire your… odd sense of optimism. He gets it. As mentioned, he can always be playful himself, even in dark times, but Aalto is just not used to really seeing that trait in others, or seeing it accentuated in someone.

-It’s what drives him even closer to you. In a way he is overprotective but at the same time he sort of enables your behavior by not outright scolding you and keeping that lighthearted tone about himself 

-In really dark times, it gets you both to keep pushing through, and that’s more than he could ever ask for

-He does cherish you lots for all you are, but each time you risk it he begins to hold you even closer, as close as the world and his duty would allow it, and maybe an inch more than that since he’d bend a few rules just for you

Scar:

-I believe it goes without saying that Scar would LOVE if his s/o was a little crazy. He desperately craves to have someone to do crime and be free with.

-It gives him such an adrenaline rush that he feeds off of, it is his lifeline, and he can never get enough. He is the adrenaline junky by all means

-Scar would love to tease and probe you, trying to get more ideas out of you for possible “date activities”. Although he takes this mission of his organization seriously, no one could ever really stop him from having fun along the way too. He was never even bound to the strictness that the other organization members shared.

-Enables all your crazy stunts and gives them his own opinions and ideas. And if you expressed the desire for it (more like he offered it himself), he’d summon that domain of his for a more “abstract” playing field for both of you. He is not opposed to showing off that goat monster form he has. May as well work as some extra training time for both of you.

-You can hear him cheer for you if he sees you kick someone's ass. Doesn't hold back to make fun of whoever it is that dared to go against you, and he hopes you don't show them any mercy either

-Scar would be a lot more openly affectionate with you as well. He’d have an arm around you a lot of times, and sometimes he’d poke or pinch the side of your stomach to watch you jump and squirm and giggle or squeal, and if you do that back to him he’d inhale a laugh (crazy man) before starting to attack you with more poking and pinching and tickling

-Can get a bit rough so I’d be careful if I were you-

-If you hurt yourself during a mission or just some random outing, he will be quite angry. Not directly at you, although he makes it a point to give you a scolding about keeping yourself in one piece, but he is even more angry at whoever dared to hurt you. He is way too protective. There aren’t many people like you, or people that he’d allow to be this close to him, and he doesn’t plan to lose you either

-If it’s some smaller cut or bruise that happens before his eyes though, he will laugh at that and call you clumsy or silly. Teases you about it for a little while.

-He may be a (little shit) little crazy, but he has his moments where he’d demand to simply lay down with you, wrap his arms around your waist and lay his head on your stomach as he rests between your legs and dozes off

-This doesn’t happen too often, but often enough to become a norm between the two of you. (Scratch his head, run your fingers through his hair-)

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[sugurism]

WANNA BET? ౨ৎㅤ suguru geto.

synopsis / premise ♱ㅤ when a lustful spirit comes across suguru geto’s path, the curse user must sacrifice his pride and dignity for a chance to obtain its power. but you won’t make it easy for him, will you?

featuring ♱ㅤ cursed spirit!reader X suguru geto (2017 / jjk 0 ver.)

warnings ♱ㅤ NSFW ♡︎ ㅤ spectrophilia ! monsterfucking (?) ! DEATH (not on any of them) + BLOOD ! EATING HUMAN FLESH (not cannibalism!) ! dub-con (both consent, but it involves a dangerous bet, so just to stay safe) ! sub and dom dynamics constantly changing (both switchers) but reader is usually domming ! unprotected sex + unrealistic portraits of sex ! creampie ! power dynamics ! rough sex / “hate” sex ! degradation + praise ! WORD COUNT: 4990.

author’s note ♱ㅤthank you for everyone who's enjoying and supporting my work! i love you all and i hope you like this piece as well. this is inspired by the poll i made a long while ago. the people asked, and they shall have it! despite it not being yandere character, be sure the next fics will fix that! <3

p.s — i write smut very rarely. i feel it's a little bland and ill probably avoid writing it for a little while lol. despite that, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless

BETTING WITH CURSES is always a dangerous ── not to say stupid ── idea. their conceptions are more violent and sadistic than those of humans, and they have little (or no) notion of mortality. they revel in the gushing blood, the failure, and the deadly despair that initially gave rise to them. therefore, it is uncommon for even the most experienced curse users to engage in this type of activity. but geto doesn’t know the meaning of fear. it became unfamiliar to him, like he always wished. curses are just the accumulated filth of non-sorcerers. and a god fears neither the insects beneath him nor the remains they produce.

the cult provides a good amount of spirits, with that rotten taste that is impossible to disguise. no matter how much spice or food is eaten afterward, it is always terrible, but today it goes down his throat much more easily. as much as it’s a good facade, gathering followers and getting a good reserve of curses to form the night parade of a hundred demons, it’s not enough.

all the spirits he consumes recently are mediocre grade 4s. sometimes a grade 3, or if he is extremely lucky, a grade 2. but it has become a rare occasion, and the spirits of non-sorcerers are as weak as their mediocre progenitors.

he doesn’t have enough, and if things go this way, he will have more of an amalgamation of weak and useless spirits than spirits strong enough to distract the sorcerers and help him fight his true goal. therefore, his free days, when not spent with his daughters and his fixation on crêpes, are used to hunt cursed spirits. usually, his followers help with this. the loyal sorcerers see each other as family, and are willing to work for the new world as much as he does. it doesn’t matter how much blood or sweat it takes, it doesn’t matter if he’s not alive to see it all, after all. no more being oppressed by insects. the true species must rise, and the time is coming.

patience, he tells himself. but haste is a curse of its own that affects every man at some point in his existence, making him lose himself in his tasks and concentrations. as he reclines on himself in what could be called the throne room, suguru watches as some of his fellow sorcerer help one of their own. he quickly approaches the confusion.

a woman with a flushed face and heavy breathing, one hand on her chest as if she was about to have a heart attack. sweat pours off her in a rush, as if her body is burning from the inside out. it’s rare that they don’t come back with even one spirit (as mediocre as it is, a curse is a curse, and he can’t afford to be selective at this point). then, suguru frowns. part of him genuinely cares, in a way he never could, if this woman didn’t have a technique.

