#and even though the world and their religious leader was the one to tell them to do these things
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pairing: Suguru Geto x F!Reader
word count: 9.7k
contents: Canon compliant up to the events of JJK0, cult leader!Suguru, naive reader, slight age difference between reader and Geto (5 years), reader can see curses/has cursed energy but it is kept intentionally vague
cw: dark content | emotional manipulation, dubious consent, voyeurism, oral sex (m!receiving), spit, violence, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of religion and religious imagery, mind fuck-y
notes: so this is a remaster/full repost of unkindness that was on my old blog! i only got up to like the third segment in that post so i figured why not do it all at once. thank you for reading if you do and i hope that you enjoy my little story! ♡ | crossposted to ao3
When you were eight years old, sitting in your mother’s lap as she combed through your wet hair, you remember telling her about a recurring dream you had been having for weeks. You were nervous to tell her, your little hands balled into fists as they rested against your nightgown clad thighs.
“A raven,” you recount to her as she nods and gently uses the bristles of the comb to detangle a knot. “Bigger than any bird I’ve ever seen is in this dream every night, flying around over my head.” Your mother sighs and reassuringly pats your head. You hear the spritz of a spray bottle from behind you, a synthetic green apple scent filling your nostrils.
Telling her filled your stomach with anxiety, an issue you didn’t know you had at the time. You figured the world was just scary back then. You wish you could go back and tell yourself how right you were. About how scary the world is, anyway. To tell yourself about how everything will eventually end up likely wouldn’t change the outcome but at least you could say a few things.
“The raven comes to the ground eventually. He doesn’t fly over your head forever, instead he glides by your side.”
“The visions you’ve seen are real, you aren’t crazy.”
The most unbelievable thing of all?
“You end up in love and you end up losing yourself along the way.”
Back then though, you only had your mom and her words to illuminate the darkness you felt lurked around every corner.
“Have you ever heard of omens?”
Shaking your head, you turn to look at your mom who is tapping the edge of the comb against the heel of her hand. She’s chewing the inside of her cheek and you can tell she’s deciding what to say next to comfort you. Your mom has never been good at this kind of thing, a woman who never envisioned she would have a child with so much angst and fear.
“Sometimes we receive signs that something is going to happen in our lives even if we don’t understand them,” she starts. You hear her mouth open, as if she wants to add something additional, but you hear it snap shut as if she thought better of it. You nod once, signaling your understanding and she gets back to work at the stubborn tangle at the base of your skull without another word shared between the two of you.
You hate that this is the most vivid memory from your childhood.
You hate that you still have the dream.
You wake with a gasp, looking around and blinking as warm morning light filters through the window. Feeling around the bed, you wonder if Suguru is already up and moving for the day as your hands touch the duvet where he should be. It’s cold, as if nobody was there in the first place. Knowing that may have been the case anyway, you sigh and rub your hands over your face.
“Suguru?”
His name leaves your lips in a tentative manner and you look around the room to make sure he isn’t looking at the early morning sun or standing there watching you sleep. No matter how much of your life you spend with him, you’ll never get used to the feeling of those black diamond eyes following you everywhere you go. But finally, you are seen.
Four years spent with him and no one sees you like he does.
You were 18 years old, a few months from graduating high school, when Suguru approached you. The sight of a stranger raised your hackles, scared of the world at large at that point in your life, and you were concerned trouble was coming for you. All of the omens in your dreams would finally come true at the hands of this beautiful man, rising to his full height which is nearly towering over you. His hair was shorter then than it is now, just past his shoulders and tied in a neat half bun off of his face.
He looked like less of a god now than he did then but you knew it. The omnipresent feeling of him sticks in your bones. It’s the confidence that makes you stand with your back straight, that guides you through the worst of the days where he’s nowhere to be found.
Unable to find him, you shuffle back to the futon and lay down amongst blankets that smell like him. You’ve never been able to place the scent but you know it’s his. Wrapping yourself in the duvet, you let your mind wander back to all of those years ago.
“I know this seems sudden but I wanted to ask you about your gift.”
Mention of your gift, not that you’d ever call it that, makes you freeze. He notices your expression, wide eyed and haunted, and he fights the urge to smile at you. Just as he and everyone else suspected, you have no idea what you’re capable of. It would be a failing worthy of death to let Gojo find you first. Suguru couldn’t risk the bird dog finding his canary and dropping her off, bloodied and broken, on the doorstep of the Sorcerer community.
He wouldn’t allow it.
“M..my gift?” You repeat with uncertainty and he nods, bun bobbing against the back of his head as he does so. The situation is withering, a handsome stranger asking you about a secret you’ve kept hidden for your whole life while the sun beats down and makes you sweat. You wonder if you’re about to be killed.
“You are an exceptional young woman, do you know that?”
The background noise of the world fades out, the sound of the spring birds chirping disappearing as you blink once, twice, and you notice those dark eyes fixated on you. You blanch and avert your eyes. Were you even allowed to look at him? Dressed in such nice clothing with such a regal demeanor? Shaking your head, you play off the awkwardness with a humorless chuckle.
“You must be looking for someone else, sir.” Bowing your head as a sign of respect, you turn to walk away. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
Before you can turn on your heel to walk away, you feel a large palm rest on your shoulder. You take note of the weight of it, the feel against your bones, and you wonder why this is happening to you? You are so afraid but you can’t run, you don’t have the guts for it. What do you do now?
Nothing. You do nothing, just as you’ve done your entire life. You let this strange man grab you, hold you, speak to you. Humiliation rises like bile in your throat and you turn to face him, astounded again by his beauty. The sunlight catches his dark eyelashes, warmth emanating from him. How can you walk away? You won’t walk away.
“I don’t want this to be more strange than it already is,” he starts, voice deep and dreamy. You could get lost in the baritone and the way it wraps around you but you choose instead to focus on his words to try and understand what he wants from you. “But I know you have something nobody else has. Abilities.”
He’s correct but you wonder how he could possibly know about your struggles. You have kept them to yourself for years even to the detriment of your own well being. Your mother and father both assume you’re deranged and there are times where you’ve wholeheartedly agreed with them since you began seeing the things that haunt you at every turn when you were 5.
“How do you know about that?”
The man shakes his head and holds his free hand ahead of him. “Why don’t you walk with me and we can talk some more?”
How can you say no with his hand on your shoulder? Turning on your heel to face him, you keep quiet and wait for further instructions. Your naturally submissive tendencies are serving you well in this situation and Geto doesn't hide his smug smile. You are perfect and he knew it.
As the two of you begin to pick up pace walking side by side, you anxiously keep your eyes glued to the ground. Being able to visualize each of your steps is keeping you calm and if you look down, there's less of a chance you'll see whatever is out there to scare you.
"Look at me."
He doesn't ask, he commands, and you listen. For the first time, you notice something perching on his shoulder. It's formless for the most part and less terrifying than what you usually see attached to others as they pass by you but you're intrigued nonetheless.
"Do you know about that....thing?" Pointing to his shoulder, he nods at you and you breathe a sigh of relief. "You see them also?"
A chuckle is his response and you ponder what it means while you wait for him to clear up your confusion. "I don't just see them, I control them."
The figure disappears quickly and you gasp, searching around your own feet and your shoulders to make sure he didn't order it in your direction to harm you.
"How?"
Despite your trepidation, Suguru can see the way that your eyes sparkle at the thought of someone being like you. He knows how it felt for him, too.
"I can show you and so can my friends." He watches your nose scrunch in confusion at his words and he laughs, amused. The sound is musical and uplifting and you feel yourself lightening up for the first time maybe in your entire life. Knowing you aren't alone has shifted your perspective more than you realized it would.
"There are more of you?"
"A couple dozen, yeah."
Nodding, you think for a moment. What if he can actually help you? What if these people are actually like you? What if you can find a place that suits you for the first time in 18 whole years?
"How can you help me?"
The man turns to you, knowing smirk in place across his mouth. “I can show you better than I can tell you.”
You hate her.
Never in your life has such a bitter feeling gathered in the pit of your stomach. Your face flames every time Manami walks by, you can feel it and you know she can see it. Tonight, you are more glad than ever to be on kitchen duty even if it means having to listen to her cackle from the other side of the wall.
“Geto-sama!”
She sing-songs across the tatami with a giggle as Suguru traipses by en-route to have dinner with the group, seating himself at the head of the table as everyone else files in around it. You fight the urge to roll your eyes from where you’re standing next to Mimiko and Nanako, pouring hojicha into tea cups.
“Geto-sama,” you mock under your breath and Nanako giggles, dishing rice into bowls at your side. The two of you giggle together, a secret shared, as she begins to bring the dishes to the table for service. Sorting your tea cups, you count how many more servings you need as you look around the doorframe to see who is waiting.
Your relationship with Geto’s most trusted inner circle has expanded greatly since you first arrived months ago.
They knew better than to be outwardly distrustful of you. Aside from the twins, every one of them had set out to find Suguru and his group on their own. He found you. He brought you. He touted your abilities long before you arrived.
“She’s the perfect blank slate,” he gushed over dinner one night as the other members of the group listened enraptured. “We got to her just in time, too. My source says that Gojo was planning on paying her a visit.”
Your arrival was underwhelming. Greeted at the end of the footpath that leads to the front door by Miguel, Larue, Mimiko, and Nanako while Manami glowered from the porch with folded arms, you weren’t immediately made to feel welcome by anyone except for Suguru who continued to guide you along the property with your arm looped in his. She was scoping you out, taking an assessment. She believed you to be no threat. She believed wrong.
Tinkering with the last cup on the counter, you take one look into the dining room again and the realization that your usual spot is full makes you chuckle humorlessly. Not that you’re surprised, Manami has done all but piss all over Geto to mark her territory but the sight makes a bitter, sour feeling turn in your guts just the same. Your nose scrunches as if you’ve smelled something bad and you don’t immediately hear when someone else enters the kitchen to pick up the tea cups you are still filling.
“About ready?”
The voice you recognize as belonging to Mimiko calms you and you respond with a nod, wrapping your hand around the warmest cup as you take a breath and plaster a smile on. This one goes to the man himself and you feel eyes upon you as you offer it to him with a bow. His hand lingers on top of yours for a moment and you’re glad your face is pointed toward the ground, your flustered look hidden as long as you don’t make eye contact.
“We’re just waiting on you,” he chides lightly, always a stickler for timeliness. You lift your head to his view enough to offer an apologetic half smile. He pats the side of your face with his tea-warmed hand and your smile grows. Your eyes meet his rich, umber colored pair and you feel at peace. “Manami will be out of your spot by the time you get back.”
A small “oooooooh” breaks out around the table but the tension is quickly killed with a sharp look from Suguru. Everyone quietly begins shuffling their utensils and you don’t stick around to watch Manami’s rejection, scurrying back to the kitchen to gather your own rice and tea.
“I want to share a few moments after dinner, if you’d all like to stick around.”
Suguru’s words inspire nods and happy, affirmative hums and you catch the tail end of them as you settle next to him at the table. Your opposition glares icily from the other end of the table, the same look she kept plastered on her face the day you arrived, and you meet her eyes long enough to offer a sweet smile before bowing your head in thanks for the meal you were about to share.
“I’d especially like for you to stay,” he looks across the table at Manami who nods once before turning back to her plate. Her lips are pursed and her eyebrows are knit together in irritation but smugness glimmers in her eyes. “You too,” he says and you turn your head to see him glancing down at you. Fondness crinkles the corners of his eyes slightly and you shrink into yourself with a nod and a shy smile. “Of course.”
The rest of dinner goes as you’ve come to expect. The twins giggle and joke with every other member of the group and you all sit beneath the watchful eyes of your leader who sips at his own tea with a barely visible over the edge of his cup smirk but you can see it from where you sit. You can see the corners of his mouth upturned just enough it makes your heart flutter in your chest.
He looks down at you and thinks about how vulnerable you look. How little you hide, your emotions and yourself alike. Were you like this before he met you or is this his influence? He takes credit. He knows the way you flash fake nice shit eating grins in Manami’s direction is for his sake. His sweet little bird isn’t afraid to fight and he hoped that would be the case.
“Since we’re all here, I wanted to discuss a few things,” Geto clears his throat and sets his cup on the table in front of him. He basks as he feels every eye in the room turn toward him but none make him feel more intoxicated than yours. When he casts you a glance, you smile shyly. He wonders if you’ll do that forever, look at him as if he’s a savior on a big white horse. He hopes so.
“I want to make some changes in what we’ll all be doing around here,” his voice rings proud and clearly and you fight the urge to prop your head up with your hand girlishly to get a better look at him. A few people shift in their seated positions but you don’t glance around to find out who, gaze fixed upon the person you want to witness the most.
“Manami, your duties are changing.” Replacing the sound of shifting clothing is small gasping and murmuring. Manami has been Geto’s assistant for close to two years, a coveted spot amongst anyone in the group. “You will still be my personal assistant but only for off compound events and daytime hours.”
Grateful for your own refusal to look at the rest of the table, you can tune out the uncomfortable chatting. “I know this may be surprising but we have many things ahead of us we need to prepare for,” he starts and the noise quiets. “Manami is one of the brightest among us and she will excel no matter what she’s doing.”
Hearing him praise someone else makes your back stiffen, the urge to pick at the seam of your t-shirt making your fingers twist in the fabric idly. You’re grateful your grip is beneath the table, hidden from view. No one will suspect how you feel as long as you’re careful but you gasp as you feel two large, soft hands untangle your fingers from your shirt and squeeze them between their palms. Looking up you’re greeted by the handsome, vulpine smile of Geto and you feel another gentle squeeze of your hands.
You take a deep breath and ground yourself, focusing on his words as he opens his mouth.
“You will be my new on-premises and evenings assistant.” Despite your shock and the look on your face that shows it clear as day, you nod. “I would love to,” you clarify and he squeezes your hands once more as he rises and drops your clammy fingers back into your lap.
Standing at his full height, Geto smiles as he looks over the faces of everyone sitting around him. Even Manami is working to hide her pout, looking toward the ground but keeping a smile plastered on her face. You sit with your legs tucked beneath you, a shred of hope illuminating parts of you that you once saw as dark and empty.
You get to spend most of your day with Geto, most of your evenings too. Perhaps in that time he will finally have the opportunity to tell you about your gift. In 6 months you’ve learned as much as you knew the day you arrived but that may be soon to change. Giddiness makes you smile slightly, your face beaming as you keep it looking up.
Suguru extends his hand in your direction and your smile grows wider. Gingerly placing your palm in his, he helps you rise as he places his hands on either side of your face. You strain your neck glancing up at him, you’re only chest level or so to his massive form and you can feel him using his grip on your cheeks to lower your head. Once you’re gazing at the floor his lips graze your forehead and you gasp, fire erupting through your limbs.
“I’m going to teach you so much,” he coos as he uses his grip to turn your face back toward him. His eyes drink in the sight of you - the tip of your nose, the shape of your lips, and he smirks so quickly you swear you only imagined it. His thumbs graze your cheeks before he drops his grip and looks over your head at everyone else. That tall, dark shadow rests directly over you, though.
“You’re all dismissed, thank you for a lovely evening.”
Everyone stands and you stay facing Geto until all of the footsteps have filed out, waiting for his permission to leave next. You flinch slightly when his hands grip your face again, a natural reflex to the surprise of his touch, and he gazes at you silently for so long you stop keeping time. It could have been seconds, it could have been days - you will never know but you will accept it nevertheless.
“Come see me tomorrow morning,” he whispers and you nod. You can see his eyes flit from your eyes to your mouth and you wonder what he’s thinking. He dips his head slightly and you can feel his lips brush gently against yours, a kiss almost too small to be qualified as one. You shiver, his thumbs digging into the plump flesh of your cheeks.
“Yes sir.”
“Say that again,” he mutters against your lips. The vibrations of his words are directly on your skin and the heat that erupted in your limbs before has become a full blown fire, your face hot and your palms sticking together. “Yes sir.”
He presses another kiss to your forehead and releases his grip, straightening his back out as he walks toward the door and offers you a bow of his head. “Get some rest.”
You make certain he’s gone before you touch your fingers to your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as you commit the feel of his soft mouth on yours to memory. You won’t be sleeping tonight.
“Geto-sama?”
The sound of your meek voice alerts Suguru to your presence and he looks up from his usual place by the open sliding door between his room and the porch attached to it, a light breeze blowing his hair off of his shoulder. He looks ethereal and resembles a hero from a book you obsessively read as a child. Rescuing a sweet young woman from a life marred by sadness, the hero hauls her off to a place where she can be happy.
The irony isn’t lost on you.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” you start, clasping your hands together in front of you and he rises to standing, elegance exuding from him even in the most mundane of situations. He approaches you and gently rubs the back of your head and you fight the urge to lean into the touch. No amount of him feels like enough.
“You didn’t interrupt anything,” he responds with a serene smile, one you’ve noticed is just for you. He doesn’t smile at anyone else like that, not even Manami, and smugness rises in you for a split second before he speaks again. “What can I do for you?”
Clearing your throat, you look toward the ground and keep your hands linked. Geto recognizes the posture, something you do frequently when you want to speak, and he waits with his own hands joined inside of the sleeves of his yukata robes. He loves how naturally you submit to him, how you won’t even meet his eyes.
“Why am I here?”
If he’s surprised by your question, he doesn’t show it, but he does take a few strides to your side to place a comforting arm around your shoulder. Against your better judgment, you lean against him. Sides pressed together, you’re surprised when you feel the most minuscule squeeze of reassurance. Your heart threatens to burst as he leads you to where he was sitting and invites you to sit across from him, the two of you looking out at the sun setting on the horizon.
“Before I answer,” he adjusts his sitting position and turns to face you. The golden hour warmth hits his face and you swear, not for the first time, you are glancing at a deity. Something, someone, greater than yourself. You shouldn’t be this close to him and you start to spiral but his voice brings you out of your own mind and into reality, your gaze shifting from the ground to him. “Will you tell me why you’re asking?”
Twisting your fingers together and sitting your hands in your lap, you sigh.
You’re uncertain of how much time has passed since you left your old life behind to join him and while you do finally feel at peace with yourself, the natural pull you feel toward the man who brought you here in the first place hasn’t dissipated in the way you expected it to. It feels like an unfulfilled hunger, a need more than a simple want at this point, but how can you begin to tell him that?
“I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll see me differently.”
Your words finally get a rise from Suguru and he quirks one of his dark brows. The crack in his cool headed exterior makes you giddy - is that because of you? You’re dumbfounded when his posture changes and he scoots closer to you, your knees nearly touching his. Should you pick yours up and press them against your chest? To quell your own anxiety, you decide to follow his lead. You will only move if he does.
“Nothing you say will change my opinion of you.” He reaches out and touches your knuckles with the tips of his fingers and you feel heat rise through every inch of your body. The touch makes you feel emotional and you break the intense eye contact between the two of you to stare at the ground, hoping it will hide the tears that are threatening to spill down your lash line. “I brought you here.”
Nodding, you lift your still joined fists together and wipe your eyes and down your cheek with the back of one of your hands. Although you are still looking down, you can see Geto moving from your periphery and you wonder what he’s going to do next.
Concerned your display is upsetting him, you sit still and try to regulate your breathing to keep from sobbing but errant tears still flow. You feel Suguru’s finger before you realize what’s happening and you flinch slightly beneath his touch as he wipes the wet tracks off of your skin. He wipes his finger along the fabric of your yukata robe before wrapping both of your fists in one of his much larger hands.
“Please be honest with me.”
Thinking back to what prompted this need for confirmation of what you mean to him, you dig your nails into your palm until you’re certain marks will be left. Manami, someone who spends almost as much time around Geto as you do, comes into your mind and you gnaw on your lower lip as you think about the jealousy churning in your gut. Why does she get to be there to help him make decisions? Why does she get to watch while he’s in meetings? Why did you see her leaving his room last week, hours before dawn?
Knowing it should be you is the emboldening thought you need to open your mouth.
“Do I mean anything to you?”
