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#man insect people are great

capinni · 2 years

Text

More insect people! Flutterbye Heartender, one of Montra's butterfly goons.

#man insect people are great #decided to put Flutterbye in a suit bc suits are cool #my art #my ocs #naming these nerds is fun too

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dr3c0mix · 27 days

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Sweet Hero Of Mine

Yandere! Antihero x GN! Hero! Reader

im back little stinkers <333

Edit!! Nsfw mentions removed! Replaced with..Elias being a dork ?

CW: Stalking, Creep behavior, Suggestive talk about reader, slight masochism

🪲 Elias was never into the whole Superhero thing.

🪲 He hated the constant swarming of reporters and fans screaming for his attention. He didn't want to be treated like a celebrity; he just wants to fight crime where people refuse to help.

🪲 That's why he avoided ever displaying himself like that. He preferred to stay in the shadows and kept his deeds out of the picture, but there are always rats scurrying around ready for another big scoop.

🪲 He could only scoff amusingly as he sees his little escapade last night being reported on tv with a blurry photo of him on the rooftops with the words "Mysterious Vigilante Strikes Again!"

🪲 He can admit, seeing them being so absorbed in what he does is pretty entertaining, he can feel his ego go up a bit.

🪲 Soon enough he gets tired of the incessant yap of interviewees talking about him and reaches for the remote.

🪲 His body freezes though when the reporter mentions some 'new hero' and he turns back to the TV.

🪲 His eyes are blessed with the cutest sight of a person dressed in a hero outfit with a logo on their chest. Their warm smile seems to radiate happiness as they talk to the reporter. Is this the new hero they've been talking about recently?

🪲 They ask for their opinion on the vigilante situation and he almost melts over their soft voice.

🪲 "I believe this guy has good intentions. Which is great and all but if it's endangering people and their properties, I think it's time they think about how running around and punching people in a suit isn't being heroic, it's being obnoxious!"

🪲 There goes his ego..

🪲 And perhaps his clean pants..

🪲 He starts researching all about this new hero. Who do they think they are?! This little brat has to be taught a lesson!

🪲 He stalks your social media, every fan account, every news atricl about your deeds, everything.

🪲 For for blackmail of course! Maybe he can find some dirt on you..in this fan account that makes thirst edits of you..

🪲 Soon enough he starts tracking you and your appearances. Every fight with a villain or any burning building with people that need saving, he's there with a high-grade camera that can snap all the rips and tears in your suit...for blackmail!

🪲 He's real happy that he wore a trench coat to your most recent battle or else everyone would have probably seen his growing boner whenever you throw a punch that connected to your opponent.

🪲 He's combing through the photos he took of you and shivers over your sweaty form and aggressive face.

🪲 He imagines meeting you, perhaps having a battle of his own, being pinned down by you, having your arms grappling and squeezing on his body. Perhaps you'd even say something degrading to him with that sweet voice of yours..

🪲 So that's what he does.

🪲 You were doing some last-minute night patrols after a long day of crime fighting and interviews when you hear a deep gravelly voice behind you.

🪲 "Hey there hero~"

🪲 You look back and see a large muscular man in a suit that looked like the armor of some insect.

🪲 "Huh, didn't expect to meet you here vigilante!" I joke.

🪲 "Oh please, call me Beetle~" He smirks as he walks closer to you. God you're even cuter in person..

🪲 "Well, Beetle, you are aware that you're kinda sorta wanted for a lotta stuff right?"

🪲 "Is it worse than the shit those pieces of scum done? Unlike youre pretty little ass I'm actually gettin bad guys off the streets.~" He teases, putting a hand on the wall and leaning close to your face. He's trying not to swoon over your stern face.

🪲 "Unlike you, I'm keeping people safe! Although I do commend your...unique sense of justice.."

🪲 *internal squealing*

🪲 He's a little surprised that you're so nice, unlike some other douchey heroes he knows.

🪲 He lets out a chuckle "That's new..Thanks goody-two-shoes.."

🪲 You give him a teasing face "Hey I'm not that much of an angel!"

🪲 "Oh~? Well o me you are, sweet hero of mine~"

🪲 You two become quick friends, even having missions together.

🪲 His obsession got worse from there.

🪲 Riding in your superhero vehicle, he rarely looks anywhere but at you driving, explaining to him the mission that he barely cares about other than the fact that it's an excuse to be with you.

🪲 Every time you take his hand to lead him somewhere, he makes sure to burn the feeling into his mind. Oftentimes he's the one doing whatever it takes to have physical contact with you, but it's way better whenever you initiate it.

🪲 You love taking pictures together. Of course he never smiles when you take one but when he's back at home, he's staring at it with the biggest, goofiest grin.

🪲 He loves taking pictures too, only he prefers ones with you and you alone. Sometimes it would be things you like so he wouldn't forget.

🪲 You blush, flattered over him remembering your favorite drink.

🪲 He'd memorize anything you say and put it in a top secret file named "My Love"

🪲 Oh my god please degrade him jokingly.

🪲 Bully him, push him around, be playfully rough with him!! Sure it's all in good fun but he's feeding his guilty pleasure whenever you treat him like shit while also being so sweet to him.

🪲 Pull him down suddenly by his suit's collar whenever you want to whisper something to him or show him something, he loves it. Although be warned, he might moan a little..

🪲 He's crazy for you, insane even, bonkers almost!!

🪲 He comes home seeing you in a superhero gala at one of the fanciest buildings in the city.

🪲 The bone-breaking grip on his beer bottle almost cracks the bottle when he sees you being accompanied by some other hero.

🪲 They're being all close with you and making you laugh, he can feel his jealousy rise within his body at the sight of your adorable smile, one that wasn't because of his jokes, his company!

🪲 Maybe it's about time he gives this superhero thing a try..

874 notes · View notes

lua-magic · 5 months

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Intresting Astrology facts (Vedic Astrology) Part 2.

Venus in fifth house natives will get money when they are into learning, teaching, counseling.

Venus in sixth house actually is debilitated, and gives problems in relationship, but here you can make money from service and charity, good for people who are into job.

Venus seventh house should go buisness in partnership.

Vedic astrology States that men who has their Venus in seventh house shoul not give importance to beauty in their partners because they will spoil their Venus instead focus on compatibility because seventh house is opposite to first house, so your partner should be of your energy match, hence Mars in seventh house should go partners with exalted Mars.

Venus ninth House, Venus with Jupiter, natives should always keep their morality and values on pedestal. Such natives can do work regarding religion and spirituality, and counseling.

Venus tenth House. Tenth house is your job and career and Venus is beauty, luxury, clothes, cosmetics, hence any Venus related work or job would be good as well, but as Venus in the house of Saturn, best remedy for Venus tenth house is take good care of shoes, or wear only branded shoes, as shoes are Saturn.

Venus eleventh House - Work related to social media, networking, even photography and videography would be good.

Venus twelfth house- Twelfth house is of foreign travels and foreign lands, so work related to import export, MNCs, or go to foreign land and work there

Venus is also healing, hence good Venus natives are great in healing others.

Venus with Moon, or Saturn Moon conjunction or in trine should choose work where they can travel alot, as moon is change of place.

Venus Mars Rahu conjunction or in trine should choose place where they get entirely different culture, like culture shock, but this culture shock is gonna be extremely beneficial for their money.

Venus Mars Ketu in conjunction or trine should go to place where people are connected to their roots, as ketu is roots.

Venus Mars, in conjunction or in trine if facing problems in work life, then change your place shift near hill station or mountains, as in vedic astrology Mars is Mountain.

Venus is money and Rahu is cheating, native who has Venus Rahu in conjunction or in trine could get cheated.

Venus moon Rahu - online cheating of Money.

Venus Sun Rahu, cheating by boss or higher authority, or father can get cheated.

Venus Sun Rahu native family will rise once they shift to foreign land, as rahu is foreign land and sun is family.

Venus Mercury Rahu- Cheating in documents or in business or by friends.

Venus Mars Rahu -Cheating in land or by brother, or brother can get cheated.

Venus Saturn Rahu Cheating by employees or people working under you or by elder member

Venus Jupiter Rahu Cheating by guru or teacher or by highly knowledgeable person.

If women has harmonal issues then Venus is afflicted.

If man has fertility problems then Venus is afflicted.

If your Venus is under the influence of malefics then you would fall sick often and has low immunity..

Natives with Saturn retro are obsessed with shoes and cleaning their foot

Natives with Mars Rahu often see or can come in contact with venomous insects, like bees, snakes, spider..

Ketu is Traingle and number of ketu is three, so Mercury ketu Native will always have three best friend.

Ketu is enemy of all planets except Jupiter.

If your ketu is debilitated then pray to your ancestors as ketu is roots

Natives with strong ketu are attached to their roots

Saturn ketu will pull you towards your roots, what work your ancestors were into, same work you will get into..

Whichever planets ketu is sitting or which ever house it is in you have to be spiritual regarding to it,

Venus ketu- spiritual regarding Money

Saturn ketu -spiritual regarding work

Jupiter ketu -spiritual knowledge.

Mercury Ketu -spiritual books or reading.

Mars ketu -spiritual regarding your land and property, and body, you need to treat your body and home as temple.

Moon ketu - Spiritual mindset.

Sun Ketu - Spiritual regarding family, respect every one in the family and think people around you are just big family of yours.

#vedic astrology #spirituality #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #astrology

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yusume-the-writer · 4 months

Note

If you wouldn’t mind, can we get a bf!Orter Mádl x F reader.

Where Orter is being jealous and over protective bf, that whenever men come near or talk with reader that he just scares them off in a way. And when confronted about his jealousy he denies (as expected).

Sweet and happy ending! (take your time!)

It's not jealousy if it's just to protect your loved one

Orter Máld x Fem Reader

Request made by Anon, thank you very much for this idea

I'm sorry for the delay. I was kind of having a problem creating a scenario, but I hope you like it

We have to agree that Orter seems to be really overprotective, as he is a Divine Visionary who follows the rules to an extreme and has probably made a lot of enemies.

Gender: Fluff

Summary: During a meeting between Orter and his girlfriend, someone appears to interrupt the couple's moment

Today was a great morning

Orter had missed a day off to spend with his lovely boyfriend (Name) as he was away because of work

So they spent half the morning in bed because of (Name)'s neediness (and also because Orter was hungry for her affection), and then they had breakfast and got ready to go out in the afternoon.

Now it was nighttime, and (Name) had mentioned a restaurant she wanted to try because of a friend's opinion.

And here they are both, in the restaurant while waiting for their orders to arrive

"A friend of mine said the sweets here are amazing! I can't wait to try them~" (Name) says in a childish tone similar to a child entering a candy store

"Okay, but be careful not to eat too much and get sick later" Orter says

"Okay dad, I'll be careful" She says while looking at him with a pout

"(Name) and you?!?" Suddenly an unknown male voice says

Then a guy appears that Orter has never seen in his entire life.

But it seems like (Name) does...

"Oh and you Kevin..." (Name) says while facing the stranger

However... she didn't seem happy about this sudden encounter

"Yes! It seems like yesterday that we met" The man known as Kevin says, seeming ignorant about the presence of the Divine Visionary

"Yes... because we work in the same office" (Name) says while looking at him as if he had asked a question that didn't even need to be asked because the answer was too obvious

Which was true, but Kevin thought he was a comedian

'There's the annoying colleague' Orter thinks as he remembers (Name) venting about how annoying and insufferable a colleague was and that he thought he was the guy for making uncle jokes

He wouldn't say it out loud, but he wants Kevin out of their sight now.

He just wouldn't say it out loud because (Name) would tease him about being jealous.

"Yeah... anyway -" (Name) tries to tell Kevin to go away

"Me and the guys from work are gathered here, don't you want to come? It'll be fun." Kevin cuts (Name), and it seems like he doesn't want her to deny the invitation

"She's on a date at the moment," Suddenly Orter says, catching the attention of Kevin and (Name)

"... And who would you be, man?" Kevin says it in a confused and disgusted tone of voice.

And, of course, he would be disgusted. There is a man who seems to be a thousand times better than him in front of him

"Her boyfriend, now that you're on leave, could you get out of our sight" Orter says while facing Kevin

Orter didn't look like it, but he was very angry

Kevin looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn't say anything

He wouldn't admit how threatening Orter looked or how he stared at Kevin like he was nothing more than prey, not an insect.

No, it didn't even seem like that Orter considered him, but rather just unbearable dirt on a clean floor

And like any dirt, it could disappear and no one would care

... An awkward silence filled the room around Kevin

Then he left without saying anything and went towards a table with people who saw the situation.

As soon as they saw that Orter was also looking at them, they quickly turned around.

"Heh~" A laugh echoes in front of Orter

As he faced the source of the sound, he found (Name) staring at him with a knowing smile.

"It looks like someone is jealous~"(Name) says while still staring at Orter

"...The food has arrived" Orter says as he changes the subject and faces the waiter who brought the orders

"Hey!!! Don't change the subject!"

"If you don't mention that, I'll buy all the desserts you want"

".....Closed"

𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔

Orter was in bed reading a book while waiting for (Name) to finish her skin treatment.

"Don't you think it's better not to read so much?" (Name) says while lying down next to Orter

Confused, Orter stares and raises an eyebrow for her to continue

"If you keep reading so much, your vision will get worse" (Name) begins. "And if you continue, every time you take off your glasses, instead of your eyes looking like 3 they will turn into 4" (Name) ends

Suddenly a pillow is thrown in her face

#mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle x reader #mashle x you #oneshot #mashle orter #mashle orter x reader #orter mádl x reader #orter x reader #orter madl #fem reader

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autisticsupervillain · 10 months

Text

Autistic Avatars not realizing that they're Avatars because they're just "like that": a thread

The Eye

Special Interest in the supernatural = constant food for The Watcher

You know about Interest? TELL ME EVERYTHING

"Hey man listen to me infodump about this horrifying ghost story I read for twenty minutes, alright?"

I need to Know everything about something before I partake in it.

"How did I Know that? Eh, I probably hyperfixated on it at some point."

I cannot be misunderstood so I'll beam the facts into your brain.

The Web

I must plan everything 200 steps in advance before doing anything.

I have prepared for all possible outcomes, I can now have this one conversation.

If I set up all these variables long in advance, then I can do everything correctly and Win the social interaction.

I cannot do anything before The Plan says to.

"I practice my social skills by talking to my spider friends." -Martin "Autism" Blackwood

The Stranger

I cannot socialize without being Uncanny.

If my socialization seems like an act, that's because it is. I practice it in the mirror every day.

Theater Kid

How do you Normal Human?

The Anatomy Class.

Assuming fellow Stranger Avatars also just have the 'Tism. They're not trying to be creepy, honest.

Can't do faces. Doesn't notice when you get replaced.

Being subtly off is too subtle for me.

The Lonely

"I have failed the social interaction. Let the fog reclaim me."

Talking to people is draining my batteries even faster than ever. I need to be alone for approximately 384,400,000 years.

Nothing can overstimulate me in the cool, blinding fog.

Nothing unpredictable can happen in the fog.

The fog is your friend.

The known connection between autism and depression feeds the fog.

The Dark

Why is the sun so god damn bright? I'm going to blow it up I swear.

Night Owl.

Everything's decently quite at night and people leave you alone.

Same overstimulation preventatives as the Lonely tbh. Dark and fog are good concealers.

The dawn is your enemy.

The dread florescent lights shall never bother me again. They break upon my arrival.

Can and will infodump to the monster under my bed. Even now it feels like it listens.

The Spiral

Autism makes getting other mental illnesses recognized hard.

Autism dissociation from body and mind. When did it become 3 AM and why do I hurt? Why am I grumpy? What vital self care task did I forget?

Literal mind doesn't often match reality. Reality is specifically unspecific.

Spaced out and wandered off. Where the fuck am I?

I'm not a mental baby, please stop treating me like it.

I'm not inherently dangerous, please stop treating me like it.

Memory problems my beloathed. Did that happen? I dunno.

What Is Time?

What Is Me?

The Gender

Why do things only make sense to me? What does no one else make sense?

The Flesh

Autism Genderfuckery = Flesh fueled dysphoria.

Meat is the only texture that's palatable. Especially the Mystery Meat.

Will never try any other foods. Too picky.

Infodumps about the horrors of meat processing at dinner and ruins the meal for everyone. More steak for me.

Hates PETA.

Double the arms means double the stim. You weren't using them, right?

Working out is a great stim.

The Corruption

Practices social interaction with the bugs who live in my walls.

"Insects are disgusting. I love them!"

Will protect endangered insects by any means necessary.

According to all known laws of aviation-

Relationship boundaries struggles.

Difficulty noticing sickness symptoms.

Is that nausea or am I overstimulated? *Accidentally causes supernatural plague outbreak*

Difficulty getting diseases diagnosed because of both Autism and noticing too many symptoms so the doctors assume they're faking.

Forgot vital hygiene needs.

The Bugs Are My Friends! They keep me company when I'm sick!

The Buried

Weighted blankets are insufficient, I need the Earth to reclaim me.

Avoid social interaction by tunneling everywhere like a mole.

101 facts about worms.

Forgor hygiene again. Time to become dirt.

Digging a hole is good stimming.

That guy who had to be buried alive to sleep properly. What do you mean you don't want to be buried?

The End

Aradia Megido from Homestuck.Com

That's it, that's the list.

The Desolation

The Autism Temper.

Losing relationships and friendships to ableism and your own disability constantly.

The Fire is a wonderful stim board. Watch it crinkle.

Just watching candles melt for hours.

The fire and thrill gives my life passion again.

Jude Perry.png

The Vast

Accidentally terrifying people by infodumping about the horrors of nature.

The stimulus of falling.

Nature/Space/Weather Documentary on in background always.

Okay, but from how high did you fall? I want to calculate your velocity as you fell through the void.

Weirdly enough... power scaling?

Power scaling is just the art of determining how easily your favorite characters can destroy mankind so... yeah, I can see it.

Brain empty, only terminal velocity.

The Hunt

Cat Autism

The inherent hyperfocus of the hunt. The chase. Your prey.

Studying the habits of your latest hyperfixation/Hunt assigned prey for days at a time.

I've spent so much time hunting in the woods that I forgot about human society. The Missing Person's Bureau have written you off for dead.

Returning to society to sell your wears and realizing you aren't human anymore.

That's okay. Social interaction is random. The Hunt makes sense.

It's black and white. Predator and prey. Humans hunting monsters. It Makes Sense.

The Slaughter

The incredible human WW1 documentary.

"Did you know?" *Describes horrible historic warcrime*

Takes apart puts back together guns from their collection.

The list of known casualties from this war is incomplete. With my help, they can expand it. :)

The Extinction

The world is spiraling towards its end and only you seem to care.

It hurts to be this passionate about a lost cause.

You Will Make Them Care.

#the magnus archives #autism #the eye #the web #the stranger #the lonely #the dark #the spiral #the flesh #the corruption #the buried #the end #the desolation #the vast #the hunt #the slaughter #the extinction

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thefiery-phoenix · 2 months

Note

how about yandere boyfriend h/c for Gun Park 🫶🏻

Sure

YANDERE PARK JONGGUN HEADCANONS

If you have this psychotic fighting obsessed lunatic after you as a yandere or as a significant other, I seriously pray for you and your mental health. He's the cause of people's trauma and gave at least half the lookism characters their own sob backstories. You'd meet him in middle school. He's the heir of the famous Japanese Yakuza organization of the Yamazaki clan. You didn't want anything to do with him at first. He was the poster boy for being a troublemaker and kept beating people up left and right. You hated his cruelty towards the other students and wanted to stay the heck away from him. One day however you accidentally bumped into him and you spilled some water over his shirt. His bodyguards simply glared at you menacingly as Gun stared at you with a cold stoic look on his face. However when you apologized profusely with a flustered embarrassed expression on his face, a small smirk formed on his lips as he watched you with an amused expression, trying to wipe his shirt with that cute little handkerchief of yours

You've managed to intrigue him now, congratulations because you have a stalker on your trail. He quietly observes you in the classes, how you're always quick to answer the questions asked by the teacher, how you're so eager to finish doing your homework...you were such a goody two shoes, the typical girl next door and he found your personality rather amusing. He felt like a predator watching his pretty little prey and he felt a surge of power rush through him. He found out everything about you within 10 minutes and during the lunch period he quietly left a bottle of your favorite drink and left

He promised himself he'd never have time for silly frivolous distractions like love and that nonsense. He was supposed to destroy everyone in his path to attain his great title of becoming the king of the second generation, so why couldn't he fight you when he was about to hit some random moron because they'd dared to challenge him. "Leave. This doesn't concern you" he said with his usual cold look on his face as a slight flash of irritation flashed in his eyes. Why on earth would you defend someone so weak and insignificant when you're supposed to be by his side? Do you not know you belong to him now? However when he sees you extending your arms out and looking at him with a slight angry determined pout and asking him to leave the student alone, for the first time, he actually listened to someone and it was you. An amused smirk formed on his face. "Aww...how cute, a little princess is trying to be a hero...just know things won't always work out your way and you'll need someone like me in the end to protect you...I'll wait for that day to come" said Gun with a slight hint of malice dancing manically in his eyes as he left

A few years later you've heard of his fearful and dangerous reputation around South Korea of how he's busy terrorizing the other gangs with another blonde pest named Goo. However you had no intention of getting involved in things like gang wars and such, your only objective was to just survive high school and get a decent job and make a life of your own. If you thought for a moment he's stopped watching you, you're absolutely wrong. He's always on the lookout for you and is always keeping an eye on you. The other day some random guy started hitting on you despite your repeated attempts of refusing him

"She said no you lousy insect..get lost before I murder you" said a familiar cold voice as he came out of the shadows in his long black suit and black glasses as he smoked a cigarette and glared at the man. "Who the hell are you to tell me what to-" said the man but couldn't finish his sentence as Gun ended up grabbing him by his neck with his hand and flung him to the nearby. He then put out his cigarette on top of the man's unconscious head as he smirked at you. "Well princess...it's been a while since we've met" he said as he strode closer to you. He surveyed your features, you didn't change since the last time he saw you. However what drew him towards you was your childlike naivety and innocence. Something he wanted for himself

"I'll be upfront with you...I don't play games. Go out with me. And don't you dare refuse, you know you don't have that option" he said as he leaned closer to you just to make you feel more flustered which he was getting a kick out of. You sighed and agreed to go out with him as he smiled evilly at you. But deep down, he could feel his heart melt slightly at your acceptance. What a good little doll you were, doing whatever he asked from you

As a yandere, he would be possessive, obsessive and manipulative as well. He's not above to using other people as mere chess pieces just to get whatever he wants from you. But the bright side is, he doesn't hurt you, physically or emotionally. Despite him not being too fond of the idea of romance, he has a pretty good idea of what to do with a partner. He likes taking you out to nice fancy restaurants where there's a private booth so you won't be able to squeal for help. This sadistic MF here loves and lives to see you squirm and get flustered. Don't get too surprised when this jerk here keeps running his hands down your thigh with a smirk on his face

He ALWAYS knows your location, despite you not even telling him. A certain purple haired brat keeps him informed as insufferable as he might be. If you've guessed it was Kouji then good job, you win a cookie. Another blonde psychopath who goes by the name Goo keeps him informed as well. You're not supposed to go anywhere without telling your man where you're going. He'll always be stalking you from the shadows, you're never really alone. He doesn't want you getting involved in gang fights and crew messes and stuff. When you asked him to fight you, he simply cracked a sadistic amused grin. A few seconds later you found yourself on the ground as he pet your head and chuckled softly. "Naive little princesses like you aren't supposed to be in gang fights..." he said as he softly caressed your cheek

He'd rather take this to the grave than admit this out loud but he loves it when you rake your fingers through his hair. He feels like all the walls in his heart are breaking down and he lets out a soft contended hum of approval. Had it been Goo doing that, his fingers would have been bent at an unnatural angle and would have to deal with his incessant whining. He also likes to hold you and have you on his lap. He likes the physical intimacy. Plus the view is great too, there's a reason he wears glasses you know...this shameless perv 💀

Don't underestimate his power. The second you try to leave him or get away from him, he'll end up kidnapping you. He has his own reasons, selfish reasons to be precise. Scream, cry and throw as many number of tantrums as you want, you won't be leaving him anytime soon. There's no way you'll be able to even fight him so the sooner you get that silly little thought from your pretty little head, the better it would be for everyone involved. He'll just think you might need some time to adjust and he'll give you your space. However when you try kicking and punching him, he'll just take them with an amused smirk on his face and coo at you describing your hits compared to that of a bratty little child trying to hit someone

He'd spoil the hell out of you though, whatever your little heart desires it's yours. Just say the word. He also likes it when he comes back from a fight and you patch him up and he can't help but lean in slightly into your touch as he looks at you with a soft affectionate look, reserved only for you, the special one in his heart. Of course, he might be a cocky little jerk to get deliberately injured in fights at times just to feel your touch and to see how adorable you look when you're all concerned and fussing over him. Goo will eventually call him out on his BS only for Gun to whack him across the head with a slight smirk but he wouldn't deny it

Now, as for the people who dare to steal you away from him or try to take you away from him...not even the gods would be able to save them. He will have no mercy when it comes to such people. Perhaps if he's feeling a tad bit merciful and he wants to get home to you quickly, he'll just beat them up till they're literally hospitalized for a month. Or else it's straight up death in the most gruesome and horrendous manner possible. He does not hold back and will go even feral than usual. Some lousy moron tried to take pictures of you while you were unaware of it a few days ago. Gun didn't even bother to hesitate to break the punk's hand and crush it in one go, silently vowing to murder the little pest later on in the night

Don't even bother trying to escape from him, you'll just be making him laugh at this point. He doesn't even need any help tracking you down, like I said before, he'll always know where you are. He can read you like an open book and knows what your thoughts are. He might be cold and aloof at times but he does like cuddling with you and petting your head affectionately. As much as you nag him to quit smoking, that's something he wouldn't give up on. But he finds it amusing and endearing how fussy you get about it and will pull you onto his lap and quickly capture your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss

Ultimately at the end of the day, no matter how ruthless he is he just wants to come back to you and have you in his arms, right where you belong...

#yandere lookism #yandere lookism characters #yandere lookism characters x reader #yandere gun x reader #yandere gun park headcanons #yandere gun park scenarios #yandere gun park oneshots #yandere gun park imagines #yandere park jonggun headcanons #yandere park jonggun #yandere park jonggun x reader #dark lookism #dark lookism x reader #dark lookism characters #dark lookism characters x reader #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism headcanons

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boozenboze · 1 year

Note

Can you do task force 141 boys with a medic male reader who is like Shinobu from demon slayer

Mr. Butterfly

Tf 141 x Shinobu!Male Reader

Females She/Her and She/They

A butterfly.Thats how you’d describe the h/c haired male.The beautiful design on the males jacket made him stick out.Hues of minty green and pink with a butterfly pattern.To top it off the male was a medic, a great one at that.He created toxins to stun and even kill enemies.Non-lethal and lethal depending on how he was feeling.