“what’s the matter? i thought you were going after the spirit near shinjuku.”

“we were.” one of them answers. “but that thing is a beast. you can’t get close without feeling completely lost and attracted. it’s like a fog that enters your nose and mouth and consumes you from the inside. we nearly died. we can’t handle that, master geto. we apologize.”

he sighs, looking over at the poor woman. there’s something visibly wrong with her right now. her heart seems shaken by a powerful force, and this makes geto think that he shouldn’t underestimate this curse in question.

she looks around and practically latches onto any man she can see — even kissing a guy’s neck while he blushes and gently pulls her away. is it some kind of spirit that manipulates attraction? this is particularly dangerous for him. even though he is, well, him, suguru is still a man. the flesh is weak, and perhaps this curse will become a huge headache to deal with.

however, it could become one of his best weapons.

if a spirit like this keeps causing problems in kyoto, he will have more time to do what needs to be done in tokyo. he can already think about it — whatever form this spirit has, having sorcerers under their thumb. crushing their heads and buying him precious seconds to take care of his business. he can only imagine how the poor sorcerers will react, attracted to a beast.

“don’t worry about that anymore.” he assures the cult members, which turn their heads to him. their leader, their god. the one who’s going to make them rise to a new world. his voice is filled with the grace and confidence he usually has on his tone. but also something else.

determination. raw and pure.

“i will deal with the cursed spirit in shinjuku myself. please watch over mimiko and nanako while i’m gone. i will need just a few hours.”

while humans are extremely annoying, they have their uses. somehow. spirits like you, of thunderous strength, also have thunderous desires. technically, curses don’t need to eat, sleep, or reproduce like humans do. your existence and body made of pure cursed energy coursing through your veins transcends the need for these chores. but like everything that is unnecessary, it is not necessarily impossible. that’s why, as a curse, you know how to use what you have to attract victims. legends about women who attract men with their beauty and turn on them like vipers are very common. the idea of comfort turning to horror ── resting in the arms of a beautiful goddess only to discover that she is a beast shaped like a beauty ── is something that has generated many curses. just like you.

your long tongue curls around your fingertips, trying to absorb the blood that rests there. the body of the last unlucky person who came to try to get you rests at the foot of the motel room bed. it’s not difficult to blend in with humans, and sorcerers come to you like bees looking for honey. while sucking the blood from your fingers, your eyes look up to the dim lamp in the room. the moths accumulate, beating against the light and surrounding it desperately. your body stands up and walks out of the room while arranging your kimono sloppily over your shoulders. if you turn off a light, the moths are lost, without hope. their lives are all about chasing dangerous things. they are attracted to the light of a flame, following this wonderful source of illumination without knowing that it will lead to their death. just as mortal men (and women) allow you to do.

the body stays behind, not that it’s important. the others can’t see you, which means all they know is that a man walked into a room alone, and died inside. eviscerated and devoured as if destroyed by a modern movie zombie. your steps guide you away from cheap construction, and that’s a relief. the reception smells like mold, and the employee is more focused on playing solitaire than looking at whoever enters. the cold night air hitting you would be a problem if your stomach wasn’t full and well refreshed with warm blood. and, at the entrance to the parking lot, a man approaches. so he can see you. it wouldn’t be the first time a young guy approached you, hungry for some. you try to hide the blood in your hands.

you devour the hearts of humans, just as they would like to devour you (in other senses). however, he looks… different from the usual men you see around. high energy levels, as well as clearly being a sorcerer. he doesn’t look very old, maybe in his late twenties. this means that he doesn’t have as much experience as older men, but he is no amateur at sorcery. just as you fill yourself with meat, he also consumes something. you can’t tell just by looking, and it’s as disturbing as it is interesting.

okay, you’re full. but there’s always room for another one. especially a looker like this.

“mm, hey, handsome.” you purr, smiling cutely as you rest your hand on your waist.

“spare me. i know what you are capable of and what you really want. i’m not going to be your next meal, curse.” he smirks, circling around you.

well, that’s a fascinating twist. it reminds you of how many sorcerers have said the exact same thing, and in the end it ended up just becoming your dinner. however, this man seems less— consumable than the rest, but no less attractive.

the idea of eating him saddens you, because then you would lose him forever. not being able to see that pretty face after you eat it out of spite… it would be tragic. but maybe there’s a way of having fun, while still getting something out of him.

you lick your lips at the thought.

okay, this could be the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. a tall, handsome man with a large amount of cursed energy? he’s the kind of guy you don’t let get away. after so many snacks, a careful look always captures a good and complete meal. but perhaps you can do much more than devour him. it’s the kind of chance every girl dreams of ── in your own twisted and sadistic way, of course.

“can i get your name, handsome? or do i have to keep on the petname basis?” you tease, smirking softly.

he walks around you like a shark circles tasty prey. this cat and mouse game would scare away any other curse, this sorcerer doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to play with, which makes the interest you have in him doubled. your eyes follow his every movement.

“and while we’re questioning each other, what do you want? a fight?”

“i’m suguru geto. and what i want is very simple.” he steps closer, but you don’t budge, instead raising your chin despite the attitude. that makes his eyes widen softly and suguru scoffs. was he expecting you to be intimidated? “you.”

okay, that answer itself is not unusual for you ── many others have said the same thing to answer the very same question ──, but the new dynamic and opportunity this man presents is. an idea blooms in your mind like a poisonous flower: beautiful, but lethal if touched. it doesn’t look dangerous, it looks attractive and vibrant, but it is. and you are about to apply this in the most intense way you can imagine. a new thing, a new idea.

and like every creature beyond mortality, routine is boring and boring is despising for you. new things are exciting, captivating. he’s interesting.