Feeling him squeeze your fists, the palm of his hand warm and comforting, you release the breath you’ve been holding. For better or worse, you’re about to find out and although your mind is racing, willing yourself to be calm comes easy in his presence. As if you needed further confirmation of everything he has done for you at a moment when you’re demanding something you feel unreasonable for wanting.
“You mean everything to me, you’re our future.”
His confirmation makes you weep. Tears flow freely, dripping down your cheeks and they hit the knuckle of Suguru’s thumb. You should feel guilty, you think, for putting him in a position to have to answer to you but cannot bring yourself to do it. You shouldn’t have had to wait more than a year to know but forgiveness is easy when it comes to him. If anyone should be sorry it’s you for questioning him in the first place and so you begin to ask for forgiveness.
“I’m so sorry for asking, Geto-sama.”
You feel him pulling you into his lap, his strong hands wrapping around your hips and the blood rushes into your face. Perching with uncertainty, your bottom rests against his thigh and it feels natural. All of the yearning couldn’t have prepared you for this feeling and you sigh as he brings one of his large hands to cup the back of your neck, his voice so close to your ear it makes goosebumps erupt across your skin.
“Call me Suguru from now on,” he whispers, a secret for your ears only. You feel his lips press against the space where your jaw and neck meet, another secret for the two of you to keep. Everyone on the compound would view you differently if they knew this was happening but you don’t care. You can’t care, not when he’s running his palms up your waist and unfastening your robe.
The opened door with a view of the outside doesn’t concern you as Suguru’s deft fingers work at the knot keeping you decent, the same breeze that rustles his hair that has always reminded you of feathers blowing across your bare chest as the robe is worked down around your waist. Your nipple stiffens and Geto reaches to pinch it between his thumb and index finger, making you yelp.
“How long have you wanted this, my little bird?” He wonders aloud and you almost feel as if he isn’t speaking to you at all, he merely wants you to listen and to witness. “Since you met me?”
He knows the truth just as he knows the way you’re looking at him. Eyes lidded, cheeks puffed out, lips wet with your own spit. You’re never going to leave his side.
“Tell me the truth,” he pinches your nipple once more and you arch your back, lip jutting out at the roughness of the feeling. Nobody has ever touched you like this before and the feeling is electric. Despite the fuzziness in your brain, the heady arousal clouding your every thought, you wet your lips with your tongue and speak.
“So long, Suguru.”
He smirks knowingly and lowers his head to suck your breast into his mouth, his warm tongue lapping at your skin. It’s nothing short of heaven, you think. This is how it always should have been. His hands travel from the dip of your waist to your hips, pulling the fabric of your robe further down to expose more of you to his hungry eyes. You reach out toward his face, your fingers tentatively brushing against his lower lip and he releases your nipple from his mouth.
“Can I touch you too?”
Another whisper, another secret. A predatory gleam shines in Suguru’s eyes and you wiggle against his lap, keeping your fingertips pressed against his mouth. He puckers and kisses them gently, reaching to grab your wrist. He places your hand against the bulge beneath his robes, covering your delicate fingers with his own.
“You can,” he uses his grip on your hand to press the heel against his hard cock and he hisses through his teeth. You admire the way his throat looks when his head is tipped back in pleasure, his Adam's apple bobbing. How is everything he does so effortlessly beautiful, you wonder. Your attention is recaptured by his voice. “But first, how long?”
Your wide eyed, parted lip expression only serves as further fuel for the blood pumping between his legs. You look so innocent, the same as you did when he felt the first of your defenses crumble, the day he approached you to come with him. It strikes him as funny that both times, your vulnerability is because he has put his hands on you. Nervously, you shift in his lap and he presses you closer to his body to keep you from going any further.
“Since the first day,” you admit, to him and yourself for the first time. He smirks, molding your hand around his bulge and you squeeze. Another hiss from him is all you want, the noise motivating you to offer yourself further. Using your free hand, you slip out of your robe the rest of the way and for the first time, you're bare to his eyes.
"Look at you." Your face heats and you feel your posture collapse in on itself, shoulders slumping after being so seen. "Show me how well you listen."
His command drips with condescension but you’re too awed to notice. When you nod, he gently nudges you off of his lap and you tuck your legs beneath you. Watching as he rises, you stay seated and admire the way those same lithe fingers that were just caressing your overheated skin work at the knot in his own robes.
Those dark eyes glance down at where you kneel on the ground and he gently smooths his hand over the top of your head and slides it into place along your cheek to cup your face. Using his grip to force you to look at him, you do and appear dazed. Transfixed, perhaps, would be better.
“I’ve always known,” Geto unfastens the knot in his robe fully and you gasp at the sight of his nude form backlit by dusk right outside the door. He’s tall and broad and you can’t look away. “That you would realize.”
Pumping his hand along his impressive length, you bite your tongue to keep from eagerly interrupting him. You want to touch him so badly, you have to sit on your hands like a child to keep from approaching sooner than you should. Before you can think any further about his words, he walks a few steps and the sticky head of his cock nearly brushes your soft, swollen mouth.
“I knew it was you from the moment we met.”
He hangs his head just low enough that you feel the words are truly meant just for you and you shiver. As you wait for further instruction, he squeezes your cheek and jaw in the palm of his hand. Your eyes don’t leave him once.
Suguru has always prided himself on his ability to break people down - to their core, their most base selves in every sense of the word. Usually there’s a moment where he can see in their eyes that they have been broken, cloudy and glossy. Yours have looked like that since he met you.
“This is what devotion gets you.” His words make you shiver as he uses his free hand to point the head of his cock at your lips, rubbing the sticky tip along your pouty mouth. Sitting still as stone and waiting for his directions, he gently pulls your face toward his pelvis and his tip pops into your mouth. A long, low moan leaves him and you squirm at the sound. “Just relax for me, okay?”
Suguru releases his grip on your cheek and moves to palm the back of your head, fingers finding an easy and natural grasp on your skull. You take a deep breath and look up at him with watery eyes and he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re perfect,” he breathes toward the ceiling and you tense slightly as he uses his grip to move more of his cock between your lips. “Stay relaxed, baby. It’s okay.”
Your head bobs slightly and he groans again and you wonder what it will take to get him to make that noise again, the deep guttural moan sending shockwaves to your clit. You want to rut against something, to feel the pressure release in your stomach and between your legs, but Geto is your first priority.
Experimentally, you dip your face toward the dark hair at the base of his thick cock and you gag a bit as more of his length slips down your throat. The grip on the back of your head tightens and he gasps. Lifting your eyes in his direction for just a moment, you whine at the sight of him with his head thrown back in pleasure. Open mouthed, eyes shut tightly, every muscle in his neck bulging - you love it. If you were a more artistic person, you’d find a way to capture this forever but for now you commit the vision to memory and allow him to thrust his hips so that the remaining length of him dips fully between your lips. The tip of your nose brushes his pubic hair and you moan and gag around his length, tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes. Using the thumb of his free hand, Suguru brushes your tears away and it makes you sob and gag.
“Oh, don’t give up on me now,” he comforts from above, brows furrowed as his hips jerk and your nose continually bumps against his pelvis. Finding a rhythm, he listens to the noises coming from between your lips with every stroke and he feels himself getting closer. His balls tense and his cock twitches and he isn’t willing to prolong the wait any longer than it has already been.
“Open up, keep your tongue out, just like that,” he instructs as he releases his cock from between your lips with a sticky and wet pop, jerking his hand along his spit covered shaft right above your lips and chin and nose. “Stay just like ahhh-,” his words are cut short with a pleasured shout as he shoots translucent ropes of cum across your spit soaked face. A splash lands across your tongue and you note the salty taste - something you’ll associate with just Suguru for as long as you live.
Wrist pumping until he feels fully emptied, he takes a deep breath and covers himself halfway. His lean torso is visible and you feel your cunt throb at the sight and part of you wonders if he’s going to do the same for you - if he’ll kneel between your legs and worship your pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in days.
“Miguel, Manami, you can come in now.”
The deep voice filling your ears makes you scramble to cover yourself with your arms, your breasts and back bare to the open sliding door. The pair make their entrance and you keep your face pointed toward the ground, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. Suguru pats the back of your head as he walks back toward the tatami and sits, patting the spot next to him for you.
“Had some other business to take care of, please forgive my rudeness.”
You stay frozen in place but you can feel the eyes of your compatriots on your sticky face, remnants of Geto clinging to your cheeks.
Days spent on the compound are simultaneously mind-numbingly boring and some of the busiest you’ve ever had.
Each morning, you rise with the sun and watch her from the window that is on the wall opposite where you lie. Most of the time you are on your side, arms wrapped around yourself, in your bed or Suguru’s depending on the events of the evening prior. He most often has you visit him in his quarters and you appreciate the near luxurious gift of privacy on those evenings. It’s far less private in your own room, thin walls separating yourself and whoever is in the room next to yours, although everyone seems to know exactly what Geto uses you for and has since your arrival.
He honors you by allowing you to love him, you remind yourself while the dark thoughts swirling in you churn. They’ll be chased away by the sun and by his presence when he returns to his room where you lay. His side of the futon is empty, already made up as if he were never there, so you allow your mind to wander. If he’s feeling generous, maybe today he will have lunch with you or even better, he’ll finally allow you to begin training your cursed energy into something more than a never-ending sinking feeling in your guts.
He promised you a very long time ago he would help you learn about your own abilities. It seems ungrateful to still long for usefulness considering you know exactly what your role is, yet you can’t help but wish to find this key to understand yourself that seems to always be out of reach.
Tracking the time fell away from you long ago, not long after the first time you were intimate with the man you so dutifully serve. Autumn gave way to winter which faded into a difficult to remember spring followed by the once again balmy days of summer. Again and again and again. Cicadas ring out across the secluded surroundings of the compound morning to night. You blink as they instruct you to rise, singing a tune even more rehearsed than the mechanical beeps of the alarms you used to set on your phone. How long has it been since you’ve had a phone?
Does it matter?
Months or years may have passed but you find that you don’t care all that much. Time passes the same without being able to watch it, a voice that sounds a lot like Geto’s reminds you in the back of your head. You are here forever as part of your purpose to serve his goals and time is just a construct.
When’s the last time you felt like yourself?
Last night, when his satisfaction was the only thing you had to be concerned about, you chide yourself silently. You sound ungrateful to your own ears even if you don’t speak, these endlessly appearing questions becoming more aggravating with each second that passes, and you are annoyed and angry when you rise from Suguru’s bed, re-knotting the tie of your yukata. The shoji is open and he stands just outside of it wearing a cotton robe of his own, sunlight silhouetting him.
He’s a God, you remind yourself, though it doesn’t kill the bitter taste in your mouth the way it usually does. Shuffling toward the door, you take a deep breath and call out his name from inside, his face turning toward you. This makes the bitter taste turn into something sweet you wish to taste again, a soft smile replacing your uncertain frown.
“Good morning,” he calls toward you, sweeping his hand out in front of you to indicate where he’d like you to be. You dutifully follow the wordless instructions and arrive at his side with a smile, squinting in the early morning light.
“Good morning, Suguru. How did you sleep?” Smiling down at you, he gently takes your hand. “As well as I always do when you’re in my bed.”
The compliment and his touch make you feel girlish, heat rising in your face. To be a God’s beloved concubine is an honor, one you rarely take for granted even in your weakest moments. He has given you purpose, motivation, and an understanding you would not have found in a world with people who are unlike you.
Yet that same pit in your stomach lingers. He can tell, narrowing his eyes when he glances at you again though you avert your gaze.
“What’s on your mind?”
A tight smile slips across your face, measured and careful; similar to the one you always give Manami when she’s swearing her devotion to him at dinner or after the congregation. You want to tell him the truth, to open up and make him understand your need to be useful, but the words stick inside of you.
“Nothing, I just didn’t sleep very well.”
It isn’t exactly a lie but he knows that it isn’t the entire truth and his blood runs cold wondering what you’re hiding. You are usually so placid around him, glassy eyes and subdued smiles with averted eyes, but he can feel the anxiety flaring from your body. Are you unhappy? Is the spell he has held over you weakening? Does he need to scare you into reminding you of where your place is, the way he has with so many others?
Tutting gently, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you to his side.
“Speak freely, I value everything you have to say.”
Lulled into a false sense of security, you look at him out of the corner of your eye.
“May I train with you today?”
Suguru laughs, lifting his hand and gently brushing his thumb against your chin. He’s always touching you when it’s just the two of you, hands rubbing your forearms or fingers pressed against your face. He’s a sculptor and what are you if not simply the clay he’s molding beneath his touch, smoothing out edges and reshaping you from the bottom up into something you aren’t sure you recognize anymore which is how he has always intended things to be. His perfect blank slate, he said so many years ago. There isn’t a time where you haven’t proven it to be true even if you need a reminder.
“Why?”
The tone of his voice makes you feel foolish for asking and your sidelong glance turns to the ground beneath you. Subservience is a practice and one you tend to be good at, evidence provided in the form of your refusal to make eye contact even when he begins speaking again.
“I’ll protect you from anything that could hurt you. You know that, right?” He furrows his brow, one of his hands wrapped around your forearm while the other remains on your chin. “You are safe here. Nothing here can or would hurt you, not while you’re in my care. Isn’t that enough for you? You demand training so you can, what? Fight?” Chuckling and finishing with a haughty sigh, he shakes his head. “You don’t have a fight in you, little girl. You never have.”
Defenses faltering, you laugh to yourself and up at him, sensitive eyes once again squinting when faced with the grace of the higher being in front of you. Of course he’s keeping you from having to enter battles you aren’t equipped for, isn’t that what he has been doing this entire time? Protecting you from those shadows that have lurked over your shoulder and kept you from sleeping since you were a child, comforting you, blessing you.
Your rudderlessness isn’t Suguru’s fault, it’s simply your own for assuming you know more than he does.
Nobody knows you like he does. They never will.
“Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”
You call him Suguru in pleasure and Geto-sama in exaltation, raising it to the heavens that put him on the earth. Moving to fall to your knees before him in apology for making him believe his protection isn’t enough, he stops you with a firm hand on your shoulder. His thumb digs into your collarbone, somewhere between painfully and pleasurably, and you remain standing on wobbly feet with a dumbfounded expression.
“I already have. For everything.”
There is so much you’ve done since you’ve arrived, so much to be forgiven for. Questioning him, doubting your place with him, doubting others, speaking with a jealous tongue and thinking poisonous thoughts. You accept his grace with a smile, tears rimming your eyes. You have always been told that forgiveness grants freedom, the wind at your back and the sun on your face. You feel it on this day, gazing up at a man who has saved you time and time again despite your own folly.
Nodding and sniffling, you shut your eyes to stop yourself from open mouthed sobbing in thanks. You don’t deserve this and never have.
“I’m going to tell you something I’ve told nobody else, okay?”
The assertion that he still trusts you despite your disrespect makes you emotional again, eyes opening and tears falling while you nod.
“I love you.”
I love your devotion to me, he means, though you’ll never read between the lines to consider that the truth is that you are just a pawn to a man you’ve dedicated your existence to pleasing. Your body, your words, even the way you enter a room have all been carefully trained to suit him. You’ve been broken by his hands and he is always in a hurry to remake you, fashioning you into something once again useful.
“That’s why you’re here, little bird. To be safe and loved, not to fight or grow jealous or be angry with me. Are you angry with me?” You shake your head quickly, leaning into his touch with furrowed brows. He drops his hand from your chin and wraps his arm around your waist. “Never, Suguru.”
“Then don’t ask about training again, understood? Trust me to take care of you.”
And trust you do, nodding and finally letting that open mouth sob escape. He does a bit more tutting and his large hands paw at your body, yanking at the knot keeping your robe closed, roughly cupping your breast when the fabric falls open. Tears drip down your cheeks and onto the back of his hand, just how he likes it, and his tongue pokes out from between his teeth as he glances down at you.
“Do you trust me?”
This isn’t even close to the first time that he has asked but he needs to know just how many pieces he has smashed you into. He flexes his hand, squeezing your breast, further punctuating the point he’s trying to make - every little bit of you is his to have, to control, to make, to break, to feel.
“More than anything, Suguru, I swear.” Your legs ache to once again fold and bring you to your knees, the way you best know how to prove your regret, but you remain standing, lower lip quivering. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Your apology is a mantra you repeat as his hand dips lower beneath your robe, grazing the soft skin of your stomach and hip. Roughly wrapping a hand around said hip, he pulls you against his body, cold glance locked on your puffy, wet eyes. Despite himself, he smirks down at you, head tilted to the side. His hair is a black curtain that falls over both of you, soft strands resting against your bare torso and arm.
“Do you love me?”
You do not have to think about your answer though it shakes when it leaves your mouth, your lungs begging you to gulp down enough air to replace what you’ve let escape through sobs.
“I love you so much.” You shake your head and sob again. “Please, please believe me”
You feel like a half-formed thing, ready to be made over however he sees fit.
“I believe you, no need to cry,” he assures you, grip on your hip tightening. You breathe through your open mouth and he takes the opportunity to bring his thumb to your face once again, pulling your jaw down and widening your mouth. You know what’s coming next, heat stirring from deep within you despite your sorrow, before he even commands it.
Your tongue lolls out of your mouth and he spits down onto the muscle.You roll it back into your mouth in an instant, grateful for the opportunity to have even the tiniest piece of him in you, his eyes following your throat as you swallow. Communion, consumption of him to purify yourself from the inside out. The ultimate apology until he can use your cunt to fulfill himself later, although he wants to take you now, right here, inviting everyone out to see the work of a master craftsman.
Sobs gradually give way to less powerful sniffles, you squint up at him with your skin exposed and his touch and his hair and his scent and wonder what you were even wishing would happen in the first place. That he’d train you to do what, exactly? This is what you were meant to do.
“Do you feel better?”
You nod and he smiles down at you, the same measured smirk he always wears. He leans down and kisses your forehead, pulling up the sleeve of your robe to give you some semblance of modesty but leaving it open as he ushers you back inside, sliding the shoji shut behind him. Suguru crowds you into the room, leading his nearly lost lamb toward the futon while untying his own robe.
“Now, apologize like you mean it.”
Now, you fall to your knees, grateful he’s allowed you to show how sorry you are in the shadows of his room instead of by the light of the sun.
“War is on the horizon.”
Sitting with your legs tucked beneath you at Suguru’s side on the elevated platform at the front of the room, you keep your eyes downcast while he addresses his congregation. This is your role, it has been for a very long time now, and you’ve learned to ignore curious onlookers or newcomers who will never be able to fathom such fanatical love.
You love him so much you silence yourself. You sit by his side, so quiet you may as well be nothing but air. You have never learned how to defend yourself or even delved into the curses that used to weigh you down; freedom from these responsibilities came in the form of surrendering yourself fully to him. Body, mind, soul, all tied to his whims. You are a puppet on a string and he is free to move you in whichever way he chooses.
Just the way you like it.
“I’ve officially made the declaration to Satoru Gojo himself.”
For the first time in years, you look up when you are meant to look down, the anxious murmuring of the crowd making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You know what happens when the congregation disagrees or questions their leader and he rises with a flourish, petting the back of your head gently before stepping off of the platform.
“Do I sense disagreement?”
Looking every bit the apex predator that he is, you dare keep your gaze trained on his back rather than the floor. His head swivels from one prostrate form to another, seeking out anyone who dares disagree with his plans. Foreheads touch the ground below them, the ultimate show of devotion, yet one head remains raised and Suguru chuckles as he approaches the newcomer.
You don’t know their name, you realize. You stopped bothering to learn the newcomer’s names given how little interaction you have with them. They’re nothing but faces to be forgotten about after they have spoken out of turn and met their end at the hands of the man standing with his chin held high.
“Is there something you’d like to say?”
Whatever boldness was previously etched into the face of the man kneeling before Suguru has very clearly disappeared but tension flares through the room regardless. You know that whatever choice he makes, however he chooses to deal with this foolish man, is exactly what he deserves. To spit in the face of God is bold and everyone has to learn their place eventually.