These things led the male to where he was now.Being brought to a new base that he was unfamiliar of.The male had a smile on his face as the driver looked at him for a second before blushing.The e/c eyed male chuckled before saying.

“It’s rude to stare you know.”M/n pointed out with his gaze still fixated out the window.The driver chuckled nervously,sweat dripping from hid forehead.He was lucky enough that the male hadn’t made eye contact with him,if he did he would just die right then and there.Now approaching the gates, the sight of a few soilders came into the e/c eyed males view.Now that the car was parked,the male in the haori stepped out of the car and took in his surroundings.There were many people along with buildings surrounding the area.

“Excuse me, Insect was it?”A soilder asked him as the male looked towards where the voice came from.

“Yes that is my name.I suppose your meant to be showing me around yes?”M/n spoke cheerfully as the soilder nodded in response.

“Yes sir um-follow me!”The soilder chirped in attempts of matching the shorter males energy.A few minutes went by and M/n was now inside one of the buildings,being led to the main part where his new team would be.When they got there M/n was greeted with 4 new faces.M/n suspected the man with the beard was the leader, and he was correct.

“I’m guessing your our new member hm?”Price spoke as M/n smiled.

“Guilty as charged sir, M/n L/n, it’s nice to finally meet you.”The h/c haired male said as Price chuckled at the shorter males tone.He seemed cheerful and ready to do things.M/n shook the hand of the brown skinned male who smiled at him,seemingly already fond of the s/c skinned male.

“Gaz, you can call me Kyle though if you’d like.”The male now known as Kyle said.M/n smiled at him as he stood there shifting in place.He seemed a little nervous around the new recruit.

“Weel arent ye braw.”Soap said while eying the male up and down as the tallest of them all spoke.

“English MacTavish, he doesn’t know what your saying.”The mask wearing male spoke up, noticing how the h/c haired male tilted his head slightly at the scots words.The mohawk having male sighed before saying.

“Well aren’t you handsome.~The names Soap!”The male said again in english,to which the shorter male chuckled.

“Well hello Soap and you aren’t to bad yourself.”M/n said with a slight blush on his cheeks.He turned around to look at Ghost who was already staring back at him.

“Are you gonna say anything lieutenant or are you just going to look at me.”M/n asked snarkily as Ghost looked away, blushing under his mask.M/n chuckled

“I’ll be taking my leave now,I have to get my office ready anyway.Bye-Bye!”M/n said as the soilder who had showed him around followed right behind him.He left his new team interested, flustered and excited.

A few weeks had passed and M/n was currently sparring one of the other recruits.Those who were watching were in awe of how fluid the males movements were.Without warning the male jumped unusually high into the air and thats when Price,who was standing near the arena widened his eyes in shock.He and the others watched the male kick the recruit several times in the head before pinning him down.

“I win.”M/n said shortly as the recruit admitted their defeat.M/n stepped out of the arena and was greeted with Soap who was asking him several questions.

“How’d you jump so high?!”

“Strong legs I guess.”

“Can you teach me how to do that?!”Soap asked while jumping slightly.He looked like a child in M/n’s eyes.

“Maybe another time, I’ll see you around!”M/n yelled out,now leaving the room.

“Doesn’t he have a katana or something like that.”Gaz asked as Price looked back at him.

“Yeah he does, have you not seen it?”Price questioned the younger male who shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ve seen him walking around with it I’m just unsure on what it looks like.”Gaz said as Price hummed.

“Go ask him, i’m sure he’d let you see it.”Price concluded before taking a drag of his cigar.(He knows M/n will scold him later so he’s trying to get it in)Gaz nodded in response,now speed walking to the males office.He knocked on the door before hearing an audible “come in.”

Gaz opened the door and walked inside, seeing M/n in a chair with the thing he’s been wanting to see.M/n was using a cloth to wipe his katana which already seemed clean.He then grabbed a small bottle that had a skull labeled on it before pouring it inside the scabbard.

“Did you need something Kyle?”M/n asked as the male sat beside him.

“Your katana, why is it shaped like that and what was that liquid?”Kyle questioned as M/n chuckled at the mans curiosity.

“Well my blade is meant to act as a stinger and the liquid you saw was poision.”M/n explained as Gaz’s eyes widened.He was about to ask another question till M/n cut him off.

“I use it on the enemy, it could cause a slow and painful demise for the victim.”M/n said a bit darkly as he continued. “You see I can’t always use long range weapons like others which is why I mainly stick to this.Other than having a possibly quick death i’d like to see them have their last moments in pain and suffering as my poison is the last thing they feel before dying.”M/n further explained as Gaz shifted nervously.He wasn’t used to this side of the h/c haired male,frankly he didn’t want to see it again.

Now moving along in a few trees M/n shot down the enemies who were currently guarding the building.The male made his way inside without drawing any attention.At least thats what he thought.As he rushed down the hallway he noticed an enemy just standing there, not paying attention.The soilder felt a piercing in his back and his eyes widened as he hit the floor.

“Oh my!~You should be paying attention darling!~”M/n spoke as the man pointed his gun at him.The man suddenly began coughing, and he spat up blood.

“Aw...seems that the poisions already kicking in.Oh well~sweet dreams handsome!~”M/n said while walking past the now dying man,snatching his rifle in the process.

“Insect this is Ghost how copy?”

“Im fine lieutenant,over”M/n said in response as shooting came from Ghosts end.M/n didn’t think much of it until a groan came from Ghosts end.

“Ghost you alright.”M/n asked as the man didn’t respond making him worry.He knew the male wasn’t far away since they’d been paired together on the same floor.

Ghost was laying flat on the ground,blood gushing out of his side as he struggled to stay awake.He had heaed M/n calleing for him but was to busy trying to stop the bleeding.He blinked for a moment before seeing something flying towards him.A butterfly a pretty one at that.A few moments passed and he ended up blacking out.

“Hey..........Hey!Are you okay?”A familiar voice said to him and slowly his vision cleared as well.He felt his head being elevated and placed down on something soft.He saw a pair of e/c eyes staring down at him and he noticed that his tacticle gear was off.He wasn’t bleeding anymore either.

“I gave you stitches and dressed your wounds as well.I gave you some medicine so that you can fight off infection as well.”M/n spoke softly as he reached his hand out to place it above the bigger mans gloved one.

“The others should be on their way to get us so we have to wait.”The shorter male continued as Ghost grunted.He turned his head to the side and it just occurred to him that his head was in M/n’s lap.He blushed beneath his mask and shifted in position so that all his weight wasn’t on M/n.

“Ahh...well aren’t you sweet.”M/n said as Ghost huffed.

“Shut yer mouth.”

“Hmm...this is why no one likes you.”

#gay #male reader #cod x male reader #mw2 x male reader #male y/n #gaz x male reader #soap x male reader #captain price x male reader #ghost x male reader #lgbtq

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e1dritchjackal0pe · 5 months

Text

𝔗𝔬 𝔅𝔢 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 ℑ𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔅𝔢 ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔢𝔡

Summary: Because of a past refusal, the god who once fostered and protected your village has cursed the land and left it in constant darkness and bloodshed. But years after the island's condemnation he visits the priestess in her dreams, claiming that he is once again willing to take a sacrifice in exchange for the people's salvation.

You are left to grapple with your reality when that sacrifice is announced to be you.

Notes: 26k words, so . . . grab a snack? Also, this has not been proofread yet so sorry for any errors and misspellings. Banner is credited @saradika

Warnings: MDI - 18+ content! AFAB, Sacrifice AU, violence, horror elements, the reader is drugged physically for ritual purposes but it doesn't affect her in the Dreaming? illusions to death, an animal is harmed but does not die, a small teaspoon of stalker Dream (sorta), hints of possessive Dream but he's also soft. Oral (F!receiving), he's a switch, a bit of soft dom Morpheus I suppose, sex outside but there is no voyeurism involved, unprotected sex.

The memories of your mother are vague at best. Like gazing up at someone while being submerged under water. But what you could remember, quite vividly at that is the wild fables and stories of gods and heroes that she would tell you, sending you off to sleep with images of great serpents slicing through the waves of the seas or the behemoth hound snapping at the tormented souls of the underworld with its many heads. And she taught you of the nymphs of the ocean and the wood, and the great gods that cloak the skies with heavy storm clouds and bind the souls of lovers together.

But perhaps one of the most important to your isolated village, the one who was vital to the people's survival was the deity Morpheus. Dream of the Endless, the King of Dreams and Ruler of Nightmares. The heavenly benefactor that assured you all prosperity and wealth. He was benevolent and caring, and to commemorate the god, murals were created in his image. Some portrayed him as both beast and man. With the lithe physique of a human, the textured, taloned feet of a bird and great wings pridefully expanding from his back, stretching high in a reaching arch and a head that you could not discern if it was intended to mimic a bird or insect. The protrusion from his face reminded you of the proboscis of a mosquito but it was jointed and colored like ivory like a bleached spine.

But on occasion the paintings depict the god as a striking statuesque man, clutching a group of blood red blossoms in one hand and fragments of pale sand poured through the fingers of an opposing upturned palm. And he seems to have his wings in this form also. And they are always with feathers the color of the night sky.

Your mother had told you that he was a kind ruler. But even kindness is not without its conditions.

The people had spoken of an offering that must be made to the Endless to appease him, an exchange for his watchful eye and shelter. A sacrifice must be given. A human one. The thought had terrified you as a child. But the villagers - even your own parents seemed to accept the requirement without any qualms. No complaints were made from the people. It was taken as a fact of life. The same as how the sun rises in the east or how fire burns when touched. No one fought when the shrine guards came in the morning. When the dawn was but a smudge of lavender in the horizon, knocking on doors and collecting any woman who was of age regardless of it they were already wives with families and duties.

Not even your father or mother had protested when they came to take her away to the temple. And you had latched yourself onto her hips, refusing to let go even when she assured you that this was a good thing. That it was a great compliment to be even considered for the choosing. And that if she was selected as the offering - to join the Dark God that it would bring honor not just to the village but to your house as well. But you had refused to listen, shaking your head while your tears dampened the fabric that covered her body. The hierodules had to tear you from her hips, and your father had to secure you in his arms as she left with the guards to the join the other women who had been collected from their homes.

The next passing days for you had been melancholic and distressing to say the least but the village was a kaleidoscope of colors and festivities. And despite the joy that thrummed across the air, the world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting the day for the Choosing when the head Priestess would reveal the offered woman that Endless had deemed worthy enough to be his sacrifice.

The ceremony had been held near dusk and a heavy quiet had fallen over the collective as you all look up to the priestess, desperate to hear which womans name she would utter. The anticipation was stifling as you all awaited who would become his bride, and your fingernails had dug into your father's hand so harshly that it must have stung, but he did not flinch or jerk away once, far too enamored with the event. And when the sister had revealed the Chosen the crowd had cheered and some gasped, but you had cried. Cried with relief and joy.

But on that day the Priestess decided to deny the dark god of his sacrifice and that decision would mark the fall and despair of your village for years to come.

And now you stand where your mother once did. But instead of the cover of a gentle twilight, the unforgiving heat of the sun wafts over you, engulfing you in a sweltering heat and pounds down on the crown of your skull. Voices clamor from down below, the frenzied cries of desperate people, and it has the women standing at your sides shivering like startled doe's. You could not blame them in the slightest. You too wanted to quiver and sob to expel your fear, but you could not bear to show any vulnerabilities. Not to the hungry crowd, too terrified in their own right to empathize with your distress.

The ritual is only in a few days' time and the atmosphere that looms across the village with a heavy sort of anticipation is a conflicted sort of energy. There was an obvious air of excitement, prickling at your skin and nearly leaving you breathless but there was also the underlying thrum of . . . fear. It pained you to look out to the masses and see their jostling bodies, waiting with bated breath to hear the name of the Endless' intended. To hear if he would finally accept a sacrifice again after so many years of anguish and terror.

They had decorated the thresholds of houses, and the columns of buildings with rich tapestries and fine wreaths just as had been done in the past. The people- your people frolic about in special fabrics- deep reds and blues to herald the Endless. Gorging themselves on the five-day long feast: the meat of boar and quail and an abundance of fruits. The flow of wine and spirits did not stop. It had only progressed if the slurred shouting and rumbunctious laughter that had reached you from behind the thick walls of the commune was any indication. Celebrating their lives. Celebrating your death.

Despite your circumstances you had been nothing but pampered since your forced participation. Fed only the finest meals and bathed in expensive oils and perfumes. You have been chosen by an ancient; a harsh voice hissed cruelly from the depths of your mind. The voice of the old sister. The woman who had sealed your awful fate. The one who claimed that the mind walker -the dark god himself had come to her in a dream and had spoken to her she had reiterated animatedly, sharp piercing eyes nearly rolling back in her skull from her mania. Her body had quivered from her passion and the other women that had been selected and forced into a reluctant row had nearly flinched back at the intensity of it. You all clung to each other, hands gripping the other for support. Something to tether yourselves to the ground. All of the eligible women had been wrangled up, torn from the arms of their families. Even women with husbands and children were taken away, no one was spared in the wishes of finally appeasing the god.

You had scanned the clamoring crowd in the hopes of finding someone who would be willing to help. Someone who would disagree. Perhaps a stranger would show pity or sympathy, but you found no one. They were all hanging on to the demented rambling of the old priestess. Their silence was palatable. The crazed joyous eyes of people with hope. Hope of reprieve from the decade long curse that had tainted the village. And unfortunately, one of the maidens- one of you that stood in that horrid line was the answer to their prayers. And when you found no sympathy, you looked past the commotion and the roofs of houses to the sea in the distance and imagined yourself taking to the dark waves and escaping under the tide and froth. Emerging somewhere new and wonderful.

Of course, there would be no freedom for you. Not when her horrid eyes strayed from the desperate crowd and pinned you in your place the air had been expelled from your lungs with a harsh gravity. The realization of your fate.

And then as if to perpetuate her point further, to drive the knife in deeper and twist, she lifted her crooked finger up in the air and pointed. Right at you. And the other girls that were clinging to your body for support and comfort had jerked from you as if you were dirty and blemished, sobbing with cries of relief while they fled in search of their mothers and fathers in the crowd. But some of them had sank to the dust and clasped their hands together as if in prayer, kneeling at your feet like you were sanctified.

"The Endless has found his Chosen." She crooned and the people had roared in a victorious cry.

They took you kicking and screaming, ignoring your cries of protest while they carried you off to the Sisters commune to prepare you and the townspeople looked on, watching you feverously with a horrid sort of enthusiasm. Relief you recognized.

You had been forced into decadent silks and decorated with jewelry that at one time you would have dreamed of wearing, but they might as well as have been hot iron with the way that they felt against your skin. Restricting, disgusting.

They paraded you around for days, making you the pinnacle of the festival while you watched them all sink into their basest desires, influenced from alcohol and the intoxication of relief. You tried not to blame them. To see past your pain and hurt and summon some forgiveness. After all, they were only afraid. The same as you had been, the same as you are now. Fearful of the Night King and his spirits. The horrible kakodaimon hoard that serve at his command and wreak havoc should their emperor be denied of his sacrifice. Some are little more than mischievous deities, entertaining themselves with otherwise harmless pranks: Stealing shoes and tying the hair of women into knots while they sleep unaware. The stuff of tales and bedtime stories. But he has other creatures. Monstrous, evil things that steal infants from their cribs and drain bodies of their lifeblood and chew bone.

The same horrid beings that have been tormenting the village for a decade now, arriving in the night to snatch up any poor soul who had been foolish enough to be caught outside during the dark. Many have died during the years since he's unleashed his army of terrors upon the village. The dark creatures snatching them up in their gnarled claws, as lethal as a sharpened daggers and carrying them off with the swift whisper of wings. All because he was refused.

And now finally you sit underneath the stars again, after being forced behind barricaded doors and huddling underneath the table and hoping that the creatures wouldn't break through the door and tear themselves inside with gnashing teeth to feast upon your flesh. Clinging to the hope that you would survive until daybreak when the blessed sun would rise from the horizon and banish them away. If only for a little while.

For the first time since you were a child you may embrace the dark and breath in the warm night air, feeling it sooth your lungs like a balm. You're as full of wonder as you are paranoia. Waiting for one of the nightmares to leap out of the shadows and steal you away. But even the weight of the silver and diamonds adorning your body and the deafening laughter of the feast couldn't tear your eyes away from the black expanse that loomed above. Stretching out like a horrible, beautiful black void that threatened to eat you alive. And you nearly felt crushed with how small - insignificant it made you feel. The unforgiving stretch of the cosmos looming above seemed to force your own mortality upon you with a harsh sort of grace. And it angered you that the dark god had stripped this sight from you for so many years. He had taken so much from you all and now they all once again chant his name as though he was a savior and not the reason for their strife and agony. Celebrating his image like he was a humble god that had not punished them and their children with beasts and terrible dreams. All because he was not given a woman who had been promised to him.

You had never felt so bare in your life, having been forced on the plush velvet cushions of a palanquin to be carried around on the shoulders of the temple guards and displayed around the village. There was no shelter from the prying eyes of the townspeople who had watched you with the same sort of desperate hunger as a pack of starved dogs, shameless and pitiful. They had been pelting you with the vibrant blossoms of violets and dark seeds, and the abundance had begun to collect atop the cushions, and you had been tempted to sweep the offerings off the side of the vehicle but as if sensing your intentions one of the priestesses had swiftly swiveled her head to glare at you from her place beneath you. You had been tempted to defy her regardless, to hold eye contact with her as you did so, but despite your petty desire you held yourself back.

They did eventually lower you from their shoulders and back down onto the earth, and a few women had emerged from the boisterous crowd -servants perhaps - to hand you food and drink. You had not wanted to accept it, too prideful to take what they had given you and make them believe that they had managed to placate you with a meal and wine, but eventually your stomach had won and you hesitantly abandoned your dignity. It had been too long since you had last had a decent meal, having survived off of measly scraps for too long. You had gorged yourself on the figs and fish and honey cakes, chasing it with the rich wine when you had become parched and soon your head had become light with the influence of the fermented liquid, and it allowed you to ignore the cajoling throng of people and the sisters' that observed you.

The priestesses surrounded you like a group of statues, pillars of death. Silent and watching. Guarding. They observe when the villagers approach you, eyes glinting hauntingly like they're waiting for one of the people to lash out and attack you. You hoped someone would and finally put you out of your misery. But instead, they all crouched down low at your feet, whispering their gratitude like you had asked for this purpose and placed bundles of red flowers on the earth to surround the palanquin. Even a child had approached you, thanking you for the salvation you offered. It had nearly broken you and tears had threatened to spill down your face. It almost disgusted you to look at them. Soft, delicate blossoms that were a harsh scarlet. Red like blood. Poppies you had realized. The flower associated with the Endless. It made you nauseous to be surrounded by his symbol. And suddenly they were not so pretty anymore and there were too many. Overflowing at your feet and pilling up so high that it felt like the people were trying to build a wall around you.

"Why must I do this?" You gasp, feeling as though you were being crushed. The sister to your right is the one who speaks but she does not turn to look at you, instead focusing on the roaring pyre that the villagers dance around under the guide of the drums and flute. "Because it is your purpose." The answer is cold and matter of fact, sparing you no sympathy. It is a sentence that you have heard uttered one too many times in the passing days, almost as though they believed you would come to accept your circumstances if you heard it enough. You just could not understand why they would be so easily swayed to accept the god who had turned his backs on them so long ago. Abandoned them and tormented them because of his own hubris. Scorned because the head priestess before had not given him her own daughter.

He had plagued your village for too long. Ravaging men and women and children with horrid dreams and dying crop. Except for now. Ever since the choosing ceremony, when you had been selected the gardens had blossomed seemingly overnight, overgrown with a prosperous harvest and the hunt had been successful after many moons of coming up with little more than measly rabbits.

They would always return to his dark embrace after the horrors that you have all been forced to endure. It did not matter if he demanded one maiden or a thousand, they would spare as many women that he demanded. Even if it meant finding shelter under the punishing hand that caused all of their pain.

But it still does not explain why he had accepted a sacrifice after so many years of silence and refusal. After turning his nose up at every attempt to reconcile and give an offering he makes his presence known now. But what had changed? Why you? Surely the god that presides over dreams and walks amongst the subconscious must know that you are no longer a chaste woman. A tainted old maid is what they would whisper about you. There was no sense to any of this.

"But why me?" And the fragile strings of jewelry draped around your neck clink against each other, but it is an annoying sound that has your nails digging into the rich tapestried cushions. It is the one to your left that speaks now. Her voice is deceptively soft, bubbling like a gentle stream. "We do not question the Endless. " She responds. And although her voice is much more welcoming than her sister's her words are just as indifferent. " You will be our salvation. Our forgiveness. You will save us. "

Any bit of protest had died in your throat before you could get them out. You focused on the festivities instead, watching the people chant and sing old songs. And dancers leapt around the fire, dressed in furs and leather and colorful fabrics to mimic figures from folklore and the very monsters that had massacred your village for years. Wearing masks fashioned from old hides and animal pelts, brandishing the horns taken from cattle and deer. They playfully leapt at the crowd that encircled the fire as though they were going to swipe. And some had constructed costumes to imitate the dark plumage of the raven, one of his coveted animals.

This was twisted. A mockery of suffering and pain. Pissing on the memory of the people who had fallen victim to the dream god and his nightmares.

How could they all forget so easily?

You could feel the sting of anger simmering within your chest, prickling at your fingertips. It made it difficult to breath around the weight of it all. You continue to watch them all despite the rage and sorrow that it induces. The horrible way they galivant around and clap and cheer. It's disgusting and awful. Even the children. The poor children participate, lunging at the false monsters with wooden swords and some are dressed as the dark creatures themselves.

To get some sort of reprieve you looked to the night sky, staring up at the full moon as though its goddess would hear your silent plea and save you from your fate. Whisking you from this starving mob and your doomed fate to her hidden island to frolic with the nymphs free from your crude duty. But the glowing deity did not appear, and you were left to stare at the lonely dark void of the night while the stars winked and fluttered as though their light might dim and die. It was foolish to believe that the goddess of virtue would appear for a woman like you.

But then you could feel it. A magnetic pull that tilted your head from its upturned position, and your eyes lower onto something gleaming with a pale light. Two shimmering pieces, shinning much like the moon hanging above. It is a pair of eyes you come to quickly discern. Reflecting the bright glow of the pyre in a way that is decidedly not human. Those are the eyes of a beast: An owls may do that, or a wolf's or a cat. Not a human. But the face that they belong to is very much a man's.

It is difficult to make out the features of his face past the way that the heat of the open flames warp the surrounding atmosphere and the smoke twists and coils into the open air like deadly serpents. But you can comprehend the sharp jut of high cheek bones and pale milky skin almost as though he was cut from a fine marble. His expression is not a joyous one or celebratory like the other villagers, instead it is stoic and serious. The intensity of his glare has you pinned in place. It is you; you realize. He's staring at you.

The world suddenly feels weightless, like you're suspended in a vacuum. You had heard a story from an old hunter once. One who had miraculously survived a lightning strike and he had been shunned by many of the others for his scars. After all he must have done something to warrant the strike. He must have scorned the Lord of the Sky himself. But you had spoken to him regardless and he had told you that he had felt it before it had hit him, even though it was only for but a second. His hair had stood on end and his skin had tingled strangely before his body was flooded with a numbing white-hot heat. And you could feel that sensation prickling over you now, like the whisper of a thousand fingertips brushing you all over. It made you shiver, and you adjusted yourself in your seat in an attempt to banish the feeling, but it never faded. If anything, the steady pulses persisted and seemed to thrum with even more intensity nearly making you gasp aloud. You wanted to look away from the strange man, but you could not seem to will yourself to turn your gaze from him, and some strange part of you did not want to. He was gorgeous in a haunting sort of way, but you could not figure out why. There was an unearthly quality to his countenance, like he was he was not a man but wearing the face of one.

It was then you noticed the color of his robes. Black. But that was not right. No one else was allowed to sport the Endless' color, no one else apart from the head priestess was allowed to wear his color, as a way to display her connection and loyalty. It was considered an extreme offence for any other person to bear a cloth in his shade. A punishable offence that would often result in public ridicule and the removal of the criminal's dominant hand. Some have even claimed that the accused may be haunted from night terrors for the crime until the passing of their natural human life. So who would be bold enough to flaunt around in public in such dark robes?

He must be a foolish man. Or at least an arrogant one. And as though he could hear your thoughts the corner of his mouth quirks in just the faintest hint of a smile. So delicate that it could be mistaken for a trick of the light. But you could see it in his otherworldly eyes too. It looked as though that it did not suit him, but he also wore the expression beautifully. It was an odd juxtaposition, and you did not know what to make of it. He looks like no one you had never seen before but is also painfully familiar, like an old memory.

Oddly enough no one else seems to notice his presence at all. A phenomenon that could be blamed on the alcohol and high spirits but what couldn't be wrote away by reason was the way that a drunk seemed to stumble through the strange man, causing him to vanish like a plume of smoke and the pale shimmer of his eyes was the last to fade, piercing some buried part of you before disappearing entirely and with it something clicks into place.

The sensation that had spilled over you leaves with him, releasing you from its hold and allowing you take a deep breath that you had not known you needed. That awful wonderful stare. . . Could that have truly been the nightmare masquerading as a man? They have been known to do such a thing before. Using the guises of people and loved ones to lure vulnerable victims out for slaughter. Then another thought trickles down to the forefront and it has a cold shiver skipping down the notches of your spine. What if it had been the nightmare king himself? Come to see you, his intended bride?

Surely you were hallucinating. It has never been mentioned before that the deity has ever made appearances before the ritual. None of the other past offerings have spoken of it. If it has happened, then none have ever cared to mention it.

It had a troubled sinking feeling plummeting in your gut and it stayed with you throughout the night until the priestesses had collected you from your place and ushered you back to your temporary quarters where the servants prepared you for sleep. Insisting that you bathe, pouring luxuries oils into the steaming water and combing your hair before bed. They fret about like ghost. Silent and always moving so they are often little more than glimpses in your peripheral vision. They hardly speak. Only enough to offer commands that are loosely guised as suggestions or to whisper softly amongst themselves.

They do not like you; you could easily tell. If the unabashed away that they gossip quietly while in your presence is any indication. But one of the women in particular does nothing to hide her distaste. Watching you with scorn in her eyes and a scowl on her lips. Neither of you had made any efforts to verbally communicate your hatred for the other, instead opting to passive aggressively telegraph the fact with petty gestures. Such as when she had decided to harshly pick through your hair while preparing you for the first feast. Clawing at your scalp with the teeth of the comb harshly enough to sting and throb for the entire night. The apology that she had given you was pathetically fake, contempt framed around a smile and feigned concern. She did not do it again when you had accidentally spilt hot tea across her hip when she was selecting your jewelry.

But even now you could feel the heat of her glare against the crown of your skull and the grip that she had on your hair was harsher than necessary, but you simply did not have the energy to reprimand the action. Not after being paraded around the feast all night like a prized brood mare, sluggish under the weight of silks and pearls that decorated you.