“why don’t we make a small bet, hm? geto.”

he raises one eyebrow, interested. “i’m listening. and, please. call me suguru.”

the motel isn’t a very suitable destination — apparently, it’s not proper to go to a place where a corpse is —, but an empty apartment that a cult sponsor bought for him will do. suguru and you walk around while pulling up casual conversation and flirtation. everything seems surprisingly chill. maybe in another life, you two could be friends. maybe even with benefits? or— perhaps something else.

he doesn’t think your personality is bad, per see, but again. you seduce and eat mortals easily. maybe you’re just tricking him into lowering his guard. maybe in another life, you’re a pretty little thing who hugs his arm and allows him to take you home with genuine, good intentions. maybe in another life, you could like him genuinely. and he could like you back.

but you two don’t live another life — only this one. so, he’ll settle.

you’re barely past the door and he feels your lips on his. he smirks, grabbing you by the hair to pull you closer. it’s supposed to be an easy tatic — seducing you. he can absorb curses of grades that are at least two lower than his, or… any curse that surrenders.

as your tongue swirls around his, suguru feels a shiver run down his spine. you taste so— unbelievably sweet. nothing like any other one he’s every tasted. the sound of kissing takes over the apartment as you stumble over your feet to the bed.

this might be harder than he initially thought.

the bet is simple, somewhat. you will compete in something, your choice. whoever wins has complete control of the loser. which means — he wins, you’ll become one of his curses. you win? he’s yours. forever. whatever that means, you made that clear. you both explained your expectations and what you wanted from the other, deciding for a biding vow.

the competition you chose was sex. basically, whoever cums first loses.

and for some reason, suguru feels like he shouldn’t lose. he’s not sure what you’ll do with him once “he’s yours”, but he feels like it wouldn’t be a very opportune time for him.

you move to kiss his cheek, jawline, and neck. suguru sighs while throwing his head back. “you’re— eager.” he murmurs with a soft hiss. “i’ve never been with something like you, so, forgive me if i’m shy.”

he can feel the way you smirk against his skin, before you start sucking down and biting. he grabs you by the hair to pull you away, relishing in your flushed expression and how your voice sounds when you yelp.

“no hickeys, no bites. i’m not yours to mark, curse.” his fingers wrap themselves around your hair tightly to get the message across. your tongue slips out, long and eagerly licking your lips as you watch him. like a lion watching a zebra, about to feast.

“yet.”

your answer just sets him off. and the way you smirk, that damned, arrogant smile that he intends to rip off your face as soon as you get into bed — adamant on being a goddamn brat. oh, you’re going to be a handful.

in a way, he likes it (although suguru prefers to bite down his tongue, rip it off and swallowing it before admitting anything to you). there are those who say that victory without effort is just a poorly deserved achievement.

dragging you by the hair, geto’s eyes are following your every movement as you stumble on your feet. you’re having fun with this, he can tell. something twitches on his chest, and — he can’t decide on anger or attraction as he gets rid of his clothes. why is his body so hot? you haven’t even done anything yet.

“keep your word if you lose, curse.” suguru mumurs, looking down at you while pushing you to bed and moving to be on top of you.

“could say the same, suguru. and don’t call me that.” you spread your legs slowly, smirking as he helps you undress. “i have a name, you know.”

the fun thing about men for you is how predictable they are. they keep denying it over and over — i don’t love you, i’m not a bad guy for cheating on my girlfriend, you’re nothing special — while they’re devouring you with their eyes. someone once said the eyes are the window to the soul. you believe that to be true — after all, no one has interest in a meal they cannot see first.

his desire is palpable in the way suguru’s hands rush, pushing away layers of fabric that’s keeping him from actually seeing you. it looks like he wants to rip the clothes off your body and see what’s underneath, because his heart needs to he. he needs it, he needs you.

the words rushing through his mind make him stop for a moment. what is this thought? he needs you… ? he breathes heavily as you grab his wrist and guide it to your chest. suguru can feel it under his fingers and palm.

the soft feeling of your skin is truly inhuman. it sparks something inside of him — he can’t remember a day where he wanted someone this much.

“you’re staring, suguru.” you tease.

“shut up.” he grits his teeth, moving down to cup your breasts, his thumbs caressing your nipples.

“you like this, don’t you? dirty whore.” geto murmurs, his hands snaking down and grabbing your hips harshly while leaning down, latching his lips to your nipple. his other hand massages your breast and pinches it, and the vibrations of his soft moans make your skin shiver.

he shouldn’t like this so much, he knows that. but the way you taste — it’s not fair. he’s rock-hard after some kissing, pinching, teasing. mere foreplay is making his cock twitch on his pants. the way you moan is divine, and your hand comes down to play with his hair as he sucks on your chest.

your legs wrap themselves around his waist, and he presses you down against the bed, hovering above you eagerly. the stupid buddhist robes he uses as a disguise are falling off his body, and all he wants to do is rip the fabric off and set it on fire because it prevents skin-to-skin contact. he bites down your nipple, and you moan, moving your hands to tug off his clothing.

“do you have condoms on you?” he asks, and you snort.

“no. i can’t be affected by mortal diseases. i don’t need those.”

suguru murmurs something against your skin, feeling himself grow addicted already. a small piece of his brain is already wishing you were his, but not to send you to battle — to get you sat on his lap all day, as he kisses and sucks on your chest. you tug at his hair, watching the black strands falling down his back gracefully as he moves to kiss down your underbust, then stomach. lower belly. his purple eyes look up at your face as his lips part. the cult leader’s hands caress your body as if yearning to memorize the flesh with each touch. here or there, he gently squeezes or pinches to see you squirm. they pass through his arms, shoulders, down his sides and finally meet under his thighs, guiding them to rest on his shoulders.

the first contact of his mouth with your pussy is messy. a bit lewd. generally, younger men like this like to act slow, a bit torturing, to be certain of what they’re doing (and mostly, they’re not). but suguru dives in as if your cunt is the last meal he’ll ever put his mouth on. his attention is mostly driven to your clit, and you gasp, playing with his hair and squeezing his head between your thighs with a smile.

he’s good. you’ve experienced sex mostly using it as a weapon — men in particular are more susceptible because they’re not expecting it, but women also don’t expect to be eviscerated while they’re pleasuring you. but sometimes, when you do enjoy sex for fun, you gained experience enough to tell this man between your legs knows what he’s doing. his hands move to grab your waist and keep you from running away as he kisses your clit. suguru’s tongue draw out and he moves is head up and down slowly, teasingly.

you enjoy the sensations, shiver trailing up your spine and the pleasure already pooling on your lower belly. your body relaxes slowly against the pillows, and you chuckle.