You certainly have.
“N-no, no. Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”
Suguru clicks his tongue, turning to face the rest of his family with his arms spread wide, face turned toward the ceiling. Your eyes are to be trained on the ground but you drink in the sight of him standing amongst the mortals who have always believed they know better than he does.
“What do you think I should do to the non-believer today?”
The question is rhetorical. At least, the silent room treats it that way, no one rushing to answer. Everyone knows to only speak when spoken to, even the inner circle who welcomed you years ago keep their foreheads pressed to the ground. He quietly pads through the crowd again, headed back toward you, and your eyes meet the ground swiftly to avoid being punished for looking at him out of turn.
“Look at me.”
Yours are the only pair of eyes he ever truly cares to have on him. Following the command, you glance up at him, remaining with your knees tucked beneath you and your hands folded in your lap. The way he looks down at you is as tender as he will ever get, even his softness is cold and harsh, but he speaks loudly enough that even the room behind him can hear that he values your opinion above the rest of them.
“What do you think I should do with him?”
Smiling back at him, your glassy eyes meet his and you say exactly what you know he wants to hear.
“Kill him, Suguru.”
Smirking, he reaches down to pinch your chin between his index finger and thumb like he always does when you are performing as expected. It isn’t a performance anymore, if it ever was, it’s simply the way you feel when it comes to those who oppose him. He wags your head back and forth before dropping the touch completely, turning around and leaving you facing his back.
Your eyes dart toward the ground once more. You were not instructed to look at him.
Geto walks through the rows of people once more, reaching to touch the backs of each of their heads while he passes, finally stopping in front of his target. His hands rest in the opposite sleeve of each of them and he bends at the waist, offering the same smile he gives to all of his victims.
“Well, unfortunately, your fate has been chosen. You may as well speak now while you still have the chance.”
A curse materializes, brought to this realm by the man in front of you, and you keep your eyes trained on the ground while screams and the sound of the rending of flesh fill the congregation room.
You’ll only look up once you’re instructed, as always.
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The picture of edas friends as children, reminding us that all these adults, allies and villains alike, were once children. They were abused and indoctrinated by the same system that some of them are using to abuse and indoctrinate kids now. A few of them like alador and darius were able to see whats wrong and fight for a better world. But people like odalia sided with the emperor until it was too late because thats the only thing theyve ever known. And then it cuts to adult lilith and raine and shows how a lifetime of living under this system has sapped the joy out of them. How as kids they never would have thought to make their last stand against they system thats been there their whole lives. Its the lifetime of trauma and the perpetuation of the cycle of abuse for me
#the owl house#toh#shut up pandora#kings tide#thats why i dislike everyone saying that x character got redeemed or dont deserve redemption or smth#bc in toh redemption isnt the point its what belos has been doing with his christian guilt#the point is that everyone has fallen to the wiles of a cult leader#and many of these ppl would have grown up to be normal if not a little bitchy and dramatic#but because of belos they were manipulated into heinous things that they can never take back#and even though the world and their religious leader was the one to tell them to do these things#they still made their own choice to listen#because hard as it was to say no to these atrocities the choice was there as shown by the rebel squad#and if more people went against the emperor#especially the coven heads#he wouldnt have succeeded in the day of unity#but because belos was so persuasive and the coven heads and odalia were so obsessed with special treatment#they couldnt see the red flags and they almost caused a genocide
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Anjinth Comes
Yandere Male Eldritch Abomination Deity x Gender Neutral Reader
(CW: Violent noncon, blood, major character death, heartbreak, broken reader, religious themes, cult, paralysis, venom, oviposition, mild choking, breeding, tentacles, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.)
Word Count 2.2k
(So sorry that this took me so long. So sorry that this is so fucked up, more fucked up than the eel one tbh. Reeeallly need something fluffier to balance these last two out.)
The psychic scream for help released by Anjinth the Shadowed was not heard by many. It was only possible due to the thinning in the barriers separating the planes of existence and only a very few gifted in magic could perceive his call.
Of the handful of people who could, almost all of them discounted it as either a hallucination or a demon trying to lure them in with pleas of help and promises of power.
In fact on all of planet Earth you, and you alone, could both hear his call and were willing to assist him.
Anjinth told you all about himself. That he had originally come from the same realm of man, from deep within space, and had molded Earth to his will. But he had been bound and sealed into a realm of shadow and despair from which he could barely even talk into our world. He could only manage to do so now because the walls between the worlds had thinned ever so slightly.
He told you everything that you would need to do to release him from his prison, and he promised you power, immortality, and land that you would be able to rule under him. How could you resist?
So for years you made it your unyielding mission to bring him back to your world.
Luckily you slowly amassed a small cult to assist you. You had convinced enough people of your cause, getting them to see that the current world needed to be united under one unquestionable ruler.
The first thing you had to do was either find the pieces of magic crystal that summoned the portal that he was kicked through or to make a replacement that was tuned to the same frequency.
Since the pieces of the old one were crushed and scattered you had to make a new one. This was easier said than done.
But eventually you and those working under you managed to collect enough lapis lazuli to build the structure. It was high quality.
You were not a particularly gifted mage though, so enchanting the lapis gate and attuning it to the reverberations of the void realm where Anjinth lay waiting was beyond your capabilities.
But you were not alone in this and many of the Anjinth cult members had abilities and specializations that surpassed your own.
Your boyfriend, Zereff, was one such cultist. He was perfect, he was just as dedicated to the overthrow of the current world's corruption and disorder as you were and magical enchantments and attunements just happened to be his strong suits.
With the help of your beloved everything was almost ready for the day of reckoning when Anjinth would finally be released from his prison.
All that was required now was the summer solstice and it wasn't a long wait.
When the solstice came the entire congregation joined hands around the portal and began chanting a spell in unison, the runes etched into the crystal glew with a strange purple light, and eventually the portal opened, twirling and dark.
A gleeful laugh could be heard from the other side, you recognized it as the laugh of Anjinth, you had heard it a few times when he saw fit to speak to you.
You and your boyfriend, as leaders of his cult, stepped forward and knelt before the portal.
You did not know exactly what you had expected this ancient and powerful being to look like, but it certainly wasn't what you saw clamber out of the void to stand before you.
He was humanoid, but the proportions were off. He was easily over 9 feet tall, but his arms were strangely long. And there were four of them. You were too in awe to count but you could tell each of his hands had more than five fingers. His nails were black and pointed.
He was clothed in black robes that sparkled like a clear dark night.
Anjinth had long dark black hair that seemed to be in constant motion as if from a very slight breeze.
Sharp horns sprang from his head, but instead of curving upwards they curved downwards.
Tendrils made of shadow extended from his back and constantly writhed.
The being's legs were human enough, but he had a strange scorpion-like tail that looked like it was tipped with a scythe made from obsidian.
But the most striking features were that he seemed to have no mouth or eyes at all. Where his mouth should have been there was nothing and where his eyes should have been there were bandages.
At least they seemed like bandages, but they must have been part of his body as they appeared to be like his pearl white skin, not fabric, and tiny little malformed hands grew from them in random spots, and they moved and grasped, as if seeking something unknown.
Despite a lack of eyes he looked down, regarding you and your partner.
"Thank you, esteemed acolyte. I had been locked up for countless years, and now I shall bring the world to order under my command!!"
A lack of a mouth did nothing to stop him from communicating verbally.
His voice was like several men speaking all at once in near perfect unison, it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
Anjinth gestured for you to approach him and spoke as he did so.
"Come now, we shall consummate our union, you shall be my mate and forever be at my side!"
You looked at your partner and then back at Anjinth with confusion. He knew you had a partner already. And that wasn't the deal.
You were supposed to rule under him, not be at his side.
"What? No, I was supposed to just rule under you… l-like a general or something! I am already with Zereff!"
The words tumbled from your mouth and were filled with obvious fear. Disobeying such a powerful cosmic horror was not something many would do.
He regarded you silently for a moment before stating angrily, "You WILL rule under me, as my mate. It is your reward for being so wonderful and dedicated, it was how I intended our deal to work from the moment you answered my contact!"
His arm elongated to an impossible length as you trembled at his wrathful words. He lashed his elongated arm right into the chest of your love and ripped out his heart.
Zereff fell to the floor lifelessly before he tossed the body aside like useless trash. The other members of the cult kneeled and looked away, not daring to defy their lord.
You ran to wear the crumpled lifeless corpse of your beloved had landed but were intercepted by the shadowy tentacles on Anjinth's back.
Though they seemed forged of shade they felt fleshy and were stronger than any iron, they pulled you close to the one you had worshipped for years, though you were unable to meet his eyeless gaze as tears dripped down your face.
"There, I fixed your problem for you. Now you no longer have any other mate to take your loyalty for me. Only minutes in your realm and I am already solving problems for you, how lucky you are to have me here!"
Your sorrow turned to fury at those words and you lashed out at him, punching and kicking wherever you could make contact. You did not care if you died, at least if you did you would be back with your only love.
Instead he just chuckled as if what you were doing was utterly adorable.
"So cute, but really we need to make our union official and seal it in sex and I might hurt you if you keep moving like that. So stop."
Words were not enough to deter you, if anything you lashed out only more fervently.
Suddenly there was a great, though brief, pain in your side. He had stabbed you with the tip of his obsidian bladed tail and injected you with something.
Your entire body tensed painfully before going completely limp. You were nothing more than a rag doll held in his tentacles.
Anjinth held you in front of him and began using his claws to tear your pants and underwear away, you certainly wouldn't be needing them for a long while.
He disrobed and, still in full view of all of the frightened cultists present, spread your ass cheeks with two of his hands and began to prod and knead your hole with his free tentacles.
His cock was strange, it protruded from a genital slit, all thick and slimy with a hint of a knot at the base.
He took you in his arms and turned you around so that your hole was presented to him like a bitch in heat.
Anjinth rubbed the tip of his cock on your entrance teasingly, as if mocking you for being able to do anything about it.
Under the effects of his venom you were unable to form words, managing only to produce a garbled whimper in protest.
"Oh, what am I thinking, you are too small and fragile! I better use lube!"
Once more his arm stretched out and went for the corpse of your lover. He covered his hand in his thick dripping blood and covered his cock and your hole in it, massaging it into you.
Wetting your cheeks with fresh tears was all you could manage to do. He wasn't sadistic, but he was angry you had defied him and he knew he had to thoroughly put you in your place as his mate.
This would be both a lesson and punishment.
You could feel his slimy tip lined up with your hole before he plunged down to the base in one smooth motion, causing your stomach to bulge with the outline of his cock.
You braced yourself for the pain that would come with being impaled by a cock that was at least 16 inches, as thick as your arm, and lubed only by sticky blood, but no amount of anticipation could prepare you for how excruciating the pain was.
It was otherworldly, far beyond just the physical sensation of having your hole stretched to its limit. It was like he was willing the pain into you, like you could feel his anger in every movement of his cock.
Cries of pain caught in your throat as he violently rage-fucked you, one set of arms moving you up and down his length like a living cock sleeve and his other free arms.
His tendrils snaked all over your body, feeling every part of you, slithering under your shirt and teasing your nipples before making their way to your neck and choking you.
This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to come into the world and unite humans with order.
Some of his tentacles began entering your pained hole along with his cock, stretching you even wider. But just when you thought you could not possibly be opened up any wider the base of his cock began thickening, he pulled his tentacles out as his dick tied you to him.
A few moments later he was pumping you full of what you thought was semen but was actually just lubricating fluid for eggs. You could feel large round masses being deposited deep within you as he moaned.
Anjinth sent the other cultists away, commanding them to do various tasks, and they scampered away quickly. They were eager to no longer see what had become of their former leader.
Once alone Anjinth sat down on the throne you all had made him with you in his lap facing towards him. The paralytic he had drugged you with had worn off but all you could manage to do was sob and babble incoherently as your new lover rubbed your back and pressed your face into his warm muscular chest.
You were still firmly knotted to him and the tip of his cock twirled about gently inside you, as if trying to comfort your pain, even as a mix of Zereff’s blood and his own inky black lubricant leaked out of you and all over his thighs.
“Shhh, it’s okay. Now that you are without that bothersome inferior and know your place I won’t have to be violent with you again~ You can just sit back and be by my side as I breed you full of my spawn everyday for the rest of eternity.”
Just as he promised from the very beginning you would rule under him, it would just be a bit more literal than you had anticipated.
#yandere terato#yandere teratophilia#yandere boyfriend#yandere monster#yandere deity#male yandere#yandere monster x reader#gender neutral reader#male yandere x gender neutral reader#My OCs#My OC Anjinth#yandere eldritch abomination#yandere cosmic horror#yandere exo#yandere exophilia
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Not your time - A Darksiders oneshot.
Hey everyone!
A commission from the lovely and generous @humboltsquid, who requested a female Reader who barely survives an assassination attempt that's carried out in front of the Horsemen.
CW: Blood, guns, assassination attempt, mild descriptions of bullet wounds, aftermath, protective Horsemen, whump, angst, fluff, Death centric.
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A sudden flash of dazzling light bursts in front of your face, and try as you might to keep your eyes open, you just know that come Monday, there’ll be an unseemly photograph of you squinting out of the front page of a local newspaper.
“Perfect!” the photographer grins without casting so much as a glance down at the screen of her camera.
Blinking rapidly to disperse the shadow floating in front of your eyes, you take another look out at the crowd gathered on the square below the steps of Haven City Hall.
Most, if not all of their attention is rigidly devoted to you as multiple pens sit poised over tattered notebooks, though there are some people who throw envious glares at the photographer as she retreats back into their ranks.
You have to admit, you find yourself wondering where she managed to scrouge up a working camera.
It’s hardly been a few months since Humanity pulled itself out of the rubble of an unrecognisable Earth.
Word of the Apocalypse, its aftermath and the reasons behind it spread like wildfire – words that originated from your mouth, at the behest of the Four Horsemen, all of whom agreed that you’d make a fine ambassador for your species.
Death made it apparent that he and his siblings thought very highly of you after your involvement in clearing War’s name and surviving trials no human ever had before.
You’re starting to wish they thought a little less of you now, though. This is the seventh ‘press conference’ you’ve been subjected to in the past month. That’s without all the one-to-one interviews you’d been forced into with world leaders, heads of national security, historians, religious leaders, scientist… The list goes on.
Today is just more of the same; a whole lot of reporters clamouring to quote you for their articles in cobbled-together newspapers that have finally begun to crop up around the globe.
At a glance, it would almost appear that you're standing on the steps alone. But upon further inspection, it isn't difficult to spot four, hulking figures eyeing the proceedings from the shadows.
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Death, Fury, Strife and War. Your guardians. And quite possibly the best friends you've ever had, no matter their quirks and social ineptness.
They've grown tired of the constant questions from your fellow humans, even Strife, and no doubt the only reason they're here at all today is to watch your back, despite how often you try to tell them that they don't have to worry about you.
You might as well be throwing words at a brick wall and expecting it to break.
In the corner of your eye, there’s another flash, and a split second where your heart starts to sink at the prospect of yet another photograph circling the papers. However, in less than a blink, something smacks into your abdomen with a dull, wet ‘thwack,’ forcing you to stumble onto your backfoot.
Startled, you drop your mouth open and look out at the crowd, dimly wondering why one of them had thrown something at you…
A rock, perhaps?
Strange…
You nearly jump out of your skin when there’s an explosion of motion all around you.
From one moment to the next, War hauls his immense bulk in front of you, dousing you in his shadow as he rips Chaoseater from its scabbard and swings the terrible sword out in front of him, shoulders bristling with a rage you can’t yet place.
At almost the exact same time, Strife appears as if from nowhere to your right, roaring like a wild beast and, to your horror, whipping Mercy and Redemption out of their holsters and pointing them out at the anxious crowd.
A woman screams, loud and shrill enough to hurt your ears, sending blood coursing through them until you’re left grimacing at the sound, only dimly aware of the tiny burn blossoming to life in your abdomen, just beneath your left breast.
No sooner have the brothers locked their legs rigidly into place than someone fills the space behind you– Fury, if the warm body pressing a little too firmly into your back is any indication.
“Strife! The rooftops!” she shouts urgently, and you can’t help but grimace again as her voice thrums through your head like a claxon.
Bewildered. you twist yourself sideways, meeting the stare of the last Horseman, Death. He was the furthest away when the rock hit you, though now he seems to warp through the air towards you with the grace and swiftness of a shadow moving across the square, and all the ferocity of a bull charging down its quarry.
Your mouth hangs open, lips twitching as the burn in your chest grows as if an insect has lodged its stinger inside your skin, and you’re about to ask what in the world they think they’re doing when you pull in a breath.
All at once, your chest hitches painfully, and you hurry to throw a hand over your mouth to catch the hacking cough that takes you by surprise. You pull a face at the sensation of thick saliva spattering against your palm.
It had been a sunny day not moments ago, but as Death approaches from your left, the temperature around you plummets by a staggering degree, as if you’ve been cast into the eye of a polar storm. Growing increasingly alarmed by the second, you pull in a smaller breath, one that rattles and wheezes in its way in, but doesn’t quite manage to fill your lungs as you move your hand away to call Death’s name.
The last thing you expect to see when you briefly glance down is the splatter of rich, glistening blood freckling the previously unblemished skin of your palm.
It’s only then that the thought occurs to you; it may not have been a rock at all…
“Death?” you whimper shakily, lowering your trembling hand and touching your fingertips gingerly to the spot on your torso that’s beginning to feel even worse, as though instead of an insect, a lit cigarette has been jammed against your skin with no signs of cooling.
You’d flinch away from the sensation were you not being tightly boxed in on every side by four, bridling forces of nature.
The eldest of them, Death, is upon you in an instant, dragging the shadows of buildings along in his wake as if, for just a moment, the darkness itself is beholden to none but him.
There’s a fire raging in the Horseman’s wide and simmering eyes that contradicts the icy hands that reach out to catch you by your shoulders when you take a faltering step towards him, only to crumple as the numbness in your legs makes itself apparent.
A familiar chill pours down your spine. One you’re all-too familiar with.
They promised you had nothing to be afraid of, not while you have Four of them in your corner.
But you can’t help it.
Right now, as War bellows a thunderous battle-cry out at some unknown recipient, and the breaths start to leave you in great clouds of billowing, white air, you’re scared.
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‘No, no, no, NO! NO!’
Death’s ever-churning mind howls with outrage and disbelief, even if his lips remain tightly sealed beneath his bone-mask as he holds you upright by your shoulders, suspending you an inch above the ground in his haste to scan you for injury.
He’s mutely aware that the crowd of humans have already begun to scatter, though whether they’ve been driven away by the Horsemen’s sudden act of aggression or the culprit who has just made a foolish attempt on your life, Death can’t be bothered to guess.
He knows… As soon as he caught the flash from a broken window that overlooks the city hall, he knew. And he knows, for the rest of his wretched existence, that he’ll be trying to atone for standing too far away to reach you in time. For growing complacent.
They've all grown complacent, though he’ll shoulder the blame for his siblings because they – however unwittingly – follow by his example.
He thought this would be safe.
You weren’t supposed to get hurt, this was just another question-and-answer session you’ve done dozens of times before. Curious humans seeking gaps in their knowledge from you.
Who in their right mind would dare, would even have the nerve to try and hurt the human who has been so obviously afforded protection by the Four? Not even Samael, arguably their strongest adversary, would think twice before attempting to antagonise the Horsemen.
He can feel your warm breaths hitting the exposed skin of his sternum as he clings to you, rolling his eyes down until he spies the patch of crimson blooming outwards underneath your quivering hand.
The acrid stench of blood – your blood – is quick to slip between the cracks of his mask and into his unwilling nostrils.
Death’s muscles bunch at the intrusion and he clamps his gnashing teeth down on the primal growl that tries to escape through them.