You feel her leaning over your shoulder before she speaks, the heat of her body irritates your skin and you find yourself tensing and trying to lean from her presence, but she is gripping your hair in a tight grip that keeps you from shifting. "You do not deserve to be touched by a god." She hisses, venom tainting her words.

"Clearly you do not either," you snap just as harshly, gripping the sides of the basin so that you do not twist out of her hold and lash out. The other maids do not so much as glance over at the altercation, simply going on about their duties as though the both of you do not exist. "Or else you would be the one bathing in oils and dining on fruits and wine. " The hold on the back of your scalp goes slack somewhat, allowing you enough leeway to peer over your shoulder and meet the heated gray of her eyes. "How does it feel to know that your god has no desire for you?"

She does not respond even though you can tell that she is actively biting her tongue to hold down her barbed words. It irritated you. The way they all acted as though they truly loved him. It was not affection they felt, but fear. You loathed the lying and the pretending all in the sake of appeasing the horrid god, and yet you could not find the courage to voice your opinions. It was a fruitless endeavor you knew to try and speak to these people. As tortured and hopeless as they were. And as much as you wanted to ridicule them their actions were not unfounded. You had seen firsthand what the Endless was capable of when he was denied of promises. You had watched you own mother be dragged away by venomous claws and terrible simpering fangs. There was no room for argument. At least not a sensical one.

And so, you had remined silent for the remainder of your bath and until the servants had retired for the night, settling underneath the soft linens, but you were unable to relax. Not when you could still feel that man's eyes searing into your skin. Not from the fear of falling danger to the night terrors and horrible dreams, even though you have been quite fortunate, having not experience a single nightmare in quite some time. But that dark figures presence felt like a bad omen. An awful warning for the things to come. What if he sends his demons to come and haunt you and drag you away in the dark? What if he means to punish you? You wrack your brain to try and remember if you could have ever possibly scorned the dark god but come up empty. Granted you have never particularly harbored pleasant feelings towards the deity but not a single soul in the village has since the day that he chose to curse it, tainting it with beasts and painful dreams. Sometimes tormenting the people with dreams so intense and horrid that some have passed away in their sleep, suffering from weak hearts or fragile lungs. Other have been driven mad from the vividness and the persistence of the nightmares to the point that they have lost all sense of self and reality, some noy just taking their own lives but even the lives of others in the midst their distress and agony.

He was a dreadful god whose love was built with conditions and lies. Boasting the promise of prosperity and protection but the only thing you need protection from is him.

An airy coo breaks you from your troubling thoughts, drawing your attention to the corner of the room where a familiar black shape trots out of the shadows, almost as though he had materialized from them.

"What are you doing here you silly thing?" You could not hold in the short disbelieving laugh that escapes you in a huff, affection growing within your chest. You are not even sure how he could have possibly gotten inside the Sisters' commune and found your quarters, especially considering that the trek from your cottage to the village was a decent walk. He must have found an open window or slipped inside when no one was looking. You would not put the feat past him, he always seemed to be skulking about.

You prop yourself up on your elbow to welcome the cat as he leaps onto your mattress, leaning into your hand with the tilt of his head. And you are thankful for the familiarity and the calm that washes over you at the feel of his long fur against your palm. It is a great comfort to have your companion back with again after being away from home for so long. But when your affection became too much, he slipped out from underneath your hold and retreated to the foot of your bed with a petulant flick of his tail, deciding to watch you with the piercing blue of his eyes instead.

"Oh, my dearest apologies, " you jest, pulling your blanket up higher around your shoulder and try not to take it personally as he moves from you. "I did not mean to offend you."

He blinks slowly, a very simple gesture but it always felt like it was done with an air of judgement. But then again, the animal always seemed to carry himself an imperious sort of way, even though he is but a cat, he manages to be rather expressive when he wants to be.

"Have you been taking care of yourself?" You ask as though you would get an answer. You hate the thought of him being out so late with the possibility of those dreadful creatures roaming the ground and skies, ready to snatch and gouge with deadly claws. You know that he could fend for himself. He is a feral cat at best, coming and going as he pleases. Often vanishing for concerning periods of time before reappearing at your doorstep as though he had never left at all. But not even the beasts - the regular forest dwelling kind or the godly ones are the only threats that roam the dark. People could be just as awful. You honestly do not how he has managed to survive as long as he has with all the dangers lurking about. It was the same thing that you had wondered about on the first day that you saw him wandering around the tall grass that surrounded your home while you were out tending to your stubborn garden. But the second thought and the most startling was the realization that you were even looking at a cat at all. There had not been a single feline spotted on the village since the morning after the failed ritual all those years ago. All of the cats had but vanished from the island without a trace. Gone as though they had not been here at all, like they had all piled onto a boat and paddled to the mainland or a giant hand had descended from the sky and plucked them from their homes and alleyways. But now there was one there, slinking through the tall grass, a whisp of black against the dead golden reeds.

It had you pausing from your task of searching for an unblemished vegetable that had not been tainted by worm bites or disease (which was proving to be a pointless endeavor) to watch the cat on its little journey. But despite your awe you had noticed the lethargy that seemed to slow its movements considerably. The usual feline grace that the animals typically carry themselves with was replaced by sluggish and jerky movements. The cat was all but stumbling between the tall stalks of grass. And in your worried study of the animal, you noticed a series of angry red slivers peeking through the thickness of his fur along its side. Four angry red wounds that would have been difficult for a human to endure, but for a cat you could not imagine the tole it was taking on its body to remain conscious. Especially through the pain no doubt.

It had been entirely upon reflex to jerk up from your place on the ground, concern overshadowing your tact and making you forget that it may be a feral and undomesticated creature. And your worry did not prove to be unfounded when the cats head swung over in your direction, freezing in its walk to assess you. The both of you held a long exchange of stares and you had wondered if you should try to approach it, but then it had bolted. Lurching forward on wobbly feet and your heart had jumped in your throat, entirely frightened that he would flee to the cover of the forest and succumb to his wounds. But the cat had only made it a few paces before it was crumbling to the dirt and collapses on its side.

You had barged through the gate of your garden leaving it to creak on its hinges while you approached the cat's body, hoping that he had not given into the trauma of the lacerations. But a glance over with your eyes confirmed that it was thankfully still breathing. You had whispered your apologies when you had noticed that he was watching you as well with a tired glassy stare, scooping him up as gently as you could and carrying him into your house to provide as much care as you could.

The cat's body was already making efforts to build scabbing, the thick red having coagulated along the edges of its wounds. But the blood was still flowing too much for your liking, staining the linens that you had folded near the hearth for the animal to rest on. You were going to have to sew. Unfortunately, due to the infertility of the soil and the bad luck with yielding a healthy garden you had little herbs or flowers for medicine. And truthfully you did not know much of cats and which plants and medicines that should be avoided or would help him recover from his ailments, but with no one to confide in you did your best. Making sure to cleanse the slashes with fresh water before you began to stitch. Having no choice but to settle for the needle and thread that you used to make repairs on your clothing.

"I'm afraid you aren't going to like me much after this, but I don't think we have much of a choice. " You had said, as you knelt down on the floor of your kitchen, settling in front of the animal with your thread in one hand and the needle in the other. It had peered at you from the corners of its eyes, too weak to move its head, but you had seen something flashed in its weary gaze that seemed a lot like irritation.

You had tried to be as nimble and delicate as possible, doing to your best to focus past your anxiety to steady the mild quiver of your fingers, especially when they had become slick with blood. You tried to softly sooth the cat as gently as you could muster whenever he would jerk from pain. And thankfully you were finished before you realized, and you wrapped a strip of clean cloth around his middle to keep it clean from dirt and possible infection.

He had laid there for several days, only moving when you had to change his dressings. And in the beginning, he had hardly eaten or drank, and you had feared for the worst. That despite your best-efforts illness had gotten ahold of him and stripped him of his appetite. But on the second day of you trying to persuade him to at least drink it seemed he had grown tired of you tapping your fingertips along the edge of the bowl or the way that you would defeatedly try to spoon-feed him water from the divot of a spoon and had lapped at the water from the edge of his linens before looking up you with a pointed glare. It took even longer to get him to eat, sharing with him pieces of rabbit that you had managed to trap.

And since his presence in your home the beasts outside had been more active than usual, as though they could smell the blood of his wounds and had taken to clawing at your door. And on some nights, you could hear the muffled thump of footsteps skulking along your roof. They had never been so eager before. So persistent. Typically, the thing that mimics was the only one that stayed so close to your home, often screaming throughout the night like an animal. It even cried like a distressed woman or an anguished child. Sometimes it's true voice slips through the glamour. The sound of thousands speaking in unison, of men, women and children. Stolen souls forced to speak through the maw that devoured them whole.

As terrible as it sounds a part of you has grown used to its presence. It had become routine almost, hearing the awful imitations pouring from its mouth from behind your front door. And you have spent many a night underneath the latch that you had made in the floor of your house, sleeping in burrow dug underneath the wooden planks with a dagger clutched to your chest. But when you had the cat in your home the activity seemed to increase, and you had spent every night spent underneath your floor with the cat delicately placed in the corner on his own bundle of blankets where he would lay without moving, too weak to shift or turn.

And they had returned the next night too with the number greater than the last, stalking around the perimeter of your house. Hissing and chortling in the night like a pack of demonic rabid wolves. It had been most cruel when a familiar voice had spoken from the other side of the front door, too distorted and inhuman to truly be your loved one, but similar enough to taunt you. A mockery of your father's voice begging you to let him inside. And even within your room underneath the floorboards you could still hear it. It talked for hours and spoke as both your mother and father until tears were prickling at your lash line and threatened to fall, and you had done what you could to distract yourself. Staring at the floor above you, finding shapes and faces in the patterns and shifting shades of the wood.

It was the first time that the cat had even attempted to seek out any sort of contact. Weakly perking up from his corner and settling on the length of your legs from above your blanket and he had stared up at the floorboards above you with a startling air of intent. The voices crooned out and the rasp of talons scratched along the walls of your house. Then mercifully the voices had stopped. Seemingly all at once a peaceful hush had fallen over the atmosphere and you finally felt as though you could breathe again. The monsters had not returned that night. Or on any other night. It was as though they had vanished entirely which you knew could not be true because you could still find evidence of their existence in the forest while you hunted or washed your linens in the nearby stream.

His health had steadily risen over the next few days. The wounds on his side had healed up nicely and he had quickly grown more restless. And he had taken to occupying himself by investigating you home and snooping around the rooms until one day he had slipped out from the front door when you were not paying attention and vanished into the tall grass. You did not heal him with the intent to keep him. A part of you assuming that he may have had a family eagerly awaiting his arrival somewhere on the island, but you could not lie to yourself that it had been nice to have company even if it was just a cat.

You had not seen him for several weeks after that and a part of you had feared that he may have fallen to one of the beasts in the wood. And the more optimistic side of you had hoped and imagined that he had found his family. Life had returned to its monotony without him at your side and you were once again alone while attending your chores. But there had been some promise, such as the abrupt but not unwelcomed revival of your garden, which had now begun to sprout bits of life again. You had been shocked when you had seen a green hue returning to the withered remains of the mint and thyme and beginnings of a humble pods growing along your fig tree, promising the growth of fruit. And then one day he surprised you with his return, trotting from the golden meadow while you were beating a rug of the dust and grime that it had been collecting and you had smiled and greeted him like an old friend. And he would begin accompanying you as you went about your chores, always sticking by you closely and observing, even if you ventured all the way around the other side of the island to hunt for oysters and scallops, though the harvest you returned with was always slim.

And you tried your best to name the creature, but he would not accept any of them. Not Akakikos or Thales or Arye. They were all promptly ignored when you had even tried to address him as such, and you were met with looks that could only be described as unimpressed. Of course, you could not find it in yourself to blame him. You did agree that none of them seemed to suit him all that much. But you could not call him nothing and so you had aptly christened him as 'Cat' which had been even less enthusiastically received as the others. But he would follow you everywhere despite the displeased looks that he would give you every time you addressed him as so, accompanying you when you washed your laundry in the nearby stream, and when you visit your parents' empty graves (you had never found their bodies) to tell them of your day. But he had especially surprised you whenever he would trot alongside you on your strolls down the shoreline of the ocean. It had shocked you to say the least, when Cat had wadded in the gentle waves after you, unaffected by the way that the water lapped at his paws.

A strange cat indeed.

It struck you suddenly, the realization that you would never see your home again. As empty and cold as it could be. Forced to live on the outskirts as a pariah, assuming that you would fall to your death underneath the claws of a nightmare. Many had perished living so close to the wood, and they surely had no intention of you surviving the forest on your lonesome. But you did and you made your vacant house your own, even with the bad blood-stained memories haunting the walls. You accepted your life alone rather early on and have even learned to love it in all of its solitude and freedoms. But they have once again bent you to their wills, selling you off like a lamb for slaughter to appease a selfish god.

You cannot fight of the stinging lump that has risen and lodged itself in your throat. Not this time. And it burns and pushed up tears that spill down your cheeks and stain the bedding. You could not stop yourself from mourning everything. The loss of your life, the waning humanity of the townspeople, the bloody deaths of your loved ones. You tried to clamp your teeth shut to conceal your sobbing, worried that the guards posted outside of the door may hear you. And even more crippling was the sudden painful awareness that tomorrow was the night of the ritual. You had been ignoring the date, too distressed to acknowledge it. But it was coming. It was coming at there is nothing that you can do to stop it.

There is the brush of something soft against your face, and it is not until your opening your eyes that you realize that you had even squeezed them shut. You look past the blur of your tears to see register two vivid blue irises watching you.

Your heart ached at the sight. Torn between a flicker of affection and your unignorable grief. But you smiled regardless of your tears and stroked his chin with your fingertips. It always surprises you when he chooses to crouch down against your chest, snuggling into your body. He was not always one to seek out affection, often preferring to lie somewhere near by while watching you finish up your routine chores and tasks. His favorite spot was the window seal of your kitchen where he would perch and observe you while you would knead dough or slice the vegetables for stews. But whenever your sleep was fitful, and you would wake with a layer of cold sweat dampening your clammy skin and the anguished cries of your parents still echoing in your ears he would scurry into your bedroom if he was not already there and curl up with you as he is now until you were able to fall sleep once again.

It troubled you to think of how he would fair for himself in your absence. You had been taking care of him for many moons now and you could only hope that in your effort to keep him from starvation that he had not grown to become too dependent of you. You could not bear the thought, that in your attempt to help and offer companionship that you had unwittingly ushered him closer to death. Would he go back to being alone after the Priestesses had sent your soul off to the nightmare god and all, but your lifeless body remained?

Would he once again wonder aimlessly with no one to care for him?

You could only hope that he would find someone else.

"I'm sorry." You whispered into his soft fur and clutched him closer to you and you remained that way until your grip of time had slipped and the only thing that told you that it was still the same night was the darkness that encompassed the room, most of the candles having long since burnt out of their wicks apart from one that was little more than a pinprick of light. Even with the pull of sleep turning your limps into heavy, useless extensions and the weariness burning at your drooping eyes you could not allow yourself to fall unconscious. You were desperate to keep as much time between yourself at the ritual as possible, even though it was a fool's errand of course, as the moon was still drifting along its path in the sky and the sun was still on its way to rise over the horizon. Tomorrow would come regardless of your distress and fate. Time was cruel and it stopped for no one. But still you could not let yourself sleep even with Cat embraced in your arms, and his body thrummed with a rare bout of purring. . . It was loud. Oddly so and you opened your eyes that you were not aware that you had even shut. And when you looked down, Cat was absent from his place against your chest even though he had just been there a second ago.

Worry broke through the exhaustion that sapped your bones and you were up in an instant, sitting up in the bed with the linens pooling around your waist while your gaze roves around the room and it does not pause until it finds a familiar shape in the darkness, watching you from a shaded corner. His eyes reflect the light from the dimming candle, and they bore into you with that pale shimmer. An unsettling chill trickles down your neck and raises the hair at your nape. The gleam of them disturbs some part of you, but you cannot place why. It is a look you recognize but it feels wrong and alien.

Its eyes. There is something wrong with its eyes.

"What are you doing over there?" You ask, and your voice is little more than a whisper, low from sleep and unease. But he does not so much as blink, continuing to stare steadily and the candlelight wobbles on its wick and the cats shadow flickers. It is a strange shadow, much too big for a creature so small.

Then without any warning he shoots up from his place, trotting across the expanse of the floor and slipping from the door that had been left ajar.

Had it always been open? No

You hardly question it before you are scrambling from the bed to take after him, harshly whispering for him to come back as you pick up what little bit remains of the candle to light your way before hesitantly peek your head between the open gap of the threshold and door, scanning the hallway. But there is not a single guard in sight. The hierodules that had been stationed outside of your quarters were absent. Another peculiarity that is brushed aside when you catch the tip of Cat's tail vanishing amongst the heavy shadows that blot out the hallway and you chase after him regardless, shielding the tiny flame with your hand lest it blow out from the hasty speed of your walking.

You are being watched you can tell, and your mind distantly supplies that it must be the murals observing you. The painted eyes of the old priestesses and spirits that adorn the walls in robes and vines made from strokes of scarlet and hunter and cerulean. But you could not let yourself look to their judgmental and buoyant faces.

"Come here!" You hiss lowly through gritted teeth and cast a wary glance across your shoulder to briefly study the black void behind you, hoping that there is nothing lurking within it.

And you walk for what felt like forever, chasing after the cats wavering tail that turns around twisting halls that do not seem to end, never catching up no matter how quickly you shift your pace. And it is not until you come across another bend in the corridor that the suffocating walls finally seem to open up into a massive room of dust and stones, and the light from the candle casts a glow across the space that was much too abundant considering the modest size of the flame. But he is nowhere to be seen, almost as though he has vanished from thin air.

The air is damp here, clinging to your skin like the spray of the ocean's waves but much less pleasant. It is much more akin to the sweat that covers you when under the influence of a sickness, you decide. And the aged earthy aroma that permeates the air is even more troubling. Musty and cloying like rancid grapes. It has your nose wrinkling, and you suppress the urge to gag while you investigate the room. It takes a moment for you to make sense of what you are seeing, making out the details of the great room from underneath the oily yellow glow of the candlelight.

There are large rectangular divots that had been crudely chiseled or dug into the stone near the base of the floor and the many burrows line above each other and descend up along the wall and towards the high tenebrous ceiling. But nestled delicately within each one is some sort of lump, gently wrapped in a rich red clothe.

That nasty sense of unease washed over you again, prickling at your skin and your heart skips a beat at the sudden burst of fear. But there is curiosity too. It emerges from the recesses of your mind and seems to take a hold of your body, nudging you towards one of the burrows, and with each step you forget why you are even here. The search for your wayward cat completely discarded. Your focus is completely arrested one the form hidden underneath the vibrant silks, and that apprehensive part of you dislike how large the hidden shape seems.

You mouth has gone dry and your tongue sticks uselessly to the roof of your mouth and a part of you wonders if you would be able scream should you need to. You feel helplessly trapped within your body, like a reluctant passenger, once again forced to be paraded around in a vessel that you did not want to sit upon. And all you could do was watch and feel as your shaky had rose over the red silhouette. You felt the silk underneath your fingertips, too soft and too smooth. Like water. Like blood. And your mind ceaselessly chants no, no, no even as your body refuses to yield to its commands and your fingers pinch the cloth in a hold and pull it back from the shape. And the blood in your veins seems to freeze despite the way that it races, and the pit of your stomach drops like a stone.

You want to look away, but your head is locked in place and every muscle has coiled inside of your body tightly. You are paralyzed and pinned where you stand, forced to stare down at the gaunt remains. The sunken eyes and withered, leathered skin pulled taught around its bones like the skeleton is trying to break free from its own body. And brittle hairs still collect around the skull, that once probably shimmered yellow like the rays of the sun but was no lackluster and dry, frayed in its braids. Pinned in place underneath the wring of a ceremonial crown. Vine leaves and olive branches that is embellished with the bright blossoms of poppies. The crown you would be forced to wear tomorrow to symbolize your union with the Endless.

A shaky exhale rattles out, a dry rasping sound that you would have easily blamed on yourself and the fear squeezing your body in a harsh grip if not for the way that you see the mummified bride's chest quiver unsteadily. She is still alive with her body forced into some sort of permanent sleep. You cannot help but wonder how long she has been held captive here. A hostage in this awful, animated state. And all of these other shapes swaddled in red silks are other sacrifices. And they too are all still awake you realize once you hear the dry whispers of their breath echo across the chamber.

You want to scream. You can feel it rising and clawing at your throat, but it never escapes, balling up harshly in your chest and just sitting there. But whatever spell had been casted over you finally slips and you stumble back from the burrow and the mummified bride, and your knees shake and give, and you fall onto the chilled floor, dropping the tiny candlestick on your decent. Your knees scrape the rough granite, erupting with streaks of red but you can't be bothered to care, too focused on crawling away from the looming walls, towards the center of the room while your eyes search from the entrance, but it is nowhere to be found. You spin on your knees ignoring the sting, expecting to find the threshold, but all you see are the cold painted walls, adorned with stars and poppy fields and strange beasts with wings and horns and some have the faces of men and the bodies of beasts. But even worse are the open tombs carved into the walls, and they suddenly seem like gapping, hungry mouths and the red silks that adorn the bodies seem more like lashing tongues.

The candle flickers unsteadily, melted wax pouring around the weak flame, threatening to drown it and douse you in darkness. You make to crawl towards it before it before it can be snuffed out, but your stopped short by a pair of gleaming eyes watching you. The dark fur tells you who it is but your gut lurches at the sight of the cat. And some buried instinct tells you that something is not right.

The eyes you realize, are tinged with a faint scarlet around the edges, staining the pale silver glow. And it was wrong. That was not the right color. This was not your cat. How did you not notice before?

It was an imposter. The face too narrow, its shadow too big. Too sharp.

Your heart flutters like a startled bird and your breath seizes in your lungs when the red silks bound around the brides starts to drip and flow down from the stones like liquid. Blood. Their garb has shifted into blood and is pouring and merging into a massive pool around the edge of the wall and it steadily grows.

The brides labored breathing whistles across the air, raising in volume until it hurts, harshly grating in your ears in a shrill pitch. And the sound mutates into a chorus of screams that you swear you can feel dragging over your skin like claws. You cover your ears with your hands to muffle the impact of the tortured shrieking, but it offers you no solace from the pain. And all the while the cat - the thing - stares at you from its place on the bloody floor, stained by the very red that is closing in on you from all corners, but you cannot find it in yourself to look past the agony to find strength and collect yourself from the cold granite.

The red pours around the remaining bit of the candle and the small flame at the end of the wick hisses and sputters at the liquids touch. The light emitting from it dims considerably, threatening to enclose the catacomb in a void. And the cats shadow seems to expand underneath the waning fire, stretching in a jagged way that looks like arms trying to tear free from cloth or skin.

And the cat - a mere extension of the true monster - steps forward while its eyes burn brighter. And the blood is upon you, threatening to touch you. Nausea churns in your stomach and all of the muscles in your body draw taught. You are forced to watch as the creature grows closer, and all you can do is try your best to prepare to fight it, as pathetic as your odds no doubt are. And the brides screaming warbles and shifts into a painful mocking laughter as though they could sense your thoughts. And it makes you feel like an animal caught in a cage. A bird pinned between jagged teeth and the jaws are closing in. The walls and shadows move in closer and their joyous howling and giggling rises in a crescendo, celebrating your anticipated death. You brace as best as you can, balling your hands into fists so tightly that your nails break the skin, watching as the monstrous shadow builds up and prepares to lash out with obsidian talons.

But the killing blow never comes. Instead, a pair of steady arms wrap around your body, encasing you against the comfort of a chest. And a rush of scents washed over you with its presence, and you struggle to place what it reminds you of. The musk of the soil after fresh rain, the salt of the sea, a calm breeze on a summer night; light and floral and earthy, but those descriptions also do no service to the fragrance that engulfs you. And with it something magnetic dances across your skin and it steals your breath away and your body threatens to melt against theirs.

Your mind can hardly catch up with what you are seeing. The bloody floor of the burial chamber dematerializes from underneath you, but you do not fall but your body tenses in preparation regardless. The walls shake with a tremendous groan, splitting under the seize and giving under spills of sand and the murals bleed with the fractures. And the air is electric with something heavy and alive and angry, and it courses across your skin and siphons the air from your lungs from the gravity of it. Even the beast made from shadows lurches back as if it was struck and hisses underneath the heat of the rage permeating the atmosphere, clawing against the wall that was rapidly disintegrating and losing tangibility. And the beast screams along with the brides as they vanish from existence. One final baleful cry that rattles your bones and shudders over you before it drowns out completely and with it the catacomb all but vanishes and instead of the blood-soaked stones you are looking down at the expanse of the night sky with stars spread out underneath your feet.

You brain fails to register that you appear to be hovering over a cluster of distant galaxies and you are left to stare down dumbly at the dark mass of the sky, taking in the stretch of the rich splashes of blues and stellar remnants and stardust gathered like clusters of diamonds and the scale of it nearly makes you forget about the press of someone's body along your back. Their arms around your waist in a tight hold, but there is also a sort of reluctance in their grip made known by the rigidity from the muscles of their arms and the narrow gap left between your bodies. But even between the space you can feel the low heat of them radiating against you. A part of you wanted to look over your shoulder, to discover the face of your savior but some pull in your gut warned you not. That you would not like what you would see. And so, you keep still underneath their embrace, staring off into the quiet breadth of the cosmos where comets drop across the darkness like crystalline tears. Seconds pass without either of you moving, as still as statues. As though if either of you so much as breathed the delicate emanation that cocooned the both of you would shatter. But despite your hesitation there was a prickle of curiosity tugging at you, and you could not deny the pull and you made to slowly turn your head in an attempt to sneak a glance over your shoulder.

You barely manage to twitch a muscle of movement before they seem to shed their initial diffidence and nestle their face near the nape of your neck, and you can feel the tip of their nose brush against your ear like they mean to hide their identity from you. Their chest expands against the flat of your back, and it takes a moment for your overstimulated brain to realize that they are drawing in a breath, taking your scent into their lungs and holding it there like its oxygen. For some reason it sends of thrum of heat over your body, and combined with the steady, pulsating hum of otherworldly power that courses through the air, it makes you feel as though you may collapse. That you might come apart and burst into flames. There is no chill of fear and disgust does not rise in your stomach like nausea instead their presence feels welcomed. And despite the foreign sensation of their touch, there is also a sense of familiarity to it. Like finally falling into the arms of an old lover.

They move their head from your by just a few scant inches, and a strange part of you mourns the loss. You wished that the hover of their lips would land on your skin, but they do not. The circle of their arms seems to press you in closer, like they cannot bear even the possibility of you parting.

For a moment the cosmos seems to halt, the intersperse collection of individual galaxies and stars pausing in their rotations and the night holds its breath and so do you. Then a sound purrs out, a heavy baritone that pours across the silence of the universe and fills you with honey and warmth. A deep, smoky cadence that you can feel curling inside the cavern of your chest and running deep across your bones and the nerves and sinew of your entire being.

"This dream is over."