“mm, enjoying yourself down there?”

he doesn’t respond, instead humming against your cunt. the feeling causes your body to tingle, and your fingers curl around his strands (which tells suguru he’s doing something right). he’s finding out how heaven tastes.

you’re more determined than ever that he’s yours, and he can see it in your eyes. the fire in your eyes rivals the fire in both of your bodies.

the flavor is indescribable. geto is no amateur at sex, although he feels like one now. exposed, naked and excited, he feels about to lose the bet that will define his destiny. a lot of people have passed by his bed, and he’s already received a lot of compliments about what he can do with his mouth, but the feeling of all those people feels like a weak breeze compared to what he feels with your taste on his tongue. it is divine.

he’s never experienced anything like it, and the idea that sex could be this good makes him feel like he could do it for hours, every day, all day. it’s almost invigorating, energizing, when he experiences you. his hips move here and there, thrusting softly every now and then. the flushed tip of his cock oozes with pre, and he believes he never got so turned on before.

it’s like he’s a college kid, a desperate virgin trying out pussy for the first time. his arms move, hooking them around your thighs, trying to spread your legs as he sucks on your clit.

you tug at his hair again, hissing.

“not fair, jerk. we need to compete in a way both of us can lose. quit it.”

he would deny it, but denying it would make it obvious geto could cum untouched just from eating you out. he complies, leaning back, your juices making his lips and chin glisten under the room’s lights. “alright, curse.” you tug at his hair again, and he groans. “stop that.”

“you need to get used to it. i’ll do it all the time once you’re mine. i'm going to make you eat me out everyday, like the good boy i know you are.”

he moves up, kissing your stomach and between your breasts while looking up. “don’t claim victory before it’s time.” his voice murmurs, pressing his lips against yours and hugging your waist. “lay back.”

you smirk. “no.”

you grab his shoulders, using your unnatural strength to surprise suguru. changing the positions, you get him to be under you, throwing each of your legs to the sides of his body. his hands move to grab your waist, and his eyes narrow as he frowns.

such a handsome, tall man — even when he frowns. once he’s yours, you promise yourself, you have a lot of fun.

“what are you doing?” he hisses, moving to sit up. your palm lays against his chest, pushing him down again as you raise your hips to rub your wet cunt against him. “fuck, fuck— you slut, what are you doing?”

both of you moan softly at the contact, and you lift your body with spread legs and a smirk that tells him: you’re going all in to win this bet. this is worrying.

once you sink, slowly and surely, he throws his head back with his eyes narrowing. a groan escapes his lips, and his muscles clench. geto’s fingers curl around your waist, sinking his nails to your skin desperately, leaving small, red half-moon marks that heal immediately.

if heaven exists, this is what it feels like — his mind is sure of that. your pussy clenching around him, the pure warmth and tightness from your hole, it drives him insane, speechless. his eyes almost fill with water, and the urge to explode is immediate.

he gasps, holding you down and trying to breathe properly. the sew attempt proves futile, deadly and failed. it’s like the air can’t reach his lungs properly, and for a second he thinks he’s going to die in this pure bliss and smiles to himself. but the charm disappears when he remembers the bet. it was a very, very close call that he didn’t came as soon as he felt you around him.

the want awaken in his body is primal. dirty and impure, there’s no other word for it besides carnal. he wants to grab you and pin you down, thrust into you and cum inside until he dies from exhaustion. this power is — dangerous. it scares him and pleases him in equal measure, being under such a powerful spirit. suguru’s concentration is split, divided, and growing weaker as you speak again.

“what’s wrong, suguru? i can feel you twitch.” you giggle softly, leaning in over him.

your next move throws him off guard. the sadism and fire in your gaze makes him raise an eyebrow, and before he can react, his hips move. down and then up, just to slam back down. it knocks the air off his lungs, and he moans loudly.

“oh, god.”

“no, baby, it’s just me.” you chuckle, staring to set a pace as you lean back. “mmm, sugu. you feel really good, you know? so hard and nice to ride. and so good for me.”

instead of resting against his chest, your hands grab his knees. your stunning, divine body that makes his insides curl and melt is leaned back, exposed in all your glory, and he forgets you’re a curse for a moment. convinced you’re an angel, he grabs your hips to help you ride, thrusting up against your movements.

suguru smiles softly to himself as he hears your soft moans. the sounds is delicious, drowning every worry out of him. he only remembers you’re a curse two minutes seconds later, when your tongue slips out your mouth to lick your lips, as if you’re enjoying a meal.

he feels like an animal, capable of thinking about only one thing: copulating. having sex and reproduce and if he fails in the latter, have sex again until every drop of semen is squeezed out of his body.

he tenses up, groaning. god be kind, he has no idea how he managed to hold on for so long.

“what’s your deal?” another moan quickly scratches his throat, and the heat is almost becoming unbearable. pooling in his lower belly, making his abs and muscles clench as he grinds against you, desperate.

“what are you talking about?” you chuckle, leaning in again and moving your hands up to play with your nipples. slowly — both to tease him and to avoid you cum too early and lose. softly.

“stop— smirking like that. it pisses me off.”

you lean in, playing with a strand of his hair and tugging on it gently. suguru tries to sit up, but you throw him back down, not willing to guv up your advantage. he’s close. you can feel it, see it, you can enjoy the way the head of his cock hits your g-spot sweetly.

the only surprise you feel is when a hand that’s not your creeps and settles between your legs. his thumb moves in small, fast circles against your clit, earning a moan out of you and making your chest inflate as you breathe in heavily.

there was a chance you might lose. if you weren’t you, you might’ve lost.

you pick up your pace, and his heavy breathing mix to yours. it’s fun, you think, you only breathe as heavily as mortals when you’re engaging on sex. it’s cute, it makes them think you’re like them. human. weak-willed, like the man twitching inside of you, urging for release.

but you can’t blame him. his touch drives you insane, you light up like a keg of gunpowder being ignited by flames. he needs to explode. he needs to. you’re settled by that.

suguru starts grunting, his thrusts into your warm, inviting cunt growing more eager and erratic. he thumbs at your clit, looking up at your expression. you smile, moaning his name lewdly.