He’s aware that at any moment, his siblings are going to catch the same scent on the wind, and it’ll be all he can do to stop them from levelling the entire city, just to ensure that your would-be killer doesn’t get away. Hell, it’s all he can currently do to keep his own Reaper Form from tearing itself loose and raking up the souls of any human in the vicinity.
As unhappy as his siblings already are though, they’re about to raise merry Hell when he makes his next announcement.
“She’s been shot,” he spits, pulling the metaphorical trigger on three, loaded guns.
As if from nowhere, a maelstrom whips up around Strife, who only just manages to lurch sideways far enough to spare you and his siblings from being crushed as he erupts into the titanic, armoured beast; Anarchy, shaking out his mane and tipping his horned head back to screech up at the sky.
Steeling himself against your sudden whimpers of alarm, Death barks, “Seventh story window to the North. Go!”
And without needing any further spurring on, Anarchy launches himself into a gallop across the street, leaping up to latch his monstrous claws into the wall of the building and hauling himself straight up the side of it, hand over hand.
War and Fury don’t look as though they’ll be far behind their brother, but Death’s voice is enough to still them before they too can unleash their true forms and give chase.
“Fury.”
Snarling, his sister whips around towards him, her expression faltering when she sees how carefully he slides his arms beneath your knees and hoists you off your feet, cradling you against his unforgiving chest.
“Rampage is the fastest of our horses,” he continues, “Find Azrael, meet us at Y/n’s home.”
She looks as though she’s about to argue, far more interested in joining Strife to enact some well-deserved vengeance in your honour, but another glance at you reminds her that this isn’t the time for personal vendettas.
Fiery hair bobs as she gives a resolute nod, then turns on her heel and raises a fist in the air. “Rampage! To me!”
Death’s attention flits back to you, secure in the knowledge that at least two of his siblings have been distracted from going on the warpath.
Speaking of…
“Brother… Is she...?” War’s voice has dipped and bowed with rage, lending him the cadence of a beast.
Before he can say another word, Death speaks, his magics flaring about him like coiling snakes, though is tone is deceptively calm. “War, I need you to guard us as we ride.”
Without another word, the Horsemen summon their steeds, and Death is forced to relinquish you to War for a second whilst he hauls himself into Despair’s saddle, immediately reaching to take you again when his brother gently lifts you towards him. You scream as he does, trying to curl in on yourself until you’re deposited in the saddle between Death’s sturdy thighs.
Then, in a moment so rare, not even his siblings can remember the last time they saw it, Death slips his hand underneath yours, trying not to let his stomach squeeze at the feeling of your fingers latching onto his. He meets your eyes, loathing the wide, terrible pain that’s been placed inside them.
Pain has no place in your life, not so long as they’re here to protect you from it.
“Not yet,” he breathes, damn-near begs, spurring Despair into a thunderous gallop with Ruin snorting wildly at his heels.
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It’s the agony that wakes you in the end, a raging hellfire that ignites in your chest as you startle to consciousness, never recalling how you’d come to be unconscious in the first place.
As if the unexpected pain weren’t bad enough, your heartbeat thuds strongly in your ears, which are ringing with the shouts of several, booming voices, all far too close and spilling over one another in a furious rush, leaving you feeling as though you’ve been placed inside an amphitheatre.
“- the Hell wasn’t someone watching the buildings!?” Fury’s voice, easily distinguishable from her brothers’ and absolutely drenched in her namesake.
Gritting your teeth, you screw your face up when Strife almost roars back, “Keep lookin’ at me when you say that, and I might start thinkin’ you’re blaming me for this!”
“Perhaps I am! You’re the firearms expert, as you so often like to remind us!”
“Why the Hell should that mean-!?” He cuts himself off midsentence, granting you a second of relief before he promptly redirects his attention to one of his other siblings. “WAR! If you don’t stop pacing, you’re going out the goddamn window!”
Ah, you wince, so that wasn’t your heart beating in your ears.
War’s thundering footfalls come to an abrupt halt somewhere to your right, and he promptly responds to his brother’s threat with a rumbling growl, the kind that emanates straight from his chest and spills across the room like a roll of thunder.
They’re fighting about something…. Which isn’t unusual. But lately, they’ve been getting better at not doing it around you.
God your chest hurts. What the Hell happened?
“Mmgh, ugh…” You feel like you need a crowbar to pry your eyelids apart, but at least the pitiful sound you made is enough to stop their incessant bickering.
A new problem arises though, when they instantly start to exclaim anew.
“She’s awake!” Strife gushes.
“I can see that for myself,” Fury sighs, though not without a hint of relieved laughter.
War’s relief is quieter, but no less palpable.
Through the gaps in your eyelids, you spot a flash of red surging towards you as you try to heave yourself upright, but not a moment later, a strong, uncompromising gauntlet engulfs your shoulder, pushing you down to lay flat on your back.
“Stay there,” War’s baritone thrums, as gentle as you’ve ever heard it, “You’ll hurt yourself.”
Tears of pain are already trailing down your cheeks, but you suppose he means you’ll make it worse. Blinking to clear your vision, you peer up at the three, titanic figures looming over your head.
Strife’s eyes are the first you meet, glowing like raw gold from beneath his silver helm. They pinch at the corners, a telltale sign that he’s smiling under there. “H-hey, gorgeous,” he swallows thickly as if he’s about to choke, “Glad to see you’re awake again… Scared the Hell out of us back there, you know.”
You know it must have been bad if he’s admitting to fear.
“How’re you feeling.”
Before you can open your mouth to tell him that it feels as if your chest is being split in two, Fury scoffs, turning to shoot Strife a scathing look.
“She was shot, you fool. How do you think she’s feeling?”
“Sh-shot?” you croak, once more attempting to sit up, but with War’s gauntlet pinning you in place, you only succeed in squirming weakly on the-… Are you on your bed?
Your breath starts picking up, throat bone-dry as more tears spill down your cheeks. “I was shot?”
To her credit, Fury swiftly clamps her jaw shut, biting her lip and looking at least a little ashamed for blurting that out. War emits a troubled hum whilst Strife hurries to reassure you.
“Hey, hey,” he hushes, reaching out to drop his enormous hand over the top of yours, “It’s over. It’s over now. Azrael fixed you up. You’re okay.” There’s conviction in his words, but you don’t know if he’s trying to convince himself or you.
You roll your neck down slightly to look him over, and it’s only now that you see the blood smeared across his chest plate.
With a sharp gasp, your heart rate skyrockets.
War follows your wide-eyed stare and grumbles, “I told you to wash that off…”
Glancing down at himself, Strife quickly snaps his head up to offer you a shake of his head. “No, no, don’t worry about that. It’s not your blood.”
Despite his efforts, this does little to reassure you.
“It’s yours!?” you bleat.
“Nah, ain’t mine either. S’from the guy who shot you.”
Your abdomen squeezes in protest as you strain out, “Strife! You killed someone!?”
For a moment, he falls silent. All of them do, flicking pointed glances between one another as a creeping chill begins to seep inside the room, reaching your skin even under the blankets that have been tucked around your neck.
“I gave the order.”
All eyes dart to the open door of your bedroom. You can’t help the aborted breath you draw in when you see Death filling the wooden frame.
His bulging shoulders heave up and down slowly, and that dark, brooding stare is adhered to your face, causing you to squirm uncomfortably as if you mean to escape it.
“Finally decided to stop beating yourself up, have you?” Fury mutters under her breath, earning a glare from Death so frosty, you could swear you see her shiver.
“But… but I don’t understand?” you wheeze, furrowing your brow wearily and shifting to try and ease the ache in your lungs, “What do you mean you gave the order?”
“Some fool human made an attempt on your life,” War supplies, “Strife did what we all wished we could do.”
Once again, you try to sit up, and once again the weight of War’s gauntlet stops you.
Grunting, you argue, “But, you can’t… kill someone just because-!”
“-Because what?” Death snaps, stalking towards the bed an effectively silencing you in a heartbeat, “Because an overconfident zealot thought you deserved to die simply because you spoke a truth that didn’t align with his doctrines?”
He may be the shortest of the Horsemen, but that doesn’t mean that Death isn’t several feet taller than you, able to loom over your bed like a storm cloud.
“Were we to stand idly by whilst one of our own was threatened?”
You glance up at the others, taken aback by the ferocious, steadfast frowns on War and Fury’s expressions, and the familiar glint of steel in Strife’s eyes. Not one of them are contending Death’s bold declaration.
That you’re one of theirs.
It’s a hell of a claim to come from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Ancient Nephilim of legend, laying claim to a human?
You wet your lips, but a response doesn’t come.
Death, however, seems only too ready to fill the space of your silence.
In a single, fluid motion, he lowers himself onto one knee beside your bed, and that action in itself is as poignant as his words.
Death never kneels.
The other three don’t look half as surprised as you’re sure you must, not even when their eldest, their leader, reaches out, hesitates, then rests the tips of his cold fingers gently under your jawline, directly over your pulse.
Wide-eyed, you can only stare into the sockets of his mask, breathing shallowly, missing the way his shoulders slump at the sensation of a strong, steady throb beneath his fingertips.
“You’re under our protection,” he states matter-of-factly, backed up by a concurring grunt from War on the other side of the bed, “And when the Horsemen have your back, nobody touches you. Is that understood?”
You press your lips together, both horrified and equally humbled that you could have earned the devotion of such powerful, ethereal beings.
Holding your gaze, Death firmly repeats, “Nobody.”
You still have questions. No end of them. But right now, frightened, hurt, and vulnerable, you’re wrenching heart seeks safety in one of the few places you know can offer it.
It hurts to raise your left arm, but you bite down hard on your tongue and slip your hand around what you can of Death’s solid neck.
The first sob escapes you when he leans towards you, pretending to be guided by your pitiable strength until you can wrap more of your arm around the back of his shoulders and push your damp face into the column of his throat, shivering slightly from the chill on his skin.
“I’m sorry,” you whimper against him, feeling his muscles turn lax underneath your touch.
In response, the Horseman nudges his mask closer to your ear and in a whisper that’s meant for you alone, he utters, “You’re not the one with anything to be sorry for…”
Unseen by you, the ancient Nephilim’s eyes glare holes through each of his siblings, daring one of them to comment on his moment of rare, uncharacteristic indulgence.
Per the norm, Strife is the one who struggles to keep his mouth shut.
“Aw, how come Death gets a hug?” Strife whinges petulantly, “He doesn’t even like ‘em.”
“And you believed him when he told you that?” Fury snickers.
On the bed, your grip just tightens around your guardian’s neck as his protective hand lays gingerly against your back, cold fingertips drinking up the warmth of your human body with a reverence known only to Death.
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Mrigashira: The Truth Is Subjective?
This is part 3 of my Mrigashira trilogy (here's part 1 & part 2)
I had previously explored the Mrigashira tendency to speak the truth and often be considered crazy for it. I thought I'd expand on this nature for this post as well.
Being truthful can mean many different things. The truth is also context-bound and what one exposes can differ based on the circumstances.
Dalai Lama- Mrigashira Mercury conjunct Rising
He has been at the forefront of the Tibetan independence movement, He has spoken up about nonviolence and his work includes a focus on the environment, economics, women's rights, non-violence, inter-faith dialogue, physics, astronomy, Buddhism and science, cognitive neuroscience, reproductive health and sexuality. He's literally one of the most admired people in the world and is considered a Bodhisattva. Being truthful or bringing attention to the truth is a big part of his life. This is not to say he isnt shady tho
He is also a very complicated figure. He used to get a personal income of over $1 million every year from the CIA for about 2 decades between 1959 and 1974?? He inappropriately touched Lady Gaga when they were on stage together, there is also a video of him asking a young boy to "suck his tongue" 🤮🤢
sometimes the truth isn't really the truth. whatever you believe to be true is what is true to you even if it does not have any basis in reality. one terrifying example of that is the Aum Shinrikyo cult leader Shoko Ashara
Shoko Asahara- Mrigashira Moon
He was the leader of the infamous cult Aum Shinrikyo, that carried out the 1995 Tokyo subway sarin gas attack and several other attacks. Asahara declared himself as God and led his followers into believing that the end of the world was coming. Its a bizarre mix of new age conspiracy theories, religious syncretism, enlightenment, doomsday mentality and pure sadism.
He and several other leaders of the cult were executed in 2018 after more than 2 decades in prison.
It goes to show how "truth" is very subjective. Shoko was a megalomaniac who was fcked in the head, yet he managed to convince manyyy people of his teachings and even got them to do whatever he wanted them to do??
Donald Trump, Mrigashira Sun conjunct Rahu, popularised the term "fake news". it is so interesting to me that a man generally known as a liar will have Mrigashira of all naks and esp have it conjunct Rahu, the planet of illusion. Astrology is funny like that sometimes. He was very forceful in spreading his truth, even though that truth was bigoted, racist, classist and misogynistic. And in one way, he helped expose people who supported him bc what is worse than being known as a Trump supporter? That is enough to gauge someone's character and nature.
Idi Amin- Mrigashira Moon
mrig nakshatra is actually present in the luminaries of many dictators/fascists/terrible leaders. Idi did not really have any specific ideology, he was a brutal narcissist who got a kick out of murdering people even at the expense of his nation's well being.
Ryuho Okawa- Mrigashira Moon & Venus
He was the leader of a cult called Happy Science and declared himself to be God. one thing that stands out to me with mrig natives is how since Mrigashira nak represents the fall from heaven, i.e, the beginning of life on earth in some ways, its natives tend to be obsessed with truth telling, I had explored more positive manifestations of this in part 1 but this tendency can be manifest in very bad ways as we see from these examples as "truth" is very subjective. Okawa was telling his truth bc he genuinely believed he was God but does that make it right?
Jennifer Lawrence, Mrigashira Moon
JLaw has always struck me honest, maybe a little too honest but that's what made her so likable initially and unlikable later on. I had mentioned this in part 1 as well about how the presence of a Mrig native often triggers other people or makes them feel threatened. part of it is the fact that Mrig has serpent yoni and subconsciously we sense the energy of other people's yoni animals and react a certain way in their presence. people with predator yoni animals strike us as intimidating. most people hate snakes and will probably kill them if they see them bc it could be dangerous and this is honestly how society reacts to a lot of serpent yoni women. So many sex symbols have serpent yoni in their big 3 (Pamela Anderson, Marilyn Monroe, Angelina Jolie, Brooke Shields etc) society seems enchanted by them but is also quick to tear them apart. people feel deeply uncomfortable with these natives is what I have noticed. JLaw's reputation suffered after she had been exposed as a try hard "cool girl". but tbh, there are celebs out there who are far more annoying and done far worse things, how come JLaw's hated for being the "cool girl"?? part of it could be that we all see our collective shadow in her, the hot sexy talented woman who seems to be a messy clumsy loser and is also "one of the boys". JLaw grew up on a farm with 2 brothers, its only natural that her personality is a little brutish and unladylike, it gets old really quick bc it seemed gimmicky but it is interesting to me how someone can be ripped apart for something so small??
Sandra Bullock, Mrigashira Stellium
Sandra plays these unladylike but blunt and honest characters a lot (While You Were Sleeping, Two Weeks Notice, Miss Congeniality movies etc)
Sonam Kapoor- Mrigashira stellium (sun mercury & mars)
Sonam is known in the Indian media for saying whatever comes to her mouth lol, that means she makes a lot of dumb comments (she once said her being a nepo baby was the result of good karma from past lives lol and that people think you're a good actor if youre not good looking which is basically implying that she isnt considered a good actor bc she's too good looking lmfao) but she does have moments of radical no bullshit honesty, like the time she wrote an essay talking about body image
Monica from Friends always called out everyone's bullshit. She was played by Courteney Cox who is Mrigashira Sun
Leah Remini Mrigashira Sun
she exposed the dark secrets of Scientology through her memoir and docu series. this is another form of Mrigashira truth telling. exposing the darkness, evil and injustice in this world.
North West, Mrigashira Stellium (Sun & Rising)
North exposing her family is a bit of a running joke, she revealed she has dyslexia on IG live which pissed Kim off and in general she's known for her bluntness and calling out her mom esp. Kim even said that North is her "lesson" and that North "intimidates her" and how North is Kanye's twin (Kanye is also Mrigashira Sun)
Tupac Mrigashira Sun
honestly watch any interview and you can see how honest and sincere Tupac was (sidenote: isnt he sooo handsome??<33). i cant pinpoint to specific moments but Tupac was so young and sooo beyond mature?? idk if anybody in their early 20s has this kind of articulation anymore.
Paula Abdul- Mrigashira Sun
this is a bit of a strange case. Paula claims to have been in a plane crash in 1992 which left her with a spinal cord injury and forced her to take about 10 years off before she restarted her career as a judge on American Idol. she has talked about this many many times in the last 2 decades. except of course that there is zero evidence of this plane crash. obviously, she could just be lying but why lie about something that could so easily be proven? i think sometimes Mrig natives have a tendency to delusionally believe what they say. i have no doubt that Paula is convinced that she was in a plane crash and that it ruined her music career but its not objectively true.
Donald Trump & even Kanye West (both Mrig Sun) are other examples of celebrities who talk about wildly stranger things that they believe to be true.
Ewan McGregor- Mrigashira moon
In the movie The Island, Ewan's character discovers that everything about his existence is a lie and that he and the other inhabitants are human clones.
I feel like this trope of realizing lies and "waking up" is tied to Mrigashira's nature.
in the movie Passengers, this happens in reverse, JLaw wakes up and then learns the truth
The Truman Show, starring Mrigashira Moon, Jim Carrey is another example of a Mrig native realising everything is a lie.
i think its a common and unfortunate pattern in the lives of many Mrig natives to suffer abuse and I feel like the reason many of them do is because they falsely believe the lies they are being fed is true :(( it takes them time to "wake up" to the truth (ex: Mrig Sun Brooke Shields who always defended her abusive mom who made her pose nude for playboy when she was a kid??? among other things, its only recently that she has started to admit that those things werent okay)
thats it for this post!!
#vedic astro notes#sidereal astrology#astrology observations#astrology notes#nakshatras#vedic astrology#astro observations#astro notes#astrology#astroblr#mrigashira#mars
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absolution
Pairing: Pastor!Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x fem!reader
Word Count: 5.3k
Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!! A looot of references to religion (it all takes place in a church, so), smut smut smut (p-in-v) I'm including dubcon bc consent is weird with power dynamics, age gaps (10 yr) (everyone is of legal age though!!), some body horror stuff, power imbalance, I think that's all but if you come across something that I missed please reach out so I can tag accordingly!!! Love u bye!!!
A/N: This was really cathartic to write lmao I have a sprinkling of Religious Trauma and this helped me work through some of those feelings in my own weird horny way. It is porn, please don't start expecting me to be some kinda respectable writer with plotlines or whatever. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS. Okay enjoy!!!!
The guilt of it is eating you alive.
The pressure between your legs- the raw, empty ache that plagues you day in and day out. Sitting on your pew, you are once again swept away by long, glossy hair and inked knuckles, turning sacred pages of a holy book that can do nothing to hold your attention at this moment.
What an impression of Christ he makes, you think to yourself, sounding hypnotized even in your internal monologue.
He arrived when you were 19, to your small town, to your even smaller church. The rest of the folks in town think your congregation is too… fanatical. You can’t imagine a world in which someone could be over-zealous for the word of God, and even so, Pastor Karlsson had done a lot to level the congregation out.
He was a divorcee, not by his choice, he has said. He was only 29 when he first rolled into town, funny accent and even funnier sounding name causing immediate distrust in your tight-knit community.
But God, did he have a testimony. Sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll, the tattoos adorning his body told you the story better than those gaudy stained glass windows in the snobby Catholic churches ever could. A lecherous lifestyle with a woman who didn’t love him, not really - not the way you do. He had humbled himself to you all, and you gladly let him in. He was made a pillar in your community - he became a leader to the congregation.
Which is why you always suppressed your feelings, putting them in a locked sarcophagus and hurling it to the far recesses of your mind. You will not be the thing that tries to come between him and the Lord.