You wake with a start. Sucking air into your lungs with a strained gasp while your hands reach around the bedding in a mindless scramble, struggling to orient yourself, but eventually you are able to at least prop your body up on shaky arms. Your eyes rove across your surroundings, no longer taking in the breathless view of stardust and nebulas but the dull clay walls of your vacant quarters and apart from yourself the bed is empty. A quick press of your hand against the stuffed mattress confirms that Cat - you're Cat had been there at some point in the night, the heat still trapped within the fabric from where he sat next to you. And you had shakily removed from yourself from the bed and searched the room for him. You had even approached the door, pressing your head against the wood and contemplated opening it but you could hear one of the guards shuffling behind it, trying to find some reprieve for their aching feet. And so, you returned to the bed with that dark voice still echoing in your ears. You could not sleep. Not even if you wanted. Not with that shadowed creature lurking and that familiar stranger invading your mind. The Nightmare Ruler, your brain supplied without forgiveness, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

And you lay there for hours, now awaiting the sunrise despite the threat that it posed, clinging to your own body with shaking arms as you stare into the darkness, waiting to find something looking back. But soon the maids are pouring into your room and scattering around the foot of your bed, and they must have noticed the panic on your face as a hint of curiosity bleeds through their blase expressions, apart from that single one who always seems to be plotting your demise.

"Is something the matter? You look troubled." And even in your tired haze you know that it is the voice of the one who openly dislikes you. The one with the sable hair and venomous words. Euthymia, you had learned her name to be. She makes no effort to hide the delight in her tone and in turn you do not even try to school the scowl that takes over your features, pinning her with an open glower, but it does nothing to extinguish the joyful gleam in her eyes. The other servants are ushering you out of bed, already cooing and gushing over the prospect of preparing you for the day ahead and you suddenly feel as though you have been tossed into a lake of ice. The five-day long celebration is coming to a close. The ritual is tonight.

They ignore your distress, urging you to shed your slip and climb into the bath full of steaming water and oils to prepare you for the ritual. And they had patted you dry when you had gotten out of the tub so that they could dap at your skin with lotions and perfumes. Running marjoram in your hair and something faintly sweet but heady and spicy beneath your jaw. Even spreading fragrances across your inner thighs and palm oil around your breasts. It had an embarrassed heat prickling across your face, and you nearly scoffed at their presumptuousness. And then they were guiding you to kneel on the cushions placed before the large, polished bit of bronze propped along the wall, using the reflection so that you may observe the process as they worked. You were in a fog as they combed your hair and set it and pinned it in a way that they deemed worthy, but you cannot stop thinking of that velvet timber and the feeling of being watched by concealed eyes prickles along your body. And you try to ignore the sensation, telling yourself that it is just paranoia.

But you could not dwell on your troubles for long before you had taken notice of the strip of fabric from the corner of your eye. And a better look had confirmed it was indeed that dreadful gown that had been laid out along the cushions. You stared from your peripheral vision and each time your head moved even the slightest degree out of their disliking one of the maids would jerk it back into place, scolding you underneath their breath, but your eyes did not stray from the pieces of clothing once. It would have been a gorgeous thing if not for the horror that is comes with it. A vibrant scarlet and intricate gold and black stitching and embroidery. But you could not marvel over its beauty, instead you eyed it warily as though it was poisonous. And perhaps it was.

It truly disturbed you. That horrid red thing that signaled the final chapter of your life, and you could hear the anguished cries and manic laughter of the brides from your nightmare echoing out from the depths of your mind. You could not suppress the way you shuddered. Was that meant to be your fate? A captive in her own body, suppressed underneath a spell of eternal slumber while her body wasted away in a forgotten tomb? You had heard rumors of what happened to the nightmare king's brides after the ritual. Presumptions truly, fabricated speculation that had no true foundation as the priestesses are very private about the affairs of the ceremony that do not require the presence of the villagers. And the townspeople are typically guided out of the temple after the connection between the Chosen and the Endless has been successfully tethered.

Most speculations were good natured enough. Painting the role of becoming one of the Dream King's brides in a lavish light. Something to be envious of, with many saying that to be one of his Chosen was to spend eternity of nights in endless pleasure, with the world at your fingertips.

But there had been other more sinister whispers, idle gossip that the unconscious brides were taken to a subterranean set of tunnels built underneath the temple. Dug to house the women as they slept on, not killed so as not to sever the link between them and the dream god but kept animated and sleeping within the icy tombs of the catacombs. Kept that way so that the deity could torment them in the halls of kingdom for all eternity. Feasting on their souls and flesh. But many refuse to believe the rumor, even your own father had rebutted the very possibility, as he was a firm believer that the Chosen were simply killed off after the ritual and their bodies were burned so that the ashes could be released upon the winds and lifted to the gods along with the plume incents and smoldering herbs.

But neither option fared well for you.

"You had seemed quite distressed when we came in. Did you have a nightmare, my lady?" Euthymia asks, voice sickly sweet with false sincerity. "How strange that the Dream King would allow his Chosen to be harassed by his spirits." And she pats the juice of crushed mulberries onto the rise of your cheeks to add color to your skin, but the push of her fingertips was much too harsh. You were tempted to lunge at her but restrained yourself.

"Not at all. In fact, I had a rather pleasant dream. " You reply cooly, not allowing her to see you shaken and you tilt your head, pretending to admire the way that they had dressed your hair and decorated it with flowers and pieces of jewels. " It was a rather pleasurable one."

"Pleasurable?" Comes her nonplussed response and her hand pauses, simply hovering.

"Oh, yes." You speak lowly, like you are sharing a scandalous story, and your tone is all smooth and honeyed. " It was not a nightmare that visited me, but the Dream King himself. " And you cannot help but internally gloat at the way that some part of her seems to waver, visibly deflating underneath your lie. " He had crawled between my thighs you see and ravished me with his tongue in ways that no mortal man ever could." Even the other ladies had halted in their routine, stopping to listen to your hastily spun fib. And you casted your gaze downward to your hands demurely, like you were shy or embarrassed that you had lost your manners. Scandalized, the other maids had bent towards each other and exchange giggling whispers, but Euthymia was less than enthused. And for the remainder of your time together she had been tightlipped and scowling, and you were surprised that a storm cloud had not been following her every move with how bothered she seemed to be.

But you could not deny that she made a good point. Why had you suffered from a nightmare at all? It had been sometime since you had. You could hardly recall when it had been last. Perhaps you truly had done something to anger the god. But that had been him, had it not? The one who had come to your aid and taken you in his arms and spoke to you with that smoky cadence. It must have been if the way that he had ended your dream so easily was any indication. And that primordial vibration that had surrounded you both; it was the same that you had felt at the pyre when that strange man was watching.

And perhaps tonight you would get the answers that you seek, but then you might not want them.

The rest of the day pours in a distorted stream, and you hardly register slipping into you into that disturbing red garb and you barely notice when the priestesses and temple guards arrive to collect you from the maids and guide you to the dinning haul of the commune where you are assisted down to the sunken floor in the center of the room as some sort of center piece, once again forcing you to sit underneath the eyes of hundreds. You feel exposed, as though you were not wearing clothes at all. Stripped for them to criticize and leer at. You were sure that every person in the village was here to enjoy the banquet. Even the servants were allotted freedom from their duties for the final night of the ritual and were free do dine alongside their masters as equals.

And once again they had provided you with the best meats and fruits and wine available. The finest of the bounty collected over the farms and orchards for you to gorge yourself on like a swine before its slaughter and because of that you could not bring yourself to eat despite the hollow pit in your gut that begged you to do so. And you could feel the Priestesses dozen eyes boring into from their place from above, no doubt taking your refusal to eat as not just an insult to themselves but to their god as well. Good.

But the townspeople did not seem to care, laughing freely and enjoying the festivities without pause and you had been forced to sit as time waned and the sun drifted closer and closer towards the edge of the earth, no matter how much you wished and willed for it not to. And once the townspeople had finished indulging on mead and wine and satiated their hunger, the shrine had collected you once more to climb upon the palanquin that awaited outside, surrounded by servants who prepared to march you across the town from the strength of their shoulders to the Temple of Morpheus where death awaited you. You had tried to struggle against the shackles of the hierodules hands that had seized your arms and shoulders like bands of steel. But you could not shake yourself from their grip and they were mercilessly placing you upon the extravagant cushions of the human-powered vehicle to be suspended high in the air.

And the townspeople congregated around you as you were carried from the walls of the commune and into the streets, lighting the way with burning torches. And many people had once again adorned themselves in the beastly costumes and danced and cavorted around the palanquin and through the crowd. The Sisters' lead the collective. And you had noticed in the head priestesses' hands, she cradled an obsidian bowl covered by a lid decorated by strokes of gold. A harmless item that on its own would have done nothing to inspire fear in you, but you had heard hushed conversation of its contents before. Some sort of vapor that smoldered from the extract of the poppy flower, and it would serve to tether you to the gods. Or in this occasion one god in particular.

And once again blossoms and seeds were being tossed over the procession in a celebratory display. In the hands of men and women and children alike people carried votive offerings for the Endless, such as figurines of animals and carvings of a humanoid figure. And in the cavalcade, musicians were present, playing from a kithara and an aulos, and a lyra. But even over the cheering and commotion and music you could hear a soft repetitive ruffle along the low breeze. You had jerked your head up to search the sky, nearly straining a muscle in the process but the pain had faded into the background at the sight of a dark bird coasting along the current. And a faint iridescent sheen had gleamed on its feathers from underneath the dimming sunlight and the Priestesses - and in turn the crowd had all rejoiced at the bird's appearance, as it no doubt heralded good fortune.

But you did not share their positive reactions. You heard all the stories, that the ravens were the dark god's familiars, serving as his eyes and ears when he himself could not be present. Your anxiety had not time to settle no matter how much you tried to swallow it down and the presence of the circling bird did nothing to quell the bubbling fear in your gut and bones.

And soon the procession ventured from the village and the pale marble of the temple seemed to rise from the hill behind the security of its protective wall. It was the only building that had been spared in the initial siege from the Oneiroi when the Nightmare King had abandoned the village in his scorn. It is just the same as when you had last saw it as a child. The ghostly white columns that reminded you of the remains of a skeleton, and the sculpted pediment that depicted beastly creatures in various poses; lashing out and snarling while some seemed to be frozen in the motion of dance. But in the center was a more human figure. No doubt the Endless himself. And the scene was painted in blues and black, with hints of red and gold embellishments.

And the closer you got to the temple the more your anxiety climbed, until you trembled where you sat, staring into the vacant eyes of the god's sculptured image. And even those they were not real they seemed to bore into you and flay you open until all of your emotions and shaky breaths poured out. Even the sheer fabric of your veil did little to lessen the feeling.

It was not until you felt hands circling the shape of your arms that you came to and were able to discern that you had been lowered to the ground of the courtyard and were being pulled from your knees, and you were wordlessly guided up the temple. But you did not feel the stairs underneath your feet and the music and laughter sounded as though it were coming from miles away, carried in on a foreign wind. And even when you stepped upon the landing and two of the sisters spun you around to face the crowd down below that had not felt real either. It was like looking at a tapestry of faded figures and blurred colors.

Then the head priestess stepped in front of you in a flash of black, blotting out your vision of the crowd like the moon obstructing the sun in an eclipse, but you were thankful for it. Then her voice broke out in a shrill bellow, the passion expelling from her cracking it around the edges. " Tonight marks the emergence of our return to grace and glory from underneath the compassion of our god! " She cried and the crowd cried along with her, waving their torches animatedly to show their elation. " No longer will we be shunned by His Sovereignty for we have been given a chance to correct a wrong that should never have happened! To bow our heads in humble plea and return to him which was stolen all those years ago!"

It made you nauseous the way they spoke of you. As though you were some frivolous token to be bartered. How they did not see you or any of the women before you as human beings with lives and wants and futures but as a cow to be slaughtered. A coin to be exchanged for lavish fabrics and abundant crops. And you could feel the stinging heat of anger filling your chest and pushing out heavy breaths from your lungs. But when the Head Priestess had shifted and moved from out of your vision it left you to make eye contact with the cheering masses; her voice had faded into a low, distant drone. And inside their crazed sort of jubilation, you could see every other emotion that you had felt since the Endless had descended his hoard upon the village in incessant torment: Loss, pain, fear, hunger, sorrow, confusion.

Many lives have been lost since the day that he had seemed you all unworthy of his gratitude and sanctuary. He had turned the land barren and dry and the animals that had once flourished here have all been culled by his nightmares and their numbers have suffered and dwindled greatly. But as much as you sympathized with these people, understood their plight, you did not owe them anything. Certainly not your life. Especially since they had casted you from your home without so much as a backward glance, forcing you live along the forest all because you were not a kept woman.

And in five years' time there would be another there would be another girl here, standing just as you do now, willing or unwilling to bear the collectives sins, to pacify the Endless for the good fortune. It would be a ceaseless loop. History repeating itself one poor soul at a time.

A part of you considered fighting free from the sisters' hold. Of running down the steps and out of the temple grounds without looking back. But even if you happened to make it past the massive crowd of desperate villagers and to the sea, there were no ships, no small rowboats left for fishing. All of the seafaring vessels had been all but demolished by his spirits to keep all of the locals who wronged him trapped on the island to endure the full brunt of his punishment. And even those who have managed to hide the construction boats - avoiding the Ruler of Nightmares many scrutinizing eyes and pushed their watercraft into the dark waves while underneath the shine of the sun, when his influence was claimed to be at its weakest had all disappeared into the heavy wall of fog that surrounds the coast. Only the remains of their boats would float back to shore, sometimes with blood staining the waves.

You truly were left to the fate that these people and their god spared you to.

Then the head priestess was spinning around in a flurry of robes, and you could not evade the fervor of her gaze, could not flee from, still immobilized by her sisters and their rigid hold of their hands. The gleam in her eyes was detached and wild; the darkness of her pupils swelling, eating up the colored rings around their borders until they were nearly gone. It was the expression of someone who could not be reasoned with. Poisoned by power and hope. But you did not waver underneath the weight of her fixed stare.

Then one of the sisters was gripping you by the nape of your neck, the movement unexpected enough to pull a startled cry from your lips. It did not give you time to register the obsidian bowl being lifted to your face, the lid being removed to release plumes of smoke. Even through the veil you could feel the warmth of the vapors caressing the skin of your cheeks. It is all so abrupt that you inhale a large lungful in the midst of your struggle, and the scent of it overwhelms you. Stuffing your mouth and nostrils full of something sweet and floral, tinged with the musk of the earth. It reminds you of flowers, of incents but also not at all. And your lungs are too busy heaving around the unexpected rush of smoke and your mind too confused and scrambled to feel or focus on the world around you, and the Priestesses voice was the last coherent thing to break through the fog: "Do not fight this, my dear. " Her voice crooned. Too sweet, to gentle for her cruelty. "To you we give thanks for your sacrifice for our prosperity."

And in your distress, you tried to think of anything to keep yourself grounded and present. Anything to keep you here in your body, terrified of crossing over and falling into the Nightmare King's gnashing teeth. So you think of your list of chores awaiting you at home; tending to the garden now that life was coming back to the soil, setting more traps in the forest, plucking wild strawberries from the small cluster that you had discovered growing in a small grove, seeing Cat again - the little beast refuses to eat unless you prompt him to (there is no one else to take care of him) - and walking along the beach during the sunrise. Feeling the sand and water underneath your toes and watching the sunlight reflect and dapple the surface. But soon the thoughts were drowning out underneath the impression of the fuzz and haze that blanked your mind. You felt as though your soul was rising from the casing of your body and floating up to the sky above the temple, but you could still feel your knees making contact with the cold marble floors, though the feeling was far off and dull. But there was still anger simmering through your veins. Hurt and betrayal. What were you mad about?

And the world around you is a rush of colors and blurred shapes and muffled sounds. But you do not want to focus on it regardless. You can't when the weightlessness is pulling at your fingertips and threatening to take you away with it (but you can't leave, what about him?) and deposit you among the stars, and the only thing that gives you even a scrap of connection to your own body is the repetitive pulse of your heartbeat coursing in your ears. The floral sugar and salt of the smoke still coats your tongue, and you can feel it in your lungs, heavy and syrupy. And the drag of your relaxed limbs seems to pull you down now instead of up, with the thrum of your heart doing little to center you anymore. But its less of a pulse now and more of pound -an angry crash. That's not right, is it?

You try to blink. To get some scope of reality, but it's difficult to keep your eyes past the blurred sting. Are you crying? No, that is not right either. It is no longer a steady beat, but a deafening layered rumble, muffled but also painfully loud. You can faintly see past the red sheer of your veil glimpses of black and blue streak across your vision, with peeks of flashes of tiny pale dots.

It is all to distorted and airy. Too muddled for your mind to make something tangible but then your body is being tossed by some unforeseen force. A sharp, unrelenting pull that moves your entire being like it weighs nothing and the air is snatched from your lungs, and you choke on something. Some deeply imbedded survival instinct awakens and your body flails, limbs dragging and reaching through the thick atmosphere in attempt to grab ahold of something. Anything to orient yourself and make sense of what is happening to you, but your hands come up empty. Your lungs twitch, trying to draw in a breath but instead they burn, and the sting is so potent that it licks a trail up your throat and the pungent taste of salt blankets you tongue.

Water, some faint thought breaches the cotton that stuffs your skull. You're in water.

And your body moves on its own, arms and legs kicking to propel in what you hope is the direction of the surface. In a glance upward you notice the distorted expanse of what must be the waves, and through the commotion above you see that glimpse of those burning pinpricks of light again and with no other alternative, fueled by an animalistic sort of fear you swim towards it. You can only hope that you make it up in time, with your lungs aching and burning like smoldering embers within your chest. You can already feel your limbs growing sluggish from the lack of oxygen and the heavy tow of your ceremonial robes, but you try your best to keep moving, dragging yourself forward with weak arms and legs. But death still hangs heavy in the back of your mind. And for the second time tonight you're terrified that this may be your final moments, with your legs flailing uselessly and the darkness clouding at the base of your senses like a layer of winter ice. It makes it difficult, but it is sheer instinct and panic and hope that burns at your muscles, reviving them of their vigor and pressing you onwards.

It is your hands that break through the surf first, quickly followed by your head and you could have sobbed with relief if you were not busy trying not to remain afloat and actively choking on the water in your throat. And you push yourself forward, even as the waves toss you in their angry roll against the shore. But blessedly under the current that threatens to drag you under and drown you it also serves to propel you forward towards the beach, jostling your body with their great power and you feel like a child's toy that had been lost over the side of a boat. It is on the pale crest of an angry wave that you meet the shore, being carelessly discarded on the sand and the rush of water pelts across your back, soaking you one final time before retreating back into the ocean behind you.

You gather as much as strength as you have left to prop yourself up on your hands and knees, carrying yourself across the beach with wobbling limbs while your abdomen and chest shiver and heave in a violent fit. The muscles of your body squeezing you tightly to expel the sea water from your lungs in a shaky grip that has you gasping and wheezing. And even though your lungs sting like a raw wound as you suck in a ragged inhale, the dim feel of oxygen filling your lungs is wonderful, like a healing ointment smoothed over a fresh burn. You allow yourself to collapse onto your stomach once you escape the reach of the sea, but it is difficult to see, to hear and even still hard to breathe with the thin fabric of your veil clinging to the shape of your face from the weight of the water pulling the material down, pressing it against the divots of your nostrils nearly waterboarding you with each breath.

You blindly yank at the veil, tearing it and your Stefana from your head with an angry huff, carelessly tossing it. You do not see where it falls but you can hear it land with an unattractive wet plap. You blink freely now able to take in your surroundings now that, that cursed thing is no longer tainting your vision. You deduce quickly that you are on a beach. Obviously. But it does not appear to be the one that you often find yourself strolling down on your free time, fantasizing about distant lands or the Isles of the Blessed, or the islands where the sirens live and lure sailors to their deaths. The sand was far too pale. Too soft. And when you moved it seemed to glitter like snow underneath sunlight. But it was a glance upward that confirmed your awful reality. The sky above was not yours. The scattering of stars not sparing enough and the expanse of it was not simply a dark backdrop but splashed with vibrant rich nebulas of azure and silver and pale golds against the black velvet of space. The stardust seemed to shift as though the heavens were a living breathing thing. And the constellations above you are unrecognizable. There is no Orion, lunging forward to strike or brace against the blow of a foe, and the scattered knot of the Pleiades is absent from the sky.

Your heart sinks to the base of your gut and a heated rock seems to lodge itself in your throat, rising with the threat of tears all from the bruising reality that you are no longer home. Not just the island, or your house, but the entire plain of your existence. Plucked from everything you have ever known by the hands of your people to appease a monster. Heartlessly thrown into the deity's domain. Forgotten and used.

You remembered the tales told by your mother and the words that had been passed down from priestess to priestess across the centuries that spoke of the Nightmare Ruler's world: The Dreaming, it was called. The place that served as the cradle of the universe's collective unconsciousness, housing the minds a mortal, beast and god alike while they slept. An extension of the Endless himself. The entire realm was a dream in its own right. That means that you must be able to wake from it. Perhaps you could will yourself awake if you concentrated enough. You have been never much of a lucid dreamer. Only able to do small feats of altering landscapes or changing the color of your dress. You had never been aware enough to wake yourself. But maybe here in the Dreaming you would be able to conjuror some sort of exit.

You centered your attention down to a single thought: Waking up. Of feeling the drag of consciousness slipping back into your physical body and opening your eyes. And you pushed that thought until your body responded with the ferocity of it, your muscles tensing under the strain of it, and you are left gasping, the same as you had when you crawled ashore. You think of your body, still and induced in that horrific stasis, being purified underneath the smoke of incense and wrapped in the red silk and voile fabric by the Priestesses to be carried and stuffed down in the catacombs like a forgotten relic. You thought of waking suddenly. Of tearing yourself from the cloth and fleeing home and dropping to your knees to burry your fingers in the soil there and crying with the relief that would swell within your chest and blossom with the joy of being home.

And you had found that in your desperation you had actually crumbled to your knees, but you did not feel the gentle earth beneath your hands but sand.

You take to pinching at your arm in a pathetic attempt to try and escape the Dreaming, twisting the flesh between your fingertips until it stung but to no avail.

And a low, heavy wind rumbled across the beach, howling over the waves and the field of crimson blossoms and golden wheat, punctuating the silence and the loneliness that hung over you like the aftermath of a tempest. Defeat weighed down your shoulders as you watched the thrashing ocean with a sense of detachedness. Then something in the air seemed to shift, pulsing with something alive. That distantly familiar alien thrum and you could feel it against your skin; a magnetic pressure that reminded you of a brief night in the cosmos, held in a tight embrace. You did not have to turn to confirm who the presence was. You did not know if you had the strength to. The fear and gravity of the beings pull nearly seized your lungs, and you clenched your hands into fist to bear the feeling of it. And then that velveteen rasp speaks out, moving down your body like a flow of water and smoke and you can feel the hum of it in your bones.

"I had no intention of your arrival being so distressful. Had you not struggled your coming would not have been so violent. " His tone is a placid timbre, but you swear you can detect sympathy - perhaps a sort of regret - tinged into the edges of his words. But it does little to placate you. His detached surprise at your anguish only serves to mutate your sorrow and defeat and it gives way into anger, searing at you like a burning fire that needs something to burn, and chars any remaining pieces of your self-preservation and wit, making you forget that you were in front of deity that has seen eons come and go in its lifetime and was currently holding your mind and possibly your soul hostage. But you did not care. Not now, with your entire life in an upheaval. And even then, you still can't bring yourself to look at it - the source of that primordial electric pulse. To confirm all of your fears, that home was truly out of reach, that you were entirely out of depth and in a plain that you did not belong in. There was a safety in your delusions, your self-imposed ignorance. And so you stared at the angry, rolling waves and pretended that they were your own, not daring to turn yet. "What was your intention? " You inquired, not even bothering to hide the scorn in your broken voice. Not caring of the consequences. " That you'd just steal me away from everything I've ever known, and I'd be content with it?"

"Look at me. "

It is a simple set of words, but the conviction of it beats across the very fabric that binds and creates the Dreaming, rippling over the sand, shifting stars and stirring the already tumulus waves to threatening heights and the power of it runs through your unconsciousness as well, tingling across your body and it commands you to move. An unwelcome reminder of your mortality and the scope of the deity and his domain. You turn slowly, helpless to ignore the order even while you dread looking upon him. Wondering if he would wear the skin of a monster to punish you for your ire. Perhaps contorted limbs and bloody jagged teeth or stretched flesh and the lifeless abysmal gaze of that otherworldly helm.

There is none of that. No cloak made of nightmares or terror. Just a man. But that is not right either.

Regardless of the glamour he had casted this was no man. Ignoring the information as told by the naked eye all of the minute tells became glaringly obvious, such as the way his skin was too soft and free from blemish or flaw, like the statues crafted in his commemoration; the messy tresses of his hair that appeared as though they were spun from the night sky itself and the impossible blue of his eyes that mimicked the shade of a crystalline sea, or perhaps they were a reflection of the very nebulas above you now. He is so beautiful that it is almost cruel. You have to wonder why he chose you specifically. That he has been watching over you since the night at the pyre. Long before that even. That, that same voice had spoken to you during your sleep and commanded you to wake, and once again you are unable to ignore it, standing from your place on the sand.

The brunt of his gaze is too much- scrutinizing. You felt like you were stripped bare. Every nerve, every want or worry or promise that you had ever made was laid out across the shore for him examine. You quailed underneath the breadth of it, the sheer intensity was maddening - that there seemed to be no secret that you could hide from him. The entirety of your mind held within the webbing of his domain for him study and toy with.

"Why do you fear me?" He asked, and you could laugh or cry at the question but neither would do proper service to express the severity of your emotions. The turmoil and confusion. He sounded so sincere. Just as perplexed as you even though his stance was devoid of any body language. Rigid and exact, with an almost clinical posture. But you could see it in his eyes. A small, fleeting glimpse of his own confusion, a slight furrow of an eyebrow, but it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, erased and blotted out by that aloof expression.

You were not even sure how to respond, and for a moment your mouth hangs open silently while you collect yourself and find your voice: " I - just - all of the death. " You finally answer lamely, trying to swallow around the dryness of your throat. " The slaughter and starvation. The disease. The suffering."

"They broke their promise. " It was said so simply. As though it was enough to justify the atrocities and it made nausea bubble in your gut, and hatred too.

"All because of a woman." You cannot contain the way you scoff, shifting on your feet like you do not know whether to approach him or step away and create more space, your body prickling underneath weight of his aura and his unwavering observation. "You had hundreds slaughtered because you were not given one woman."

"That is the price for bargaining with an Endless and taking back your word." He replied easily. A simple matter of fact for him, like it was a natural law, a part of his nature that should be expected and understood without consequence, that all failures to comply could not be faulted on him. It was just another tough reminder that this was no mortal that you stood before and that he could not be expected to obey or sympathize with the jurisdictions of your human morality.