“suguru.”

and— he feels it. rising so quickly his body has no reaction against it. his orgasm is hard, harder than he ever had it with any warm body or his desperate hand, alone on a corner. he sighs, pausing in between breaths to groan and moan. his eyes close, and his browns furrow up as he stares at the ceiling, gasping softly. his abs clench, he grunts

perhaps this is the true feeling of nirvana, of ascending. suguru believed he and the other sorcerers were true gods walking among earth. that sorcery was the only and true path to the ascension of humanity as a species and as individuals. but this? the feeling of thrusting his cum into your warm, wet velvety walls is the closest he ever felt to a god.

he breathes heavily, scratching your hips as reaction to pain — the overstimulation is hitting him as hard as a truck when you don’t stop moving your hips, eager for your own orgasm as you notice your victory. he grunts again, watching you fall apart on his cock as your turn finally arrives.

riding off your high, you enjoy yourself using him as a toy and personal dildo, you stop slowly to get off him. some of his cum spills out your cunt, fat drops falling to his abdomen.

suguru’s breathing calms down slowly, but his eyes widen in realization. he uses his elbows to prop himself and sit up, murmuring — his voice weakened and a bit desperate. a hint of fear creeps into his tone.

“wait. no, wait.”

you grab him by the neck, and he hesitates, looking up at you. his skin burns and a sinister chill runs through his body while his arms seem to be on fire, next to his neck. stunned by the intensity of his orgasm and what it means, he doesn’t even act while you help him rest his head against your chest. suguru stares at himself, shaking as he notices new marks on his forearms.

black, strong and serpentine, these marks against the skin form quickly, marking him now and forever. like tattoos he can never remove. he looks up, and you twirl a strand of his black hair around your index finger.

“you lost, suguru.” your voice coos sweetly, as if you pity him. but you don’t. you don’t have that mercy on you. “and you know what that means?”

you giggle, and he shivers again as he feels your lips gluing to his ear. you murmur lovingly, as if you’re not deciding his fate.

“you’re mine.”

thank you for reading <3

[comicallybadwriter]

“You don’t need to talk.” Aziraphale started, making an obvious choice to keep his hands to himself, even though reaching out to comfort the demon was all he wanted in that moment. Crowley had to chide himself for thinking it was what he wanted as well. “But I need to apologise, for everything I’ve done to you Crowley, everything I’ve put you through and all I’ve kept from you.”

Crowley swallowed thickly, still refusing to look the angel in the eye. He was staring out the window, watching as Nina’s shop took customers in various numbers. A couple of humans were sitting in their designated spots. It made the demons heart stutter.

“I-” The angels voice faltered, then came back after a second of breathing- “I’m sorry for leaving you Crowley, and for not explaining why. I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted to be an angel again, I just- I remember you so vividly with that beautiful bright smile and those stunning white wings, and I got excited.” Aziraphale had started fiddling, not that it was uncommon for him to do that, but it was always a weak point with Crowley’s ability to stay mad. “I wanted to be able to change Heaven so bad, to be fit for you, and safe for the world. For humanity. I wanted- I still do really, to be able to say we were on the same side, and Heaven not be able to do a damned thing.”

That got Crowley’s attention, “You can’t just-!” His eyes went wide in search of something to say, but Aziraphale shushed him again, “I said far worse things upstairs before I got back, let me finish.” The angel shifted on the bed, and sucked in a breath, “You had done nothing to be forgiven for… after you- we, I mean that is-”

“I get it, Aziraphale.”

“Yes, well,” He cleared his throat, face warming up at the memory. “I shouldn’t have… it shouldn’t have happened like that. There was just something nagging me in the back of my head, shouting over and over again, that it wasn’t- that I had to leave. That there were far more important things to do in that moment in time.” Once the words had left his mouth, Aziraphale realised how it sounded, “That isn’t to say I’m making excuses! I merely mean, I’d never felt like that before, my head was… fuzzy. And after what the Metatron had offered me, and oh- I was so excited to tell you- to change the whole thing. To let you know that I would be there for you at the drop of a dime But I-"

Silence filled the room until Aziraphale spoke again, desperately hoping that he’d get Crowley to speak to him again, to say anything to him, scream shout. Not just one worded answers. “So I- I well, I came back down when I heard you were… well it doesn’t matter does it. I came back down, and I don’t regret a thing.”

Finally, Crowley grumbled something incoherent, and Aziraphale perked up. “Pardon, dear?”

“I said, it does matter.” Crowley stood up from the bed, then reached out to nothing in particular, before dropping his hand again. “It should matter. I should matter Aziraphale! But you-!” His voice broke for a moment, before the demon took an unsteady breath in- “You chose them. When it mattered.”

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, Crowley knew that, but he couldn’t help it. He was tired, he was scared, and he was angry. He wanted to go back to before, when they could get drunk in the bookshop downstairs without visitors, and Crowley could snap his fingers, so the record player was making beautiful music that seemed to always entice the angel to hum along no matter how intoxicated. He wanted to go back.

“I was the one breaking into the shop when it was burning to the ground, terrified you had been taken from me forever, and who drove through literal fire and flames to get to you when I found out you were okay! I was the one who went up to Heaven. I was the one Gabriel told to walk into Hellfire, and I was the one who had him look at me- who he thought was you- and tell me to shut up and die. Me not them!” Crowley felt tears slipping down his face as he waved his hand upwards towards Heaven. “I went up and found out what was wrong with Gabriel! Told that anyone involved would be erased with the book of life! Me! Me! No one else!” Crowley felt like he was losing his grip on reality, jumping around with every shouting word he let out. His hair flailing at his shoulders as he sniffed and wiped his face.

“And I-” he took another breath in, though it did nothing but indicate how he was shaking- “I was the one who stood beside you when push came to shove. I believed in you.”