You look up at him as he speaks, standing at the pulpit and wielding the word of God like the Archangel Michael who so valiantly struck down Satan. He who is made in God’s image; Had it not been for your utter devotion to the Lord, you would have wondered if he could sin at all.
But you knew better. Everyone carried their own sins. You had heard stories of husbands and wives who idolized each other so much that they left the church altogether. Your heart broke at the thought of leaving God’s light to worship something as sinful as human flesh, couldn’t imagine risking an eternity of paradise for what would one day be dust.
Not that you’d know, of course. You’d never felt the touch of a man outside of when Pastor Karlsson baptized you the day before your 21st birthday. It had been fuel for weeks, his gentle hand on your back, guiding you underneath the water of the river that ran out behind the church. You had stuffed yourself full of your own fingers that night, stuffed your mouth full of bed linens so that no one would hear how you came undone at the mere thought of him.
Perhaps you are the lecherous one, after all. Though you can’t help but think that God has given you Pastor Karlsson on purpose, as a test of your faith. A test that you believed you were passing, for the most part. You haven’t missed a Sunday sermon since you caught the flu in 2021, and even so, you watched the livestreams on Facebook. You keep your nose in your Bible, and ignore the clench in your gut when he tells you good morning.
This morning is different.
This morning is worse.
You just come off of your period- disgusting and uncomfortable as it was, you are thankful it was over and you can enjoy the rest of your June in peace. But it lingers under your skin, an itch that can’t be scratched. Your emotions are raw, and you burst into tears twice this week, unprompted. Worst of all is the ache.
You didn’t know you could feel so empty. It claws at your insides like a caged beast, mockingly calling in the voice of Moloch himself, “Fill me up, fill me up.”
You threw yourself headfirst into your studies; you reviewed Ecclesiastes as a way to ground yourself, to remind yourself that this was a temporary feeling, and would pale in comparison to the absolution of Heaven.
Still, sitting in your pew, you felt the hunger gnashing at you, gnawing at your throat. It was overwhelming, all-consuming. You stutter through your hymnal, barely reading half the words. Your mother keeps giving you concerned looks, your father aloof as ever. Halfway through the sermon, she hisses in your ear, “What is the matter with you?”
You blink up at her, wide-eyed, and stammer out a “I - I don’t know. I feel… weird.”
She purses her lips, but says nothing, turning back to Pastor Karlsson in the pulpit.
You pass the time in silence, feeling itchy and hot, until the sermon concludes, and everyone makes a mass exodus to the dirt lot where their cars are parked.
“Hold on.” Your mother stops you as you begin exiting your pew.
She walks over and, to your utter horror, greets Pastor Karlsson, pulling him aside and speaking to him in hushed tones. He nods once, glancing at you, then nods again as she steps away. She looks grateful, patting his shoulder in that way that mothers do.
He looks at you then, and his full attention is enough to make you combust. Suddenly your dress is too tight on your chest, your breasts straining with every breath against the linen that encases you. Your bones itch, but your hands stay resolutely tucked into your sides, your Bible held against your chest.
You’re so busy focusing on breathing that you don’t realize he’s walking towards you until he’s right in front of you, smiling warmly while greeting you by name. Your mother is by his side, looking at you in such a way that tells you she had something to do with this interaction.
“Darling, Pastor Karlsson here wants a word with you. He even said he’d give you a ride back to the house! I’ll set aside a plate for you at home, you two take your time here.” She was smiling in a way that made all of her teeth visible, like a snarling animal. A lead brick settles in your stomach at the expression as you look up at Pastor Karlsson.
He was so tall, you think as you peer up at him. Dark eyes meet yours, making your gaze flicker away to something else- anything else to avoid the intensity you find there. Looking directly into his eyes was like looking into the maw of a starving beast- you weren’t brave enough to even consider it.
Your mother departs with a final “Wonderful sermon, Joakim, thank you!” Flashing one of her pageant smiles at him - one she’s never given your father - as she goes.
He nods politely, murmuring a quiet, “All the glory to God.” before turning back to you. He gives you a thoughtful look before he speaks again.
“Your mother is concerned about you.” His tone was not accusatory or pointed, just repeating facts.
You inhale shakily. “Yeah, I feel kind of weird today.” Admitting to such a thing is not a lie - you do feel weird today.
He nods, as if understanding. Then, “Would you like to speak in my office? I have to pick up a few things, then we can head out.”
The thought of being in an enclosed space with him made you almost pass out, but you persevere, giving a meek nod as you follow him out of the sanctuary.
It was a short walk from the sanctuary to his office, your church is small, even among small churches. You love its modesty; It is a far cry from the towering spires and flying buttresses you saw in your history books back in school, but it has a self-effacing quality that makes it approachable to people from all walks of life.
The walls are painted white, though slightly yellowed with age. Dark wood lines the floor, blue carpet cushioning your steps as you walk. There aren’t many windows - it was built for insulation, not sight-seeing, after all. Crosses hang sporadically throughout the hallways, some wooden, carved by members, others purchased at a discount at the craft stores a few towns over.
His office is a glorified coat closet, something the elders threw together haphazardly when God called him to serve. It fit a desk, a desktop computer that was older than dirt, and two chairs, one on either side of the desk. The carpet is green, the walls beige, and you have always thought it is an entirely unbecoming space for such a Godly man. It’s a good thing he was humble; God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble, you think, almost bitterly, as he sits down in the chair by the computer. You make a mental note to work on your own humility as you sit down in the chair opposite him.
“So, what’s got you feeling weird?” He asks with a small smile, putting his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers together. His hair falls over his shoulders with the movement, cascading down in a curtain of silk. You remind yourself to breathe.
Stammering, you try to explain yourself. “I’m- I’m not sure, Pastor Karlsson-”
“Joakim.” He interrupts you gently.
You blink at him, confusion evident in your face. He must find something about the expression amusing, because he’s smiling softly and continuing, “You can call me Joakim. We’re both grown-ups here.”
You swallow loudly, the sound all but ricochets in the stillness of the room. “R-right. I’m not really sure why I feel so weird. I just had a really hard time focusing today.” You suddenly realize what you’ve said, correcting yourself quickly. “Not that the sermon wasn’t good! Your sermons are always wonderful, Pastor Karls - Joakim.”
He’s smiling broadly now, clearly entertained by your flailing. “It’s okay, käresta, I understand what you mean." A pause, then he lowers his hands. "Is there something on your mind specifically? Something that’s preventing you from focusing?”
You go still, scared to breathe too fully, lest it give you away. Your eyes slide to the ground, teeth coming out to gnaw at your lip. You can feel your heart racing in your throat- the throbbing sensation makes you wonder if you’ll actually vomit from anxiety. You freeze further when Joakim places a hand on your arm, gently.
His voice is barely audible when he whispers, “Hey, it’s okay. We all have our sins, and sin is sin -”
“- Is sin.” You finish for him, sounding unconvinced. You take a deep breath, then redirect your gaze back to him. His eyes are soft with concern, mouth pulled into the faintest frown. Hating to imagine you’re the reason he’s so upset, you blurt out before you can even process your words.
“I’ve been having lustful thoughts about a man in the congregation.” Once the words have been said, you fight the urge to grab them clean out of the air and stuff them back into your mouth.
The hand on your arm tenses for half a second, then relaxes again. “Okay.” He begins calmly, pulling his hand back to the table. You resist the urge to whimper at the loss of contact. “I can see where your concern is coming from. Is this man married?”
There were only so many unmarried men in the congregation; it would be an easy elimination if you were truthful. But... You were already coming clean about one sin, no need to add on others, you reasoned. Shaking your head in a negative, you give a meek, “No, he’s not.”
Joakim nods thoughtfully, staying silent for a moment. You can all but see the gears turning in his mind, deducing who it could be. You wonder if he lists himself amongst the unmarried men- or if he is courting some woman, unbeknownst to you all. No, your mind fired at you venomously. He is not the sort of man to slink around in the shadows.
Finally, he spoke. “While lust is never something to give full rein to, it is understandable, biologically speaking.” Upon seeing your confusion, he offers another soft smile, continuing. “You’re at an age where your body wants you to have children. It is what God made you for, it’s only natural that someone as devoted as you are would respond strongly to His plan. You’re not doing anything wrong, käresta.”
Relief floods your body, making your shoulders sag at the loss of tension. You aren’t doing anything wrong, Joakim even told you so. But that makes you wonder- is there anything you should be doing? You’re about to ask when he speaks again.
“I’ve been wanting to speak with you privately for a while now.” He huffs a small laugh. “It seems the Lord thought today would be a good time, so it shall be.”
You straighten your shoulders, sitting up, wanting to make sure he knows he has your full attention. Looking at him fully, you’re not surprised why your body is so responsive to him. He’s so handsome, even with the shadow of dark stubble on his face. You wonder what keeps him up at night, which chapters he gets stuck on for days before clarity dawns on him. It’s no mystery why your body is putting thoughts of lust in your mind; he’s the sort of man who would make a wonderful father.
You cut off that train of thought, needing to focus on the present moment. He needs your full attention for whatever he’s going to say next.
“The Lord has been communicating with me for some months now, on the topic of finding a wife.” You both take deep breaths, though for different reasons, you imagine. ���You’ve heard my testimony on my previous marriage, so I don’t need to emphasize how much I’ve prayed about this.”
Your heart breaks, shatters, combusts into nothing but ash at his words. The Lord wants him to find a wife, and it sounds like he has someone in mind. You swallow the lump of bile in your throat, trying to listen to his next words as your guts fight the natural inclination to stay in your body.
“I’ve spoken to God a lot, the last few months- even by pastor standards.” The playful smile he gives you feels like a knife twisting in your chest. “And if I’m understanding his message correctly, I believe God wants me to court you.”
You’re so busy wallowing that you don’t understand what he’s said at first. The words sink in slowly, like the drip of an IV into your veins. When you think you understand, you manage a, “What?”
He chuckles, not a degrading sound, rather like he understands your confusion. “I know, it seems sudden, but I’ve been speaking to the Lord about this for many months, and-”
“Oh my goodness.” You interrupt as realization hits you like a freight train. “No - I know. I know. Because God has been speaking to me, too.”
Joakim’s brow furrows at you, and it feels nice to not be the confused one for once.
You continue, looking up at him shyly. “The… lustful thoughts I’ve been having, they-” You pause, building up your courage. “They’re about you.”
He’s frozen, mouth slightly agape as he processes your confession. His head tilts to the side slightly, eyes darker than usual as he asks, “You’ve been having lustful thoughts about… me?”
You nod, cheeks tinged pink. “When you’re in the pulpit - I try to focus, I really do, but my mind wanders to… other things.”
You should be embarrassed, should be ashamed of admitting something so unbecoming. But the comfort of this being God’s plan washes away any ill regards you have about the situation; this is what He has always intended.
“Other things?” He echoes, eyes focused on you intensely. His voice is hushed, only loud enough for the two of you to hear. “Like what?”
Your blush deepens at his inquiry. “Well, it’s more of a feeling than an exact thought…”
He’s leaning forward now, all but hanging over his desk at your words. He looks hungry, you realize suddenly; Like he’d seen firsthand the famine in Canaan, pupils blown wide, mouth open, breathing slowly. “A feeling?” He prompts.
Nodding, you find yourself leaning forward too, almost desperate to close the gap between you both. You can feel the dust in the air, hear the quiet electric hum of his old desktop computer. Your breath is coming too loudly, it ricochets off the walls around you both. “It feels like an ache.” You explain, sounding hoarse. “It feels like an emptiness.”
He takes a shaky breath, pushing himself back from his desk in a controlled motion. Standing up, he makes his way around the desk to stand in front of you, one of his calloused hands guiding your chin up to look at him.
“Do you want me to help you - with the emptiness? The ache?” He questions, eyes boring into yours.
The thought of it makes your thighs clench together, and the feeling is so delicious that you almost vocalize it. Your mouth is dry, but you feel wetness gathering in your cotton panties already. You almost forget to respond, nodding and breathing out, “Yes, please.”
“Always so well-mannered.” He praises, making you feel warm. You would do just about anything for him to keep going.
The hand on your jaw guides you upward until you’re standing in front of him. You’re not touching, but you can feel the heat emanating from his body, feel the way the air vibrates between you. His eyes travel down to your lips, back up to your eyes, then down to your lips again.
“Have you ever kissed a boy, lillis?” He asks, eyes half-lidded and voice quiet.
You shake your head, a tiny movement. “No.” You pause, then decide to continue. “I wanted to save myself.”
His inhale is sharp, deep. “Such a good girl.” The words light a fire in your belly, and the familiar gnawing is back, worse than ever before. You shift on your feet, subconsciously searching for any kind of friction. He picks up on the movement.
“Do you feel empty, now? Are you desolate?” You can feel where his breath hits your face. If you tilted your head right, your lips would meet. The clothes you’re wearing feel itchy - too tight, too rough.
You can’t speak, so you nod “yes.” His eyes run down your figure, back up again to your lips.
“Show me where.” Is his only command. You can’t read his expression fully, features arranged into careful neutrality. The spark in his eyes seemed to hint at desperation, though.
Your face is probably the color of a sun-ripened tomato, but you do as he says, grabbing his free hand, guiding it between your legs. His fingers curl up through your skirt, cupping your mound. Your eyelids flutter shut at the contact, hands coming up to rest against his chest to steady yourself. Heartbeat racing, you don’t think there could be anything better than the feeling of what’s happening right now.
“Here? Is this where you feel empty?” His lips move against your cheek, breath fanning across your ear, making you shiver.
You blink several times, trying to clear your head. “Joakim, please.” Is all you can muster, fingers gripping at his shirt.
You can feel him sag against you as his lips crash into yours. You’re not completely sure of what to do, allowing him to guide your lips open, licking into your mouth. You hear yourself groaning into the kiss, crowding impossibly closer until your bodies are pressed against each other fully.
He breaks the embrace to place wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck. The feeling is euphoric, making your hips buck into his without conscious decision.
Hands run down your sides, coming up again underneath your dress skirt to grip at the backs of your thighs, yanking you forward with such force that you almost topple over. His left hand is at your back in an instant, holding you steady before unzipping the back of your dress in a swift motion.
The material pools around your front, hanging loosely until you pry it off, happy to be rid of the too-rough fabric at last. His lips are back on yours in an instant, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other kneads the flesh of your breast through your bra.
You outright moan at the feeling, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as your mouth opens to let the sound out. He works a knee between your legs, rubbing the meaty flesh of his thigh against your core in such a way that has you seeing spots in your vision. Fingers curling into claws where they grip onto his shoulders, you grind down onto his leg, an animalistic snarl escaping you as you do so.
You know this feeling; Though it’s a sin to give into lust, you’ve made yourself climax before, silently, long after everyone had laid down to rest at night. This is so much more, though - you feel as though someone has soaked you in gasoline and laid a lit match to your flesh. Nothing could have torn you from the carnal desire you felt, being entwined with Joakim like this. You want to take turns ripping each other apart, severing limbs and gluing them back together until you have both been remade in His image. You want to bite and gnaw and lick until you taste blood, to soothe the worried skin with soft whispers and softer hands. Dragged to Hell and back, nailed to a cross and left to rot, rising from the dead with such vigor that Lazarus would envy you - you wanted it all, so long as this moment didn’t end.
“Joakim - I, I -” You choke out, eyes focusing on his, foreheads pressed together.
“Good girl, give it to me, everything you’ve got.” He urged you, the hand on your neck coming down against your hip, ushering your pelvis against his thigh.
Burying your head in his chest, you climax with a wanton moan, body shuddering through the shockwaves of it. Your breathing is labored, vision blurry from clenching your eyes shut so tightly.
He’s gently prying you off his leg then, maneuvering your positions until you find yourself face-down on his desk. Using a knee, he nudges your knees apart until he fits comfortably between them. The new angle has you feeling vulnerable, visible, licentious.
You don’t have time to dwell on the feeling, because suddenly his fingers are playing with your folds through your ruined panties. Your knees almost buckle at the stimulation, so sensitive it almost hurts. Gripping the other side of the desk to hold yourself upright, you do your very best to stay still as he explores your body.
Two fingers hook into the side of your panties, moving them to the side. You know he can see everything like this, and while part of you is screaming at the debauchery of it, another, louder part of you hopes he likes what he sees. You’re fighting the urge to sneak a glance at him when the two fingers that moved your panties aside are thrust deep into your core.
You let out a howl that could rival a rabid dog, nails scraping against the wooden laminate of the desk as your hands clench into fists. He’s curling his fingers inside you slowly, and you can feel every millimeter of it. A string of drool escapes your open mouth, cascading down into a puddle on a stack of prayer requests from this morning’s sermon.
“That’s it, so good, just take it, lillis.” He murmurs, fingers still unfurling deep inside you.
You don’t know that you can do anything but take it. His fingers are so much thicker than yours, taking up twice as much space as you’re used to. You feel wonderfully full, the emptiness inside you finally satiated.
But then he’s pulling them out, and you almost sob at the loss of it. You could feel your hole clenching on nothing, throbbing with want; Whether you enjoy it or not, you aren’t even sure.
You hear a zipper, then the sound of something metallic hitting the carpet. When you turn your neck to see what’s happening, you’re met with the sight of Joakim’s full manhood on display.
You’ve never seen a man naked before. There were pictures, shown to you unwillingly by the cruel boys who called you a “Bible-thumper” in school, but this is entirely different.
Joakim is… prettier, you think is the right word. His tip is pink, almost red, and wet-looking in the glow of the fluorescent office lights. Veins bulge along the length, throbbing at you angrily as if to mock the throbbing happening within you. It’s big, you realize suddenly. You can’t begin to fathom how it’s going to fit inside you, when his fingers alone made you feel so full already.
A hand is placed at the back of your neck, holding you flat in place. The weight is reassuring, grounding in its pressure as you’re pressed fully against the desk, the cool laminate a welcome reprieve from the fever burning in your skin. You feel him press his tip against your folds, running it through the slickness there, before slowly pushing past your threshold.
“It hurts.” Is the first thing you whine, legs already trembling. It does hurt - in a sharp way, like stretching to reach your toes first thing in the morning.
You gasp as he leans over, thrusting further into you as he whispers in your ear. “Shh, I know. It’s the price we must pay for our sin.” His murmur relaxes you a bit, reassures you of what you’re doing. Joakim would not lead you astray; God had spoken to him, given him fortitude in the last months. This was His plan.
The stretch continues as he slowly slides further into you, until your bodies are joined completely. You’re panting, open-mouthed as he fills you entirely. Your toes are barely brushing against the ground from how far he’s pushed you into the desk, corners digging into your hips sharply.
A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, unraveling the muscles that have been pulled taut with anticipation. Your breathing slows, body easing around the intrusion until only the sensation of fullness remains.
Joakim pulls back then, a slow movement that has you inhaling harshly as he drags along your inner walls. Your mouth goes to ask him what he’s doing, when he slams back into you, cutting off your train of thought in favor of gargling on your breath.
“Oh my God,” You keen, eyes so wide they might bulge out of your head altogether.
A jarring slap lands against your backside, stinging skin left in its wake. “Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.” Joakim rasps, sounding as out of breath as you do.
He pulls back again, only to crash back into you a half-second later. The force of it jolts you, making you wail as your hands reach out for something, anything to hold onto. Documents and envelopes fly onto the floor in your frenzy, looking as haphazard as you feel.
He continues at an unrelenting pace, hand still firmly gripping the base of your neck from behind. You know you’re being loud; A distant part of you even registers that, given the circumstances, you should probably be much, much quieter. You can’t bring yourself to care, though, an endless chant of Joakim’s name falling from your lips as you do what you can to grind back into him.
The hand leaves your neck, coming down to grab onto your hip while his other hand mirrors the action. Your pelvis is lifted off the desk, thrusts never even pausing as the new angle drives him deeper into you. Tears spring in your eyes from the overstimulation, having climaxed only a few short minutes ago.