And there was a shift in his expression, something steely and resolute, and the distance between your bodies seemed to close in even though neither of you had placed a single step until there was only a scant space left between you. " I will do the same for you. "

There was no past tense used. And perhaps under different circumstances you could have seen it as an intimate declaration of love, but it was uttered with a conviction that you could feel and the threat - the promise was hauntingly clear. That he would lay waste to the remaining people of your village if you refused. And although his body remained unmoved, the pressure of his influence hummed and molded against you and robbed you of your breath. It felt like you were standing within the deluge of a summer storm, caught within spires of stardust and the heat of a nova.

"Their crime is no longer yours to bear. " He said calmly - soothingly like he was trying to placate you. " You will not be harmed. "

"Is that really true? " You ask, still full of disbelief and contempt and this time you do venture to take a step back and blessedly he allows you, and you cannot help but be thankful that he does not shift the sands to draw you in closer. "They tell stories of what you do to your tributes once you have them, I'm sure you've heard. That you mold yourself into the likeness of a beast and hunt them, chasing them down the halls of your palace and tearing them limb from limb for eternity: A cycle of death and pain."

And that pale animal gleam from the bonfire burns alight in his eyes and it does little to quell your steady stream of anxiety, but his indignation does not seem to be aimed at you specifically. " Is that truly what you believe?" And there is a gentleness to him, the annoyance receding as though he was more perturbed than angry, and a part of you nearly regrets having told him, but you squash that scrap of emotion before anything can come of it. "That I am some heartless monster than means to torture you for my entertainment."

"Well, what else am I supposed to be led to think?" Surely a being of his scope, of his age and power must realize the severity of his actions. The violence and heartache that has bleed across the island and tainted the soil at his command. The senseless slaughter and starvation, forced to helplessly watch as your loved ones succumbed to it. The horrid, twisted sleepless nights and soiled dreams, and then you can hear it again, that twisted vacant laughter, rushing blood and mutilated shadows. " Especially after you sent your nightmares out to trouble me."

"I promise that I have done no such thing" He assured, but it did little to soothe your frazzled state. " I gave them all specific instruction not to harm you, but they are not without their own free will, and I have delt with it accordingly." He spoke of his creatures as though they were misbehaving children. Simply spoiled and wayward, and not cruel, sadistic beasts. And perhaps he truly did not mean for one of his Oneiroi to haunt you in the night. After all, he did arrive to banish the spirit from your unconsciousness, to wrap his arms around your body in a secure embrace before ending the dream. But regardless of the fact, you could not forgive him.

"I don't care. I want to go home."

"Is that truly what you are clinging to? Those empty cold walls, vacant of family or companionship? Or is it them? The very people that so freely discarded you. Abandoned and out casted you as though you were a leper."

He was right of course. You were already well aware of the fact, but it did not make it sting any less to hear, and the old memories that rose up were less than welcome. A painful reminder that even your own father and mother had rejected you, not physically but the emotional disconnect had been there. A rift had torn between your dynamic like a gaping, festering wound that had never truly healed. They had never looked at you the same, the both of them loathing you for marring the family name and social standing. And the other villagers would all murmur and stare in disdain whenever you had ventured into town to collect fruits or fresh meats at the local market, all because you had slept with a man as an unmarried woman. And your alienation was palpable. But you did not want to give him the satisfaction of admitting it and caving in.

"No- they didn't-"

"But they did, didn't they?" You could not stand his confidence. How he held his head high with that resolute air of certitude and kingly ego, how the air pulsed over you and tingled at your flesh like a balm. "Leaving you all in alone in that quiet little house, hoping that you'd fall prey to one of my nightmares."

He steps forward crowding into your space with that pale wicked gleam in his eyes and the stars hanging in the sky behind him seem to warp towards his person, as though they were trying to leave their heavenly cradle to follow him. You heart speeds from apprehension surely, but you don't find yourself leaning away from his body or trying to flee. You are stock still, hardly able to spare any pieces of your attention on anything other than him. And then he is lifting a hand to brush against your cheek, featherlight but somehow still reverent in its glide and you can feel the life radiating from it. Ice and heat simultaneously, cosmos and earth.

"I can give you everything you crave. The life you've always dreamed of having." His voice that dark velvet purr, draping around you temptingly. "You will want for nothing." But you are hardly hearing his words anymore too preoccupied with the tender trail of his curled fingers; his knuckles tracing a blaze of warmth down your throat, slipping down dangerously close to the bit of your chest exposed by the low hang of the garment. But his hand pauses in its descent, stopping just a few inches from the valley between your breasts, and you cannot hide the way that your body shivers at the contact, a heat stirring within you. "But it is a decision that must be made of your own accord."

And then he is backing away from you, allowing the atmosphere to clear of its electrical charge and for oxygen fill your lungs, but your body mourns the loss of his touch regardless of your returned breath. And it is then that you are able to realize what he had said, and some bit of hope blossoms, and now it is you who makes after him, following his path as he glides through the field of red and gold.

"Wait? I can go home if choose to?"

"No."

"But you just sai-"

He turns to you so quickly that it is surprising, whipping around in a stream of darkness, and in the distant stars held within the fabric of his chlamys adjust with the movement. "You are a part of the Dreaming now. There is no place for you in the mortal realm - not anymore."

The revelation has the same effect as a pail of ice water being doused over you. Unforgiving, paralyzing. And this time you do not have the ability to respond, far too busy grappling all of the emotions that are clamoring for the forefront.

"Your home is here now. " He insists, lips pursed in a petulant sort of way. " Regardless of if you decide to take your place alongside me, this is where you must stay. Even if you were to leave this instant, time within the Dreaming does not abide by the same laws of your world. You would return to a point not of your own. Lost in a time entirely unfamiliar."

And the chasm that has been threatening to break seems to grow deeper, fissures and cracks breaking at the foundations. And you vehemently want to deny him. To call him out for lying. Surely, he must be, how good can the Nightmare Ruler's word truly be? Is he a being that can possibly be trusted? But if he is correct, telling the complete truth and you were able to return to your realm would you be able to survive it? The sight of your home now years, if not decades old crumpled and dilapidated from the unforgiving pressure of time might break you. He must notice that vulnerability wearing down on you, because something in his gaze softens and you wished that he didn't look like he cared because some horrid part of you - the same one that had preened underneath his touch - is comforted by his attention, left wanting for it even and you are finding it difficult to be revolted or angry anymore. You would like to blame it on remnants of that perfumed smoke being still in your system, but truthfully you have not felt its influence since you had been dunked into the ocean. The brackish water and chaotic waves seeming to have strained it from your system. Or perhaps it had been the Dreaming itself that had done so, assisted with the fact that you may not even be tethered to your body at all anymore, the effects of the smoke too distant to reach your spirit that has drifted too far from its body. Maybe you truly do belong to his realm now. And you wait for that coal of anger to burn again, but it never comes, leaving you feeling hollow and broken. Exhausted even while you stand in a world fashioned from dreams. "I'm just tired . . . " You mourn weakly, watching the reeds and blossoms sway in the soft wind.

"Then let me ease your burden. " His voice is much closer than it had been before, and when you jerk your head up, startled from the proximity of it, the point of your nose nearly brushed against his. You are immediately drawn into the all-consuming center of his gaze, and it feels like you are being held within it, called to the edge of something yawning and consuming, beckoning you to jump and you do not think that you have the strength to pull back from it. And you found that you did not want to.

He has not made any means to move, leaving it to you to close the distance and you do, the hesitation thawing. He tracts you as you draw near, seeming to hold a breath that he did not need, and he appears tense, rigid like he was physically restraining himself with a practiced sort of patience. And it might have frightened you earlier, but the fervor in them does nothing to dissuade you now if anything it only serves to motivate you. Inside those pale irises you see cyan and indigo and sapphire flaring like nebulas drawing you in like a flower leaning towards the sun, and for a moment you swear you caught a glimpse of something else lurking inside of them, a glimmer of his true self perhaps; something vast and entirely beyond you. It felt ancient and ever-expanding, ignited and twisting and looming. And you felt like you were on the horizon of making sense of it and both entirely too far, slipping through your muddled understanding like sand and smoke, scorching like a harsh ice.

It is the whisper of his nose brushing against yours that draws you from your fixation, a delicate sensation but it was blessedly enough to bring you back to the present, assisted by the rich rumble of his voice. "Come back to me. "

"I nearly fell in, " you murmur back. And it was not a lie, you had nearly lost yourself in the paradox and cosmos that created him but it was also said in an attempt to jest. And you succeeded it seemed if the light, barely there rise at the corner of his mouth way any indication. It all feels fragile, unsure but not unwelcome. Like life returning to the earth after a harsh winter, blossoms breaking through sheets of snow, guided by the tender thaw of sunlight.

"May I touch you?" He asks, tilting his head to just barely skim the fulness of his lips against yours, not kissing you but just enough to leave your skin tingling in their wake. It is a simple question, but it is enough to have that burning ache coming alive again, taking root deep in the base of your abdomen and you find yourself nodding. Frustratingly enough he does not move, ever a pillar of restraint and he leans his head back when you tilt to close the distance between you. And you catch the smug air that surround him, and you would have snapped at him if you had the gall to, if you did not want him to just kiss you already.

"Use your words. " That dark honeyed resonance tramples any semblance of a barb that you had even fleetingly entertained. The Dreaming has long since gone quiet, seeming to betray its creator's appearance of undisturbed control with the febrile energy that tangled around the both of you, fueling your own growing need with its charge. And you were unable to withhold the plead that leaves you, a floaty sigh: "Please touch me."

You do not compute him nearing, eliminating the remaining space that divided you to press his lips against your own, suddenly they just are. It is soft, explorative but not without longing. And the sheer need behind it has your knees going weak, and if not for the appearance of an arm around your waist you feared that you might have actually fallen. Your body thrums with a sort of unsuppressed elation, a syrupy heat spreading across your limbs and dripping down your spine, settling between the cradle of your hips from the swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip, silently asking for your permission. You thread your finger through the silken tresses of his hair and lightly scratch across his scalp. You can only feel the groan rumbling against your lips when you allow him to lick into your mouth and you immediately decide that you need to actually hear it. You are sure that the sound of that husky timbre breathing out in a rapturous moan will haunt you for the rest of eternity, and you could not wait to hear it.

He cups your face in a single hand, securing your head with the curl of his fingers, allowing him to slant the plush of his mouth against you in an angle that let him to pull you in closer, enfolding you into the warmth of his chest. And the remaining doubt and restraint that had seemed to hold you two back was quickly beginning to melt, giving way to carnal sort of urgency. And already you are left panting, sweeping your hands across any part of him that you can, gripping the watery flow of his robes to center yourself through it all.

You had not felt yourself tipping but your back is now pressed against the textured terrain of the Dreaming, the crushed stalks of reeds and flowers lightly digging at your skin, though it does little to take precedence over your current focus. And he is pulling away from your mouth to duck his head neath your chin, nipping and sucking at the skin there until its tender and you can tell by the way that he tucks your flesh between his teeth and licks that he is leaving marks in his wake, staking his claim upon your body and the mere idea of it has you lowly keening into the night; your body going lax underneath his. All things considered; he has not done much but your brain is already clouding with want, eyes glazing over. And then the heat of his mouth is sealing over your breast, the silk texture of your robe only adding to the pleasure as his tongue circles around your taut nipple. You can't help the way that you arch into it, seeking out more mindlessly but it is not enough. It is does little more than tease you, even with the way that he has draped himself over you he has himself suspended in a way that keeps you from being able to achieve the friction that you desire, stoking that heat inside you with eat nip and suck from his teeth and mouth.

You can hear him chuckling from above you, the vibrations of his low smug amusement tingling across your chest, adding to your pleasure. If you were not so preoccupied with thoughtlessly trying to grind against his abdomen like a whore, you might have snapped at him for it, but instead you are removing your hands from the rich earth to sweep through his unruly hair, holding him against you instead, melting underneath the feel of his tongue.

He does not let you have that for long either, releasing the swell of your breast and ducking from your grip, nuzzling a path down the plain of your abdomen and taking your thighs into the smooth glide of his hands, ignoring your protesting cry as he licks at your stomach from over the barrier of the silk. And once again you find yourself cursing that dreadful fabric, swearing into the night while you squirm in his hands.

"Easy, sweet thing. " He coos, the image of patience. And if not for the wild, glow twinkling in both of his eyes like a beast you would not even think he was affected in the way that you are. That burning light serves as a reminder that he is not normal man, that you are rabbit ensnared within the jaws of a wolf, a mortal lying with a god. But it does not frighten you anymore. Instead, it douses fuel over an already steady flame. And you find yourself hoping to be consumed, taken between the teeth of this dark, cosmic deity and eaten alive.

His descent does not stop, the point of his nose dragging down until it stops over your mons pubis and your whole body tenses in anticipation, waiting for him to move just a bit lower, to bundle your skirts in his hands and take you into his mouth. But he does not do any of that. He simply hovers there. His clutch on your thighs tightens, threatening to turn your flesh tender and you swear that you can feel the points of talons pricking at you, but it is too dark from the cover of the moonless night to see if he truly has grown claws in his passion - if they have drawn blood. Not that you would have minded if they had. You wanted it. Wanted his claim visible on your body, open to be seen by anyone who may gaze upon you. A trickle of concern does make it through the honeyed smoke of your want, as fleeting as it is, and it is quickly forgotten. Casted aside at the sound of a soft repetitive panting filling the silence. It does not take you long to realize that it is coming from him. He is breathing in your scent, hovering over the heat of you to take lungful's of your arousal.

It is completely debased. Dirty. But the sight of a this primordial being kneeling between your legs and drawing in the scent of you in this perverted display that you would expect from man and not a god has you moaning into the air. Your cunt throbs, clenching around nothing while you rock your hips near his mouth. His grip tightens once again, smarting your skin while he tries to pin your body even while he chases the shift of your hips. And for one moment you think that he may finally ease both of your discomfort, feed the hunger ravaging your bodies but then horribly, he is pulling from you, leaving you to pant into the open air in a confused daze. "Why did you stop? "

"Let me taste you. " He said thickly, and his eyes shimmer again like the stars suspended in the heavens behind him. "Let me drink from you- worship you."

His words have your mouth going dry and that aching heat pooling between your thighs. Never in your life have you ever known a man so desperate to pleasure you. To practically beg for it with a barely concealed avidity. That an Endless would ask for your permission. But he is no man after all. And you are nodding once again, but he does not move until the echo of that old sentence chimes in your head, use your words, you remember, and you manage to utter a rushed, "please" out from a shaky huff.

He rumbles in a pleased way, the Dreaming trembling lightly with the resonance of his satisfaction. You hardly have time to blink before your ceremonial garb all but vanishes, baring you to the soft breeze and then a soft warmth enveloping your wet cunt, leaving you to jerk in surprise and scramble to grab something, anything to tether you. You claw at the field, the soil, before combing them into his hair while you gasp. All the while he is completely immovable, fixed to you throughout your writhing, lapping at your slit to collect the taste of you on his tongue and drink it down with a content purr, before licking up so that he can suckle your clit into the clutch of his mouth. Prompting that heady warmth to drizzle up on top of itself within the base of your abdomen.

He alternates between that for a few moments, completely unhurried as he switches between lapping at your slit and sucking at your engorged bundles of nerves. And then his tongue is slipping inside of you, working along the walls of your cunt in a way that has your eyes rolling and your back bowing in a taut seize. But it does not stop. Extending into an inhuman length. It is thick and textured near its base, working so deep inside that you have to cry out. The repetitive drag and pull of it ushering you to roll your hips to match its delicious rhythm, building up a rising tide, dangling you over the precipice of something debilitating.

"Oh gods - I - "

But he is jerking away from you leaving your cunt to squeeze around the absence of his tongue, biting into the meat of your thigh like he has to preoccupy himself or else he will bury his face back into your heat like you so desperately want him to. You clumsily prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him and the intensity of his gaze would have been intimidating if you were not in your current position.

"Why did you stop?!"

"When you come in will be with my name on your lips, " and something possessive layers the rich rumble of his tone. It is heavy and bears no room for argument, but you have no wish to do so. "Say it."

"My Lor- " But his pointed glare is enough to cut you off, but you find yourself yelping from the reprimanding nip at your sensitive skin. It did not hurt but it took you by surprise regardless.

"My name." He repeats carefully, and laves his tongue over the dull sting to soothe it, all without breaking eye contact, keeping you within the scope of his watch. And it takes you a moment to sift through his abundance of monikers and titles, trying to think past the sensation of his teeth and lips on you, but you finally manage to settle the same one that the Priestesses would often whisper with reverence.

"Morpheus. "

A pleased hum greats you and then blessedly he is spreading you open with his thumbs to subject you to the calculated, blissful lashing of his tongue. And you allow yourself to fall back onto the ground in a boneless heap, easily falling back underneath the sway of that fuzzy Elysian pleasure. Unrestrained moans now freely spilling from you, but you cannot find it in yourself to be the least bit embarrassed by the way you openly keen and whine in bliss. You head tips as you toss in reckless abandon, staring up almost sightlessly at the star cluttered sky. And in your drunken haze your mind oddly remarks that the twinkling stars remind you of peering eyes. But before the thought can take flight a strange sensation is enveloping you, like the brush of water rushing over you. Rolling textured waves, feathered touches and the brush of fingers.

Hands, a distant thought supplies weakly. It does feel like hands. Thousands of them all scattered about your body. Running over your hips, your stomach, your chest, your throat. And then it feels as though a pair of mouths are taking your breasts into them, and you just barely manage to jerk your head up to confirm that Morpheus is still nestled between your thighs, slurping at your messy cunt even while those phantom hands and mouths stroke over your body, sucking at your nipples in a way that has a gutted moan tearing out of you.

He is watching you from his place between your legs and the gleam of his eyes are nothing short of smug, taking absolute pride in the way that he is unraveling you at the seams.

Your body moves as though it is possessed. Writhing like it can't decide which sensation it wants to arch into; the ghostly grasp of a thousand hands or the needy, warmth of his mouth.

And the squelch of his tongue is sinful, noisily plunging into you. Its passage completely frictionless with the combination of his saliva and the way your cunt drips around the intrusion. He takes the meat of your ass into his physical hands, guiding the jerky rock of your hips into something deeper while he drinks you down, swallowing the obscene slick of your coupling down his throat. And you are babbling now, unable to recognize or understand the scattered way that you beg and cry. Lost to drift in the ceaseless ecstasy, a willing prisoner forced to take it. It feels as though your mind is breaking around the edges, fraying from the sheer scope of your pleasure, leaving you a weightless passenger, no longer held within the restraints of your own body. You soul is alight, burning and drowning in a rapture so sweet that you have no choice but to sob from it all.

"Morpheus - " You choke around the raged heaving of your chest. And the hands on your body are joined by the phantom lapping of tongues, invisible teeth nipping at your skin and the mouths on your breasts pull and tweak at your nipples. The pleasure is too much, too great for you to fully comprehend and that wave is climbing once again, hurtling you towards that cliff. And now you are begging - pleading that he does not stop and leave you wanting. His name falls freely from you now, and endless mantra pleading for him to guide you into the sweep of fire and bliss.

You barely feel it approaching. Suddenly your body is tensing, going rigid underneath the curl of his tongue and your thighs clamp around his head while you sob through the convulsions wracking through you. Completely swept up in a tide of heat and electricity. But he has not pulled away from your cunt, still nuzzled between the clutch of your thighs while he drinks your come with a satisfied sigh. The vibrations of it combined with the idle way that he continues to lap at you despite the sensitivity and it has your muscles twitching in response.

"Morpheus, please. " You gasp underneath him, and he finally pulls back from you, albeit reluctantly before he is crawling over you, leaving gentle pecks across your body as he moves. And you can still feel those phantom touches across you, but they are feather light now, melting into the background as his lips meet yours in a hungry kiss. It has you moaning into his mouth, and even with your recent orgasm you can already feel a syrupy heat building up within you coaxing the gentle rock of your hips. You can taste yourself on his lips, earthy and somewhat sweet. The weight of his arousal presses against you from underneath his robes, heavy and hot and the Dreaming thrums with his want, the soil trembling beneath you both.

You reach a hand down to paw at him through the dark fabric of his chlamys and the smoky, ragged groan that escapes him is a reward all in its own. And you were right. The sound of his breathless, rumbling satisfaction is something that you will never tire of hearing, and you are already desperate to drag more from him. But what truly has your attention is the length of him. You are unable to see it from the cover of his robes, but you can feel it, the thickness of it, the length. And you drag your thumb around its head, the cloth clinging to the shape of his cock from the precum leaking from the tip. He jerks in your hand, breaking your kiss to duck his face into the crook of your neck, sucking at the skin, prompting you to moan breathlessly.

"I need you inside of me. " You whisper unsteadily.

"Take what you need. " Comes his response as he mouths along your neck, taking your ear lobe into his mouth and pulling it between his teeth. Just as yours had, his robes vanish from his body, baring himself for you admire. And admire you do. Gazing upon the milky hue of his skin. The lithe muscle that ripple and flex and the added detail of blue vessels spidering underneath his flesh. Your eyes drop lower, settling on his cock, and the tip has flushed red from his arousal, and you briefly entertain the idea of taking him into your mouth, tasting him on your tongue as he had done to you. But the throbbing heat that has settled between your thighs is the only thing that keeps you from doing so. You need finally feel him and so you are gently pushing at his chest, guiding him to remove his head from your neck and to lie on his back. And he allows you to so - a god obeying your wishes.

His gaze does not stray from you, even as he settles against the ground and allows you to climb astride his lap. Now that you are here atop him you find yourself wavering under the intimidation of your self-imposed task. It is a stupid thing to be fearful of. You have done this before. But those was a man, not an immortal deity that has seen centuries come and go, watched curiously as humanity's ancestors evolved and give way to empires the ultimately rose and fell. You are sure that he has lain with deities beyond your comprehension. Gods and goddesses, nymphs and spirits, pure divine beings from the heavens. How could you compare? How could you possibly please him? Would he want you even as a tainted woman?

And as though he can sense your discomfort, he sweeps his hands along your hips, the action breaking through your internal struggle, and he is once sitting himself up enough to plant a kiss between the valley of your breasts. And then he is guiding you to look down on him with the gentle brush of his fingers, fixing your attention solely on him.

"Take what you need. " He reiterates. But it is not said in a scathing or annoyed way, it is gentle, loving you want to believe, and you nearly melt against him. Those ghostly touches are back, no doubt an attempt to draw you out of your head. And it is working to stoke the fire, the fervor returning to your bones, but your mind still struggles to return you, still tangled within the confines of your insecurities. You could not manage to pin them down no matter how hard you tried to.

"Speak to me, " he murmurs against your skin. "What troubles you?"

"I - " you choke around the shakiness in your chest. You want to speak but it is difficult to do so around the rock in your throat, the disconnect between your head and your tongue stalling the words before they can even truly form. He begins to circle his thumbs against your hips. It is no longer sexual but completely tender, meant to coax your feelings from you rather than your desire and it does serve to ground you somewhat, offering you some clarity to articulate yourself. " I - you do know that I'm not . . . " You trail off and you attempt to meet his curious gaze, but you find your own quickly darting away, scanning the kaleidoscope fields that surrounds you like it might help you find your courage. " . . . What if I'm not good enough?"

His expression becomes stormy. Something menacing and severe and it is a stark reminder of the darker side of his nature. He had been so gentle and giving with you that it had been easy to forget the depths of his anger, and for a moment you had feared that you somehow managed to offend him personally. His lips have pursed in that cross way, his eyebrows pinched, and you would have anticipated him molding himself into wicked shadows and talons, if not for the flash of something soft showing through the cosmic blue of his eyes.

"Have I not worshiped you thoroughly enough?" He asks, but he does not necessarily sound affronted out of concern of his own pride but rather disappointed that he did not please you. The mere notion of that could make you scoff; you were certain that he ruined you for anyone else. No man would be able to touch you in the way that he had. And now you were opening your mouth to reassure him, but he is responding before you can utter a single word. " Then allow me to rectify my transgressions."

And you whole heartedly expect him to once again knock you on your back and take you, but he does not. He keeps you secured on his lap, grip firm but not controlling and fixes you with a stare that seems to hold you open and reach inside, melting at your frayed vulnerabilities. "Now. Take what you need." His voice has dipped into something deep and orotund, clearly enunciating to make sure that his intent is clearly broadcasted. And the intensity that he projects is enough to pull you back into the moment, his power coursing over the Dreaming and rippling at its seams. But it is more than that too. He has been nothing but gentle with you this entire night. Patient. Without judgement. And it is as though he has been plucking you apart piece by broken piece, stuffing you full of sunlight and helping you mend your shattered edges. Not fixed or magically repaired, but it is the closest you have felt to peace and adoration in a long time. And you feel like you are choking on the affection that he openly displays. The want and the need.

You become startlingly aware of the way that your cunt drips, come smearing the insides of your thighs while that warm honeyed ache steadily thrums within your abdomen. And it is difficult to ignore it now. The sheer scope of your desire could smother you, threatening to take you under and drown you. Everything else after that is instinctual -needy. You take his face in your hands, smashing your lips to his in a bruising kiss trying your best to project your emotions into the exchange of tongue and teeth, stroking the sharp edges of his cheek bones with the same reverence that he had shown you. And you blindly reach down to take the rigid heat of him in your grip, throbbing and wet with a steady flow of precum, and he rewards you with a heady groan when you circle your thumb around the leaking slit of his cock.

You are quick to line him up with your entrance, and without little fanfare sink down onto him. The relief that comes with the fulness of his girth tears ragged sighs from the both of you. And you give yourself little time to adjust before your already working yourself down his length, toes curling when the blunt head of his cock brushes against that devastating spot inside of you that has you jerking from him to gasp into the night. And unable to ignore the all-consuming passion that takes you over, the pulsing, electrifying power that permeates around Morpheus you draw yourself up with the strength of your thighs, using the push you can achieve from planting your feet on the ground to bounce on his cock in a hedonistic display.

It is debased and vulgar, fucking out in an open field, in the soil like animals. Completely lewd, but so right.

Morpheus lies back against the ground on his own accord, reclining like spoiled royalty and allowing you to plant your hands on his chest to assist you to deepen each thrust, letting you take from him. And already his name is spilling from your lips like a hymn while you watch the Dream King with rapt attention, enthralled by every minute expression that flickers across his schooled features. The way that his eyebrows pinch together, how dim but eager pants puff past his open mouth, the dazed sort of pleasure that shows in his eyes while he gazes upon you like you're a deity that has descended down from Mount Olympus, a nymph fashioned from Aphrodite herself to encapsulate his every wish.

And those delicious, invisible hands have returned to roam about your body in their sweet exploration, plucking at your body like it is an instrument that they have played for years. The sound of your coupling rings across the Dreaming, the smack skin against skin, your unrestrained moans. It all has that thick, deep-rooted ache spreading further throughout your body, reaching from your core and all the way to your fingertips and toes. But there is something missing, a nudge needed to push you over the edge. "Morpheus, " you cry weakly, thighs already beginning to sting from exertion, but you refuse to stop, continuing to drop yourself on his cock, working tight circles with your hips with each descent.