The anger collapsed alongside the demon, and he fell back on the bed, a right sobbing mess. If Aziraphale wasn’t the issue there, then Crowley would have sunk into the angels arms and appreciated the hug, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“Crowley I-” shouldn’t have left you alone to carry so much- “I-” loved you so much it hurt to be near- “I- I can’t possibly find the words to apologise. If it meant I had to stand on my hands for the next century and do our apology dance upside down, I’d do it for you. I need you to know how sorry I am.”

[disappointingcabbage]

TMAGP 20 thoughts, spoilers under the cut!!

The original title of the episode was Skin Deep, but they changed it to Social Stigma. Inch Resting… giving Ink5oul vibes…

Sam wants to talk to Alice and Celia Away From The Computers about the Magnus Institute. Smart but ineffective, though to be fair he doesn’t know they can listen on, like, every piece of technology imaginable lmao

poor Alice is Done With This Shit, understandable after her chat with Colin tbh

Oh shit Sam figured out the Protocol equals arson shenanigans…

The OIAR had the institute destroyed by Starkwall? I hate that that makes sense, I very much wanted Gertrude to have done it. Gobsmackingly uncommon L for arson grandma I guess.

Wait, not only did Starkwall burn the institute down, they also killed all the employees? Damn, seems like overkill but makes sense if that just means Elias wasn’t bluffing in TMA about how killing him kills everyone at the Institute.

I guess that means Jonah Magnus is super dead in this universe. Nice.

Also Gertrude either never worked for the Magnus Institute in this universe or she was able to quit before the Protocol was enacted and the institute was destroyed.

Alice makes a good point about not wanting to piss off the government by exposing real conspiracies, judging by the extreme nature of Arson Protocols, if Sam keeps digging deeper he could put himself and perhaps also Alice and Celia in serious danger

I love that Celia is advocating for Sam

THE LADS IN THE COMPUTER SENT SAM AN EMAIL WITH DOCUMENTS CONFIRMING THAT STARKWALL BURNED DOWN THE INSTITUTE???

But this time the email address that sent it was gibberish… I don’t think that was the case for the one that sent him Gerry’s address… inch resting…

The fact that they know they’re working for the bad guys this early on in comparison to TMA is really cool tbh

Celia is definitely not beating the universe hopping allegations with her “are we sure destroying the institute was a bad thing? They wanted to end the world” take

Alice is pulling a Georgie and noping out. Fair enough.

Celia’s still down to investigate, hell yeah

HOLY FUCKING SHIT INK5OUL MY BELOVED

Why are they tattooing in a warehouse? Odd choice of venue lmao

Oh, they’re tattooing a corpse. Sounds about right for them tbh.

The fact that they’re commenting on how Gwen has “nice skin” is giving me Nikola Orsinov vibes

The OIAR wants Ink5oul to be an external? Neat. Why weren’t they one already?

Oh shit Ink5oul seems to be in the middle of becoming an avatar and they don’t understand what the fuck is happening

They didn’t originally want to be Spooky, just wanted social media fame. Oof. Also doesn’t help that the first time they went viral it was a complete accident.

Oh shit the statement for this week is just Ink5oul talking to Gwen.

Lmao they accidentally stumbled into the spooky while looking for inspiration (and/or tattoo designs old enough to steal without getting caught)

So Oscar Jarrett was basically the original Ink5oul, and “adapting” his supernaturally flavored designs is the only thing that gets them fame

Ink5oul, bestie, I think your friends were right to be worried about you, not just jealous.

Oh shit Jarrett tattoos don’t decay? Funky!! That explains all the grave robbing.

It’s kind of hilarious that constantly changing venues due to running from the law just kind of helped with Ink5oul’s branding online like no one thought it was suspicious at all, they were just like “ooh spooky blorbo”

Oh damn, emulating Jarrett’s work changed Ink5oul’s own work and made it Spooky? AND it made them want to see people afraid? Yeah this is some avatar shit.

Ink5oul does not in fact want to be an external. That tracks tbh

Gwen do Not talk town to the spooky ink person

“This is the part where you start running” Gwen pissed off the wrong one lmao

[des-no9]

I'm going on Anon because i'm a bit shy about this but, I've seen a lot of Githyanki official art and fan made stuff and i was wondering if Githyanki can be fat? I supposed that since its a warrior race genetically engineered (twice!) to fight that they probably wouldn't have a high fat to body mass ratio However i *really* wanna make a fat githyanki oc Is there a way i can justify it in universe? Thank you!!!

Hey anon and thank you so much for messaging me about this. I'm so touched and happy to answer this!

I wanted to preface this first of all with:

you never need a reason to make, or have, a character fat. They just can be!! Because you want them to!! Fat isn't a bad word, just a descriptor. And I hope after this you can happily make a wonderful, gorgeous fat githyanki character who I can't wait to see!

-------

Okay. Now, moving on to lore and narratives and in universe reasons - it can absolutely be done.

As a detail orientated writer, I am a stickler for: consistency believability (doesn't have to be REAL or something 1:1 from our world just believable IN world etc)

NOTE: D&D has many different versions and inconsistences in lore, and my narrative consolidates in the BG3 5e verse, while taking parts from older versions I like and fitting them to make sense in my verse that I'm creating and expanding from BG3.

Much ramblings and answers under the cut :3 enjoy

TW: talk about bodies, fatphobia (kinda), genetic engineering

Okay so, we know at least in all verses that githyanki were genetically engineered twice (illithids first, then Vlaakith(s) with the change to eggs, and streamlining their race to become superior, powerful etc), and their race as has been documented and described by others in universe, and in source books, is tall, thin, long limbs, bony, and they seem in similar strucuture to illithids.

This makes a lot of sense in the way that the illithids were probably breeding them to become perfect hosts for their tadpoles and ceremorphosis, from what they see their bodies turn into. And we know that illithids have specific body types they seek out for their own perfection, whether we like it or not.

Vanquish is fat. It doesn't hinder her whatsoever. In-fact Voss is drawn to her a lot because of it and finds such beauty in her fatness and the softness of her skin. This does allude to fatness not being common in githyanki and something he likes about istik and her. And yeah, you can make it uncommon in githyanki! That's fine! But it still CAN happen in githyanki.