This is absolution, You think. Being tangled together, conjoined like this - There is no fear of sin, no guilt at succumbing to the lust-filled desires of the flesh. As Joakim plunges himself into you, over and over, you find yourself almost dizzy with relief at the weight lifted off your shoulders, the panic of condemnation a distant memory.
His arm wraps around the front of your hips, holding you in place, as his free hand tangles into your hair, yanking your head towards him.
“Say the Lord’s prayer.” He groans in your ear, breath hot and sticky. “Beg for His forgiveness. ‘Our Father-’”
“‘-Who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.” You whimper, the words slipping off your tongue like muscle memory as your body is rocked back and forth by his thrusts. “‘Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth-” Your voice is cut off by your own gasp as he reaches something in you that you’ve never felt before. Knees shaking, you dig your fingers deeper into the mess of papers surrounding you to try and stabilize yourself.
“Keep going. ‘On Earth, as it is in Heaven.’” He urges, grip tightening on you.
“‘Give us today our daily bread,’” You continue, moaning pitifully as he drives into that same spot again. “‘And forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.’”
Tears stream freely down your cheeks now, a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation driving you mad. Joakim is mouthing at the junction of your neck and shoulder, tongue brushing over a spot that makes you shiver into him. A fire is building in your belly, lapping at the bottom of your throat as you move closer and closer to climax.
“‘L-lead us not into temp- temptation,’” You stutter, mind hazy with want. “‘But d-deliver us from evil.’”
Joakim’s voice is back in your ear. “‘For thine is the Kingdom,” A harsh thrust, “‘The Power,” Another thrust, “And the Glory forever.’”
The fire burns so hot that it rips the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Your eyes struggle to stay open, fluttering closed each time he rams into you. A particularly harsh pull of your hair reminds you that he is waiting for your response.
“Amen.” You whisper, vision going white as you climax, body twitching forcefully in his arms. His hips stutter once before he buries himself inside you, spilling his seed into you as he does.
Whether you lay there for seconds or days, you don’t know. Eventually, Joakim pulls out, a string of his release coming with him, rolling down the inside of your thighs. You whimper at the loss, still too sensitive to move.
“C’mon, käresta, we need to get you dressed. Your mother will wonder where you are.” His voice is gentle behind you, hand rubbing against your lower back to rouse you.
Your joints pop in protest as you try to push yourself up off the desk. The room is a mess of papers and scattered writing utensils, your dress nothing more than a rumpled pile of cloth on the ground.
You slip it over your head gingerly, every muscle in your body somehow sore. Joakim zips up the garment for you, running his hands over your clothed back, as if to smooth the wrinkles.
Turning to face him, you’re met with a soft pair of lips to your forehead, dark hair brushing against your cheeks. The kiss makes you feel brave as you ask, “Joakim?”
His eyes are warm as he gazes down at you, his fingers coming up to comb through your tangled hair. “Hmm?” Is his response as he works out a particularly knotted strand.
You flutter your eyelashes, a move that feels foreign, but somehow right. Looking up at him demurely, you ask, “Will you be leading tonight’s Bible study?”
#jolly karlsson smut#jolly karlsson fic#jolly karlsson x reader#jolly karlsson fanfiction#bad omens fanfiction#bad omens fanfic#bad omens fic#bad omens smut
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the cats of the park is just frostpaw finally getting some therapy
tbh tho I feel like them being separate from clan life would help her immensely. They’re not so wrapped up in this culture of battle so they have a new and refreshing perspective (and also frost doesn’t have to worry about ulterior motives because they are STAYING AWAY from THAT trainwreck that is the clans)
RE: Nothing in BB!ASC is set in stone until the arc is done BUT
One excellent thing ASC has done with the Park cats that is commendable, is that they're treated as legitimate. Not inferior or malicious. They're just another culture that Frostpaw is going to learn from. The bar is UNDERGROUND but we've finally hopped over it.
So I'd want to keep and acknowledge that.
I think I might have an interesting idea for Frostpaw's journey. Also, side note... I'm thinking BB!ASC will rename every book because these titles are actually awful, im sorry. So I'd call this one ASC: The Source of the River
Gonna jot these down;
So, to begin with, Frostpaw calls the human. While being heavily sedated, she has her first vision of Riverstar.
FROSTPAW DOES NOT HAVE A SPECIAL CONNECTION TO STARCLAN.
She NEVER would. Screw that. Instead-- learning to connect to this vision of Riverstar, to her ancestors and their wisdom, is a SKILL she would learn.
Frame the journey less as Riverstar's Side Quest and more as Frostpaw chasing the Revelation she had while anesthetized.
So when she wakes up, she's thinking about how incomprehensibly VAST Riverstar was. She can't even imagine how there's enough space in the world to contain such a being.
Even the Lake itself... the lake is just a droplet, being suckled like a kit on the teat of the Southern Inlet river
For a second, her troubles seemed like a small flea on the nose of a great, cosmic being. But as she reconnects with the mortal plane after her dream, the flea becomes an infestation. She doesn't know where to begin, or how she can save her Clan.
She thinks back to Riverstar. The river that feeds the Lake. Was that what he was trying to tell her? That she has to follow it to the source?
STOP 1: RIVER WARD
The BB!Tribe is massively overhauled. The Tribe of Rushing Water defines themselves as three Wards (Cave, Mountain, River), connected by living on the same stretch of river.
From them, she learns about connections. They are simply able to call upon each other for all they need, there's no need to "appoint" someone to manage everything.
Families and friends hold each other accountable, networking and negotiating constantly. When the group must act as one, it casts stones.
Their Stoneteller is a religious leader, but all cats connect with their ancestors by personally interpreting omens, even without needing to go see him.
(Contrast to BB!Clans, whose Clerics are the KEEPERS of holy knowledge, and it is a sin to interpret StarClan's will on your own)
Yet, there are downsides. She can see ostracised cats who skirt at the edges of the Ward, especially the descendants of a particular group (called Flicks) that she learns once tried to invade the River Ward.
Though they welcome travellers and have a positive view of Clan cats as "family," she learns that they freeze out those who break taboo. Even for smaller offenses-- social faux pas and personal disputes have caused rifts within the Ward.
And the personal omen interpretation means that two cats can try and justify their feelings with religious commands, leveraging any "soothsayer" (particularly religious cats) connections they have like a social pissing match, unless they're both willing to get dragged to Stoneteller.
From all this, Frostpaw learns that she CAN connect to Riverstar and her ancestors, even if she can't speak to them... and that she must LISTEN. Not allow herself to twist her ancestor's words.
And all the Wards are connected, by the source of a river. Suddenly she answers her question.
"How could the world be big enough to contain a being like Riverstar?" Because water isn't all in one place. It's everywhere. It pools where it can and flows where it cannot.
And yet-- a single people is connected by its water. Three wards, one River. Five Clans, one Lake... three siblings, one belly.
Her heart aches thinking about Curlfeather.
She thinks of when quarreling Tribemates are brought to Stoneteller to arbitrate, and be taught the truth. Brought up the river, to its source at the waterfall.
That has to be it! The source, the BEGINNING.
Stop 2 would be WarriorClan as she heads south, but I'm not sure what they'd teach her yet lmao. Monkeystar says "Hi! Do you want to learn how to play a kazoo"
STOP 3... I'd want to rename the Park Cats. Maybe the New Park cats.
(evil brain: "Neopark. Make terrible petsite joke. Be reincarnated as a lotus flower)
There would also be a BIG recap of Ancient Park culture, and the River Kingdom. Frostpaw knows they had KINGS.
And a lot of aspects that modern Clan cats have-- ceremonial sparring, mentors and apprentices, the Law of the Deputy... those came out of the River Kingdom, before its collapse in the Code Era.
But these cats are NOTHING like the glorious tales of a Kingdom warrior. In fact... this is THE park!
THE park that was destroyed, which King Arc-of-Park lead his people away from. How could it have been ruined if it's still here?
(Reality: the Park was shrunk and landscaped. It was destroyed in that time to the perspective of cats. Maybe she'll have some visions of the past through meditation...)
But the survivors, and those who chose not to follow their King... they remained. And they continue to thrive.
Like canon, have them teach her the ability to meditate. Unlike Tribe cats, meditation is about SIGNS, not OMENS. Omens are physical. Signs are psychic.
(Also i like Bee so im probably gonna keep him as Frosty's yoga coach)
She sees Riverstar a few times, has details of Curlfeather's scheme revealed to her in enough chunks to piece together,
but is eventually bowled over when her best, most productive meditation yet... results in a black shadow.
He has a shining pearlstone adorning his head, and deep, wet pools for eyes. Very few other features can be made out, besides his paw, which is shockingly normal compared to his wraith-like body.
Somehow, Frostpaw understands she is looking at a Patron. But she doesn't know who he is until he tells her, he is King Arc-of-Park.
Though remembered, he is not invoked often. The details of his appearance are lost. All that remains of him is his paw-- carried on in a few expressions and the -paw suffix. The one which Frostpaw herself currently bears.
Since Riverstar, his beloved son, so rarely speaks in straightforward terms, he has come to give Frostpaw her answers.
But before she speaks, trembling with desire for finally FINALLY getting the truth, almost frozen by the sheer volume of things she needs to know, he stops and tells her,
"You have earned the truth, Frostpaw. Be not afraid to ask for what you are owed-- but we only have time for three questions, and I shall ask three in turn."
Question 1: "What did you need me to learn?"
"Many things. How to find your own answers. The perspective of the thousand eyes you've met. The wisdom that only a pilgrimage can bestow. I, too, was no leader before I brought my people up the river, and now you too must save RiverClan. Have you learned what we sought to teach?"
She feels unsure... "I don't think I can know if I have, until I go home."
Even though he has no mouth, she can hear his smile, "That is a yes, child."
Question 2: "What am I learning about RiverClan and its history, if these New Park cats are nothing like my Kingdom ancestors?"
He hums, "You have come to the source of the river, and are vexxed to not find the water that is already swirling downstream? No cat stands in the same river twice, for it is not the same river, and they are not the same cat. Are my people gone, Frostpaw, or do they live on?"
Stunned, her jaw hangs open ever so slightly. She thought she knew the answer right away, but his simple question becomes a riddle on her tongue.
He tells her not to worry. She does not need to answer his questions immediately, as they're running out of time. Ask your last.
Question 3: "...did my mom love me?"
IMMEDIATE, "she did. Child of my distant blood, she loved you like a king loves his prince. Ferociously, ambitiously... selfishly."
He cradles her face in his one, massive, silk-soft paw, like he's reaching out of the shadows, across time itself. His last question, "She put you in a terrible position, didn't she?"
A lifetime's worth of love and agony bubbles out of the kid, "SHE DID. She DID and I never did ANYTHING to deserve this, I did everything she told me, and I just wanted to make her happy, and... and i miss my mom."
When she returns from her trance, she's crying.
But her companions are here to help her unpack all of what she just learned.
Will probably end up letting her recruit a little DND party lmao... maybe one cat from each pit stop. Heartstar shouldn't be the only girlie who's allowed to get expansion packs.
Make a little found family here that Frostpaw returns home with.
RE: NOT. CONFIRMED YET. NONE of this is BB canon yet. Just thoughts I need to get down.
#better bones au#bone babble#BB!ASC#I hope i can have night join river in the end tbh#Honestly i feel like it works best if he burned his bridge in thunder several times over#And realizes he really won't be happy there and he feels like the best thing to do is start new#Like have a bittersweet feeling where he's still loved and loves them. But with time they all see it was a wise and honest choice#Budding theme here could be Sometimes Love Is Not Enough#Something about how sometimes you need to change your environment. Either by leaving it or working on it#And a bad environment for one person is a good one for another#BUT AGAIN gotta see where everyone ends up
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helloooo! how do think Kate and Nikolai would like to get married, like type of weddings and how they’d propose. Also I adore your Kate stuff! there isn’t enought for her!
Hello! I'm not sure I'm the right person to ask this since the last wedding I went to was 17, almost 18 years ago! But I tried, even if I don't know at all what a wedding encompasses!
How Laswell and Nikolai Would Like to Get Married
Laswell: She’d try to find a special date to propose, even if she would preferably choose Christmas. However, if you don’t celebrate Christmas, then she’ll find another date, even if it’s “just” your birthday. You deserve all the good in the world and that she makes sure to give you. Your birthday will be an absolute dream, everything will be perfect and you will be cared for. However, Laswell will try to propose to you when the two of you are all alone, so she’ll either send everyone away, or drive you home and then propose to you on your doorstep. Either way, she wants you to be content and happy so that you can be positively joyful as she proposes to you. Your wedding won’t be very big, however, with only the most important people coming. She’s a CIA station chief, she’s highly sought after, so not the entire city needs to know about your arrangements and possibly get you killed during them. No, Laswell plays it safe and thus keeps it small. Although she would like to have a ceremony to commemorate this special day. Laswell isn’t a very religious person, in fact she’s not religious at all, so she doesn’t need a church wedding. If you absolutely insist, however, then she will plan one. However, she’s content with a ceremony and just a civil marriage. If you’re close with a lot of people, then it’s very likely that a lot of people will come from your side. Laswell doesn’t really have many people she’d invite to her wedding. The people she would invite likely don’t have time, so she doesn’t particularly bother. Besides, those two are very dangerous people as well, so it would likely be for the best if she doesn’t. The wedding itself would be a rather standard wedding, though. Like one you’d see on TV, so nothing too fancy. It doesn’t need to be to show how much you love each other.
Nikolai: He’d be very casual about it, waiting for a good moment to ask you for marriage. Don’t get me wrong, he has a pair of rings he’d use for such a thing, but he won’t openly propose with them. During a mellow moment where it’s evident you both love each other so dearly and are stricken with infatuation, that’s when he’ll ask you if you want to marry him. No getting down on one knee, just him lying on your chest, looking up at you and asking you, hearts in his eyes. It would take him a while to ask you for your hand in marriage, a few years, in fact, but he’ll be the one to ask. It won’t be a special date either, just whenever you’re feeling especially lovey dovey with each other. Your wedding won’t be very big either. He’s the leader of Chimera, so he needs to keep a low profile if he doesn’t want to be found out. No big or fancy ceremony, even if he will marry you in a church. Nikolai wants to have a traditional Russian wedding. One, where he pays ransom for you with the most beautiful sapphire necklace he could find. One, where he finds the most stunning crowns in all of Russia, both of which are yours. One, where he takes you through St. Petersburg to show you all the sights there are to see. Granted, he’ll be speedrunning the tour with you since he can’t afford to have the wedding last longer than two days, but he still wants to enjoy all these moments with you. He’ll tell you about all the sights there are in the city and hold your hand as well, taking pictures everywhere. He just wants to remember the sight of you wearing either a suit or a wedding dress forever, and what better way is there than by taking pictures? Although his memory is phenomenal, and he’ll remember those days forever, he still wants a few pictures here and there as a keepsake.
#cod#cod x reader#kate laswell#kate laswell x reader#cod nikolai#cod nikolai x reader#it's been so long since I've written for Nikolai thank you for requesting him!#Nikolai's rings have been passed down to him by his parents! it's tradition to have those as your wedding rings!#Laswell doesn't really have very many people she's close with so she doesn't have very many people to invite to her wedding#as long as she just gets to see you that's all that matters to her!#Laswell wouldn't take as long to propose. a year and a half at most#but that's only because actually getting with her would take a few years. she's not one for love at first sight in the slightest#once she's with you she's a keeper though. she knows she wants to stay by your side and thus proposes fairly quickly#Laswell would only ever really date someone who she knows she wants to spend her life with#she's too old for puppy crushes and something that won't last#so getting with her is the real challenge here. everything afterwards is a given to her
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Ateez's Full Storyline Explained - Part 20
( MAJOR LORE UPDATES - I'm really excited!)
Masterlist
Will - The World Ep. Fin Diary Entries:
The Intro provides us with a bit of backstory to the setting of 'Crazy Form':
The city is currently mid-Revolution: the people who left the system (now classified as Sense Offenders) are actively fighting against the ones still trapped within - tensions are mighty high to say the least.
Graffiti proclaiming "Wake up" and "Be free" covers the city walls, though it has been hidden by the suppressors under concealment screens (this is something we get to see in the MV).
Fed up with the Black Pirates' activities, the government is no longer satisfied with just denouncing them as a terrorist group and asking for them to be turned in - they now deem anyone who joins their cause to be a co-conspirator. Simply put: If you're caught inducing emotions in anyone, you'll be executed on the spot. You won't even be taken to the Disposal Site.
We cut to a scene right in the center of the city square where Guardians pull up in their cars and approach the display erected there for one clear purpose. A rope is lowered and pulled, hands are dusted off and the Guardians take off again. Words are no longer needed. They leave behind, hanging below the display, the corpses of multiple captured and executed Sense Offenders. A warning to all who dare to resist: the next one could be you.
Unbeknownst to them, it has the opposite effect. Tears and sobs fill the air, cries of sadness and anger. The loss of innocent life reinforced what they already knew: it can't go on like this. Their deaths won't be in vain. The system can be changed.
The aftermath of the raid on Prestige Academy had spread by word of mouth, getting past all attempts at censorship, and showed them a path of resistance.
We now rejoin Ateez and Black Pirates right after the Prestige Academy raid where Seonghwa had left with the leader of Thunder.
The boy's brother, exhausted from crying, is sleeping in the corner while the remaining Ateez members are freaking out over Seonghwa's disappearance. Though luckily, he isn't gone for long and rolls up to the bunker shortly after.
Hongjoong immediately pounces on him and is like: "Tell me you didn't run off with that girl because she looked like the 'Be Free' girl like Yeosang suggested." And Seonghwa's like: "It's not like that."
He pulls out an unfamiliar map and explains it was provided by the girl as the leader of Thunder, the students' version of the Black Pirates, aka fellow revolutionists.
They'd put a tracker on the boy before he was captured and believe he's being taken to the Disposal Site which is the place the map is of.
Still doubtful, Hongjoong questions the girl's and Thunder's motives - why not join the Black Pirates? Why act behind their backs? - but Seonghwa reassures him: as the elite of the elite, Thunder has access to information that can lead them directly to Z.
We now get more background information about the Z-World and Strictland's main oppressor 'Z' in particular (which has me personally very excited because we're tying in some more old plot threads; side note: the Glossary has been updated accordingly):
He's the Z-World's leader of Sciensalvar.
However, unlike in the A-World, where this organization was founded in 1999, is still rather small and lead by Henry Jo (see Fever Epilogue Diary Version), this Sciensalvar is a pseudo-religious scientific organization spearheaded by 'Z'.
They're behind the creation of the AI simulation for the 'best solution', aka the answer to their question of "What do I need to do to gain absolute, unchallengeable power?" To which the self-learning AI answered: get rid of all human emotions.
With this knowledge, they created a political party under the catchphrase: "The pursuit of a peaceful world without religious conflict and terror through emotional control."
Said party grew in size until they were powerful enough to pass the 'Emotional Regulation Act' which lead to the solidification of the class system to the point where 'defective' people are now being 'disposed of'.
However, as they have not yet achieved total control, Z and his political subordinates stay exclusively in Z's hideout near the city center where only the elites reside. They never leave the building, only the elitest of the elites ever get to enter and once they exit, they remain under strict surveillance by the Android Guardians to prevent the spread of insider knowledge.
Android Guardians, who are collectively referred to as the Imperial Watch, are the only ones allowed to freely come and ago since they're not human and thus immune to being corrupted by emotions if captured and interrogated.
The Black Pirates have never been able to obtain the precise location of Z's hideout despite past efforts to catch a hold of suspects who they then coaxed into spilling by utilizing their breakers to surface long suppressed emotions.
Working with Thunder, despite the risk, thus now seems like their best shot at finally eliminating the hideout and securing a massive leap forward in the revolution.
We cut to Z's office where the Prestige Academy principal was just executed by the Head Guardian of the Imperial Watch.
A new order is given by Z: "Now that we've set the bait, the Black Pirates will go to the Disposal Site to save the child. Take care that no mistakes like this are repeated at the Disposal Site. Or you'll be the one replaced this time."