You can see something smug bleeding into his features, your neediness nurturing his hubris, and his lips quirk in just the faintest hints of a barely there smile.

"What is it, my love?" He asks, feigning ignorance and it irritates you how put together he sounds, voice having dropped into a low, rumbling cadence, but apart from that he sounds seemingly unaffected despite the glazed over quality to his gaze. You whimper around a particularly harsh thrust from him that has your back bowing, pushing your breasts into the palms of ghostly hands. Your eyes nearly go cross at the drag of his cock, but you manage to keep your concentration around the sweeping torrents of smoke and ecstasy.

"Please!" you keen drunkenly. "Please, I need you! "

A satisfied purr resonates underneath your palms and his pupils flash in that pale tantalizing, dangerous way and you cannot believe that the look of it had frightened you at some point. Now it only serves to pool more liquid heat down the base of your spine. A heaving mewl is all but punched out of you when he takes you by surprise, using his place along the ground to thrust up into you with wicked rolls from his hips. Fucking up into you with a ferocity that has you struggling to meet his pace, and you are hardly more than a passenger at this point. All coherence is stripped from you and your entire body feels like it has been doused in honey and fire, and the timbre of his raspy voice speaking out only serves to nudge you closer to your undoing.

"You'll stay here with me, won't you?"

"Yes!" You agreed in a slurred whine.

"And you'll give yourself to me?"

"Yes!" You are near sobbing now, body jerking and writhing atop him while the phantom touches roll your nipples between soft fingertips, and his cock pumps into you with depraved, filthy squelches of your combined arousal. And that primordial energy is pulsating around the Dreaming. The same power that creates the ground you both lay upon, that fashions the field and the sky above you too, permeating from the deity that is currently fucking every shred of a possible thought from your brain. And the power feels charged now, like it is growing and expanding into something great, seeping into your skin and soaking your bones. Then a transparent grip is taking your jaw between its fingers, directing your gaze to the god underneath you, and another slips down your stomach, reaching down to drag tight circles around your neglected clit.

"Then come." It is a command that your body cannot ignore, seizing up tight, trapping the strangled wail deep inside your lungs while your mouth hangs open in a silent scream. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull, stars exploding against the darkness there and you lose all sense of tangibility. Your sense of time, place and self slip from perception like water pouring through spread fingers, and now you are just floating. Caught in bursting cosmos, pinned before the scalding light of the sun, caught in a torrent of arresting, unyielding rapture. And your cunt clamps down his cock like it means to milk him for all he is worth, your orgasm ushering him into his own and thankfully your coherence begins to return to you in time for you to admire him while he is subjected to the throes of his pleasure. And you are still gasping and moaning while his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated, observing as his eyelashes flutter and his mouth opens for a long husky moan to escape him as the warmth of his release pools inside of you.

You all but collapse on top of him in a boneless heap and your cunt spasming weakly around his spent length but neither of you make any effort to move. Simply basking in the afterglow of your highs. It is your sense of touch and hearing that serve to orient you. The distant crash of waves rushing over the surf, the whisper of the breeze dancing across the grass and blossoms. And you can feel him underneath you. His chest is moving with a breath that you are certain is simulated for your own comfort, an attempt to appear more human. But he feels too heated and simultaneously too cold to be a person, like he has no idea which temperature to project. But you decide that it is not at all unpleasant, instead it feels good against your feverish skin.

But you still wait for the sting of disappointment to strike you - for disgust to bleed and taint the satisfaction now that the lust has died, but it never rises to meet you. And so, you rest, satiated upon your god. Pliant like melted wax. But there is the insistent nudge of something burrowing at you. Concern, you quickly identify. And it has your sluggish mind wandering back to the root of the thought, trailing after it until it finds the conclusion which takes that shape of a memory. The memory of perhaps the only companion you have ever known, and it is bitter and sour reminder that they may not even be alive anymore. That centuries may have passed during your brief stay in the Dreaming, and that they may have succumbed to the passage of time.

"What ails you now?"

You want to say that it is nothing, sweep it aside and ignore it while it festers and grows. But you know now that he will not accept nothing as an answer, not when he can possibly feel your distress across the threads of the Dreaming. You feel foolish in your answer, but it is the only one that you can manage. " My cat. "

"Your . . . cat. " He echoes slowly, and you are certain that amusement is lacing his tone. You bristle a bit preparing to defend yourself, your right for being worried, but he is nudging you from his chest so that you may see each other as you speak.

"I can assure you that your companion is safe. He's quite content." He says. His gentle mirth still very much alive, but you do not return his light-hearted attitude, waiting with bated breath for him to answer the question that hangs heavy in the air. And a part of you fears that he may have somehow managed to converse with Death of the Endless, or that he was still connected to the passage of time that operates outside of the Dreaming and was able to deduce that the feline had long since passed, joining Teleute in the Sunless Lands. But then he is brushing a hand along his side, drawing your attention to his ribs where the skin there ripples like the surface of a disturbed lake, and a set of angry jagged scars emerge from the mirage, appearing across his pale skin, spanning from his armpit down to the notch of his hipbone. It is hauntingly familiar. The placement, the number of claw mark left in stretched healed tissue. One, two, three . . . four, you count.

You understand what it is that he is implying. And betrayal sinks its enamel into your heart, but the bite is shockingly dull and not the unforgiving split that you were expecting. And you can tell that he is calculating something, surely waiting for you to lash out. To scream at him and demand that he take you home. Perhaps that is what you should do. But you do not. "How? Why did you- a cat?" Is all you manage, more perplexed than irate.

"I had been injured by an old foe of mine, " he explains, allowing you to curl into his side, curiously running your fingertips over the marred flesh. And you have suppress a shudder, wondering what sort of being could be strong enough to injure an Endless. A god. "As for why I assumed that particular form, I needed to conserve energy. It was small. Familiar. It served to save much needed strength. "

There has always been something strange about that cat and his watchful stare. Admittedly you had always swallowed down the suspicion that prickled at you whenever he had curled up within your house, but you had been too desperate for some sort of friendship to truly question anything. The barrage of emotions flooding you, making you a muddled unsure mess, but one thing that you do know for certain is that you are completely and undeniably relieved. And truthfully you are still far too tired, simply uncaring to have been tricked by the god. You are happy- actually well and truly happy to embrace the joy and serenity.

"And then there was you, " he murmurs in your ear, devout and soft.

The both of you remain there for an insurmountable length of time. Lounging in each other's embrace, delighting in your shared presence. Listening to the peaceful noise of the Dreaming and the warmth of your lover. And for the first time that icy gapping pit of loneliness no longer gnaws and tears at you. You finally feel at home, and the desire to flee and leave eludes you. Perhaps because you have finally found a place to belong.

Here with him.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream the endless #the sandman #netflix sandman

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fatswaps · 5 months

Text

PLUMBER BODY SWAP

Minh was what many woukd refer to as, the perfect guy. He was smart, as shown by his exceptionally high grades. He had the looks of a supermodel, always the subject of awe for every girl and even some of the guys on campus. And, perhaps most important to the unfortunate events that would unfold, He was just a few months into his 18th age. The young man had everything he could ever ask for, and with such great traits, came perhaps the only aspect of Minh most couldn't stand- his disrespectful attitude. Minh really didn't shy away from treating those he seemed as unattractive in comparison to himself with the same resoect he'd show to an insect. But his pretty looks and large circle of acquaintances were enough to keep him surrounded by friends.

Though Minh would have his comeuppance one faithful night at a dorm party. The boys Minh was friends with were doing their usual activities such as drinking, making an overall mess and damaging dorm property. Markably, that night- it was the dormroom toilet which had been broken by the rowdy college boys. One of the pipes had been broken apart by one of the boys hitting it with a golf club in a not-so hilarious prank.

After the boys setttled down a bit, they soon realized they'd be forced to call the college plumber, an older guy called Steve. It was common for students to make fun of Steve for his big gut and in their eyes, "lowly" job of fixing their shitters. Once called over, the boys snickered and pushed one another to talk to the exhausted old guy at which point, Minh heroicly stepped forward and said "Hey... so, our pipes got broken. Guess you didn't do a very good job last time" he smirked, which Steve could only reply with an irritated sigh "You'll have to wait for tomorrow for me to fix it" he made his stance and was about to leave when the irritated younger man scoffed "What? Going home to eat some slob piggy?" He insulted the poor man, which was when he stopped in his tracks. "You know what, show me the way."

Smirking victoriously, Minh lead Steve to the bathroom but the moment he stepped inside- he blacked out and time itself seemed to become hard to decipher from space.

When he came to, Minh saw a familiar sight sitting on the stairway he'd led the fat plumber up to reach the bathroom where he heard his own voice say "Yeah, thanks for the job bro. Now piss off, this party is for young people". He didn't understand what was happening until he was pushed out the door- by himself!

Minh was confused as he fell to the floor outside his door room in the corridor. Taking a moment to recall what had happened- he soon realized everything got weird after he went into the bathroom with the plumber guy... speaking of, where was he?

It was at that moment Sing caught a reflection of himself in the mirror at the end of the hallway... that was not his body, that was NOT his pretty young face. That was the face of the 87 year old plumber he made fun of on a daily basis!

Having freaked out would be an understatement as the freshman-turned-old man screamed in pure fear and shock at the changes to his body. It was at this moment when he recieved a text... pulling his phone out of his now much tighter jeans' pockets- Minh read the texts in pur horror

"You probably noticed by now that I took your body kid. Well, tough shit. I was tired of being the fat plumber everyone shits on, now its your turn. Enjoy my 87 year old body, cause I'm gonna enjoy yours"

He saw a text being uploaded right after

"Oh and, don't even try to tell anyone what happened. I took some pictures of 'you' doing some pretty messed up shit to my poor college boy body and they could make you lose your job in less than a day, if not go to jail. Heh, good luck dickhead".

It had been around 6 months after the swap, and Minh had to adjust to his new life whether he liked it or not. The new Minh had already blocked his number and would give him the most humiliating smirk whenever the two saw eachother.

What took the most to get used to however was the disadvantages of obesity and old age. The old man suffered a great deal trying to get from anywhere to anywhere else. Even the most mundane tasks had him gasping for air due to years of smoking.

Showering was still so humiliating, seeing the fat rolls, his fatpad, the hairy body and ridiculously large moobs and belly. His balding head and old man beard- they all felt so wrong. Minh cried for quite a long time until his shower sessions turned into silent moments of pure shame

Another aspect of his body Minh could never come to terms with was his ridiculously small, constantly soft penis. With the horniness of an 18 year old freshman snuffed out, replaced by the body of a 87 year old man- Minh longed for his old vitality.... something he would never have again.

It was about 5 years into the swap when Minh's suffering came to an end due to a sudden heart attack due to his morbid obesity. The news spread around campus, and Steve- now fully in Minh's shoes, seemed quite unsympathetic, his statement about the old guy being "The fat fuck deserved it."

#bad ending #identity theft #male body swap #male weight gain #young to old #bodyswap

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skymoral · 6 months

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Bi-Han x wife b!reader

When someone (a guest or a new member of the clan) tries to put reader in her place (threatening or grabbing her doesn’t matter what happens) because she is a women and thinks that she is a maid. But when she says that her husband is the grandmaster of the clan but doesn’t believe and see it as a insult and tries to put her in place before our SEXY husband comes and puts him in his place while their kids kick the guys ass for disrespecting their BEAUTIFUL mother. Put. Some. Respect. On. Her. Name. 😤

Baby! BABY! B A B Y!!!!!! You don’t fuck with Queen!

I kinda want to make this a threatening thing, and turn it into a fatality/brutality❤️‍🔥 BLOOD WILL BE SPILT!

🩵 FATALITY! 🩵

Bi-Han x B!F Wife Reader W/Children

Summary: The audacity to threaten Bi-Han’s wife, you are not leaving the temple A L I V E.

Tags: threat, death, fatality, protectiveness, children don’t play about they momma

A/N: I’m loving the idea already lol

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ ˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙° ·♡ ̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙° · ·♡ ̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Bi-Han had an important guest coming, his name was “Wang Shu” to the Lin Kuei. A man that has offered great services, to bring greatness to the clan

His power and skill was well known, Bi-Han was in his office already busy with a pre-engagement before Wang. The children were practicing training with each other.

Wang was wondering admiring the clans home, you were taking your 8 month old son for a bath. You weren’t paying attention as you were playing with him, making him giggle.

You then bumped into someone, apologizing quickly before continuing. Till you felt a snatch on your locs, pulling at your fresh extensions.

You yelped, almost dropping your child as you were pulled back on the ground. Your grip on the baby stronger and closer to your chest.

You glared up at the person who dared to pull on your hair.

“Next time be careful where you step, I would’ve assumed the maids of the Lin Kuei would be more aware.” He looked down at you with disgust.

You looked at him like he lost his mind, standing up. “Negro I don’t know WHO YOU ARE! Or care at that matter! You must not know who you talking to. I am the grandmistress of the Lin Kuei and wife of the great Grandmaster Bi-Han!”

He just scoffed at you, he snatched your locs with a strong grip and pull. “How dare an insolent little tramp, try to deceive the great Wang Shu with lies. Someone like you must be taught a lesson, for daring to speak to me in such a manner.”

“Fuck you, Bitch!” You tried to loosen his grip, tears on the side of your eye. Because it began to hurt more, especially when it was done.

Your son started crying.

“What is the meaning of this!?”

Wang noticed Bi-Han approaching you both, he pushed hard to the side. Falling on your ass, using your free hand to hold your head.

“Mommy!” Your children ran to your side, helping you up.

“I do apologize grandmaster Bi-Han, it seems one of your maids we-“

“MAIDS! That is no maid, that is my wife!” Bi-Han glared at him, Wang’s face turned white.

You ran up to your husband hugging his arms, “I don’t know what made him do that babe, I was literally minding my business. Then he started pulling at my hair, after freshly being done now it hurts. Calling me all kinds of names and… and… HE HIT ME!”

“WHAT! Is that so?” Bi-Han looked back at Wang, who looked at you. You looked at him with a wicked smile, sticking your tongue out.

“N-Now I-I know how it sounded a-and look… B-But I swear to you… I-I didn’t m-“

“Even if she was a maid, you dare disrespect anyone of my people in the Lin Kuei… You a worthless sorcerer with no name or purpose, yet I gave you the chance to make a name for yourself by showing your worth to the Lin Kuei. A worthless insect, and had the audacity to DISRESPECT MY WIFE! And lay a finger on her HAIR!” Bi-Han, approached him with small strides making him step back everytime. The children glaring at him.

“Children! Let our guest know what happens. When they disrespect the Lin Kuei.”

“Haiiii!” One of your sons yelled, running doing a spin jump kick on his chest. Knocking the wind out of him, he feel back.

Then the other for kids threw there Kunai rope. One kid had his left arm, the other his right hand, another one his left leg, and the other his right arm. The kunai wrapping around and pierced his inner wrist.

Pulled at him, holding his body in mid-air with a tight pull. He cried in pain, One of the boys stabbed him in the eye with a Kunai and another in his chest.

The boys froze his arms and legs, Bi-Han freezing his head. Then simultaneously Bi-Han slammed his leg on his throat offing his head, and the children disloacting his limbs ripping them off. Making his torso fall.

“You will show my Wife respect!” Bi-Han announced, a warning to anyone feeling bold. You looked at the scene shocked, but they did that to themselves you thought.

As his men came to clean up the mess. He walked back to you, you were still groaning in pain. “Are you alright my love?”

“No my hair is in so much pain, and now I have a headache… And it hurts a lot babe.” You whined, he pulled you into him holding you close.

Leaning your head on his chest, as he made his hand cold. Resting it on the spot you were holding, you immediately sighed in relief relaxing yourself in his hold.

For once his coldness was useful, you laughed internally.

Tomas stepping into the hall, looking at a bunch of papers, “Brother, the guest that was supposed to be-“

Tomas froze looking at the scene of a corpse, getting cleaned up and at his brother. “Was th-“

“Our guest couldn’t make it, that was nothing but an intruder.” Bi-Han answered not looking at Tomas, Bi-Han handing him his son who was asleep now. The children went back to playing, and Bi-Han caught you off guard carrying you back to your shared room.

“I am to not be disturbed for two hours.” He slammed the door behind him.

Tomas went back into the office with his son where Kuai Liang, was waiting for Bi-Han.

Kuai Liang looked up at him confused, standing. “Umm… Where’s Brother and why are you holding his son?”

Tomas just sighed, “I can guess what happened, but I believe to be wise if you don’t know… As for brother, meeting today’s guest was cancelled.”

A/N: You thought Bi-Han was scary, his children are just as scary if not worse! They also inherited there father’s ability💅🏾

This one was fun as well though, love the request

What your sons warrior outfits would look like

#mortal kombat #bi han sub zero #bi han mortal kombat #fem reader #reader insert #black reader #fanfic #bi han x reader #bi han fanfic #bi han mk #black fanfic writer #black family #grandmistress #bi han’s children #don’t fuck with the lin kuei

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flannel-cladpika · 1 year

Text

Between the Lines of Fear and Blame - Gojo Satoru x GN! Reader

A/N: Inspired loosely by the song “How to Save a Life” by The Fray (hence the title). SLIGHT spoilers for ch.78.

TW: Parental Abuse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Swearing

You hadn't had a good relationship with your father for most of your life.

The man was a well-respected jujutsu sorcerer, having become one of the most powerful special grade sorcerers at a rather young age. He went on to have a highly successful career in saving people and defeating special grade curses.

He'd met your grade 2 sorcerer mother on a group mission, and they got married a few years later, and they had you about 3 years into their marriage.

The first few years of your life were full of joy and laughter. Your mom taking you to the aquarium while your dad was on a mission; Your dad making you breakfast before walking you to your elementary school; Family outings to the park for picnics. It was the best childhood a kid could ask for.

At least, until a special grade killed your mother when you were 8 years old.

Your father had been away on assignment and had no knowledge of the incident until he returned home.

That day, the loving and kind man you'd always known, vanished. In his place, a bitter and hateful being was left.

Your father immediately started training you to become a jujutsu sorcerer, stating that if you stayed as weak as you were, you'd end up dead just like your mother. The man would drink whenever he could, only ever sobering up just enough to go out on a mission to get paid.

He'd yell at you for every little mistake you made, sometimes even slapping you across the face when you'd done an especially poor job in his eyes. He'd deny you dinner if he deemed your day's performance "not good enough".

Your father's coworkers had no idea what the man was like at home. He would act like a perfect single parent whenever you two were out in public, and he'd trained you well in the art of acting. He'd taught you the correct responses to their questions and how to fake a smile convincingly. He would brag about you inheriting both his and your mother's techniques, boasting about how you would surely become a great jujutsu sorcerer one day.

Everyone always bought his "proud father" act. No one ever suspected a thing, or at least, if they did they never said anything out of fear of your father's power and influence.

When you were able to leave your father's house and attend the Jujutsu high school in Tokyo, it was both freeing and horrifying.

What if you weren't strong enough? How many meals would you be denied? Would the instructors be upset with your silence like your other school teachers?

To say it took a while for you to trust anyone would be an understatement. What made things worse was that you'd never been allowed to have friends growing up, so you weren't used to having people that you could talk to.

It was nice. Sure, you still carried the mental scars your father left you with, but you had no intention of ever talking about those. You planned on leaving all that trauma and all those horrible memories behind you.

That was, until you met Gojo Satoru.

He was one of your fellow first-years who had a tonne of potential. He and Suguru Getou were both extremely talented, making even some of the most difficult training look easy.

Outside of classes though, they were like regular teenagers; goofing off, playing pranks, and even sneaking out to see the city.

Some mornings, you'd hear Ieiri groan exasperatedly, to which you would open your dorm door, only to see her throw some poor unsuspecting creature out of her room. They ranged from anywhere from Whip Spiders to Chipmunks. One time, a stray cat was even released into her room (probably Suguru's idea, as Gojo seemed to favour large insects and arachnids), which Ieiri kept around to get rid of anymore random critters that the two boys tried to let loose into her dorm. She named the cat "Hunter". He was a cute little apex predator and protected his domain well.

No one ever tried anything with you though. After you almost had a breakdown from finding a handful of centipedes in your bed, everyone agreed that you were maybe not a fun person to prank.

Instead, when your peers realized how shy and quiet you were, they tried to break you out of your shell. They would try to be friendly to you, greeting you in the morning and inviting you to have lunch with them, though no one pressured you.

Except Gojo.

The guy was fascinated by you. Here you were, the only offspring of one of the most powerful jujutsu sorcerers, yet you never mentioned your family. Everyone in the jujutsu world (at least in Japan) knew what happened to your mom - it was a big deal at the time and everyone knew to never bring it up - so he understood you not wanting to talk about her, but you never spoke of your father either.

He expected you to be some big shot powerful sorcerer with a boisterous personality and hoped you'd be a great sparing partner. He kind of expected you to be like himself, what with your background and having inherited both your family's techniques. Funnily enough, he only knew about your paternal one, "Eye of Ra", since you bore the same intricate birthmark as your father on your right eye, and your mother’s family hadn’t been as much of a big name as your father’s. He knew your technique allowed you to manipulate light, which meant you could do anything from blinding others to even creating visual illusions. If you wanted to, you could absorb the light in a room and turn it into physical weapons, like create swords of light that could deal physical damage.

Gojo expected you to be a confident and powerful ass-kicking badass with a take-no-shit attitude that he could riff off of.

But instead, he met you.

This timid little creature that flinched at the sound of someone raising their voice and who barely ever spoke. You were reluctant to use your powers around others, which baffled the male. Why would you want to hide your powers? Had you not mastered them already? Why would you shy away from others when they got angry? Were you really THAT weak?

Yet, despite appearances, whenever you were sent on a solo mission, you always came back successful and unscathed, even against grade 2 curses. You never boasted about how easy the task was or how great a job you'd done. Instead, you'd just report as was standard protocol, and scurry off to your room without a word to anyone.

Everything about you was just so...unexpected. Gojo had so many questions and no answers, which made him even MORE intrigued.

So, the white-haired male would follow you.

Not in a stalker-y way; he let you know he was there. He'd walk with you around campus, volunteer to be paired with you during one-on-one training, even offer to study with you during breaks. The guy wouldn't leave you alone.

Eventually, Gojo got tired of you turning down his offers to hang-out together and instead would just drag you to wherever he had planned to go. He'd drag you to the library for study sessions, to the city for bubble tea, even out to the movies with snacks hidden in his pockets. He just wanted the chance to observe you and your reactions.

At first, you found his actions to be terrifying. What if he was dragging you away to a place where no one could witness him hurting you? What if he was trying to get you to let your guard down so he could attack you? What if he only wanted to use you to gain your father's favour?

Clearly, your past wasn't behind you.

Gojo was trying to get you to open up so he could learn more about his new favourite fascination, but as he did so, he also slowly began seeing you as a friend. You were a great listener, often sitting through his long rants about everything and nothing. He found it nice to know that you would come to him with questions about curses and normal teenager things.

He thought it was very odd that you knew almost nothing about regular life as a teen. What rock had you been living under? You hadn't seen any of the latest TV shows, had only seen like 4 movies, and had no idea what a "bff" was, among a long list of other such mundane things that Gojo had assumed everyone his age was aware of. This all only piqued his curiosity further.

After the first few months of Gojo's attempts to get closer to you, you slowly started to become more comfortable around him. Eventually, you got to the point where you were no longer scared to speak your mind with him, which gradually started to apply to others. You began talking more in and outside of class, even asking how other people's days had been (which was a big step for you, as it had previously taken everything in you not to run away whenever someone called out to you).

By the time 2nd year rolled around, you'd managed to gain 3 new friends and a significant confidence boost. It certainly helped that you also decided to stay in Tokyo instead of going back home. Everything was turning out great.

Until your father came to visit for a guest teacher lesson. All that time away from the old man had caused your acting skills to get a little rusty, but you still did your best to act like nothing was wrong, even when you were terrified.

Everyone was in awe of him, after all, he was like a celebrity with how well-known and powerful he was. They were all impressed by his strength and charisma which were on full display when he demonstrated difficult tactics for taking down multiple high-ranked curses at once and when he helped out with teaching curse anatomy.

To your peers, the man seemed as though he could do no wrong. He was strong and knowledgeable, with a healthy dose of respect for the school’s staff and principal, whom he chatted with as though they were old friends.

And of course, he played the part of a doting father perfectly, even giving you a big hug when he saw you for the first time, squeezing just a bit tighter than he needed to. Everyone fell for his award-winning act.

Except Gojo.

Gojo Satoru had a deep respect for the strong and powerful man who had saved hundreds, if not thousands of people, and at first noticed nothing out of the ordinary with you and your dad's relationship. It was natural that you'd avoid your parent when they came to your school. Afterall, what kid would want to be embarrassed in front of their friends by their clearly loving and over-praising parent?

However, it wasn't until Gojo actually started to observe how you acted around your dad that he started to grow suspicious.

It was the little things that most people wouldn't have noticed. You'd flinch just the tiniest bit whenever your old man placed his hand on your shoulder or patted your head. Your eyes would widen slightly in what sort of looked like fear whenever the guy would call your name. And whenever the older male asked to see you later, your hands would start to tremble a little.

As Gojo put on his dark purple sweatshirt and a black pair of jogging pants after a long day of training, he realized there were just too many things that didn't add up. Why did it seem like you were afrai-?

That was when the pieces started to fall into place.

The way you refused to go home for school holidays or summer break; The way you flinched at every move when you first transferred; Hell, even the way you stayed quiet and got spooked every time someone called out to you. It was all starting to make sense. It all pointed to a very dark and alarming conclusion.

And it was starting to make Satoru's blood boil.

HOW DID I NOT SEE IT?! The white-haired boy thought to himself as he ran towards your dorm room. He'd heard your dad ask to see you after class today, and after the realization he just came to, he knew he had to go check on you.

You were his friend, 2nd only to Suguru in terms of how close you two were. You listened to all his bullshit and his issues with his own family. You noticed whenever he was hiding something, being almost as observant as he was, and you were always there to hear him out or lift him up when no one was around and Suguru was off doing gods-know-what.

How could he have been so blind to something that now seemed so glaringly obvious?

The six eyes wielder ran faster at that thought. He needed to check on you. He needed to make sure you were ok.

By the time Satoru reached your door, it was dark out. Being his usual brash self, he immediately swung open the door without so much as a knock, worried that you were injured after seeing your old man.

What Gojo saw before him both worried and baffled him beyond anything he could've expected.

There you were, on the floor, hunched over, with the only light sources being your bedside lamp and the faint glow of the full moon. You were clad in a black tank top and loose gray running shorts, one knee brought close to your chest while the other leg was stretched out. Gojo could see the sweat glistening off your skin as your left hand stilled in it's rummaging through your drawer for pain medicine.

There were large red marks the size of fists on your arms that seemed to have already started to bruise. There were scrapes and cuts on your knees that looked pretty bad, and your hair looked like it had just been through a wind-tunnel.

You looked up when you heard the door open, pure terror in your glassy eyes as you feared your father had followed you, although he'd never done so before. The man only ever let you go when he felt your punishment for that particular infraction was finished, and never a second less. If he felt you hadn’t been punished enough, he wouldn’t have let you go in the first place.