So for lore reasons to have a fat githyanki character I think there are many ways you could easily do it:

1: Independent githyanki. This githyanki could have, for example, been raised by non-githyanki, and therefore has not had a life subjected to their stringent training, diet, routine etc, and eventual life between Material and Astral which would and does effect things like their digestive system. Having their body adjusted from birth to a different environment could start to alter their body's stubborn pre-disposition to a low body fat %. Also, not constantly living in a kind of hypervigilance and violence the githyanki seem to live in may just let the body relax.

2: Different creches and planes Coming a little from the above idea - and from my genitals HC about variance in their bodies - I think that their can be and IS differences in their bodies depending on the creche they were born in, and also plane.

For example, being nearer to void magic, in a volatile climate, low gravity, colder climate etc. For a githyanki growing up in a colder climate, having more body fat would be better for them (if we take into account OUR biology, but they are aliens and their bodies probably work differently to ours. For instance they are SO strong even being so very thin dkfjdf etc). But honestly, it doesn't matter the reasoning. Some creches could just give variance in body type because they CAN and this is magic and magic does shit like this and for the past hundreds and thousands of years this is how the bodies of githyanki from Creche An'vak are, like the ears from those from Creche Ishk often split at the end.

They just are.

3: Genetic anomaly If you like the theory that their low body fat and frame is deeply bred and genetically engineered etc into them, this works. Because genetic anomalies happen all the time, so githyanki being born and retaining body fat and getting fat, much fatter than we see them as, could definitely just happen.

Depending on how cruel you view the githyanki as a whole, or that particular creche, or even if that githyanki wasn't raised in a creche etc (lots of possibilities), once the varsh sees that their body is developing different to how they 'should' be, then they may be discarded as a liability, or you can work many different and creative narrative ways into how and why they survive. (For example, once they see that their body doesn't hinder their ability to fight, then why dispose of them?)

I'm sure there are many, many other ways I'm not thinking about, but these are some of the main ways that I would probably write about and would come up in my narratives.

4: Wild Card! Githyanki/istik child. This also raises several other complciations and questions of how githyanki and other races could reproduce (that's for another huge post LOL) but, since in the future Vanquish and Orpheus have a kid (an heir, technically) it would be remiss of me to not mention this. And well, a mixed githyanki kid, too, could be fat!

Also, depending on the part of their timeline I'm writing in (for example, during their enslavement, directly after, now) the reasoning and frequency of fat githyanki can be different to me in the narrative.

I hope this helped a lot, anon. If you have any more questions or want to ask anything else, please, please let me know! This was a LOT of fun to write. Thank you! x

[kaseyskat]

since ive already been pretty open about this and im not afraid to whack a hornets nest i'll go ahead and say it: if you were raising a kid in a pseudo-apocalyptic setting and then you found out that said kid was going to be the one to defeat the eldritch god that you have tried to defeat for half your lifetime and could never manage. that she was going to FACE that eldritch god it was prophesied. you would teach her how to defend herself and how to fight. like god i am not saying hero's trauma from it wasn't justified because i do think the twins took it too far but the initial process of training her makes so much more sense if you approach it at the angle of "this kid is going to do something we've been trying to do since we were twelve and couldn't manage and we might not even be there to help her so we have to make sure she doesn't die in the process" and not "we're going to make her fix our mistakes" it makes sense. goes along with lark's running theme of not being strong enough in the moments that matter and wanting to make sure nobody else ever feels as helpless as he did when walter was injured. goes along with sparrow desperately tempting fate with normal's name- not because normal was an accident, but because sparrow never wanted to lose even one kid to the doodler and it was a fervent, desperate wish to let normal get to be normal

[coquelicoq]

what i love about the Famous Actor Natori Shuuichi of it all is that...it's not just that he's famous and therefore widely recognizable wherever he goes. like yes that is very funny because he was an exorcist before he became a famous actor, which means he CHOSE, on purpose, a day job that would make it harder to hide his double life/secret identity from the hordes of his adoring public, but it's more than that. it's not just that he's famous, it's that he's famous specifically for being an ACTOR, aka a person whose job it is to dissimulate, to make believe, to inhabit roles and emotions other than his own. like he decided he was going to become as visible as possible (which again was literally not necessary! he could have gone into any other career for his day job!!) but in such a way that everyone would see him but no one would see him - they would just see his various made-up personas, including the Famous Actor Natori Shuuichi persona. i can't decide if he's a genius or if he just made so many absurd decisions that they canceled each other out and circled back around to working out. he's either playing 9-dimensional chess or he's eating the pieces. too soon to say.

[fantasmagoriam]

Today I offer you the babiest of lizards. Tomorrow? Who knows...

[trashpocket]

what's the one thing makes me say

heaven's just across the way

it's a precious little thing called love ☆

//

1920s Steddie AU where Steve is a children's book illustrator and Eddie is a writer

(more beneath the cut)

So, Steve Harrington comes from a rich family who funds his career as an illustrator. A fortunate, posh, snobbish boy who got sent to prestigious art schools and went to galleries and exhibits. He has refined taste, thank you, just a bit uptight about it. But then he comes across the written works of Eddie Munson (under an alias) and becomes star struck with his work. He creates poems, stories, sonnets, odes; fantasies of escapism, love and unconventional love. He writes erratically, like a livewire, a tremendous build up, a climax that rumbles and leads to an almost plummeting fall. Ends with a resolution that settles your heart. He writes like he wants to be seen, and Steve gets the urge to want to illustrate for him.  So he sends letters, invites, and whatever he can to reach Eddie. When Eddie gets back to him, they both find that they are both enamored with each other’s work. In fact, they’re so enamored with each other, they send letters back and forth, first about plans to meet, to become familiar, to acquaint themselves with each other. But the more they write, the more they fall for their idiosyncrasies, their little quirks, the way they write and cross out their own words or misspell a certain word. Little doodles from Steve, footnotes and poems and turns of phrases from Eddie.  Then they meet, and it’s like. Things are better. Much more real. Man, they’re in love. They never realized it before, until they stood there in front of each other, and they’re scared of course, terrified, even. But they have each other.  So they work together, publish works together. Their stories and illustrations combined are a wonder; fantastical, eerie, but with love and lessons. They move in together, under the guise of work.  Live together and never part, just hidden in the pocket of their lives.  It’s 20s America, but they make it work

[worstloki]

negative connotations to Arabic phrase ‘God is Great’ incorrect. average praying Muslim does takbir (says Allahu Akbar) a minimum 95 times a day and should have been counted.