With a troop of 100 Android Guardians, the Head Guardian enters the Disposal Site alongside a slew of blue butterflies who spread out among the workers with red, marred skin from the furnaces.
The Head Guardian refers to them as the 'Red Humans' who are 'so hideous' they 'resemble goblins more than people'.
The troop marches after a butterfly fluttering down a hallway toward the cells where the to-be-disposed-of people are kept - humans who've been classified as physically disabled or harboring feelings.
They appear enchanted by the sight of the butterfly, unlike the Guardians who took no note of them, which leaves this singular one to continue onward past the cells toward a boiling furnace filled with the remains of the disposed. 'Red Humans' are stirring the remains in the incinerator as the butterfly rises up past the executioner platform.
Upon closer inspection, the butterfly can be identified as an animatronic containing a camera.
The next entry informs us that it's Yeosang who's in charge of the tiny delicate butterfly drone and here, to me, everything regarding these blue little critters finally falls into place (which is why Part 5 - Deja Vu and Part 15 - Answer have now been updated accordingly):
Back in Deja Vu, Yeosang took note of the blue butterflies fluttering around Strictland and how they're so common and, despite their beauty, get fully ignored by the unfeeling Android Guardians.
As a result, he studies their appearance and anatomy, creates a 3D rendering (which we catch a glimpse of in Deja Vu and its appearance is similar to the one of the pirate ship hologram we got to see in Crazy Form, leading me to believe this is their usual modus operandi when they develop tech).
By the time Answer rolls around, the 3D model has been turned into a fully functional animatronic with a built-in camera - a drone.
This explains why the butterfly in Answer looks more artificial than the one in Deja Vu - it's not organic, it's a delicate little machine. A spy gadget.
Moving on to Ateez who are parked outside in their van: they're utilizing the beautiful little butterfly drone to compare the map to what they're seeing.
Deeming it all good enough, they strap in and Mingi crashes through the gates. They storm inside, trap the workers with their burnt skin in side-rooms and split into two groups - one in charge of freeing the imprisoned, the other in charge of warding off the guards.
The first group was left with the Cromer since they'd need to transport all the imprisoned to the Black Pirates' Bunker as fast as possible, which left the others at a significant disadvantage in their fight against the Guardians, even with the weapons provided by Left Eye.
They quickly get overpowered and Hongjoong is left on the ground with a gun pointed straight at his head. Jongho is left to call for back-up.
Back at the hideout, however, things are also going south - a fellow pirate bursts through the doors and informs them their location had been leaked to the Guardians. He barely gets to finish his warning before a beam saber cuts down his back and leaves him coughing up blood before he drops dead.
Wooyoung's thoughts are racing as he questions how their location could've possibly gotten out before Mingi looks to Seonghwa: "Please tell me you didn't share the location of the bunker with the Thunder girl".
Seonghwa, previously extremely sure of where the girl's loyalties lie, begins to doubt.
Meanwhile at the Disposal Site, a scream rings out - the Prestige Academy boy's.
The Guardian still aiming at Hongjoong's head offers an ultimatum: "Tell the members with the Cromer to come over here. I'll give you 10 minutes. Or this kid- well, you know what'll happen."
The timer is set. Hongjoong relays the information to the four members at the bunker.
Unable to leave the bunker fully unprotected however, the four try to fight off the Android Guardians before they depart, only to be struck down. Left on the ground. Spitting up blood. Seonghwa. Mingi. Wooyoung. San. Four down.
At the same time, at the Disposal Site, the remaining four are dragged along the ground to the execution area.
All eight of them think about how much happened to them since they entered the Z World - how much it felt like fate. They realized how powerful music and performance can be, how it can stir emotions in other people, how it's powerful enough to be used as a weapon against oppressive forces in this world. It allowed them to feel emotions they'd almost forgotten about and gave them a goal to achieve. They'd been happy here. And now they might die here.
But just then: a zap. And a Guardian hit the ground in the bunker.
People wearing "ridiculous masks" (according to Wooyoung) and armed with modified electro shockers flooded the bunker and began to take down the Guardians before helping the four Ateez members to their feet.
With their identity hidden behind their masks and voice modifiers, they promise to take everyone to safety and ask the four to come back once they're done at the Disposal Site. Their leader also hands a note to Seonghwa.
With no other option, the four take off with the Cromer's help, though the boy's brother manages to leap on them quickly enough to be taken along.
They make it just in time and use the Cromer to zip across the room, disposing of the Guardians' weapons by throwing them in the incinerator, but the one clutching the boy is quick to raise the kid by his throat and threaten to toss him feet-first in after them.
Momentarily defeated, Ateez get tied up with rope, but the boy's brother, who'd remained hidden nearby, manages to slide a jackknife he'd been keeping in his pocket to Yunho. One by one, the knife gets handed around as they free themselves.
Meanwhile, the boy begins to talk to the Guardian who'd dropped him back to the ground - it's revealed he'd been working alongside them all along to obtain the location of the Black Pirates' bunker.
When the boy had first found out about his older brother's break, he'd fled Prestige Academy and posted a message on Black Link (the system set up by Left Eye in Movement Diary Version: The Revolution which pings the Black Pirates when a citizen's chip fails so they can reach out and contact them) after failing to find the Black Pirates and their bunker.
With no one to help him, he hid out at the Disposal Site in hopes of finding a way to safe his brother once he was dragged there by the Android Guardians.
While still there, he received a message from his brother, asking him why he hadn't come home last night. Relieved, he returned home and discovered a message from the Black Pirates who disclosed a rough location of their bunker and offered to help him if he still needed it, though they'd have to clear him first over their security system.
However, after seeing the reality and experiencing the horrors of the Disposal Site, the boy chose to return to Prestige Academy instead and beg for mercy for both himself and his brother.
The Guardians agreed but requested the exact location of the Black Pirates' bunker in return.
Upon hearing this, Ateez felt betrayed which the boy's brother openly voices. He tells his brother that, after experiencing emotions, he can't go back and pushes him to leave the wrong side and rejoin them while there's still time to make things right.
Yeosang manages to trip one of the Guardians with his newly freed legs which gives the boy a chance to take his brother's offered hand, but just before they can make contact, the Head Guardian grabs the brother by the collar and throws him off the execution platform down to the incinerator.
The members threw off their ropes and pushed the Head Guardian into the incinerator while the boy jumps after his brother and Mingi activates the Cromer.
Mingi catches the gaze of the boy's brother as his legs slip into the incinerator. His eyes close. Mingi grabs the boy's arm before he could share the same fate. The boy screams.
Newly traumatized, Mingi drops the boy in a safe place and rejoins his members who're actively fighting the Guardians and makes quick work of them by tossing them in the furnace one by one.
The boy breaks down in tears.
Only the Head Guardian was left. But unlike all the others, he was suddenly tackled from the back by the boy who was rushing at full speed and dragging them both toward the incinerator.
Hongjoong's hand shot forward, grabbing the boy's arm who mouthed "I'm sorry" right before the Head Guardian's weight dragged them over the edge and out of Hongjoong's hold.
Hongjoong had no choice but to sit by as they disappeared into the incinerator below.
The distant sound of an explosion. "I know how you feel but... We need to get out of here first. The bomb's about to go off," Seonghwa reminds Hongjoong.
San takes them away with the Cromer right before the blue butterflies spread throughout the building flash red and explode, collapsing the Disposal Site.
While all this was going down, the masked people who'd helped at the Bunker were revealed to be Thunder and the note handed to Seonghwa was revealed to be a map.
By the time the Disposal Site went down, Thunder managed to pack all the prisoners into a big bus and take them past all the security barricades into the city center thanks to their high ranking elite status.
Thunder's main base has a garden. It consists of trees and flowers bearing the names of the two brothers and all the fallen Black Pirate members lost in the battle.
Dressed in black, Ateez, the Black Pirates, and the Thunder members bow to the dead as fireflies circle over their heads. "I will not let your sacrifices be in vain. I promise." Yeosang's words echo everyone's thoughts.
The fireflies ascend above them as if they were carrying their wishes to the stars. They watch them rise for a long time.
The village is located in a forest away from all government surveillance. A small haven. Thunder's leader is showing Seonghwa around as she tells him her story:
She met the Grimes siblings in this place and when she heard them sing, she realized that something valuable had been taken from humanity. Taken by Z.
Reminder: the Grimes siblings are the ones who first helped Ateez when they landed in the Z-World (see: Fever Part 2 Diary Entries).
At that time, she was already recognized for her talents at Prestige Academy and put in the position of Thunder's leader. As a skilled actress, she managed to continue on undetected, even while she silently planned find a way to rise high enough to meet Z - an opportunity very few ever got.
By using her status at the Academy, she managed to prevent students from getting taken to the Disposal Site: spewing empty threats instead of reporting them as 'defective'.
Her time there also allowed her to carefully approach others who had awoken thanks to the Grimes siblings. Together, they held a funeral for them after their souls were taken (see: Fever Epilogue Diary Entries).
They heard stories of the Black Pirates and Ateez but, as a smaller group, needed to be more careful and couldn't reach out to them.
Her story gives Seonghwa hope that there are more groups out there fighting for their cause.
When he voices the thought, the girl feels the same hope for the future.
After the raid at Prestige Academy, the school is shut down and repurposed while students are transferred to other schools in the area based on their performance.
Thanks to a heart rate controlling device provided by Left Eye, the girl passes the emotional detection checks and manages to excel in her studies and is deemed the superior candidate among all students - she earns the position of Z's protocol manager. A position which will take her to Z's hideout.
They take her to the city center and into the underground parking lot by the central bank's building. From there, she's guided through corridors until they reach Z's office.
Inside, he's already waiting for her and immediately addresses how closely she'd been paying attention to her surroundings the entire way there - from the car ride all the way up to now. As if she were curious. "Curiosity is also an emotion. Curiosity is dangerous, you know."
Ever the perfect student and actress, she replies with "What is 'Curiosity'?" and offers her chip to be checked - a chip that has been modified by her to switch on and off on her comment to avoid detection at school.
She passes the final test and is hired on the spot.
#ateez#ateez lore#hongjoong#seonghwa#yunho#yeosang#san#mingi#wooyoung#jongho#will - the world ep fin
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Hi! I just watched Dune pt 2 and was thinking about the Aiel-Fremen similarities amd was wondering if you had any thoughts about the comparison because I love the way you write about WOT?
Thank you!
Oh, yes! There are tons. Watching Dune Part 2 definitely reminded me of how much the Fremen and the Aiel have in common -- Jordan had said that any similarities are unintentional, which I'm guessing is true, because Jordan was very open about how much he used other sources as inspiration when he was building his world (given the premise of the world -- that time is a wheel and everything that happened in our world also happened in WoT, it makes a lot of sense that he would do that -- Dune is also set in the far-future of our own world as well, so they share that root in common too).
From what I've read in various places, it's more that Herbert and Jordan were drawing on some of the same real-life sets of historical societies (there's a run-down here, though unfortunately it looks like the page doesn't exist anymore outside of the wayback machine) to inspire their desert warriors, which led to a lot of their similarities.
But something that's really interesting to me are the ways in which Dune being sci-fi and Wheel of Time being fantasy had an impact on the creation and the writing of the two societies. (some of my thoughts below do contain spoilers for the later books in the Dune series!)
Dune is sci-fi -- prophecies aren't real (for the most part). So the prophecy that the Fremen believe in was actually seeded by the Bene Gesserit centuries ago as a 'surprise tool to help us later' for any Bene Gesserit who might find herself in trouble on the planet.
WoT is fantasy and prophecy is very real, though not always interpreted correctly. The old Aes Sedai who tells the Aiel their prophecy for the future was very much on the level and trying to do her best to protect and save the Aiel rather than setting them up to be manipulated centuries down the road.
The Aiel (at least the leaders of the Aiel) are also very aware that they are meant to be tools in the hands of their prophesied figure and that only "a remnant of a remnant" will survive. They have been explicitly setting up their society as a tool, I would argue, by telling their people that the Three-Fold Land's purpose was to shape them to make up for their 'sin' against the Aes Sedai. So there's a self-awareness to their choices, even in the beginning. They know that their savior is also their doom and walk into it with their eyes open.
This is also a big difference in Paul himself and Rand, in that Paul is a manufactured savior and Rand is a real one -- a large part of that lies in that Paul is a sci-fi protagonist and Rand is a fantasy one (though we could always bring up Paul's son, Leto II, who becomes monstrous in order to try to save humanity from an existential threat).
Paul is a critique of the white savior trope -- he is a complete outsider to Fremen society, takes them over using lies that exploit their religious beliefs, and uses them to further his own agenda, destroying them in the process.
Rand is half-Aiel, so that makes him more akin to Paul's children with Chani than to Paul himself in that regard, in that he does have that blood connection to the Aiel (which lets him experience their history through the glass columns), but he wasn't raised by them, so there's that distance too.
But both Paul and Rand are very aware that they are using the Fremen-Aiel as a tool for their own plans (but again, here I loop back to the intentionality -- not only do the Aiel leaders know this all along, but Rand reveals to all of the Aiel the truth about their past, which means that they immediately fracture in a way that takes the Fremen years to begin doing), so they have that in common.
In addition to the difference between sci-fi and fantasy, we also have a big difference (in the books) in how the two sets of books examine religion. Religion is a much bigger and more explicit thing in Dune than in WoT -- Paul is able to build his following by exploiting his followers' religion to turn them into fanatics. Now we do have an example of some of Rand's followers turning into fanatics, but it's not in the Aiel but in Masema and what he does on the west coast, and the Dragonsworn are mostly not focused on, especially not in Rand's actual plotlines.
But, yeah, Paul Atreides, Rand al'Thor, (and I add Anakin Skywalker) kinda all exist in this sort of venn diagram in my head that I'm going to try to plot out:
#unasomiadora#wot#wheel of time#wot book spoilers#dune#dune spoilers#dune part 2#replies#wot meta#my wot meta#the fires of heaven#there's other stuff#but that's what my brain latched onto#but you've got fun contrasts like how paul also technically is in multiple relationships#but it's a marriage without love and a love without marriage#rather than being fully in love with three separate women#also dune part 2 was such an intense and enjoyable experience in the theater!#this does contain spoilers for the dune books beyond the original one#spoilers for#towers of midnight#also actually#or actually a memory of light even
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VAMP AU - basics i.
Curious about the Heartslabyul Coven, are we? Go ahead and take a peek - they’re very friendly with the humans, after all.
CW: blood, death, stalking/hunting, religious imagery, dark/obsessive/possessive characters. this au is not NSFW, but it does deal with darker content and sometimes discusses sensuality and sensual topics. reader discretion is advised.
overview. ❧ {heartslabyul}. savanaclaw. octavinelle. scarabia. pomefiore. ignihyde. diasomnia.
The Heartslabyul Coven has one of the strongest relationships with humans to date. This is because of the strict rules the members have to follow, which dictate the hours of the day they can feed, times of the month they can feed and how often, all the way down to how they should dress and otherwise present themselves both in the human and vampire realm. Members of the Heatslabyul Coven are talented magic users all around, though there is a noticeable amount of healers that originate from this coven. However, there is great variety in the specialized magic each vampire pursues. They usually live in civilized and highly populated areas, though not typically in massive, bustling cities (are suburban vampires a thing?)
They can feed on humans, but it must be consensual and can only be done a certain number of times in a year / decade / century / however they measure time. It also has to be done in a specific way to ensure the safety of the human. Most humans turned by the Heartslabyul Coven were either done consensually or on a young vampire’s first feeding. Many Heatslabyul Coven members have close human friends that allow them to feed whenever they need to, as the allotted chances are just barely enough to get by. This Coven isn’t seen as a family, but there is an expected responsibility towards the coven and very few leave without being lured back.
These vampires make the easiest friends, but sometimes it’s hard to tell if they like you or the freedom you give them when you allow them to feed on you in a pinch…
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Riddle Rosehearts - Vicious Repentance
Riddle is not the coven head, but he is well-respected throughout Heartslabyul ranks. Sometimes, coven members get a say in who the next coven leader should be if the head decides to step down or dies, and Riddle is expected to take that spot eventually or AT LEAST be an official liaison/diplomat between worlds.
He was turned a long, long, long time ago, so long ago he no longer remembers what his human life was like. His vampire mother won't tell him, either, but she has said that she saved him from a far worse fate than vampirism. Riddle only has his (abnormally?) small stature to testify to that. (AKA both his human parents and vampire parents are terrible. Part of the reason he's so small is because he was also sickly as a human. If you're wondering, the vampire mom is the counterpart to his canon mom, but his vampire mom is very similar in her rules and upbringing.)
Riddle is constantly grappling with the fact that his turning was (most likely) in disagreement with the rules of the coven. Over time, he’s pieced together a rough idea that his vampire mother forcibly turned him, wanting a child of her own and seeing he was on death’s door anyway. The rules have been around for longer than he has, and his vampire mother has ensured that he has followed every last one, yet he knows he didn't consent to being turned and his mother was a very competent vampire, even at the time, so there's no way he was turned accidentally. It bothers him that his entire life has been and will be dictated by rules that were broken to get him here in the first place.
Riddle is adept at practically every magical subject he's been introduced to. He's one of a few vampires who have learned how to weaken the connection others have to magic for a short amount of time. This plus his general obedience makes him a popular faux-proxy for when people need to be kept in check.
He doesn't actually have any political interest, and he's not even sure he ever wanted to be a vampire in the first place. He certainly doesn't want to be subjected to his vampire mother's rules for eternity. Even worse, he's tired of her old-fashioned views and talk of wanting to take over the human realm. Riddle feels like he has no control in his life, despite having great vampiric ability.
In a sort of inverse from canon, what he really wants is to offer his vampiric healing for humans - it can't perform outright miracles, but it's usually more effective than human medicine (or at least faster). If he has to get into politics or law, he'd like to lobby for human interests in vampiric-human relationships. What can he say? Something about humans is charming. He likes them.
All Riddle wants is to carve out his own cozy little life and live with as much harmony as he can. And if you happen to be a part of that…what do you say? Will you allow him to atone for his own disgraceful turning by offering yourself for a proper one?
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Trey Clover - Absent Loyalties
Trey is a true vampire with a fairly regular nuclear family unit. They’re owners of one of the more popular/successful vampire businesses in the human world, a bakery that is 100% safe for both humans and vampires! None of it is advertised, as vampires still tend to hide in the shadows, but it’s well known to local vampires that the food is all edible and the windows are specially tinted so they, too, can enjoy a window seat if they so please.
As a result, Trey is familiar with both the vampire realm and the human realm. He has to go between them to help his parents report expenses and such, which is a chore he hates. Going between realms is never a fun situation. Vampire purists look at him with disgust, as if they can smell the human on him, and he finds it somewhat aggravating that his family has to relinquish part of their profits to a governing body that may or may not be wanting to take over the realm they do business in. The human realm is hardly much better, with the suburban gossip about vampires popping up around the allotted Heartslabyul feeding times.
He has been friends with Riddle for a long time, and often covers for him when he wants to get away from his vampire mother.
Despite being deeply rooted in both vampire affairs and the human realm, Trey is largely apathetic when it comes to the boiling tension that sometimes becomes a little too obvious between realms. He’s lived through peaceful times and times of turmoil, and he greatly prefers peace and cooperation. But there’s not much he can do about it, so he keeps quiet unless directly asked about anything.
Trey doesn’t know if he’d choose one realm over the other. Both have taken from him, both have given to him. He just wants to worry about the people close to him, rather than be caught up in such lofty and troubling thoughts.
He’s had to sacrifice a lot to reach his happy passivity. However, if he ever manages to find someone who’s so willing to bring what he’s had to lose, someone who could be entirely his even without a dramatic bonding ritual…well. He’d be willing to do whatever it takes to keep that in his life, for sure.
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Cater Diamond - Human Façade
Cater is a true vampire, but he acts more like a human. He’s fascinated by the fast-paced, cutesy trends they come up with (which pass even faster with a lifetime as eternal as his.)