Satoru's eyes widened in shock once he took in the sight of your face. The face that usually greeted him with a smile at the start of classes first thing every morning, was now so hard to recognize.

There was a dark mark around your right eye that looked a bit swollen and encompassed your "Eye of Ra" birthmark. Your lips were busted, a cut running down both of them on left side of your mouth. Your left cheek was screaming red with a barely-there outline of a large hand.

And yet, your injuries were only one of the two things that had the Limitless user stunned.

Yes, he was very concerned and worried about your current physical state, but the second thing he'd noticed was what gave him pause.

A warm and inviting indigo glow that Satoru didn't recognize was emanating from your right hand, which was hovering over one of your knees.

That was new... Last he checked, that wasn't what your technique looked like...

Your terrified expression seemed to relax for a moment once you realized who had entered your room. However, you soon panicked as you tried to think of a way to explain your injuries without actually telling the truth. Dammit! You had planned on having fixed yourself up before morning classes.

You decided to just wing it. "O-Oh! Hey, Satoru! I-uh- just got back from a jog! I fell on my way up the stairs to get back to campus, so I was just treating myself with this handy-dandy first-aid ki-"

"Did your old man do this to you?" the male asked seriously, though his tone was careful and non-threatening. He wasn't trying to press you for answers if you really didn't want to give any, but he also really hoped you’d tell him.

Your eyes widened in surprise before a pensive expression crossed your face. You stayed silent for a moment as you looked away from your best friend, and instead focused on your knee as the indigo light coming from your hand grew a bit brighter.

Gojo walked towards you and sat down near you, giving you your space but still letting you know he was there. The snowy-haired male watched in awe as the wounds on your knee began to heal under the soft glowing light that came from your palm.

After you finished healing both your legs (with Gojo watching in fascination the whole time), you finally spoke.

"....Yeah. He did." You say wearily. You sounded tired and defeated.

The teen looked up at the sound of your voice, but you kept your eyes on your work. You scooted backward until your back rested against the side of your mattress.

You then raised your other hand from the floor and it too began producing an indigo light. You started to hover your hands over each of the new injuries, going one at a time, the worse ones taking a bit longer. Satoru spoke up as you continued.

"How long has it been like this?" he asked, concern seeping into his tone.

You let out a shaky sigh as another tear falls from your eye.

"He's been like this ever since mom died. He's always making sure I'm doing everything right. He trained me everyday, and said that friends are just distractions, as are movies and television. He said that if I didn't become stronger, I'll just end up in the stomach of some curse."

You tried to take a deep breath to calm yourself. It didn't help.

"But he's.... he's never punched me before... Usually, it's just face slaps and hair-tugging. He said I deserved it for how bad I did today; For how much of an embarrassment I am to him. Said that my mother would be ashamed of me if she saw how weak I am...." you explained while slowly healing your would-be black eye. Your voice trembled as the tears started to build up again.

“Is he why you don’t really use your technique around others?” Gojo asked. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

You nodded. “I don’t want others to see how bad I am with my powers. I don’t want them to know I’m just...”

You stopped healing yourself and finally looked up at Gojo to meet his gaze through the dark circular shades he always wore. You looked at yourself reflected in the black glass.

All you saw was a weak little child staring back at you; a child with no skills and no use.

"I-I'm r-really weak... a-aren't I?" you smiled bitterly, tears streaming down your cheeks as your gaze moved back to the floor.

"I'm not the smartest or the strongest or the most clever. It takes so much for me to create a domain that I can b-barely sustain for more than 5 minutes. I-I'm only good with my studies b-because you and Shoko help me c-constantly. I'm always a nervous-wreck around others t-too, like some scared little m-mouse. I’m just...I'm just a weakling..." you stated, keeping your eyes trained on the floor boards.

You then heard the sorcerer-in-training step closer to you and take a seat on the bed you were leaning against. There was a long pause that followed the movement, creating an awkward atmosphere.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Gojo spoke up.

“You’ve never been a weakling.” he stated honestly.

You looked back at your white-haired classmate, an incredulous look on your face as tears continued to fall.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Gojo.” you said.

“Do I look like a liar to you?” the boy asked jokingly, softly nudging you with his knee.

You laughed a bit. “Yes. You look like the poster child for liars.” you replied with mirth in your voice.

Gojo let out a few laughs.

“Well, you got me there.” he responded with a chuckle that soon died. “But I’m not lying about this.”

The boy behind you lifted off the bed, removing his shades as he lowered himself into a seated position beside you.

“You are not useless. You never have been. I’ve seen you on the training grounds. I’ve seen how well you handle yourself with and without weapons. You’ve survived solo missions against grade 2 curses and-”

“Gojo, you’ve taken out curses that are grade 1, though. My dispatching a few grade 2′s is nothing compared to yo-”

The aforementioned male put a finger to your mouth, effectively stopping you.

“You shouldn’t interrupt people, (Y/n). Some might consider it rude~.” he said teasingly. You huffed but remained silent.

“As I was saying,” he continued, removing his finger from your face.

“You’ve managed to utterly crush many grade 2 curses, even outdoing me in number of curses exorcised. You’ve managed to make it through your father’s abuse and the trauma that came with that, and still become a powerful sorcerer. Hell, from what I’ve seen, you have another ability that you’ve yet to show anyone! By the way, what ability is that?” Gojo asked, his curiosity having finally caught up with him and causing him to de-rail his own speech.

You sighed as you looked at your hand, activating the indigo aura once again and hovering your hand over a bruise on your left arm. The boy next to you watched your movements with interest.

“It’s the family technique that I got from my mother. I never learned the name of it, but I know that it allows me to heal myself and others, though I don’t use it often. My father never really let me near my mother’s family, saying that he had no intentions of letting their “weakness” rub off on me. So, I never got to learn much about this power. I think he just didn’t want them to see me like this and take me away from him.” you said, a look of melancholy overtaking your features.

“My dad hates whenever he sees me using it, so I don’t do it out in the open if I can help it. I think because it reminds him of my mom, and then he’s reminded of her death.”

Gojo’s eyes remained focused on the glow emanating from your palm.

“Have you ever thought of fighting back?” he asked nonchalantly.

You turned quickly to the male next to you, a look of pure shock and terror plastered on your face.

“What?!”

The blue-eyed boy shrugged. “I’m just saying. If he were my old man, I’d punch his lights out.”

You stared at the boy beside you.

“Are you kidding? He’s a renowned sorcerer who has the respect of the whole jujutsu community, and not to mention decades of experience that I don’t have. You seriously expect me to just go up to the man and say 'I challenge you to a fight you damn bastard'? What are you thinking?!” you exclaimed.

“If you don’t want to, I’ll do it for you.” Gojo replied, expression unreadable

You chuckled. “That’s kind of you, but I can’t ask that of anyone, let alone a frien-” you began.

“I mean it, (Y/N). I don’t care if he’s the damn Messiah himself. He can’t be allowed to get away with what he’s done to you. This ends now.” Gojo stated, about to get up.

Your eyes widened at the realization that Gojo was completely serious. You reached out your hand to grab his sweatshirt sleeve, stopping him.

“Wait! Don’t! Please...” you pleaded, worry and alarm evident in your eyes.

Gojo looked back at you with a look of frustration.

“Are you seriously defending a man that just beat the hell out of you?” he asked. The words came out harsher than he’d meant them. He was about to apologize, but you spoke before he could.

“I don’t care about him, I’m worried about you! Gojo, you can’t face him. He’s got so much more experience and power. You can’t beat him! What do you think he’ll do when he finds out that someone else knows about he’s done? Do you think he’ll leave you alive to tell others?!” you shouted, scared of what would happen if Gojo went to your father. You finally had a friend that you could trust. You didn’t want that to be taken away.

Gojo simply smirked at your words. “Believe me, I won’t let myself be killed by someone like him.” he stated confidently.

You looked to the ground, letting go of the purple sleeve reluctantly.

“...he had surgery on his left knee last year. And he just recovered from his carpal tunnel.” you muttered, just loud enough for the boy to hear.

Gojo looked back at you with wide eyes before his expression softened a bit.

“Thanks for the tips. I’ll keep those in mind.” he said, a small smile gracing his lips as he knelt back down to be face-to-face with you before placing his hands on your shoulders, causing you to bring your eyes up to meet his.

“I’m gonna make sure he’s never going to hurt you again. You hear me?”

You nodded as a small flicker of hope started to grow in your chest. Maybe Gojo could really do this. He was one of the strongest people you knew and if anyone could defeat your father, it was him.

With your silent confirmation, the white-haired male stood and made his way to the door. Before exiting, he looked back one more time.

“I’ll be back in a bit!” he said, waving at you with a confident grin before walking out the door.

You waved back at the empty space, the fatigue from using your technique so much finally taking it’s toll on you. You tried to stay awake, worried for your friend, but your eyelids kept drooping and your blinks kept getting slower.

Eventually, you fell asleep right where you sat.

~Short Timeskip~

When Gojo arrived back at your room an hour and a half later, battered and bruised, he was surprised to find you off in dreamland in the same spot he’d left you in.

Gojo had defeated your father and called an ambulance for him, as he’d kind of beaten the guy bloody and knocked him unconscious. He’d also gone through the guy’s phone and found under the blocked numbers, your mother’s family.

He called the main house and told them everything. Sure it was the middle of the night, but from the sounds of their reactions they didn’t mind. Apparently, they’d suspected something had been going on for a while. They just never had proof of any wrongdoing by your father that would give them custody of you.

With your abusive father and future living situation all taken care of, Gojo decided to head back to your room to deliver the good news.

However, when he was greeted with the sight of you fast asleep with your back against the side of your mattress, he couldn’t help but smile a little. You just looked too precious.

He pulled back the blankets on your bed as quietly as possible. Then, with what strength he had left, Gojo carefully picked you up bridal style and placed you onto you bed.

However, just as he was about to leave, your hand gently reached out and grasped his sleeve.

The blue-eyed boy turned around expecting to see you awake, only to find that you were still letting out tiny snores.

He sighed before trying to pull out of your hold, only to find that your grip on his sweatshirt got tighter.

The boy could only chuckle at your unconscious behavior as he came to your side and sat on the bed. Eventually, he managed to reconfigure your positions so that he was laying next to you with his sleeve still in your grasp and the covers over both of you.

“You’re safe now.” he said as he turned to face you, his unoccupied arm coming up to stroke your hair.

In your sleep, you let out a small hum as your lips curled into a soft smile.

It wasn’t the end of your problems. You still had a long road ahead of you, but it was a good first step. And now, you had someone you could trust who would be there to lend a hand you when you needed it.

-THE END-

A/N: I’ve never written for Gojo before, so I’m super sorry if he’s OOC. I tried my best though. I’m happy that I’ve finally finished this dang thing, though I’m sorry to all my people who wanted more fluffy things, but this song never really felt like a love song to me, and I wanted to stick to the vibes of the song.

#jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojō x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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crowlipso · 1 year

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MC - Agatha Crowley sheet

Information under the cut!

Basic Information

Full name: Agatha Chandra Crowley

Nickname: Ag, Aggie

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

MBTI: ESTP

Species: Human

Date of birth: 18th June 1875

Nationality: British (British/Trinidadian/Siamese)

Blood status: Pure-blood/Half-blood (unclear)

Wand: Redwood wood with a dragon heartstring core 10 ¼" and quite bendy flexibility

House: Slytherin

Patronus: Dragon

Boggart: [LOCKED]

Amortentia: Burnt wood, Chocolate, Gasoline

Appearance

Hair colour: Platinum white

Hairstyle: Short soft curls

Eye colour: Magenta

Skin tone: Medium-dark skin with yellow-golden undertones

Height: (unclear) 3cm shorter than Sebastian

Weight: 60kg

Other distinguishing features: Two moles under the bottom lip, Fangs, Black nails polish

Personality

Agatha is confident and ambitious despite feeling neglected by her family and has developed a strong sense of self-worth. She's rebellious and doesn't conform to traditional gender roles, preferring to dress and act in a way that makes her feel comfortable rather than trying to please others. She can come across as cocky and sarcastic at times, partly because of her family's wealth and status, but also as a defense mechanism developed from her experiences with bullying.

While Agatha can be sarcastic and biting in her humour, she's also fiercely loyal to those she cares about and will go to great lengths to protect them. Her experiences with bullying have made her somewhat hostile towards those she perceives as a threat, but she's not inherently violent or cruel. She values intelligence and cunning.

Traits: Chaotic, Cocky, Charismatic, Sarcastic, Barbaric

Likes: Dragons, Insects, Leeches, Forbidden Knowledge

Dislikes: Milk in tea, Skirts

Good at: Martial arts, Animal Handling, Intimidating,

Bad at: Showing true emotions and Affection, Persuade

Hobbies: Bug collector, Quidditch for fun(played as Beater), Drawing

Fears: Become nobody, Her father

Ambition: Domesticated Dragons

Family & Backstory

Agatha Crowley was born into a wealthy and prestigious pure-blood family known for their diplomatic skills and trading. Her father always wanted a son to carry on the family name and legacy, but instead, he was disappointed to have a daughter. As a result, Agatha was neglected by her father and most of her extended family. Only her mother showed her affection and attention, taking care of her and even allowing her to play with muggle children in their neighborhood.

Agatha's childhood was rough due to her family's neglect and the bullying she experienced from muggle children because of her unnatural hair and eye color. To cope, she became rebellious and defiant, refusing to wear skirts and acting more like a boy to try and please her father.

Despite not showing any signs of magical ability, Agatha's maternal grandfather, a Siamese man who was skilled in Muay Thai, taught her martial arts from a young age. Agatha fell in love with the discipline and art of fighting and trained vigorously with her grandfather.

At the age of 15 Agatha's magical abilities finally awakened, and she received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, Though she possessed traits of a Gryffindor, her ambitious nature led her to be sorted into Slytherin, much to her family's relief.

In Hogwarts, Agatha's skills in martial arts proved to be an asset in her studies, especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, her troubled past and lack of parental guidance caused her to develop a rude, sarcastic, and mean personality, often pushing people away with her hostile behavior.

Despite this, Agatha remained fearless and savage, always ready to fight for what she believed in, and became a force to be reckoned with in both academics and combat.

Father: Josiah Crowley

Mother: Chandra *Thai people still haven't had a last name back then*

Paternal grandparents: Victarion Crowley and Calypso Lovegood

Maternal grandparents: Narong, -

Uncles: Bran Crowley (Josiah’s brother), Edward Crowley(other brothers)

Aunts: Alannis (Crowley) Sanchez

Cousins: Isis Crowley(Bran’s daughter), Rose Sanchez, Jason Sanchez (Alannis’s children), Ramsay Crowley, Victarion II Crowley, Aretha Crowley (Edward’s children)

Pet: Bunch of unnamed insects, two leeches name Robert and Henry

Family home: London, Wandsworth

Relationships

Friends: Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, Giona Regali(oc), Natsai Onai, Poppy Sweeting, other fifth years

Best Friends: Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt

Love interest: Sebastian Sallow click

Others

Headcanon CV: Robyn Addison

Character inspiration:

Rhaenyra Targaryen - House of The Dragon

Nanno - Girl from nowhere

Veronica Sawyer - Heathers 1988

Cruella De Vil - Cruella 2021

Jo March - Little Women 2019

Agatha Harkness - Wandavision

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts legacy mc #hphl #hphl mc #slytherin #hphl oc #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #agatha crowley #hogwarts #oc #original character #my art

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genshinarchives · 1 year

Text

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐀'𝐒 𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏 : 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : You experience the most painful betrayal by the Six Great Sages and the General Mahamatra. When your mortal reincarnation remembers their betrayal, you resolve to cut off ties with anyone who is associated with the Akademiya, including your older brother Kaveh.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : Cyno x Kaveh’s sister!Reader; hints of Al-Haitham x reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : Romance, humour, reincarnation

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : N/A

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : A reader on AO3 pointed out how Kaveh is never catching a break because his sister is a vessel for a vengeful god’s soul, while his roommate is theorised to be Deshret’s reincarnation HAHAHA

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

The glass slipped out of your grasp and shattered into a myriad of pieces on the floor, spilling wine all over the carpet. As blood spurted past your lips, you dropped onto your knees with a palm pressed against your mouth, thin trails of blood drawing red tendrils on your fingers. Azar's cold gaze pierced the back of your head as he stood before you, merely watching you slowly succumb to your demise with his hands tucked behind his back.

"As the God of Medicine, normal poison won't have any effect on you," he uttered solemnly, "That's why Naphis created a particularly potent one from the plants in the Withering Zones."

Your pupils dilated. Naphis, the scholar whom you personally trained in the medicinal arts before he became the Sage of the Amurta Darshan, did this? He used the abundant knowledge you had bestowed upon him against you...

You were betrayed by your one and only student who you thought you could trust with your knowledge.

"A-Azar..." you hoarsely whispered, gazing up at him with a mixture of emotions swirling like a whirpool in the depths of your hues. You wanted to do something, to retaliate, to put Azar and the other sages in their places for going against you, but your tongue and limbs were beginning to grow numb.

Azar hummed, sensing your struggles.

"'I will never rebel against the Dendro Archon's will'. 'I will live quietly in Gandharva Ville'," he said, repeating the words you once spoke to the Six Sages of Sumeru after they had found Kusanali in a scorched ruin, "Those were your promises to Sumeru. But do you realise just how terrifying you are?" Then, his expression contorted into one of contempt. He was looking at you as if you were an insect - someone beneath the humans. "You're powerful enough to overthrow an entire nation. How could the Akademiya let such a monster stay alive?"

His words hit you like a tonne of bricks. You? A monster? You clenched your fists against the floor as your arms shook with the anger bubbling up inside you.

"If you want to blame someone for your misery..." Azar paused, stepping aside to reveal a certain man standing in the doorway of your home, his Pyro Vision ablaze in his fist. "... blame the General Mahamatra for forsaking you."

Your eyes burned with the betrayal you felt as tears of fury and frustration brimmed in them. You gritted your teeth, wanting to scream and lash out at the General Mahamatra for easily casting you aside. You wanted to release a plague that will sweep over Sumeru for a millennia and reduce everyone - everything into a pile of bones and rotting flesh.

How could you... HOW COULD YOU?! -you wanted to yell out to him. But all you could was glare at him as you spluttered out choked gasps.

You had underestimated the people of the Akademiya. Even the General Mahamatra, whom you have trusted your whole heart with, had forsaken you in the end to live. You did everything you could to protect Sumeru for Rukkhadevata and Deshret, but your painstaking efforts and sacrifice were reciprocated with a crushing betrayal.

"We don't expect your forgiveness," Azar said as he signaled to the General Mahamatra with a nod of his head. On cue, the General Mahamatra released a violent surge of dancing flames that quickly consumed your house. The Grand Sage turned on his heel and exited from your burning home, but not after uttering, loud and clear for you to hear, "Die here quietly so that Sumeru can move into the future without fear."

You were soon left all alone, the heat of the flames from your surroundings gradually engulfing your body.

Is this how you'll meet your end?

You sobbed loudly, falling forward on your hands as you grieved for the lonely, inevitable end you were about to meet. Tears dripped from your eyes as you implored for Celestia to hear your final wish.

Don't ever... let me be reborn into this world.

You no longer wish to protect Sumeru.

Then, a flaming wooden beam cracked above you.

You suddenly spat your tea out, the intense spray hitting Kaveh square in the face.

"Ugh, GROSS!" he shrieked as he shot up from his seat, desperately wiping his face with his handkerchief, "What the hell was that for, lil sis?!"

A waiter immediately approached your table to clean your mess up, while Kaveh continued to go on a rant about how you had just ruined his clothes. Ignoring him, you slammed your teacup on the saucer and pressed a palm against your forehead.

You remembered. You remembered your previous life as a god of Sumeru and as the Dendro Archon's and Deshret's friend, and your previous life ending because of the Akademiya's betrayal... Your gaze then focused on Kaveh, who's the older brother of your mortal reincarnation. He's a renowned architect as well as a former student belonging to the Kshahrewar Darshan, and the thought of being biologically related to a distinguished graduate of the Akademiya left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Did Celestia play some sort of sick joke on you?

You subconsciously stared at Kaveh in disgust, and that didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Why are you looking at me like I'm some sort of worm?" he asked, oblivious to the underlying hatred in your eyes.

"Akademiya scum," you muttered - but your brother heard you.

"Did you just- HEY! You're a student of the Akademiya too!" he exclaimed in exasperation, pointing at you with his index finger, which you were tempted to just bite off, "And I'm your older brother! You can't just insult me like that..."

You quickly rose from your seat, your glare growing more intense with every second that ticked by.

"I can easily change my status as both a student of the Akademiya and your younger sister," you told Kaveh, spinning on your heel to leave the tavern the two of you were having lunch in.

"Wh-wha-" Kaveh couldn't formulate a proper response, utter confusion taking over his mind as it tried to process what you were implying. "(Y/n), wait! You can't be serious-"

His pleas for you to come back fell on deaf ears.

You have to withdraw from the Akademiya immediately.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @crunchy-princeles / @ghostlysyntaxed / @riylvx / @bloopthebat / @chuusposts / @eirlysian / @airentia / @littlepotatowizard / @misfortuneyoi /

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #cyno #kaveh #alhaitham #cyno x reader #alhaitham x reader #fem reader #under the matra's umbrella #✍️ : alice writes

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annymation · 5 months

Text

The Kingdom of Wishes- A “Wish” Rewrite

Chapter 5- When Blue Turns Green

Chapter 4

(This one has more of my commentaries than most because I was feeling chatty today, let me know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing)

“…Yes… I do have a wish”

Magnifico holds in a laugh, just a bit longer, gotta hold in the act just a bit longer.

Magnifico walks towards her slowly with that same gentle smile he had at the wish ceremony “I knew you had it in you, just needed a lil push, right?” the king extends his hands in front of her, the same way he always does when getting people’s wishes “May I?”

He asks, as if Asha had a choice.

Asha stares at his hands… It’s not like she can actually grant this wish she’s thinking about right now, so she might as well let the king do it for her.

(… Oh you’re waiting for me to say what’s the wish she’s thinking of? Lol this is the chapter opening, read more if you wanna know)

Asha closes her eyes.

Takes a deep breath.

She thinks about her wish.

And…

She forgets.

Magnifico is holding her wish.

Asha thought that after giving up her wish she’d feel a great sense of relief, like a weight being lifted from her shoulders. That’s at least what everyone in Rosas says it feels like…

She feels lied to, because there’s no sense of relief to be found at all.

She feels like she just forgot something really important, it’s not her interest in drawing though, it’s something else, but she can’t for the life of her remember what… She feels like part of her is missing.

While Asha is going through all that emotional turmoil, the villains are looking at her wish as if it’s the most adorable thing in the world.

“Now, was that so hard? All you had to do was think about it and *snaps his fingers* there’s your wish” He says while making the wish bubble levitate slightly above his hand

“Oh and what a beautiful wish it is, it really does suit you well, Asha” the queen complemented in a honeyed voice

“Th-thank you?” Asha doesn’t really know how to react to the complement, of course it suits her, it’s literally the most essential part of her…

Oh god, did I actually just give that to them?

“Could I… maybe take a look at it?” She says meekly raising her hand to reach out for the wish.

Magnifico swiftly moves the wish away from her and holds it above his head, like a bully keeping a toy away from a smaller kid.

“Ah ah ah noooooo peeking~” he singsongs in a mocking reprehending tone “You know the rules Asha, you’ll remember your wish only after I grant it for you” he explains like he’s talking to a toddler.

“I… I know but… Why’s that even a rule again?”

“Oooh you and your questions haha” he laughs while pinching her cheek and shaking her head “It’s more fun that way, sillyhead! So you’re surprised when it does come true!”

(I wanna murder this man I’m writing, I might actually just give Aster a gun idk)

Asha notices how the king is acting more… Mean than before, like yeah he has been kinda pushy and overly touchy with her, and disrespected her father’s beliefs earlier. But other than that he was being nice overall…

Now it just seems like he’s making fun of her and treating her like a child.

That’s because he has no reason to keep the mask on, he got what he wanted so why keep pretending he respects her at all, right?

Asha rubs her cheek that now feels sore because of the king’s grip, she was already feeling small in their presence before but now she feels like she’s the size of an insect.

“Patience is a virtue, my doll” the queen states serenely.

Magnifico glances at his wife with a little “Oh I see what you did there” smirk, referring to how she just called Asha a doll, get it? Cause he just turned her into a doll minutes ago with an illusion.

“Tell you what Asha, I was going to grant all of today’s wishes next week, buuuut because I like you soooooo much I shall grant them all… TONIGHT! So you’ll remember it by morning, how about that?” He exclaimed with his usual over the top energy.

In case y’all need a refresher, in my rewrite wishes are granted at night, while everyone sleeps, so when they wake up they can already tell their wish was granted.

Asha is feeling really lost, she doesn’t know what to say or what to do “Yeah that… that sounds great, can’t wait” she forces a clearly fake smile

“Oh I’m sure you can’t my dear, so how about you just take your leave now and go to sleep humm? The sooner you do the faster tomorrow will arrive!” The king says as he guides her to the exit of the treasure room

Asha’s eyes widened in confusion “Wh-what? But didn’t you say dinner was in an hour?”

The king had to hold in a laugh once again. The girl actually believed she’d be allowed to sit with them? How pathetically naive.

“I know Asha, but I just can’t help but notice how tired you are.” He says giving her a fake expression of pity

“Yes little one, you almost fell on the floor a minute ago had I not caught you” The queen adds “Clearly you need sleep, today was a big day for you, wasn’t it?”

“I’m not tired really I just-“

“I said” the king interrupts, his voice stern this time, as he makes direct eye contact with Asha and his blue eyes turn green for a second “You are tired, you should go home, now.”

Asha is frozen in place as she nods slowly “Okay.”

(If you’re wondering why he didn’t use this mild hypnotic ability earlier when they were trying to convince her to give her wish, it's simply because it had to be her choice to give it away, otherwise the magic doesn't work)

The king’s expression relaxes “That’s better…WELP!” He snaps his fingers and starts talking really fast “There! Now all the doors that lead to the exit are open! Thank you for coming sweetheart! Nighty night now! Sweet dreams! Buh-byeeeee!”

B L A M

The door slams on her face

Asha’s now outside the treasure room all alone

About 5 seconds pass

The door opens again

“Don’t forget your goat.”

Magnifico’s is holding a very happy Valentino by the colar of his little goat sweater

He drops Valentino on Asha’s arms and-

B L A M

The door closes again.

…

“Good night…”

She says quietly and starts walking down the stairs, making her way back to the exit.

As she walks we cut back to the couple real quick.

Magnifico has his ear glued to the door trying to hear Asha’s footsteps getting farther away. He has mischievous smile on his face.

Amaya is just standing there watching him do so, smiling just as wickedly as her husband.

“Is she gone yet?”

“Shh shhh wait” he signals to her with a finger on his lips

He no longer hear her steps, she’s far away enough.