[mizukagami-takamagahara]

@ramix-the-red;

Right!? Considering who she was married to, just the fact that they were together brings up a whole mystery. Like you, I find it extremely hard to believe that it was just a normal relationship- I don't see Relius as someone who just falls in love and marries. Some villains do lend themselves to this image of "they're a crazy villain most of the time but have an exceedingly normal personal life," but that's just... not Relius.

For my own personal theory/read on the situation, I definitely think you're on to something with the idea that it was some kind of strategic 'marriage of convenience.' Looking at who Ada and Carl became, and looking at what Relius values, I imagine Ignis must have had an incredibly 'notable soul.' Whether that meant she had a very strong soul, or just a very interesting one (think Relius' interest in Meifang) that Relius felt would be 'good material' for him to work with Relius Trying To Propose: "I would love to study you" or what, I don't know. Perhaps, as you mentioned, he was already looking for a soul to use as a core for his Detonator project- or perhaps he just found her fascinating, and having her as a research specimen and an available resource was part of what pushed him into creating the Detonator line.

I don't believe Relius was actively looking for a wife to produce offspring. Some 'evil scientist' characters do actively spouse-hunt for the purpose of creating a certain kind of offspring, a little dalliance in eugenics, but I don't interpret Relius as the type to be interested in that. I think his 'scientific curiosity' is a lot more impulsive. He finds something that catches his eye, he obsesses over it, pokes it with a few sticks, and sees what he can make it into.

But back to Ignis. I imagine her as someone with some kind of notable soul to capture Relius' interest, and if I'm allowed to get a little creative given we have nothing to go off of, possibly a personality type that he favored too. We see that he doesn't like the 'bleeding heart' type like Litchi, but he gets very fixated on women with strong convictions, like Makoto. I could see also see her having a high Ars Magus Aptitude that contributed to her children's abilities, alongside Relius' talents with magic.

I'm also inclined to believe that she was from a noble family. Rereading Pupeteers, we see that the Clover family lived in a sizable estate, and there seems to be implication that they may have had at least some level of staffing in their house. That kind of status could easily come from Relius' position in the NOL, but for the sake of Trying To Find Clues About Ignis, I'm inclined to attribute at least some of that to her. Also, if Relius went directly into the NOL upon reaching this time period, it would make be reasonable for the people he meets to be mostly other NOL affiliates- he's already very antisocial, it's not like he's going out to parties to meet people. For anyone to catch Relius' eye, they'd have to come to him first.

(tangent) Though in the same short story, we also get to meet Ignis' sibling and their spouse. Francis notably answers the door himself and Rosanne prepares Carl's room personally, suggesting that if they have any staff, it's a small enough amount that they wouldn't be working at night. Although they are noted to have a big enough house that a whole extra bedroom is present to be given to Carl in the first place despite the couple having no kids of their own, and it's possible they have more than one extra room, as when they try to separate Nirvana from Carl, they tell him she'll sleep in a different room- if there wasn't another extra bedroom to give her, I would expect Carl to argue against her 'sleeping' in the living room or something. I... could very easily go off on another tangent, theorizing the size of the household, positions employed, and where in a social hierarchy that would place the family- but I'll save that for another post maybe. I'm already all over the place.

Back to my point, that I believe Ignis was a member of the nobility. Considering what we know about the culture of the BlazBlue world at this point in time, the people most likely to be highly skilled or to have talents with Ars Magus/Seithr/Magic/Etc are the nobility, where we see a lot of focused training from a young age and political/eugenics-esque marriages.

This is further supported by the way Carl and Ada act in their youth. We see them dressed well but modest, acting polite, and we see them being educated under a set of standards that match up with high society values- chess, manners, violin, etc. I can't imagine Relius alone was making all the choices about what direction to go in with raising them, or we would see a more hands-off approach and a lot more stress on engineering, combat, and his scientific interests. I find it more believable that Ignis was raised in a similar environment as part of the nobility, and intended to raise her children in line with those ideals.

I don't think Ignis' family would be from the high nobility like the Duodecim, their branch families, or anything in their circle. They have a much more rigid and notably distinct (often Japanese) culture. I would place Ignis' familial status more in line with the Vermillions, though a few rungs higher up the ladder as her family hasn't been disgraced. If anything, marrying Relius, a prominent military figure, would have raised her status a little. The Vermillions also seem to have a similar aesthetic- compare Ada's clothing to what Noel wears as a child. This could further support the idea that Ignis was a low-ranking noble.

I'll wrap this up here because, wow, I did not intend to go on and on that much. Thanks for commenting and inspiring me to write this out in the first place- these are some Ignis Characterization thoughts I've had for a while, but I haven't put them into words until now.

[mushroompollution]

I'm thinking about making one more retcon lol

[calebs-hangout-corner]

Actually I think "Brooke cares so so much about the characters she severly breaks the rules to help and keep them safe" should be pushed to its limits. Let it corrupt her. She's the narrator, who knows how to keep them safe and happy better than the narrator? The characters? Don't be silly. Let her literally tear the world apart for them.

[chekovsphaser]

Kinky porn and weird biology aside, I am absolutely fascinated by the gender-political implications of Omegaverse fanfic.

[travalerray]

late night thoughts are like. What does MDZS use as a law system. Like we know that Xue Yang was supposed to be punished by the Jin Sect because he was the guest cultivator there, right? But what about the cultivation crimes committed by human cultivators who just. Do not belong to any sects. Like what does the so called Jiang Cheng's thing of torturing demonic cultivators do. Like do they just disappear into the ether or sth? Does Sandu Sengshou grab the demonic cultivator and yell at them for not being his shixiong???? What????