He has a popular Instagram account, but he’s pretty controversial on Magicam due to his love of humans. (And yes, he can appear in photos as long as they’re digital!)
Cater doesn’t really have super strong ties to anybody within his community. He has his two sisters, who eagerly await his reports on human life (as they were the ones interested in the culture but couldn’t set up residence in the human realm). He is kind of friends with local Heartslabyul members, but there’s nobody who is his BEST friend.
Deep inside, Cater likes humans the same way he likes vampires, but he finds keeping up with their trends exhausting. Even when he winds up liking something the humans have come up with, it’s gone in the blink of an eye. He feels like he has to constantly flit about to keep up, and he’s always in search of something that he likes and that’ll stick.
He’s the most traditionally vampiric of the Heartslabyul cast members because he frequently hangs out at night. The others have mostly shifted their internal clocks so they can sleep during the night or have just accepted they won’t be getting much sleep. But he likes to hang out when it’s cool, quiet, and dark, his phone tucked away and his head craned back to look at the stars.
Cater has the hookup when it comes to knowing humans who will let vampires drink from them in a pinch. He’s got lots of blood buddies who only need his endorsement to let a vampire drink from them. Cater says it’s all just a mutually beneficial agreement, a friendship that follows “the more, the merrier!” But sometimes it feels like another piece of him he’s forced to share…
So, if someone comes along that likes him best of all, can you really blame him for wanting desperately to make them stay?
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Deuce Spade - Fledgling Mistakes
Deuce used to be a human, and a rowdy one at that. He started fights, disrespected authority, and spent late nights out with no word to his mother. Then he came home one night to find her in the midst of being attacked by a vampire. He fought the vampire off, but they were both turned by the end of the night.
Deuce's and his mother's transformations are almost complete, but they are still subject to some very specific rules of the coven that found them. His mother doesn't have much of a problem fitting in, but Deuce, despite his determination to do things right in this new eternal life, is still struggling to let go of his delinquent lifestyle.
He's still learning the coven rules, and often has lessons with Ace (when Ace has to do remedial learning). Ace frequently brings him into trouble, running around to scare people or hunt and disturb the wildlife even though he KNOWS he's not supposed to.
Deuce likes to work for Trey's bakery when they need an extra hand. It makes him feel dependable and like he's getting the hang of these rules!
Ace brings Deuce along on when he follows Cater to his parties, although Deuce brings his full awkward energy. Despite the overwhelming urge to bite somebody, anybody in the room, he sits with his hands in his lap and a thousand-yard stare, determined not to get carried away.
Deuce tries not to feed on humans, both because he used to be one and he isn't sure he could control himself if he did. But if you ever wind up offering your blood to him…do you really trust him that much? Are you sure? Okay…he'll try not to get carried away, but he can't truly promise anything…
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Ace Trappola - Tedious Eternity
Ace is a true vampire with an attitude problem. He's constantly being forced into remedial programs to re-learn the rules of the coven. He's even been forcibly placed within the human realm, where his connection to magic should (theoretically) be weaker, and he's closer to Riddle, who can be easily used as a proxy and keep Ace's magic in check.
Ace loves to scare humans and is largely responsible for the nearby humans being aware of the existence of vampires. He doesn't go much further than lurking in plain sight and occasionally having a good chase, but it's enough to get him reprimanded frequently for his shenanigans.
Like Cater, Ace is popular with the humans who don't mind the vampire preference and often tags along when Cater goes out. (He gives off "someone was forced to bring their little brother to this party with alcohol and now he's just watching everyone be drunk around him" vibes sometimes, but he knows how to do lots of card tricks so it doesn't normally get too awkward.
He only goes to get away from the coven and to hang out. Ace doesn't like the idea of using one of Cater's "blood buddies." He likes being the cool and aloof vampire, and would much rather hunt when everybody else does on somebody he doesn't know (and then a few extra times when nobody is looking.) It almost feels vulnerable, and he's not into it at all.
Overall, Ace has this carefree attitude about him and he seems content to waste his eternity of pranks and jokes. But he is still a vampire. If he finds someone worth keeping around, he might be open to a change, and maybe even a regular blood buddy. Hope you don't mind your new nocturnal nuisance hanging around.
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst#riddle rosehearts#riddle rosehearts x reader#trey clover#trey clover x reader#cater diamond#cater diamond x reader#deuce spade#deuce spade x reader#ace trappola#ace trappola x reader#heartslabyul vamp#vamp au#twisted wonderland imagines#twst imagines
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Why you should vote for each of them and full art below!
Lucy Amano (by @ficklepenguin for D&D)
Lucy Amano (they/she) is a just a normal human ranger with a pet bear, except they're actually an aasimar and have no idea. They figured out maybe something was up when their friend went down in combat and they exploded into searing light, which is not a normal thing humans do. Their bear is named Nita, and he's the goodest boy. They also have a boyfriend and a girlfriend, or they would, if the trio would ever figure their shit out. And they also just found out that their dad is from the moon, which they didn't even know people lived there.
(art by @everlastingrandom)
Felix Ambercreek (by @ghostbrawl for D&D)
felix is honestly just my beautiful boy. that's all i can say. unfortunately, players from his campaign will read this so i have to be brief. felix is a newly-paladined paladin of sarenrae who is taking to redemption, forgiveness, and virtuosity like a special interest, but carrying it out in practice incredibly badly. when felix felt sarenrae call him to work at a mercenary guild, he left home with full support of his (also religious) family and took advantage of not seeing his family for a while in order to totally reinvent himself - changing his name and swearing himself to always be veiled, even in combat, so that nobody could see who he is. even as a novice paladin, this has already started to cause him problems -- for example, a band of goblins tried to steal his armor to summon a metal eating monster, and took his veil along with it. out of fear and desparation, felix split from his party and chased the goblins alone, almost dying to the metal monster (and a particularly cruel goblin) and strangling and killing one of the goblins that tried to kill him out of anger and frustration, marring felix's relationship with his god. though he does get his veil (one with embroidery done by another party member) back, it is torn and dirty at the end :-(. maybe one day felix will truly "get" what being a paladin is about, but for now he's largely controlled by fear, rather than the drive to value and redeem others - and he ends up using his responsibility as an escape instead of a duty.
Levlith Craephin (by @the-web-of-iris for D&D)
Levlith is a tiefling Bloodhunter, a mother of two who originated in the town of Icehaven, A woman of wits and courage, yet her calloused hands hold endless kindness and love. She spent her time caring for her own children, and many other children and adults alike in her hometown, a pillar of her community and someone trusted with the protection of many. Married once to a Drow bard named Briza, the two are now separated (but not divorced. it's complicated) she now reserves herself and has little interest in romance in her middle age life. After a terrifying incident and a close dance with death she came into possession of her ragged sword, as well as her newfound blood-hunter abilities, and soon left her adult children to roam across the empire and beyond in her mission of hunting down dark blots within the world from the shadows. After entering the coast with the intention of making a deal with the leader of a mercenary guild, she begins to meet new people and make new friends, and comes to realise she is now working in the same environment as her once lover briza. Together, the Silverlinings guildmates will follow requests, find themselves in trouble, and explore the unknown. However, what is Levlith's motives? What is she truly looking for? What is she hiding from? |O|nly time will tell.
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Romeo x Fuoco: general headcanons
When it's possible, Fuoco spends any free time he has in the presence of his king; not to distract him with chatter, not to ask anything of him... just to look, to admire, to bask in his presence. And Romeo is aware of this; never surprised when he sees that familiar flame flickering away in the corner, finding his chest growing warm as he realises he's never trulynalone.
He never means it maliciously, but Romeo cannot help but fluster his Flame. He takes great joy in the way Fuoco's mechanical voice stutters when he asks him to dance; admires the way the flame in Fuoco's furnace brightens any time he praises his faithful puppet's work.
(Romeo has absolutely taken note of the things that make Fuoco's flame burn brighter and more intensely, and he absolutely does those things on purpose. Lots of extra praises and fond words; in his eyes, Fuoco's earned them anyway.)
Speaking of dancing; Fuoco absolutely did not know how to at first. He wasn't built for that, and he never had any reason to. No, he learned solely because his precious king enjoys it so; and although Fuoco doesn't understand dancing, he does understand the way his springs tighten when he sees Romeo's smile, the way he feels like he would give the King the whole world if it would only make him happy.
When he's not in the armour, Romeo likes to seat himself on Fuoco's arm, or just plain right in the large palm of his one hand. For his part, Fuoco sees it as an honour to carry his king; being near Romeo is a high and precious honour, so getting to touch him? It's like a gift from God.
And speaking of God... it took Romeo a while to get used to Fuoco's religious fervour over him. At first, he'd tried to reassure his faithful puppet that there was no need to praise him so highly; that he was no better than anyone else, that he was just another person... But his humble words just seemed to make Fuoco even more fond of him, and in turn inspired more praises, and in the end Romeo gave up; his faithful puppet was so happy, he didn't have the heart to argue.
By nature, Romeo is bright and playful and comforting. By nature, Fuoco is terse and serious and single-minded. Romeo admires Fuoco's attitude, even if he can't help but want to cheer him up and get reactions out of him; and Fuoco, fittingly enough like a moth to a flame, is confused by yet also utterly charmed by Romeo.
On some level, Fuoco does not believe himself worthy of his king, and he feels as though he will always come third in Romeo's heart to both that long-lost friend and the puppet who resembles him. Whether or not this is even true, he is adamant to bring that puppet to his king; for no matter what, the king's happiness is his top priority.
Romeo isn't afraid to speak candidly to his puppets, to level with them, to express how he feels... though he understands that, as their leader, he needs to be strong for them; to be, well, their king. However, he speaks the most openly with Fuoco; of his dreams, of his hopes, of his worries. He knows he can rely on his Flame; knows he can trust his faithful puppet with even his fears. In those moments, he feels just a bit more like himself than usual.
And in Fuoco's moments of self-doubt, Romeo is the first one to reassure him; to casually place himself on his Flame's arm, to gaze up at him, to tell him with all the fondness in the world and absolutely no roo for question: his faithful puppet is precious to him and utterly irreplaceable.
#this is dedicated to the like two or three other people who ship them ALSNAOXNALXN#lies of p#lies of p romeo#lies of p fuoco#king of puppets#king's flame fuoco#lies of p spoilers#lop spoilers
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AITA for trying to protect humanity, despite what they did to my people?
Greetings. I (ancient, F) am the leader of a religious organization dedicated to following the teachings of the goddess of our continent. For full transparency’s sake, I must confess that not everything my church teaches is the full truth, but I feel that it is for a good reason. Simply put, I am member of a long-lived species that once occupied the continent I call home. Sadly, I am one of the very last of my kind, and as such have had a great deal of responsibility thrust upon me in the wake of the tragedy that destroyed my people and my homeland. I do not wish to be in charge, but I fear what may happen if I were to relinquish power to someone else.
My people were not killed by an act of divine punishment or natural disaster, or any other such indirect means. We were slaughtered en-masse by the humans who also live here on this continent, with my fellows having their hearts stolen, their blood drained and their very bones ripped out and shaped into weapons of death and destruction. They even managed to kill my mother, the progenitor of my species who I miss dearly and I believe is most fit to oversee the goings-on of our society. I, as well as a handful of others of my kind, managed to escape the fate that befell the rest of our species and later joined forces with another group of humans to eliminate the vile group who committed such horrendous acts. Finally, my mother and the others of my kind who were slaughtered could rest in peace.
However… rebuilding after this dark period was difficult. The humans who drank the blood stolen from my people gained powers that were heritable, and highly coveted as a symbol of power. I began to fear for the lives of myself and my few remaining family members, and saw it necessary to obfuscate who we were and pretend to be human in order to prevent any new greedy and vile people from seeking us out. This necessitated a complicated web of lies, some of which I greatly regret to this day due to their lasting consequences… though I truly saw no other option in order to protect us and allow what body parts of my people I was able to secure to rest in peace.
My attempt to placate all sides was to lean into the powers stolen from my people as being divine gifts, hiding what they really were behind a veil of blessings rather than the dark truth. I saw no other way… but I know it has caused much suffering. Humans have such short lives, and so even back when the war ended many who had those powers were completely innocent to their ancestor’s original sin. Telling the truth would’ve surely meant my family’s death, and the only other way I could see would be to slaughter all of those who had these powers to remove their influence from the world permanently. But that wouldn’t have been right…. At least, I do not think so. Despite what some have done to me, I do not hate humanity. I love humans, and the majority I think are good and just and I wish to protect them, even if it means I must make hard decisions. It is…. Difficult, living so long and so alone with so much burden to shoulder, so I am looking for some perspective, please. Am I in the wrong for refusing to punish all of humanity for the actions of a few, while still protecting myself and those I hold dear?
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I've been listening to "Roots and Refuge" podcast, it's been great and calming, and today I heard something so funny it inspired me to write about it.
If you've read my blog a while back, you'll know that Roots and Refuge is a youtube channel on gardening and homesteading, led by Jess, a woman who picked her entire family and moved into nature to grow food and live healthily. Something I didn't mention before, is that Jess is religious. She does change pretty much everything about religion so it would fit her unique sense of kindness and fairness, but it's still a bit painful to see her give credit to an invisible god for all of her personal accomplishments.
On this podcast, she was with her husband, and they were answering questions from viewers. One of the questions was 'How did you encourage your family members to go along with homesteading?' and she laughed and commented she got this a lot, and how kindly it was phrased 'encourage', when it's more like making her husband do it. And I wasn't even aware that her husband was not into the whole homesteading idea at all, but she was about to tell the story about how she got him to do it anyway.
She described first about how she was sure they were supposed to do it, because she could hear god's voice (her own gut feeling) telling her it was right for them, and it was the correct thing for their family. Sure in herself, she lead the entire family in that direction, and she used the word 'leader' for herself multiple times, with absolute confidence. I was thinking how funny it was that this was exactly against what religion was saying, but I was loving it. Hearing a woman lead her family with full confidence and nobody being able to stand in her way, gave me heart.
Then she talked about how much pressure she was putting on her husband to support her, and he chipped in and explained, that it was very difficult for him to do it under pressure, and that at one point the pressure stopped, and then he was able to choose it for himself. He repeated several times, 'it was my choice, I was able to choose it and it was my choice that I did it', almost trying to convince himself.
And I'm like--- she put him right in the spot where he had to go to 'choice feminism' to resemble some sense of control of where his life was going! She overpowered him so completely with her 'god told me this is what we have to do' (her gut feeling) that he basically had no choice but to eventually come around to it. He even uses the phrase 'came around to it' multiple times. It made me laugh.
One thing I adore about them is how Jess is in control of everything, makes almost all of the decisions, plans projects, draws out her visions, controls all of the media and created content encouraging others to do so as well, possibly not realizing what a powerful woman she is for doing so. Her gut feeling is excellent and lead her in a direction where she now has a huge farm of her own, a family taken care of, an abundance of healthy homegrown food and adoration of the internet. There are some bad side-effects she admits to; she often feels overwhelmed, like she's carrying the whole world on her own shoulders, and needs a bit of time off from the family, to go camping or just sleep somewhere else, to feel at ease again. I believe this is because in this scenario, she really is holding it all together on her own. She does it exceptionally well, but she's still, the sole leader, the only one who has to make it all happen.
I like that she was able to weaponize religion and call her gut feeling 'the voice of god', I think that's a good way to deal with religious people, how could they possibly counter that? (except, you know, institutionalization and fire, but in her case it works.) The side effects are still pretty severe though, and that's why I'm thinking, multiple women, all together, sharing the burden and responsibility of leading and protecting, that would be something.
I think every woman has that gut feeling that she's usually very discouraged from listening to, but this gut feeling is also the closest thing to a god we could possibly have. Women are creators of the entire human population, human species even. We are the only divinity that exists. If we have a voice inside of us, telling us what we want to do next, how do we want to go about life, is that not the voice of creators, voice of divinity? If all of us got together and made some choices together, about the future of this world, that would be the most divine thing to happen on this planet. Here we can see how just one woman trusting her inner voice created a paradise for herself and her family - her husband too, because even though he needed some 'coming around', her plan was ultimately incredibly good and beneficial to him, he now has everything, because he listened to her. Women's plans for their families include benefits for the entire family, unlike male's, who usually prefer to put their families into roles of servitude in favour of his personal success.
Trust your gut feeling! That is the divine voice of what you want and need. And it's better than what any male thinks is right. It should trample all of their opinions and needs. Women are natural leaders, and we can make incredible futures happen.
#radical feminism#podcast commentary#radfem analysis#religion critical#funny story#roots and refuge youtube channel#women being leader#feminism
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MONKEY MAN REVIEW, WARNING: LONG POST
so…i just finished monkey man and now i will never recover.
dev patel you absolute gem, the genius of this movie and what it will do for desis who want to make their own mark in this world will never stop being talked about.
the religious references, the corruption within the systems meant to protect us, the devastation brought upon those viewed as lesser beings is shown within the movie beautifully. however, i have already seen, as expected, some who do not like the portrayal of india within the movie.
despite the good story, the portrayal of india is exactly how hollywood has always presented it: slums filled with poverty, dirt and despair. i am also tired of the west only showing india in this close-minded, ignorant way. as an nri, i know that even i have been influenced by the media to view india in a particular light. but i shall try to look at this from both sides.
one thing a person must remember that the things shown in the movie are unfortunately true. even movie creators in india have highlighted the way police are bribed by powerful people into doing their bidding and neglecting those they are meant to serve, the way religious leaders forget the entire meaning of their religion and use it to propel their fame and power, the slums where the poor have to beg to survive.
however, i do not agree with the way the west tends to almost always fetishize india into this almost dystopian land where it’s kill or be killed for the viewing pleasure of people who know nothing about our land. we cannot afford to be portrayed in a negative light as there is already little to no hollywood representation of south asians where india is shown to be a young, thriving nation bursting with potential. the last time hollywood acknowledged a movie in which india was shown positively was rrr (i still believe some of the hype over the movie was because it showed indians, therefore india, as beautiful and unafraid to be herself in the face of her captors. think back to all the shots of bheem in the forest, being one with nature and ram’s utter devotion to freeing his motherland instead of wallowing in its flaws). even then it was only once, and now we have yet again another movie where india is shown like this poor, uneducated, morally corrupt nation.
except…dev patel is also celebrating his nation, is he not?
i am not saying that india must always be shown as an unhygienic, primitive land filled with violent people and constant suffering. what i am saying is that while dev patel is showing the country in this specific light, he is also showing how its people are fighting back.
kid and his mother, two devoted believers of hinduism, stand up against the ones who use it to only further their own gains. the trans community, the hijra community, stand together in their own nation as worshippers of shivashakti even though their own brothers and sisters attack them, sometimes claiming trans people are a “western invention.” these are indians who value the lessons and beliefs imparted by their nation. the tabla is used to fuel kid’s desire to get revenge for his mother’s murder, it is used to tell stories and make people laugh. the ramayana is an allusion used to communicate that light triumphs over darkness no matter how difficult it may seem.
india is a land filled with complexities and contradictions. not one portrayal of india will ever, ever be truly accurate or correct. not the good ones, not the bad ones.
dev patel is just showing us the story of one, singular man. he does not speak for all of us, he is not claiming to always want to show india in a “backwards” way. he is simply telling the story of how a young man is fighting against the systems of oppression by using his mother’s faith in hanuman, the gods, as guidance to rid mother india of those who manipulate her rich culture and beliefs to pollute it. and if he has to portray india in a negative way to share this story then so be it, it is his freedom to do so. there is an entire generation, including myself, ready to look at dev patel and what he has done and say, “we can make more stories of our own,” and show india in a way that truly reflects her diverse, unique nature, one that rids this fetish of india being shown as unclean and impure.
let us celebrate that dev patel is paving the way for desis to have the power to tell our own stories in whichever way we want to.
anyway.
dev patel covered in blood was absolutely stunning, 10/10
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