Magnifico cannot hold it in anymore and starts letting out a wheezed laugh…That grows into a cackle… And then evolves into an outright deranged fit of uncontrollable laughter as he’s leaning on the door hugging his sides.

Amable is laughing along with him, letting a dark chuckle that grows into a maniacal giggling.

Their voices echo through the dark room.

(… I need you guys to understand these two are losing their minds because they successfully manipulated an 18 year old… Because they’re petty she raised her voice to them in public… These people are in their 50s… What I’m saying is the straights are not okay)

So we cut back to Asha who’s getting near the entrance of the castle, and just like how the king said, the door is open.

Her expression is a mix of lost, sadness, but most of all defeat.

Even though she understands she’ll get this wish granted tomorrow, it was still something that was taken away from her

She doesn’t feel like she’s whole anymore.

“Is this what people travel days on end to experience here in Rosas? Give away part of themselves… So they can have it be made a reality by someone they don’t even know?”

She hugs Valentino tightly, and he realizes something is wrong, so he begins licking Asha’s cheek.

She smiles a little bit with that “Thanks Val. I’ll be okay.”

She puts him on the floor to take some deep breaths before she leaves

She starts talking to Valentino (more so to herself, really)

“I mean, maybe I’m just being dramatic, like they said, I’ll get my wish granted tomorrow, right? Then I’ll feel normal…”

She's distracted talking to herself so she doesn’t notice…

That the door to the room where the queen left Bravo in earlier…

Is open.

“But then again… Those two are really not how I thought they’d be at all… I mean yeah, I knew Magnifico was a bit full of himself sometimes and the queen was… well, actually till today I’ve never seen her being nothing but sweet… They were just acting so strange ya know Val?… Valentino?”

“Maaa! Maaa!” Valentino starts bleating, but not to talk to Asha…

He’s talking to Bravo, who just so happens to not have had his dinner yet, and is preparing to pounce at the naive baby goat that just thinks he found a new friend.

“VALENTINO!!! NONONONOGETAWAYFROMHIM!!!” She runs as fast as she can and manages to catch her goat just a millisecond before Bravo made his move.

The lynx is now growling at her aggressively, she looks behind her and sees the door of the castle opened, she can make a run for it and someone outside might be able to help her, she can do it.

Buuuut Valentino is panicking, realizing the gravity of the situation and he kicks his legs to run away, making Asha accidentally drop him.

“NO NO VALENTINO COME BACK!”

He runs up the stairs and the lynx runs after him, Asha obviously follows them running like her life depends on it.

“BAD KITTY! THATS NOT YOUR FOOD THATS MY GOAT!!”

She runs and gets close enough to the wild cat to step in his short tail. He lets out a scream of pain and turns to her with blood thirty eyes

“… Uh That- That was an accident hehehe” she nervously says as the cat prepared to jump no her

She manages to dodge him and starts running up the stairs after Valentino, with the lynx just after them

She’s realizes they’re getting near the treasure room again

“KING MAGNIFICO! QUEEN AMABLE! HELP!! PLEASE!!!”

(GYYYYYAAAA GET YOUR FUC*** DOG BI**

It don’t bite

YES IT DO!!!)

Asha makes it to the treasure room but she has no time to close the door.

But as they run to the other side of the room Bravo steps on the shattered glass slipper Valentino dropped earlier and gets distracted.

(Haha you thought that was just a pointless reference, didn’t you?? BUT IT WAS ACTUALLY PLOT RELEVANT HAHAHA- the writer proceeds to lose her mind as this scene unfolds)

Asha sees this as an opportunity, as soon as she enters a different room she slams the door behind her shut.

She and Valentino are both exhausted, Valentino drops on the floor panting heavily.

“I… *puff* am never… *puff* letting you in this crazy place AGAIN” she says trying to catch her breath

She looks around the room they’re in now

It’s a corridor, with decorative black armors along the way, leading to a new flight of stairs

(I know that you knew what room I was referring to so no need for an image reference, but either way have Magnifico happily jumping on a poor armor’s head)

“… Whoever designed this castle REALLY liked stairs” she comments to herself

She takes Valentino into her arms again.

She can hear Bravo scratching the door behind them and growling angrily.

Asha looks to the stairs in front of her and sighs “Well… Guess we’re not getting out of here unless we ask them to control their crazy cat… Greeeeeeat” she pretty much groans, clearly not looking forward to talking to them again.

She and Valentino start making their way up these new stairs

(Take a shot every time I wrote stairs in these past few chapters)

The ambience is dark, a direct contrast to how it was when Asha first entered the castle. Before it was beautifully illuminated by the sunset lights coming out of the glass windows

And now it’s night time, and the castle is just faintly lit up by some candle lights hanging from the ceiling.

She sees a light coming from the end of the stairs… the light seems to irradiate a mix of blues and greens flashes

Asha then hears something coming from the room she’s approaching… laughter?

That must be their room

She thinks… and wonders what they’re laughing so much about.

Asha reaches the end of the stairs.

She’s now in front of the large door… it’s slightly open, just enough that she can peek through.

She was about to say something like “excuse me” or “sorry to bother you again, but your cat wants to kill me” but her mouth was closed shut when she heard

“OH that stubborn little BRAT got me a headache!” Magnifico complained loudly while massaging both sides of his temple with his fingers “I never had to use THAT much mind bending magic on anyone before” he says sounding a mix of frustrated and almost impressed

(He’s referring to that whole illusion sequence at the end of their villain duet last chapter)

Mind bending magic?…What’s he talking about?

Asha looks through the small opening in the door and sees the king and queen are standing in the middle of the wishes room

(Like how Asha and Magnifico are here in this concept art)

Asha is in awe with the sheer beauty of all of them in that majestic room. She understands how much each one of those bubbles represents the most beautiful part of so many people, and that alone fills her with joy.

“Aww my poor darling” the queen coos as she caresses her husband’s head “You deserve some much needed rest, say, how about I prepare a sleeping potion for you before we go to bed humm?” She suggests lovingly, but not like the fake loving voice she does all the time, this one felt absolutely genuine.

Asha remembers the tales that queen Amable used to be an amazing potion maker when she first arrived in Rosas… But that’s something no one really talks about anymore.

“Oh please do, my love.” Magnifico looks at his wife with a devoted passion, then turns his attention to the wishes above him with a malicious glee “But before that, let us see which lucky subjects get their wishes improved tonight” he lets out a dark chuckle

Improved? What's THAT supposed to mean??

Asha holds Valentino close to her and places her hand on his mouth so he won't make a sound

Asha watches as the king moves his arms bringing some wish bubbles down, they circle around him swiftly, forming patterns in the air.

(Ya know like how he did in the movie during the “At All Cost” sequence? That was neat, not gonna lie)

Paying more attention she notices something really odd.

Most of the wish bubbles aren’t blue… they’re green.

Asha has never seen green wish bubbles before, only blue ones… like her wish.

Speaking of which

“I thought we’d begin with our little star of tonight, I am oh so looking forward to coming up with something special for her” The queen says sinisterly while tapping her fingers on Asha’s wish bubble. Her voice makes Asha feel a chill run down her spine.

What on earth is going on?

Now she’s trying to hold her own breath so they won’t hear her.

“Ooh you know how I always leave the best for last, my sweet. Besides, there’s some wishes here that have been gathering dust for a while” Magnifico gazes upon the wishes floating around him like a predator watching his prey “And what kind of king would I be if I left our precious people waiting, right?” He adds with sarcasm.

Amaya just shrugs and goes to the table with potions and alchemy materials to start preparing a sleep potion for her beloved husband.

Magnifico makes the wishes spin around him faster and faster “Now lets see… Eeny, meeny, miny… YOU!” All of them suddenly stop moving, Magnifico is pointing at one specific blue orb, he signals with one finger for it to come to him.

As the orb lands on his hands it reveals a young woman flying in the sky, along with a flock of birds.

The king’s face is cruel, but his voice is saccharine sweet “Awww would you look at that my beldam, little Wendy wishes to fly like a bird.”

“Is that so? How lovely” The queen says while preparing her potion “And what shall you do about that? Oh wise and benevolent king” she speaks jokingly.

It’s like they do this pretty much every night, and they just never get tired of it.

“Hmmm… You mentioned last month you’d like to have a mockingbird as a pet, didn’t you?”

The queen gasps with one hand on her chest “Awwn you remember?” She says, already knowing where her husband is going with this, but playfully acting shocked.

“Now how could I ever forget a wish from the only person that matters in this kingdom?” The king says lovingly

Asha feels like she’s gonna pass out, he’s not actually going to do what she thinks he’s going to do… Is he?

“Well mi reina, your wish is my command” He says as he caresses the blue orb and starts mumbling some words in latin as his eyes start glowing green

“Mutatio animae, mutatio mentis, hoc votum fecisti, nunc meum est”

As he says the spell, the image of the young girl named Wendy looks at him terrified, as her arms turn into wings. The king caresses the orb a few more times and it slowly goes from blue… to green.

He removes his hands from the now green orb, revealing inside a little bird flying away scared, like it’s trying to get out.

… Asha holds in a gasp. She feels a single tear forming in the corner of her eye.

The king looks at the wish proudly, admiring his handy work “More of a Wendy Bird than a Mockingbird, but eh, it’ll do” He shrugs as he lets the bubble fly up to join the others “Tomorrow once she wakes up as a speechless helpless little bird, she’ll come flying begging for my help, and voila! You get your bird!” He says excitedly to his wife

“And what will you say if her family comes asking where she is?” The queen asks him, but not out of concern, more like she’s testing him to see if he’d know what would be the right thing to say

“… Not my problem?” He laughs at that

“Darliiiiing~ remember what we practiced”

“Hahah I know I know I’m jesting.” Magnifico says after laughing a bit more, but then his face instantly morphs to a sorrowful expression as he demonstrates what he’d actually say “Oh… I’m deeply sorry, but Wendy wished to be free from you, to live somewhere far far away… I’m sure she’s much happier wherever she is now” as he finishes the little act his face instantly goes back to an evil grin and gives her a bow like an actor.

“Hmmm not bad, you’re getting better” Amable complements softly

“Well, I do have the best teacher” He lifts his head and gazes upon her lovingly.

(This would be so sweet in any other context)

Asha feels like the world is crumbling down around her the more and more with each and every word that comes out of their mouths…

These people were more vicious than she could’ve ever comprehended… They tricked thousands of people… they tricked her.

“NOW!” Magnifico claps loudly, snapping Asha out of her thoughts “Let’s see who’s our next lucky subject~” he says in a singsong voice as the wishes once again start spinning around him, and once again he picks a random one

“A wish to write engaging stories about your culture?… Booooring!” Magnifico yells at the wish, the little man inside the orb holding a pen and paper gets frightened. “How am I supposed to make this fun for us?”

He ponders as he throws the orb to one hand to another several times, playing with it like it’s just a normal ball. The little man in the wish bubble is being thrown side to side like a rag doll.

“Just do the same you’ve done with the royal cooks, my love” Amaya suggests “Change the subject he’ll be writing about to something more interesting.” she says nonchalantly while grinding some herbs with a mortar and pestle for the sleeping potion.

(English is not my first language, so like, learning new words like “mortar and pestle” has been pretty cool :3)

The royal cooks?… Dahlia’s parents.

Asha thinks to herself in horror

“Oooh good idea my love!” Magnifico said excited as he turned his attention to the wish and once again recited the spell in Latin

“Mutatio animae, mutatio mentis, hoc votum fecisti, nunc meum est”

“Aaaaand there, why write about your lame ol’ culture when you can write about something much more important… like ME” the wish is now green and shows the man writing a book about Magnifico.

Asha connects the dots. That family recipe book Dahlia found, THIS is why her mom doesn’t care about it anymore, the king made her only interested in making meals that fit his liking.

(I do love when my set ups pay off)

“Ahem” the queen says with an eyebrow raised and a mischievous smile

“… I MEAN US! WRITE ABOUT US! Of course, I’m sorry my darling, hold on le-let me change it!” Asha sees an emotion that she hasn’t seen from the king ever before, he got nervous, but not in a scared or pretending to be nervous way, more like an “awkward teen trying to impress his crush but he gets flustered” kind of way.

“Heh heh I’m just teasing, dear.” The queen says giggling at her husband’s small panic attack “We both know the less this kingdom knows about my past the better, so really, you may have all the spotlight you want” she speaks sweetly.

The king sighs with relief and comments casually “Hehe indeed, it would cause quite a stir if the people found out their beloved queen was banished from her homeland for being a witch back in the day, now wouldn’t it?”

As soon as the king finishes that sentence a cloud of smoke pops out from one of Amaya’s flasks, making a loud noise.

“Your sleep potion is done… Also, you know I much prefer the term “alchemist”” she corrected him, sounding a bit more serious… like the word "witch" strikes a nerve with her.

“… My apologies my love, I forgot” he says genuinely

(… I might make a blog all about this, because there’s history here, let me know if you’re interested… anyway enough of them being a cute evil couple, Asha is SUFFERING)

Asha is not even that shocked with the reveal that the queen was a witch, that’s minor compared to everything else she has seen.

They tricked THOUSANDS of people for the past 25 years, and no one had a clue…

How many people had their dreams twisted beyond recognition? How many families had their culture erased from their minds after entering Rosas? And how many couldn’t even tell that they’ve been forced into a complacent life of loving nothing but these two monsters?

And… What would they do to her wish?

Asha will get that answer earlier than she thought, as she hears the king say:

“You know, we really should wrap this up, it’s getting late…” he says looking at the stars outside and then turning his attention to Asha’s wish that is floating around, he smiles maliciously “Let’s finish this with our sweet birthday girl’s wish, shall we?”

Asha feels her heart stop.

Magnifico makes the wish fly towards him

Amaya also walks to her husband to take a closer look at the wish.

As they take a look in her wish we see...

Asha happy with other people in Rosas.

That was her wish, to make other's happy, and to be accepted.

Magnifico looks quite disappointed but not surprised "A wish to “Make others happy”… Pffft pathetic." Magnifico rolls his eyes and sighs "She couldn’t even want something only for herself. Now how can I possibly turn this into something entertaining?"

Asha's eyes widen, that's it, that was her wish... She can't really feel a connection to it anymore... Why would she want to be accepted?

(Sooo yeah, just like how Simon’s personality changes because he doesn’t have his wish, a similar thing is gonna happen to Asha, but it’s not gonna be that noticeable)

"Hmmm I can think of a way" The queen says with a wicked gleam in her eyes as an idea forms in her head

"Do tell" he says already anxious to hear what his wife’s words of wisdom.

She walks a few steps away from her husband to start explaining her idea

"Riddle me this, darling... Who makes a kingdom happy?"

Magnifico... The damn king of this forsaken kingdom, struggles with that question for a bit

"Uuuuh... Shoot, I don't know. Uh florists? Backers?...Hair dressers?"

The queen gives him a one arched brow look.

"That’s kind of a vague question, don’t you think? Peasants get excited over the simplest of things" He shrugs

"Fair enough... Let me put this in a different way then... What do we want to make of this girl" She continues her train of thought walking around the room.

"To be honest? I considered just pushing her off the stairs handrails a couple of times today" He states like killing a random 18 year old is just a normal Thursday.

"Yes yes me too, but that's thinking too small, what she has shown today is that she has this almost unbending spirit, so much so she made you tire yourself using your powers... What we need is to put her under control, make sure that she NEVER inspires anyone else to be like her" She explains eloquently.

Asha does not like the sound of that at all.

"I like the sound of that. Buuut how can I do that with such a simple premise? "Make others happy"... Should I just make her WANT to conform to the norm?" He ponders

"That is, again, thinking too small, darling" she walks towards him slowly "Wanna know something I've always wanted?"

Magnifico was kinda taken aback by the sudden change in subject but ok "Well, just tell me and it shall be yours, my queen" he said with his voice dripping with passion

"... I always wanted a daughter"

...

wha-

"W H A T ? !"

Magnifico literally screamed with eyes wide like a bat blinded by the sun, his voice echoed through the room in a way that some of Amaya's potions even shook.

"WOMAN, SINCE WHEN??? I THOUGHT WE AGREED BABIES ARE THE MOST HEINOUS CURSE ONE CAN HAVE CASTED UPON THEM???? NOT TO MENTION I WANT NO HEIRS!!!"

He's not mad by the way, he couldn't get mad at her even if she stabbed him, he's just surprised, really. Because that's something he thought they both agreed on.

Amaya blinks a few times after that reaction, she may love this man more than anything in the world, but wow, his temper is something they really gotta work on.

She continues her train of thought like that didn't just happen.

"Yes... But Asha is not a baby, is she?"

... Oh... Oh no... Asha understood where the queen is going with this

The king did not tho

"... Ooooooh... Uuuuuh??" He stared at his wife, very confused "Not that I’m questioning you dear, but um... Are you suggesting we make THAT girl... A princess?"

(Hehehe subverting the disney princess trope, I love it)

"Precisely." The queen nodded pridefully, then she continued “You change her wish from “I wish to make others happy” to “I wish to be a princess”, it’s semantics since a princess does make the kingdom happy. Her personality will be rewritten to fit that wish, and she shall never question us again.” The queen speaks like she’s just talking about the weather.

The king is not fully convinced though "...Thats all fine and dandy but I thought we were gonna punish her, not give her a life of luxury”

"And who said anything about a life of luxury? You know the guest room on the west wing tower?"

"Yeeeeees?" Magnifico starts to understand his wife’s train of thought

"We lock her up in there." Amaya says it like it's simply the most natural course of action.

"Hmmm" He thinks for a moment with a hand in his chin, and by the looks of it he warms up to the idea "Yeah I can see the appeal now... It’s like throwing her in the dungeon, but in a socially acceptable way." he rationalizes with an evil smirk

"To the people it'll seem like this poor orphan girl just got the wish of a lifetime. While to her, well, she won't remember ever wanting anything else than to obey us... And as a bonus she can stay drawing in her room all day, just how she wanted." She has a wicked smile that grows more and more with every word.

"There's just one caveat to that though” He says with a worried expression “She'd be the heir" He almost whispers like the word frightens him.

The queen shrugs "And? We are too beloved for anyone to dare threaten our lives, and with my potions we can remain young for many MANY years to come" The queen says like that’s all obvious.

Magnifico still looks concerned. He really despises the possibility of anyone getting his crown.

Amaya notes his fear, and genuinely gives him some words of comfort... in their own way "Here's a thought, in the impossible scenario that we may have to come to terms with our own mortality... I'll give the girl my special tea, the same one I gave to your brother all those years ago, and she won't take what is ours. How does that sound?" She speaks calmly... How she's gonna straight up kill this girl if they so happen to become old or sick.

Magnifico's face softens at that, his wife always know the right things to say

"As always, the brightness of your mind outshines the sun, moon and stars, my love." He holds her face tenderly. "Very well then, if a little princess locked up in a tower is what my queen wants, then your wish is my command"

They exchange a kiss.

Magnifico turns his attention back to Asha's wish and mumbles the spell one more time

“Mutatio animae, mutatio mentis, hoc votum fecisti, nunc meum est”

And the blue bubble with Asha smiling among the citizens of Rosas... slowly turns green, and the image inside morphs into Asha smiling forcefully, while standing between the two royals.

... So umm yeah how's Asha feeling right now you may ask?

Yeah our girl is not fine, she's actually panicking. Tears running down her face while she hugs Valentino.

(It's like she's stuck in a story that the writer also can't wait to move along and get to the happy stuff... So let's move this along, shall we?)

Valentino obviously didn't understand anything that just transpired but he sees how sad Asha is, so he tries cheering her up.

"Maa-"

Asha covers his mouth instantly

But they heard it.

"What was that?" Queen Amable whispers.

The two royals start walking to the door.

Their steps are quick.

Asha doesn't think twice and slides down the stairs's handrail.

She’s terrified. If they find out she heard all that she’s as good as dead.

She makes it back to the corridor with the black armors.

Asha knows behind that door there's a savage wild cat... Which now feels less scary than the people coming from those stairs.

She gets an idea.

Asha opens the door quickly and when Bravo notices that it's finally open he runs inside to attac-

B L A M

Asha pushes one of the armors and it falls on the lynx, making a lot of noise.

"WHO'S THERE?!"

Magnifico’s enraged voice echos through the whole castle.

She hears their footsteps quickly approaching.

They have not seen her yet.

She runs as fast as she can to the exit without looking back.

Magnifico and Amaya get to the corridor and find quite the sight...

Their cat has his head stuck in the armor's helmet, he's struggling to get out like those cats you see on youtube that get their head stuck in a jar.

Bravo meows in his raspy voice panicking as he moves around.

"OOH my sweet precious babyyyy! How on earth did this happen??" Amaya rushes to his rescue like a worried mother.

"Bad kitty Bravo, you don't attack armors, just the people inside them" Magnifico says sternly.

Meanwhile our girl is BOOKING IT down those dang long stairs, jumping the steps and almost falling a couple of times.

She doesn’t know if they're actually right behind her or not.

But she’ll not look back to check.

She finally makes it out of the castle.

The wish ceremony celebration is close to ending but there's still a few people in the surroundings of the castle, talking to each other.

Asha just keeps running, she let's go of Valentino, she knows he can keep up with her

So she just keeps running.

Some people see her and try asking what’s wrong.

But she can’t stop.

She' can’t look back.

Tears run down her face.

And...

She’s stopped, by a large hand holding her arm.

Chapter 6

Final Thoughts

AFTER 3 CHAPTERS ASHA IS GETTING AWAY FROM THE STRAIGHT WHITE RICH PEOPLE!!! RUN GIRL RUNNNN

Don’t get me wrong, I LOOOOVE writing these two with a passion, but I wanna focus back on my girl Asha and couldn’t quite do that with those two stealing the spotlight… They gonna keep stealing the show every time they appear in the story tho but hey that’s kinda what it means to be a Disney villain.

With that said, I hope this helped make it pretty clear how Disney royally screwed up when they scrapped the villain couple concept. Like, it’s not just a “oooh that looks neat” thing, NO it’s more of a “THE WRITING POTENTIAL IS UNFATHOMABLE” thing.

Because I cannot stress this enough, we’ve been told through Disney’s WHOLE HISTORY how love is the strongest thing of all, and that’s true… But what happens when two immoral people love each other? WHAT HAPPENS??? Well I’m planning to show here what I think would happen, and it’s scary.

Also a recurring theme I was trying to make very clear in this chapter is how this couple comes from completely different worlds, Amaya was a peasant, Magnifico was born royalty, but they both learned from each other to make themselves more powerful… Actually, I think I might write a whole blog about their respective backstories, like yeah I wrote about them here but this was the early concept (not that it’s out dated, you can still read it if you haven’t yet) but after some further reflection I came up with even more details to flesh them out and make them feel like rounded characters, that although are irredeemable, have their own perspectives on the world that makes them see themselves in the right… Let’s just say they think the world wronged them so they can do the same to others, that’s all I’ll say for now.

Also OH MY GOSH, I did it, the animal sidekicks pretty much are the whole reason the plot is set into motion. I'm actually so happy.

When I first started to think on this scene (Last month) I thought about Asha just going back up the stairs to ask for her wish back because “oh she changed her mind”… which didn’t feel right, ya know? Like yeah it’s cool she’s so determined, but it felt off… And then the idea of the royal couple having a pet lynx showed up to save the day.

It’s kinda funny that none of this would’ve happened if Magnifico just teleported Asha outside after getting her wish… But he was feeling petty as usual so he decided to have her walk AAAAALL the way back… And he accidentally messed up the spell and instead of just opening the door to the exit with the snap of his fingers, he opened ALL the doors, letting Bravo get out. So my point is that Magnifico’s pettiness will bring his downfall, as it should be.

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! And get hyped because STAR BOY IS COMING!!!

Thank You For Reading!

#disney wish #wish #wish 2023 #wish star #disney #wish asha #wish disney #wish movie #wish rewrite #king magnifico #queen amaya #magnifico x amaya #king magnifico wish #asha #wish reimagined #long post #kingdom of wishes

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sebfreak · 5 months

Text

Do not change Maomao!

This is the title of this long post. Omg the fanservice we got, the beautiful scenes in which we could see Maomaos happy face. Ahhhh I loved it again.

Make it obivous who he is, right? At this point we all should have a clue and to be honest this scene was also very interesting. The relationship between them is better described with "icy cold". Yeah, you see a smile on Jinshis face but he is more distant towards him.

She and her herbs. Her passion is so real and i can understand her 100%. Herbs are so interesting, I can´t wait to find out more about it. Maomao is a teacher to us and we can learn a lot from her. <3

He is truly a real father. The why I cried a little bit during this scene. This is Maomaos home, she is always welcomed and can go back anytime. He doesn´t have much but he has a lot of love for her. <3

Lol the way he blushed. Jinish-sama everything is written on your face. You can´t hide it anymore lol.

The way everyone blushed when they saw Maomao. It´s really interesting that a little change can activate this reaction and it was really obvious that Jinshi was getting annoyed by it and JEALOUS!!! OH HE IS SO JEALOUS AND REGRETS IT THAT EVERYBODY COULD SEE MAOMAO THIS WAY!!!!

His order was absolutely not a surprise. Now he understands why she puts freckles on her face. XDDDDDDD Oh my man.... aaaahhhhh I love him so much and I love it that he falls for Maomao more and more. My boy you can´t escape anymore but I truly doubt he wants to escape.

This face and we all know that he is planning something that Maomao won´t like. ahahahahahaha XDDDDDDDD

The fanservice was so real in this scene. They really went hard with Jinshi-sama in this scene. BUT I´m not complaining, keep going... I really really like it. (and everybody: when will we get our Jinshini hm? XDDD)

Wasted sex appeal... XDDDDD ah it´s so cute how Maomao doesn´t know it but it makes it so much funnier. XDDD

I bet for Jinshi it´s also very stressful when you can´t behave around people in a normal way without them to lust over you. I know it´s complaining on a very high ground but sometimes even a Jinshi doesn´t want to be reduced on his appearance. But the fact that Maomao explained it with insects made me cry. Oh my dear... XDDDDD

Weeellll my dear Maomao I won´t say it... you have to find it out for yourself but it´s great that she is questioning it because it´s very unnormal for his position or more like it´s something Maomao seems as unnormal.

Go away motherfucker. <---- no respect here. Just.... go away you creeper.... On my Blog and I'm aware of his story but i can't seem to like him, but i am a Person who can respect that people like him but for me there are some things that are not okay and this was way too much in my eyes. his obsession is too much because I look from the childs perspective (MaoMao) and I could understand her traumatic feelings. So don´t come at me and try to convince me to like him. It won´t work.

Oh they really went hard with Jinshis fanservice even in the ending and loved the change here. Beginning it´s dark and gives you a sad aura but after meeting Maomao his world becomes bright and sunny. Oh my gosh I´M NOT CRYING OKAY!!!! ( okay i´m crying)

All in all a very good episode. 10/10 and it was a great start for the second part. Ah, it will be dramatic again and I can´t wait to witness it with you. <3

#kusuriya no hitorigoto #the apothecary diaries #maomao #jinshi #anime #now if you excuse me i´m gonna find my jinshi

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